The China Battle

Originally posted to alt.devilbunnies in Oct-November, 1996.
©1996 by Scott Bernier. Thanks to my brother Chris for his contributions to this story.
First HTML-ized 22-23 February, 1997. Minor corrections 27 February, 1997. Updated to new index 30 July 1997. Minor typo corrections 7 May, 1998.

Background: If you haven't read The Epidemic yet, you should do so for this battle is a result of what happened in that story. Originally posted under the titles and in this order: Revenge Comes 1-4, The Calm 1-4, and The Storm 1-18.

There was a rap at the door. The bun behind the desk looked-up from his monitors and answered gruffly, "COME!"

A snowshoe hare entered and quivered slightly.

"This had better be," (STOMP!) "important." The bun at the desk stated.

(quiverfluff) "Sir, I have the report on the rabies cases," the bun paused in dismay, "and it's not good."

The bun behind the desk shut-down the monitors in front of him as what looked like a baseball game from two different angles was winding-down. He snatched the report and perused through it. His demeanor changed from bad to worse as he read through it. He suddenly exploded his anger onto the poor hare in front of him.

"What do you mean there is a shortage of the vaccine! What kind of incompetent reg-buns do I have working for me!" He threw the report in the face of the hare, (STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!) and leaped out of his seat grabbing the hare by the throat. "Four days! What about New York and points south or the Maritime Provinces!"

If there had been anything left in the hare's bowls, he'd have lost it at that moment. A bead of sweat trickled down his muzzle.

"Sir. There is currently a blockade against shipping medical supplies over the border. Why, I don't know, but there is. The government claims that some of the vaccines up there are ineffective. As for New York, that's where the supply will be coming from. It seems somebunny or perhaps someFudd wiped-out the New England supply 4 days ago."

The bun-in-charge loosened his grip slightly. "What do you mean someFudd?"

"We were able to get the license plate off the truck that brought the squirrels here thanks to the surveillance cameras, sir. The truck in question belongs to Eugene Pomerleau, a sergeant..."

"I know who the monkey is!" The bun released the hare. "So the Fudds were behind the attack...." The bun drifted-off in thought as he began to scheme until the hare pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Sir? What about those infected?"

(wellfluff) "Since the vaccine won't be here in time, euthanatize them."

"Sir?" (dismayfluff) "All 43 of them?"

"YES!" (STOMP!) "Kill them! Kill all of them. Their deaths will at least be swift and painless! Now get out of my sight, I have vengance to plan!"

The bun-in-charge nearly kicked the snowshoe hare out of his office as the hare hurried out.

"You sent for me, sir?" (queryfluff) The snowshoe hare asked as he entered the bun-in-charge's office.

"Yes, I'm in a good mood at the moment. So good that I intend to use you as a sounding board for my plans. Come..sit and have a Snapple™ ."

(cautiousthankfulfluff) "Thank you, sir." The hare took a seat and opened a kiwi-strawberry Snapple™. *Could this be the same bun who wanted to throttle me a few days ago?* he poundered to himself.

"Comfy, Cprl..."

"Flatpaw, sir, and yes."

"Flatpaw....yes, you were one of the recruits out of that warren in NH...."

(tearyeyedsighfluff) "Yes, Whittemorewarren outside of New Ipswich." (STOMP!) "That Axe Wielding Monkey in Mass destroyed it last spring as part of his 'Fluff-Free zone'. I recently sent my congratulations to the buns who struck-out against said monkey. If the Admiral gets his way..."

"I know all about it, Flatpaw. But that's not why I called you here today. We've got another monkey to deal with." (deviouschuckle) "We're going to strike-out against the Maine Fudd Base." (sinisterfluffle)

The hare jumped-up in surprise and dropped his Snapple™. (astonishedfluff) "But how?! That tree-rat raid and the resulting epidemic cost us over 2/3rds of our current forces! Such an attack would be suicidal!"

The bun-in-charge smiled in such a way that Flatpaw stopped in mid-protest. All momentary bravery within him melted. *He's mad!* he thought to himself.

"Flatpaw, how many buns do I have under my command?"

(hesitantfluff) "Twenty-one, sir."

"Wrong! Twenty-one buns here at this base, perhaps, but I have twenty-one warrens at my disposal."

Flatpaw stuttered, "Twennn--twennttyy--twenty-one, one, warrens, sir?" (astonishedfluff)

(pounderfluff) The bun-in-charge started counting silently on his paws for a moment. "No, make that 23...no 24 warrens..."

"But, from where?"

The bun-in-charge chuckled. "Flatpaw, you definitely are from out-of-state. I'm in a really good mood and you humor me. Keep me happy and you may go far."

"When the Fudds somehow drove the BunnyMarines out of Portland last year, a truce was called. In that truce all buns from central and southern Maine had to leave. There was nothing in that truce about eastern or northern Maine." (deviousfluff) "Before I was assigned to establish the Bangor Blue Ox baseball team this past spring, I was in charge of the Wyman Blueberry operations Down East."

"Aren't they..."

"Yes, my Wyman blueberry company is the largest producer and distributor of wild blueberries in the country. More than 4/5ths of all blueberries in muffin packages come from my blueberry barrens or warrens. And we don't call them warrens for nothing, now do we?"

The bun-in-charge laughed deeply for a moment almost reminiscent of another bun's laughter in Ohio, but not as deep or long-lasting.

"Sir," (sighfluff) "do you have a name I can call you other than sir?" (appologeticfluff) "Why are you telling me all this?"

The bun-in-charge contemplated for a moment. "In front of other buns, the name is SIR, period. Maine has an above average amount of reg-buns who'd just mess-up my name anyway. My name is not important to the operation and you need not know it, but as I said, Sergeant Flatpaw, I like you and I shall humor you as you have done to me."

He pulled-off fur-tight gloves from his two fore-paws that Flatpaw hadn't notice to reveal the bright reddish fur underneath that didn't quite match nor clash with his brown pelt.

"You're talking to Browny 'Blueberry' CrimsonPaw. My brother fought in the Portland Battle and is missing in action and considered dead."

It took a moment for Flatpaw's promotion to sink in as he rolled the name around on his tongue silently.

(attentionastonishedfluff) "Sergeant? Thank you, sir!"

"Browny in private is fine, like I said, I like you Flatpaw. But there comes a price with the promotion."

Sir?...I mean Browny?"

"You're going to be in charge of the offensive against the Maine Fudds. Since all my other military leaders perished in the epidemic, you're my most qualified candidate..."

Browny CrimsonPaw filled Flatpaw in on his plan. All the while, the newly promoted sergeant's ego expanded.

"....and here's my written orders for you to pass on to each warren to get the necessary troops. You'll have only a few weeks to build them into a single fighting unit, but I know you can do it..."

"....and they shall perish. Do you understand your orders, Sergeant?"

(estaticsalutefluff) "Yes, sir! I won't let you down!"

"Dismissed." SGT Flatpaw left. Soon afterwards, Browny CrimsonPaw laughed loud and hard. "FOOL!" he called-out to nobun. "Of course you won't let me down. Either you'll succeed and I'll be rid of the Fudds who killed my brother and his family or you'll fail and the blame will fall on an out-of-state bun and I'll still maintain my ironpaw control over Eastern Maine!"

What Browny CrimsonPaw didn't know was his brother, LT CrimsonPaw was alive and well at a warren he and the other survivors of Sunsetwarren of South Portland had established beneath BowsBuck MTN in Northwestern Maine near the New Hampshire border.

The lieutenant was still healing his wounds from his last raid on Portland. What was suppose to be an easy mission to gather supplies resulted in the loss of several of his buns. He did not learn until recently that the Fudds he had to battle were not the same Fudds who had forced him and those he was in charge of into exile within their own state. Revenge on the monkeys who called themselves 'Wanderers' would come eventually, but there were other matters on paw first.

They did succeed in securing supplies for the new warren, however, and had done rather well on their own for the past year. The warren had grown from 200 to nearly 325 within the first year. There were now enough able buns to contemplate taking revenge on the Fudds and reclaiming their lost territory.

Despite his injuries, LT CrimsonPaw personally saw to the training of his new troops. They made him proud. His confidence grew with each passing day. He knew that the day was coming real soon when he would lead the attack to clear the Fudds out of Maine so that those buns in exile could resettle into their old warrens. And CrimsonPaw believed that day would come before the first snow would fly that winter.

No, Maine was not a naturally cute state. It's weather extremes were harsh on the souls who lived there, but CrimsonPaw, knew that there was a time of year, when the ky00t abounded in Maine. That was during the peak fall foliage season, when even the trees succumbed to ky00tness with their multi-hued glory. Then would be the time to strike. To avenge all those who were slaughtered by the Fudds; to avenge those who were tossed to the Fudds for slaughter by the buns From Away who were too cowardly to fight in the front lines; and to show PAW how Maine buns can deal with Fudds on their own without outside assistance or interference.

LT CrimsonPaw breathed in the cool, crisp mountain autumn air as he looked-out over the valleys below his vantage point from one of the hidden entrances to Bowsbuck Warren on Bowsbuck Mtn in extreme western Maine. The trees of the Maine wilderness landscape were in full autumn splendor in gold, lavender, red, orange, and shades in between. From his vantage point, he could fling a rotten Fudd toe into New Hampshire, but that was not his objective. He turned to the 118 soldierbuns assembled behind him in the meeting hall and gestured to the scenery outside.

"Behold! Frith is with us and ky00tness has descended upon the forest around us! Now is the time to reclaim our lands from those foolish Fudds! They are weak and their grip on Maine is precarious. You have seen the transmissions we have monitored. The Fudds are losing ground all over the world...Texas, New York, Indiana, New Brunswick are just a few of the places that ky00tness has made gains in the past year. Tomorrow, my fellow buns, we shall add Maine to that list!"

The buns roared approval to their leader....

Browny CrimsonPaw's symp security force had been dispatched to ensure no unknowing humans would wander near or into Mahoney Diamond just off the University of Maine at Orono campus. Before him on the field stood about 200 buns, paw-picked by SGT FlatPaw from the 24 warrens under Browny's command in Eastern Maine. FlatPaw was droning a prep speech to those assembled.

"....personally paw-picked you under orders from 'The Boss' to do a great service for all bunkind. The Fudds have struck-out against us in a surprise attack, killing over 40 of our fellow buns, using a suicide rabid squirrel squad. Tomorrow, we shall avenge the deaths of our fellow buns and rid the world of that sore which prevents ky00tness from being experienced by our misguided brethren in Southern and Central Maine. By tomorrow evening you shall all be dining on human toes and the Fudd base known as Maine Fudd Volunteer HQ shall be a smoking ruin!"

Cheers rose from the buns assembled in front of SGT FlatPaw as he finished his speech. 'The Boss', Browny "Blueberry" CrimsonPaw, fluffed his approval for the buns standing before him for his review and indicated to FlatPaw to dismiss them. Browny signalled for FlatPaw to wait a moment. FlatPaw awaited to listen to his commander.

"You've done an excellent job mustering together such a fine force on such short notice." (warningfluffanddeepenvoice) "Don't let me down."

"I won't sir!" FlatPaw responded, (salutefluff)ed and left for final preparations.

"No!" (STOMP!) "How many times do I have to say it!"

"But Steve she deserves the truth. You can't keep her and the kids in the dark much longer with the destruction of LuFI. When the checks suddenly start reading Army of Fudd rather than U.S. Government, she's going to start asking questions..."

(sighfluff) "But George....Joe, how can I go through with this? What if...if..."

"She rejects you? She's afraid of you? I doubt it. The last I saw you two together, your love for each other was too strong...give her the benefit of the doubt." Capt. George Stickney paused a moment and grinned wickedly. "Besides, if you don't, I'll pull medical rank on you."

"You can't do that, you're no doctor."

"No, but old Doc Matthews says you need some time off and if you don't take it voluntarily, he'll force you to take it. It wouldn't take much to convince him either. And I'll go with you. I'll talk to Carolyn first to soften the shock if any...." George trailed off and smiled again.

"And leave the base in Pomerleau's hands!" (STOMP!) "NO WAY! The last time he was left in command, we nearly lost Maine to the Fluffers. And that was almost one year ago to the day!"

"The key word there is, nearly, Steve. Besides, there is no longer a serious threat in this region except for that upstart in Bangor. And with 200 former LuFI troops wanting blood here, I doubt that bun would be dumb enough to cause trouble for the week or so we'll be gone. Even with most of the Lumberjack Fudds off in the woods, aiding the wardens due to hunting season."

Captain Stickney turned and headed back towards Steve's office on the Pomerleau farm. He stopped and turned back to Steve. "So are you coming on your own terms or shall I fetch Doc?"

(resignedfluff) "I don't have much of a choice do I?"

An hour later, Stickney and 10 LuFI Fudds and 10 Lumberjack Fudds escorted Blake on the long four hour drive up to "The County" to visit Blake's wife.

Eugene waved them off and turned to concerns closer to base, his brother's latest project....

[Blake's tale continued in the separate story, The County]

Eugene knocked on the door of a newer outbuilding erected in the past week on the farm. The soldiers "temporarily" stationed on the farm from LuFI had erected several new buildings, including a large "barn" to provide themselves with barracks. The building Eugene was standing in front of now would be the base's new computer and communications center once Eugene's brother, Chris was through with the wiring. Eugene entered upon hearing a muffled "Enter" from beyond the door.

If Eugene was a cartoon character, he would have had to pick his jaw off the floor from the reaction to what he saw inside. There were wires, capacitors, and resistors of all sizes, colors, and shapes all-over the floors, walls and the ceiling. In the center of the room was a five foot tall jumble of wires, LED's and hard-wired computer panels. On the far wall, in the only semi-uncluttered portion of the room, was a table with three monitors, a laptop and several semi-empty 70's style steel computer cabinets. Within the cabinets were circuit boards, miles of wires, floppy drives (both 5.25 and 3.5 inch) hard drives and one CD-ROM. A door next to the table led to another room beyond. Chris was sitting at the table wielding his soldering iron.

"A little early, bro, I'm not quite ready to throw the switch and see if it works." There was a big grin on Chris' face.

Eugene just looked about in confusion and disbelief. "Dare I ask?"

"I'm about to solve all the computer problems this base has had since its establishment. I started drawing-up the schematics for this baby in my head after that Buntel™ fiasco a year ago..."

Bad visions came into Eugene's head. Some anonymous benefactor had donated two Pentium systems to the base, but both had pink Buntel microprocessors, which BunnyStumper Deluxe™ would not work on...Buntel being a known bunny-backed company. The pc's met their fate underneath Mike Natowski's 400lb cement-filled microwave. Eugene shivered at the memory.

"Don't remind me, Chris. But what in the hell is all this?" Eugene gestured to the mad-wiring mess through-out the room.

"Our new computer system. I'm calling it the P.A.T.C.H.W.O.R.C.S., Pomerleau Advanced Technologically Correct Hard-Wired Online Re-activated Computer System, Falcon V."

"Let me guess, the first four were..."

"Failures. But I've got all the bugs worked-out of the schematics. This is going to be the ultimate Fudd computer-system east of NoCO." (Of course neither of them knew anything about NightWing down in Dunwich.)

Eugene gave his brother that know-all look. "Right....um, re-activated computer system?" Eugene giggled slightly.

"You laugh now, but this will both be very functional and very uncute. No moskimus* will be able to hack into this system from within. Then again, I doubt any devilbunny would want to get this close to this system, if they could get this far within our defenses. Heeya, let me show you."

Chris took Eugene around various parts of the room, explaining everything. Most of it was too technical and went over Eugene's head. They made their way to the five foot heap of computer boards and wires in the center of the room.

"And this is..."

"Let me guess, the main frame, perhaps?"

"Close, Gene. I call it the Brain Frame. This is the central processor, or should I say processors and memories of the system."

Eugene was afraid to ask, but did so anyway, "Processors?"

"Well, you know how it is heeya in Maine, don't waste nothin' that can be put to use. Well, I salvaged two Wang 286 and 4 IBM 386 cpu's along with a Crappered Bell™ 486dx33. I've hard-wired all these together along with four IBM PC Juniors, two Commodore Vic-20's, a Commodore 16 and a Trash 80 (RadioShack TSR-80)."

Eugene shook his head in disbelief. "That's...that's just not possible."

Chris pulled-out the hand-written schematics from his pocket, unfolded it and attempted to show Eugene. "Anything is possible, Gene. It wasn't that long ago that I thought intelligent, killah rabbits weah just a folk-lore portion of ah heritage. I just kept that in mind as I drew this up. And it's gonna work as slick as a smelt just as any old faithful John Deah™ tractor out in the fields."

Chris folded the schematics up and tucked them back in his pocket. "Come on, bro, I'll show you the rest of this in the other room..."

"The rest?"

Do I really want to see this?

SGT Eugene Pomerleau, Temporary Commander, Maine Fudd Volunteers and
Chris Pomerleau, Electronics Technician Extraordinaire--If I can't fix it, I'll bust it!

*moskimus--a Native American Language word for devilbunny.

"I'm going to move the lap-top in here, since it's separate from the Falcon V and place it over on this desk."

Eugene's attention was attracted to the two-sided, clear, glass map in the center of the new communications center. A detailed map of the Pomerleau Farm/Maine Fudd base and the surrounding region was drawn on it. "Where did you get this from?" was all he uttered.

Chris looked-up at the map. "Oh, the battle map? I got it on a five finger discount from BIW*. They called me down to do a minor repair job on one of the Aegis Cruisers in dry-dock.

Something about the job being below what Union Workers are allowed to do...anyhow, I saw that glass and knew we could use one. So I 'borrowed' it. I did get stopped by some navy officer overseeing the repair work. I simply told him, it was being replaced." He smiled mischievously at his brother.

Eugene was afraid to ask more about where some of the other equipment came from. "So what is it here for."

"Well, once the Falcon V is up and running, it will be receiving all the data from the Cuton Geometer™ on base and the smaller Imagers placed throughout the countryside. No devilbunny, other than Major Blake, will be able to get within three miles of here without appearing as a red blip on the map. Blake's cuton signature is, of course, recognized as friendly by the system."

Eugene nodded in comprehension without believing one word of what his brother was stating. *Perhaps Portland made him crack,* he thought to himself.

"How soon can we boot it up?"

"I've got some more soldering to do....should be ready by tomorrow morning. But I'll need to take the Geometers off-line for an hour to hook them in."

"Well, I'll get more patrols out before we do that. Until then, I've got other things to do..."

"Like push papers." Chris grinned.

(sigh) "That's part of it." Eugene left Chris behind to his computer insanity.

SGT Eugene "Moxie Man" Pomerleau, Temp commander, Maine Fudd Volunteers and
Chris Pomerleau, Electronics Technician extraordinaire--It ain't broke unless he can't fix it.

*BIW-Bath Iron Works, one of America's leading ship builders. Ships have been built in and near the location of BIW since the early 1600's.

[The following morning in the new communications and computer center for Maine Fudd Volunteers.....]

"Ok, I've disconnected the alarms, in case something doesn't quite work as I throw the switch...." Chris headed over to a panel with a large red button simply labeled, 'The Button'. He turned to Eugene. "Ready?"

Eugene nodded and Chris hit the button. The lights dimmed for a moment until the commercial diesel generator (Yet another item Chris picked-up on a "five-finger" discount after a project at Thomas College in nearby Waterville.) outside kicked-in. The whir of computer fans emanated from the 'Brain Frame' as it came to life, searching its ROM to determine that, yes it indeed was alive and it was a computer of some sort. The Falcon V then went through memory testing programs. On one of the monitors, a report of the test came up in about 20 seconds:

{1,072,109,000 bytes memory tested}
{1,072,109,000 bytes free}

"Um, bro...am I reading this correctly? One gigabyte of memory????"

"No, that's 1.072 gigabytes and 109 k of memory. I was only able to salvage 2-286 and 4-386 cpu's, but I got a ton of 1 meg memory cards. The whole east wall in the other room is nothing by those old memory cards, each worth about 1 meg apiece. Then you throw in the K-range memory in the Jr's, the Commodores and the Trash-80 and you wind-up with that odd 109k at the end..."

"That's just not possilble...."

{Loading DOS 3.0...}
{Loading DOS 6.22...}
{Loading BunnyStumper Deluxe™ ...}

"Dude, think with an open mind. I hooked it all up...and it's accepting its fate." Chris starts to pull-out the schematics again.

"Never mind....but, DOS 3.0??? Isn't that a bit ancient."

"Well....yeah, but there's only so much the 286's, the PC Jr's and the Trash-80's could handle. The newer DOS and BSD are loading onto the Crappard Bell portion of the system. And the Commodore's already have Basic pre-loaded into them...."

{Loading Cuteness Geometer Coordinator v4.3...}

The battle map came to life with little blips in reds and blues appearing on the perimeter of the map. A little key at the bottom right indicated that the reds were possible devilbunnies and the blues as other cuteness sources, such as squirrels. The reds far outnumbered the blues, especially to the northeast. As they watch, two blue blips are engulfed in red and vanish.

"That better be a bug in the program," Eugene commented as he tapped the glass of the map. He then radioed into a few of the patrols in that area. The first two didn't answer. Eugene didn't bother trying a third as he hit the Base Alert Alarm. Nothing happened. He glared at Chris who shrugged.

"I told you I had to disconnect the alarms just in case." Chris went to work resoldering disconnected lines as he spoke.

Eugene grabbed the intercom microphone and hit the switch for base/farmwide broadcast.
"BASE ALERT! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! I REPEAT! BASE ALERT! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! ALL PERSONAL GRAB YOUR WEAPONS! THE ENEMY IS COMING FROM THE NORTHEAST!"

The alarms sounded just as Eugene finished. Eugene slammed a Mormon Tabernacle Choir CD into the CD player hooked into the PA system and hit the timer to begin continuous play in 5 minutes before heading for the door. Chris dropped his equipment, making sure the soldering iron was off and joined his brother in rushing outside to join in the defense preparations.

A small arrow flew silently through the air and ended the life of a grey squirrel who was eating an acorn high in an ancient white oak. A bun notched another arrow in the bun-sized bow.

(confusedfluff) "That one didn't look intelligent," his companion, also wielding a mini-bow commented in a hushed voice.

(smack) "Listen, Fudd-brain, the Sergeant said all squirrels are to be terminated on sight. Whether or not they look intelligent. They could be part of the Fudd alarm system. We wouldn't want them to warn their allies that we're coming for a visit, do we?"

The other bun nodded his understanding, saw another squirrel further on, aimed and fired. It too fell to the ground with a thud. As they hopped-up to the felled-squirrels to retrieve their shafts, the buns would slam the squirrels against a tree trunk to ensure they were dead.

(sighfluff) "What a waste.."

(surprisedfluff) "You actually like tree-rats?"

"Well, yes, some of them can be quite tasty. And their fur make wonderful ear muffs...."

(ickfluff) "I'll take Fudd toes any day over tree-rat. Come-on, we've got many more to kill."

The two buns continued to hop through the woods, well ahead of SGT FlatPaw's forces, killing every squirrel they spotted as they went.

Outside, organized confusion reigned. Fudds grabbed weapons and formed into their various platoons/companies. Eugene hurriedly directed them to their defense positions:

"You all know how this works from the drills....Moose Team One to the edge of the eastern wood lot. I want Supersoaker™ Brigade Five to back you..." He turned and pointed to the next group and the next and the next...giving orders.

"....LuFI Shotgun Six, Axe 12 and Moxie Grenade Battery One, you're with Chris...Cprl O'Keefe you're in charge of communications..." O'Keefe headed towards the comm center. "The rest of you, follow me!"

Fudds scattered to follow their various orders.

"There they are." SGT Jose spoke softly to the 20 LuFI Fudds under his command. "When I yell the attack, lob the Moxie™, fire the shotguns, then the supersoakers, and then lay into 'em with the fire axes. Just like all the drills. Got it?" The Fudds nodded.

The lead bun belched cutely. His tummy along with those of the other buns behind him were quite full, thanks to that small group of Fudds they had ambushed fifteen minutes before. SGT FlatPaw was a genious. If reconnasiance on this Fudd outpost were correct, they had already wiped-out nearly 10 percent of the personell. They'd all be home by evening. The bun froze suddenly as the wind changed and he sniffed human. He ear-signaled the others to stop....

"REMEMBER LUFI!!!!!!" (CRACK-FIZZ!) All hell broke loose as orange cans of that foul Fudd softdrink flew through the air to explode on the rocks around the buns who in turn cried in pain as Moxie™ splatted on their exposed haunches. Fudds errupted from the woods around them firing shotguns, felling several buns in mid-leap. The buns prepared a counter-attack as the shotgun fire died, only to get a muzzle-full of Blessed Urine and more fell. And then the Fudds were onto the survivors with fire axes, hacking the buns to death.

The Fudds watched the woods around them cautiously, reloading shotguns and supersoakers.

"Report!" Jose ordered.

"All buns terminated. No casualties on our side, sir!"

"Guess again, Fudd monkeys!" The Fudds turned in time to see the second wave of buns errupt out of the woods at them.

Fudds fell almost as quickly as the first wave of buns had.

"PULL BACK!" SGT Jose shouted just before he was burried under a living, snarling wall of fluff.

*****BUNIX™ TIGHTBEAM TO SGT FLATPAW*****

We have met some resistance, but all but a few have succombed to our superior numbers. We have the Fudds on the run. Our casualties are within the numbers you expected. Proceeding forward. No sign of SGT Pomerleau or the traitorbun as of yet.

Cprl Loon, Alpha team
*****END TIGHTBEAM AND ENCRYPTION*****

The news was the same up and down the battle lines. The Fudds were greatly outnumbered against the devilbunnies. Eugene ordered everyone to fall back towards the farm proper. Eugene prayed that with the clearer terrain, the LuFI Fudds would fight better, they being use to wide-open spaces.

Meanwhile, Cprl O'Keefe was busy on the station comm unit trying to send-out the alarm.

(tap, tap, tap, ENTER) {Password incorrect}

O'Keefe cursed under his breath.

(tap, tap, tap, ENTER) {Password incorrect}

"When did they change the passwords! I just worked on this yesterday!" he shouted in frustration.

(tap, tap, tap, ENTER) {Password incorrect}

"To [PiG-13] with Eugene's brother's tinkering!"

(tap, tap, tap, ENTER) {Password incorrect}

"Work! Or I'll take my fireaxe to your circuitboards!"

(tap, tap, tap) {Password incorrect}

O'Keefe slammed the keyboard in frustration sending random letters across the screen....

{Password Accepted. Welcome, Corporal Donald O'Keefe...
Cuteness Geometer Tracker v4.3 indicates we are under invasion....
C:\ (blinking cursor) }

O'Keefe sent a silent prayer off to El'mah as he began to send Emergency tightbeams out:

*****Priority One Tightbeam to Major Steve Blake*****
*****BUNNYSTUMPER DELUXE™ activated*****
Major, Maine Fudd Vol. HQ is currently under attack. Please respond...

Cprl O'Keefe for SGT Pomerleau
*****End tightbeam and encryption*****

*****Priority One Tightbeam to SGT Ros-Pierre*****
*****BUNNYSTUMPER DELUXE™ activated*****
Sir, please recall all Lumberjack Fudds to Maine Fudd HQ immediately. We are under attack by a large devilbunny force.

Cprl O'Keefe for SGT Pomerleau
*****end tightbeam and encryption*****

*****Priority One Widebeam, All Fudd Operations*****
*****BUNNYSTUMPER DELUXE™ activated*****

Attn all Fudds:

As of this moment, Maine Fudd Vol. HQ is under devilbunny attack. If you do not hear from us within 48 hours declaring our victory, assume the worst. If you are within a 2 hour radius of our location, your aid would be welcome.

Cprl O'Keefe, Maine Fudd communications for SGT Eugene Pomerleau, temp commander, Maine Fudd Volunteers
*****END WIDEBEAM AND ENCRYPTION****

Donald O'Keefe looked-up at the battlemap as he sent-off the last message, gulped hard and radioed SGT Pomerleau.

"Sergeant! A second wave of fluffers has appeared on the map to the northwest!"

"Understood, Corporal. Switch me over to basewide...." Eugene paused a moment. "No more playing hero folks, we've got more fluffers coming in from the northwest. Everyone fall back! That's an order!"

The Fudds fell back closer to the farm as the buns pursued them.

"What do you make of it, Private?"

(puzzledfluff) "I thought we were the only buns left in Maine, sir. It appears somebun else beat us to the fun." (poutfluff)

"What! Gimme those!" LT CrimsonPaw yanked the bunnoculars from the private and viewed the scene below them. They were situated a few miles to the nw of the Fudd base on Drake Hill. CrimsonPaw viewed the carnage below and smiled.

"The markings on their armor...those could be my worthless brother's troops."

"What are your orders, sir? Do we join in the attack?"

LT CrimsonPaw smiled evilly at the private who shrank at the site of his commander. "No, private. Tell the troops to take a breather. We shall serve as a 'back-up' unit to my brother's troops. He failed to come to our aid last year, let's see how much he regrets that move....besides, this way, they'll soften the Fudds for us" (deviousfluff) "making things easier for us, once we do attack."

LT CrimsonPaw and his troops from Bowsbuck Warren sat back and watched the battle from their vantage point.

"What's that other group of Fluffers doing, Cprl?!" Eugene yelled into his headset as he fended-off another fluffer with his axe.

In the comm center, Cprl O'Keefe tapped the glass of the battlemap. "They seem to be holding back, sir...." O'Keefe grabbed a set of binoculars and looked towards Drake Hill to the northwest. "It's not a computer glitch, sir. I can see them clearly over on Drake Hill. They're just lounging up there...."

Eugene booted another fluffer as he covered the retreat of some of his forces. "Great. They're so confident they're keeping some buns in reserve....keep me informed, Cprl."

"Chris! Where the hell are you!?"

"I'm over by the east field, bro, our forces here are also falling back....we are killing fluffers left and right, but it seems for every one we kill, two take its place. As soon as everyone is inside the perimeter fence, I'll throw the switch."

"Switch? What have you been up to this time, bro?!" Eugene dropped a can of his namesake in the path of a charging bun, who in turn leaped-dodged aside and landed against Eugene's left arm, leaving a deep, eight inch gash before Eugene could throw it off. "[PiG-13] fluffer! I'm loosing my touch!"

Two other Fudds leaped in to defend Eugene as he fell back, ripping part of his shirt to use to bandage the wound.

"Gene? You still there?!"

"Yes, (wince) just a flesh wound..."

"Get your forces inside the corn fence ASAP!"

"Corn fence. You mean that wimpy low voltage wire we use to keep the coons out of the corn?"

"Yes, but make sure no one touches the wire!"

"I understand, bro!" Eugene turned to his retreating forces. "Through the corn field, but watch the coon wire!"

Fudds fell back, leaping over the irrigation ditch and coon wire into the corn field. A few buns leaped and made it over. The second line were not so fortunate as the resulting crackling and fizzling demonstrated. The voltage in the wire had been increased tremendously, not to mention the nasty effect when a bun connected to both the wire and the water in the shallow ditch. The buns who had made it were distracted for a second, long enough for the Fudds to finish them off. The remaining buns fell back momentarily and regrouped while awaiting others to catch-up with them. Confidence still shown in their eyes.

"Continue falling back!" Eugene ordered. Blood still dripped from his wounded arm. He aimed his father's borrowed 30 au 6 rifle and fired into the bun crowd as his troops continued their retreat towards the center of the base.

Chris Pomerleau was not having a good day. The Falcon V booted-up properly, but everything had been going down-hill since then. He snapped the string on his bow on the third capacitor-tipped arrow and the buns had come on too quickly for him to restring it. He had wound-up flinging it at two buns. His brand-new trenchcoat was in tatters. His black fedora he had purchased to match the coat had Spam™ smeared on it. At least the bunny blood on his katana was fresh, but that too was proving rather unwieldy against the flying furballs.

And then there were the calls on the headset from his brother...at least so far Falcon V's automated defense programs were working so far as the report from the cornfield indicated. Chris fended-off another bun with the katana, only to see it skewer itself and jam on the blade.

Chris dropped the blade in anger/frustration and drew his tomahawk in time to deflect another leaping bun out of the air as his forces continued to retreat. Chris turned to get his bearings and smiled. The chain fence and crane were just ahead of him.

"Take cover!" Chris dove through the opening in the fence, slammed the gate shut and hit a switch attached to the fence. It hummed to life as high voltage surged through it. The buns learned the hard way as several slammed into the fence and crackled as voltage surged through their now lifeless bodies. Burning bunny fur permeated the air.

*This better work,* Chris thought to himself as he turned on the power to the crane, which in turn began to hum. His hair began to stand on end as the electromagnet on the end of the crane winch began to charge. He remembered a moment too late that the magnet would do more than attract any metallic armor encased buns as he began to feel himself get lifted off the ground by his steel-toed boots.

Chris grabbed onto a nearby tree as he was pulled nearly upside down. "SSSSSSShhhhhhhiiiiiiitttttttttt!!!!!!!" Buns in armor flew-up and stuck to the electromagnet. Fudd fire axes followed suit and killed said buns. Then a Fudd lost his grip on a tree near Chris and flew past Chris and up to the magnet. Chris' forgotten katana, complete with bunny carcass finished the unfortunate Fudd off.

"TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!" Several Fudds called-out. The fence began to buckle as buns in kevlar armor watched, (fluffing) in anticipation of an easy kill. One Fudd's boots flew-off and up to the magnet. He in turn dropped to the ground and rushed over to the crane's power switch. The fence ripped loose, sending pyrotechnic sparks into the air and soared towards the magnet. Buns leaped through the hole. The Fudd hit the switch, shutting the magnet down, just as the fence reached the magnet. The combined debris on the magnet fell instantly on top of the charging buns.

Chris and company hesitated long enough to retrieve their weapons before they turned and ran for the base center. Chris noted to his dismay that the katana was now nicked and his iron tomahawk blade was blunted by the force of slamming into the magnet.

The Fudds at Maine Fudd Vol. HQ continued to give ground slowly to the devilbunny invaders. But every foot of the ground came with a high price to the devilbunnies. But the fluffers were slowly winning the battle. Eugene was continuously ordering his troops to fall back. The family farmstead was in view now through the last of the cornfields.

"Is everyone through? Good, set it ablaze, NOW!"

Fudds who had been standing by with torches tossed them into the dead, dry cornfield and it instantly flared-up thanks to a little gasoline. Screams of burning bunnies screeched above the crackle of flames. Fudds sat back in exhaustion as they were granted a momentary breather.

"That won't hold them back forever. Set-up sentries and get some rest while you can!" SGT Pomerleau called-out.

(crackle) "Sir!"

Eugene answered the call on his headset. "What is it, Cprl O'Keefe?"

"I received an incoming message from Major Blake not 90 seconds ago. I'm patching it through now."

*****BUNNYSTUMPER DELUXE™ ACTIVATED*****
*****REPLY TO SGT POMERLEAU*****

Sergeant, I have a Priority Code Pink (STOMP!) situation up here in the County. You're on your own. Good Luck!

Major Steve Blake
*****END TIGHTBEAM AND ENCRYPTION*****

"Great, just great. Any other good news you might have for me?"

"No word yet from SGT Ros-Pierre and the Lumberjack Fudds and we won't be getting word anytime soon. The buns have jammed our frequencies. Nothing is getting out or in other than static."

"And that reserve group of Fluffers?"

"They're still up there, sir, watching the battle."

"Thank you, Cprl. I'm heading to the command center. Have my brother meet me there." Eugene turned to a LuFI Sergeant near him. "You're in charge here in my absence. Keep a sharp eye-out for their counter-attack."

"Yes, sir!"

Chris met with Eugene and Cprl O'Keefe not five minutes later in the computer center.

"You're relieved O'Keefe. Send word back to the others. When the buns attack, lead them this way and continue falling back to the farmhouse."

"Yes, sir!" O'Keefe departed.

"Start blanking the system, Chris."

"What!? I just got this thing up and running!"

"Yes, and we've got what...100, 200 buns out there. Uncute or not, I'm not going to leave them any information. We can't stand against them forever." Chris stomped towards one of the terminals as Eugene continued. "Besides I'm counting on some of your counter-measures to even the odds a little."

A partial grin spread across Chris' face despite knowing he'd most likely lose his 'baby' as he quickly glanced upward. "Ayuh, you can count on the Falcon V to produce a few headaches for those fluffahs, bro." He hit a few more keys and jumped-up, grabbing a nearby laptop, which he tossed to Eugene, who somehow caught it.

"One more thing to do in here, bro." Chris hit the eject key on the system's CD-Rom drive, pulled-out The BunnyStumper Deluxe™ CD and added several new holes to it with his soldering iron. He then reinserted it into the drive. "There, now all that will be good for is a beverage coastah!"

Chris grabbed his tools and followed Eugene into the backroom and set his gear down.

[CRACKLE...] "Sir, their launching their counter-attack! Get out of there!" came over the headset.

"Understood, we're almost done here, provide us some cover!" Eugene turned to Chris. "Come on!"

"One more thing, bro!" Chris slammed the steel door shut and slid a steel plate under it. He then quickly cut and stripped the electrical cord to a nearby terminal and soldered one lead to the plate and the other to the door knob. "Stand back!" He plugged it in and the door arced for a moment. "All set!"

They grabbed their stuff and bailed out the back door as the buns entered the front of the building.

(shudderfluff) "It's so...so..."

"Uncute, just like I expected a Fudd computer system to look like. Don't disturb any of it. That goes double for you regbuns!" (STOMP!)

(salutefluff) We have captured the Fudd monkeys' computer center. The attack is proceeding forward while two groups will stay behind to attempt to access their information.

Cprl Loon

*****RETURN BUNIX™ TIGHTBEAM*****

Excellent, Corporal! Proceed with caution.

SGT FlatPaw

*****END TIGHTBEAM AND ENCRYPTION*****

"All right you know your orders! Fluffy, Blackie, Lucktail, Appleblossum, and 3 regbuns, inside and secure the place. The rest of you follow me and secure the perimeter!"

The buns did as they were told. Inside the regbuns cowered at the shear ugliness of the Falcon V's loose wires and computer boards.

"Don't touch a thing!" (STOMP!) Blackie ordered to the regbuns.

They proceeded into the next room and (astonishfluff)ed in their amazement. They looked about carefully and Appleblossum settled into a seat in front of a terminal next to a Sony 40 inch monitor screen.

"Do you think you can access it?"

Appleblossum fluffed her fur and flexed her claws. "There isn't a system I can't access once I get my claws on it." (coyfluff) She started typing-away.

The 40 inch monitor next to her suddenly came to life. The regbuns gathered round as the monitor began to show an episode of Bay Watch.

"I can't hear it, turn the volume up," one regbun whined.

"No!" Blackie called-out too late as one of the buns laid paw on the volume. At the same time a 20 lb power transformer from an old 1960's Philco television attached to a chain fell in a downward arch. The regbun turned in time to see its death as the transformer slammed into the bun, and on through the 40 inch monitor.

WWWWWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!

The monitor imploded, releasing 110 db of sound into the room. All the buns fell to the ground clutching their ears as blood poured forth from them. After 30 seconds, none moved anymore. The resulting power surge caused the lights to dim for a moment. On the monitor unnoticed by all since there was nobun left alive to notice:

{Coolant system failure! Danger! Danger! Danger!}
{System overload in 2 minutes! Danger!}

The buns outside the building felt the implosion rather than heard it.

"Blackie, come in..." (static) "Lucktail, Fluffy, Appleblossum.." (static) "Anybun!" (static)

Cprl Loon slammed a paw against the side of the building in frustration.

*****BUNIX™ TIGHTBEAM TO SGT FLATPAW*****

It appears the Fudds left a trap behind in the computer center. I've lost contact with the computer team. Am proceeding in with caution.

*****RETURN TIGHTBEAM*****

Understood, Loon. Keep this channel open.

SGT FlatPaw

*****End message, channel remains open*****

"Alright, you heard the Sergeant. Take it slow and easy. Use the heavy ear protection and communicate only through your headsets."

The buns crept into the building one by one. Several (shudderfluff)ed at the computer system. A couple paled when they saw the mess in the terminal room. What was once a glass battle map lay shattered on the floor along with the remains of the first team, all of which lay in pools of their own blood. Loon stared at the transformer dangling from the chain next to the remains of the Sony monitor and cursed to himself.

(crackle) "What's that I hear, Corporal?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Move closer to the terminal you just passed..."

Loon did so.

{Danger! Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!}
{Danger! Danger! Danger! Coolant System Failure!}
{System Overload in 10 seconds!}
{Danger! Danger! Danger!}

Panic fell across FlatPaw's face back in the command unit as he yelled into the headset,
"GET OUT!!! GET THE [FLUFF] OUT! GET YOUR BUNS OUT OF THERE, LOON!" He looked out across the expanse between his command post and the building in question.

Meanwhile, inside the buns were doing as they were told heading back the way they came. The terminal continued it's plea:

{Danger! Danger! Danger! Coolant System Failure!}
{HELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEHELPME....}

The buns turned tail and headed back into the terminal center as the various computer components in the first room began to arc and flare-up filling the room with smoke. Loon slammed the door shut to delay the fire. He looked about and pointed to the other door. A bun leaped forward and set a paw on the handle. He immediately twitched and lit-up as raw voltage coursed through his body, causing the lights overhead to dim some more.

(STOMP!) "The door's electrified!" Loon looked about...no windows. "We're trapped!" Panic began to set in.

FlatPaw back in the command post turned the headset-off and (STOMPED!) in frustration. "How many buns were there in Alpha team?"

One of Loon's buns reached for the door Loon had shut.

"No! You'll set off the backdra..."

(FFFWWWWWOOOOOOOOOMMMMMPPPPPPP!!!!) Fire exploded into the room, putting the buns out of their misery.

"Were, sir?" FlatPaw's aid asked as the doors to the building in the distance blew-out in a fireball. There was a tear in FlatPaw's eye.

"Yes, I said were." (STOMP!) "I want names to chant as I avenge their deaths!" (STOMP!) He turned the headset on again.

*****BUNIX™ LOCAL WIDEBEAM*****

All forces, give the Fudd monkeys no quarter! Kill every last one of the monkeys! Hold nothing back! (STOMP!) (STOMP!) (STOMP!)

*****END ENCRYPTION AND WIDEBEAM*****

Burning debris fell down among the Fudds as flames ripped through the roof of the computer center.

"Now, while they're distracted, all Fudds charge!" Eugene called-out. As he passed Chris in the charge, he noticed a single tear in his left eye. Eugene set his hand on Chris' shoulder momentarily. "Not to worry, bro, you can build another one once this is over."

Side by side they charged against the buns. The buns not expecting the Fudds to charge back after running away for the whole battle broke ranks and ran themselves. Those who fell behind were dispatched to the Black Rabbit by the Fudds.

Up on Drake Hill, LT CrimsonPaw leaped back in startlement as the building exploded. He stared in horror as the Fudds launched their counter-attack and the buns down below broke rank. He turned to the buns around him.

"Looks like my brother's troops can use our help after all. Let's go kick some Fudd [PiG-13]!"

The buns around him cheered as they moved forward and down the hill rapidly. The three miles separating them from the battle dwindling rapidly.

FlatPaw stared through bunnoculars in anger at the spectacle before him. (STOMP!) (STOMP!) (STOMP!)

"What's wrong with those fools! There aren't that many Fudds left!"

FlatPaw leaped forward attempting to swat down retreating buns. A Fudd lunged towards him. FlatPaw easily dodged the Fudd's axe and leaped at his throat. He was rewarded with a splatter of human blood as the Fudd fell.

(STOMP!) "See, nothing to it!" (STOMP!) "Fall into formation and fight!"

Many of the buns did so. Many more ignored their commander and continued to run. FlatPaw leaped aside, dodging another Fudd and tripped. The Fudd raised his axe to deliver the killing blow. FlatPaw shut his eyes and awaited the inevitable. Seconds passed. FlatPaw twitched in wonderment. *Get on with it!* he thought to himself and opened his eyes. The Fudd lay dead with a brown and white buck sitting on it's legs. It slashed off a steel-toed boot with one red fur paw and chomped-off three toes while eyeing FlatPaw. It crunched noisily. Behind it many buns were fighting against the Fudds who in turn were beginning to fall back again.

"Who...who in Frith..." was all FlatPaw could stammer.

"LT CrimsonPaw, BowsBuck Warren freebuns. Formerly of SunsetWarren, South Portland. You looked like you could use help. Seems my brother and I had the same idea." He bit-off the remaining two toes on the foot he had started on and crunched noisily.

"CrimsonPaw. Your brother...." (dawnfluff) "But you're dead."

"That's what I want PAW to think. No bun From Away is going to dictate where the buns under my protection can or can not live!" (STOMP!) He spat-out a bone. He got up off the dead Fudd. "Come on, " he glanced at FlatPaw's rank, "Sergeant, let's go finish these Fudds off."

Together, they gathered their forces and gave chase after the Fudds.

With the inspiration brought forth by the appearance of CrimsonPaw and his forces, the buns fought with a renewed ferocity against the dwindling Fudds. The Fudds in turn continued to give ground against the superior numbers of the devilbunnies.

Somewhere in the midst of the Fudds, SGT Eugene Pomerleau stood, shotgun against his hip, firing into the oncoming buns. A crimson bandage was wrapped around his left arm. On the ground near him due to an injured foot missing a couple of toes, Mike Avery sat loading shotguns. Mike would hand a loaded gun to Eugene in exchange for Gene's empty one.

"Looks like we'll have to fall back again." Frustration shown through in Eugene's voice.

"Prop me up and leave me behind. I'll delay 'em a while." Mike requested as he continued reloading. "I'm sick of running. At least I'll take some with me."

Eugene glared at Mike for a moment between blasts. "I'll have no dead heroes here. You will fall back with the rest of us and that's an order, mister."

Mike half-heartedly saluted and replied sarcastically, "Yes, sir."

Further behind the lines, Chris was setting-up a trap for the buns for the inevitable continual retreat of the Maine Fudds. They didn't have much further back they could fall to without abandoning the farm all together. As it was this time around, the Fudds would be falling-back onto the family farmstead wrap-around porch. He doubted the buns would fall for the same trap as the BunnyMarines had the year before, but there was little else he could try to pull together on such short notice. Furthermore, he didn't have half the huge 33,000 uF capacitors he had used the previous year in Portland. He only had enough to line-up one row of the soda can sized capacitors in front of the porch. These were all wired together and hooked-up to the house generator, which in the backwoods of Maine was a necessity for when the power is knocked-out, it could be days before the utility repairpeople get it back on-line.

"I'm ready Gene, I'm starting the generator up now!" Chris yelled into his head set.

"Understood, Chris." Eugene replied over his headset. "All forces, fall....standby." Eugene stared-off into the trees in the distance. He glanced at Mike. "Can you see what's happening over there in the woodlot?"

Mike strained his eyes. "I can't see that far."

"Hand me the binoculars."

"Do you smell that?" (admirefluff) LT CrimsonPaw inquired of SGT FlatPaw during one lull in the fighting.

"Smell what?" FlatPaw replied.

"The death of the human monkeys. There's nothing more foul, yet more pleasing at the same time for it announces only one thing. Victory." CrimsonPaw cackled with delight.

FlatPaw sniffed the air carefully. "That's not all I smell..." FlatPaw pailed. "I smell diesel."

(wave-offfluff) "There's always that scent around human farms. Most of the farm equipment runs on diesel."

A bun hopped-up to them quickly. "It looks like the Fudd cowards will be falling back again, sirs" (salutefluff)

(dismissfluff) "My buns know what to do," CrimsonPaw turned to FlatPaw while also looking at the newcomer. "And I assume yours do also."

> "Understood, Chris." Eugene replied over his headset. "All forces, fall....standby." Eugene
>stared-off into the trees in the distance. He glanced at Mike. "Can you see what's happening
>over there in the woodlot?"
>
> Mike strained his eyes. "I can't see that far."
>
> "Hand me the binoculars."

Eugene focused on the movement that had caught his eyes high-up in an ancient white pine. It was a squirrel, looking in his direction, flicking its tail. From this distance it was impossible to tell who it was, but there was a set repeating pattern to its tail movement. It had been a long 18 months since the last time he had to try and interpret squirrel wigwagging but this wasn't anything he had seen before.

"What do you see?" Mike asked as he aimed the shotgun he had loaded and fired, providing Eugene cover.

"A lone squirrel, flicking its tail back and forth....almost like...impossible. When did anyone find the time to teach the squirrels Morse Code?"

Mike stared at Eugene for a moment wondering if he was mad before aiming and firing again. A Moxie™ can flew-off into the Fluffy-Hordes from the makeshift mortar rigged-up by a couple of Fudds nearby.

They would shake a can vigorously, and throw it down the PVC pipe at the bottom of which was a #10 nail. The can would puncture and highly carbonized Moxie™ would shoot-out the opening, propelling the can into oncoming buns, spraying them with Moxie™ as it flew. Eugene brought Mike back into the here and now.

"Seriously, that's what it looks like. It's not really flicking it's tail...it's holding it out from its body first to the right and now, to the left. Right is a dot and left is a dash if I recall my scout training correctly....dot, dash, dot, pause...R.... dash, dash, dash, pause....O.... S.... P.... I... E... R... R... E.... I.... S.... O.... N.... W.... A.... Y... AR..... It then repeats."

It took a moment for Eugene to think it through as he watched the signal repeat itself. "RospierreonwayAR.... Rospierre on way AR...RosPierre is on the way! But the extra 'AR'..." Eugene smacked his head. "Of course, AR as one letter...end of message." Eugene snatched-up a can of Moxie™ and used the bottom as a reflector to send back a dot, dash, dot, the letter R, which was also used to acknowledge the receipt of a message. Eugene watched in his binoculars as the squirrel ceased it's signalling and disappeared behind the trunk of the tree.

"All forces," Eugene yelled into his headset, "the calvary is on the way! All units, the buns will be expecting us to retreat yet again. Hold your ground! Hold until the Lumberjacks arrive. Then strike back....charge..." Eugene paused while awaiting acknowledgements. "Elh'Mar be with all of us as we turn the tide of certain defeat into victory."

Eugene handed the binoculars back to Mike. "Keep your eyes peeled for their arrival." Eugene answered before Mike could ask, "Believe me, it will be obvious, you'll know when RosPierre's forces arrive."

As if on cue, two trees on the edge of the woodlot fell and the roar of machinery filled the fields. Eugene didn't need to order the charge as up and down the Fudd ranks two charges echoed in response to the felled trees...."REMEMBER LUFI!!!!!......FOR MAINE!!!!!!!"

> (dismissfluff) "My buns know what to do," CrimsonPaw turned to FlatPaw while also
>looking at the newcomer. "And I assume yours do also."

"Of course..." FlatPaw paused sniffing the air and turning his ears. "Do you smell and hear that?" He pointed off into the nearby woodlot.

CrimsonPaw stared for a moment, sniffing and listening. He didn't waste one moment as he yelled into his headset. "All buns pull back! I repeat all forces, re...."

> As if on cue, two trees on the edge of the woodlot fell and the roar of machinery filled the fields.
>Eugene didn'tneed to order the charge as up and down the Fudd ranks two charges echoed
>in response to the felled trees...."REMEMBER LUFI!!!!!......FOR MAINE!!!!!!!"

CrimsonPaw rolled to one side as FlatPaw knocked him over out of the path of one of the falling trees. The roar of machinery echoed around them as they were covered by the canopy of the fallen tree. Four monsterous-sized four- wheeled vehicles roared past their position on towards their bunny forces who were no being attacked anew by the Fudds whom moments before had been on the verge of defeat. Each machine had 5 foot diameter tires, each with chains. Each hauled a 10 foot section of tree behind it in a huge grapple-claw, carrying the 12 inch diameter log like a child carrying a pencil. The aidbun who had been with them was crushed under one of the machines.

CrimsonPaw struggled to get up, but FlatPaw held him down calling for silence with body language. Two tall humans dressed in wool pants, checkered black and red flannels, each wielding double-bit woodsmen axes walked by close to their position of concealment. About thirty other similarly dressed humans marched by a little further off.

"AlRIghT, mEN, leT'S give theESE heERE deVIlbunNIEs what for! ReMEMbeR, ol'Paul BuNYAn neVer shOWEd feAR in froNt of ZEe foe, let's show thoZE deVilbunNIEs what we LumBErJacks aRE made of, NON!"

The other humans roared their approval and moved double-time forward towards the melee near the farm and away from CrimsonPaw's and FlatPaw's place of concealment. Finely, FlatPaw let go of CrimsonPaw.

"We're safe for the moment."

CrimsonPaw glared at him. "Safe? My troops are being slaughtered by the very Fudds who made fools of us in Portland and you're concerned about your own safety?!"

FlatPaw stopped short of slapping his superior across the muzzle. "Sir, what good could two buns, no matter how experienced we are, do against 30 some-odd battle-honed Fudds? What good to your troops would your death be? All we can do now is provide cover while saving all we can."

CrimsonPaw paused for a moment, (sighfluff)ed and yelled into his headset. "You are correct, there's always tomorrow, if we live through today. And our forces are no match against four skidders as the lumberjacks call those cursed wood harvesting machines." (STOMP!) Tears formed in his eyes. "I watched as they decimated a whole BunnyMarine platoon and two of my own divisions with just two of those cursed machines!"

"All forces, pull back and to the east. I repeat to the east, Fudds are coming at us from the way we came to the North." He ordered to the troops over his headset.

> "REMEMBER LUFI!!!!! FOR MAINE!!!!!"

The Fudds charged forth into the Fluffy Hordes™ and the buns fell back, especially after the roar of machinery echoed from the north. After the first skidder made it's appearance and swung it's log around, sending bunnies flying like baseballs, the buns completely broke formation and ran.

A 6' 4" (193cm) tall Lumberjack emerged from the caged cockpit of the skidder and jumped down to greet Eugene.

"SerGEAnt RoSPierRE, LuMBerJack Fudds 1st CMp. YoOR ordERs, SerGEAnt?"

Eugene clasps hand and wrist with the Lumberjack. "Provide cover against the retreating buns. Do not directly engage with the enemy unless they should turn to fight. Follow them as far as the Interstate."

"But, sIR!? We can anNIhiLATe them heERE and now!"

"And what would that accomplish?" Eugene looked down and to his right where the lifeless body of Mike Avery lay clutching a headless devilbunny. "There's been enough killing for one day." Eugene pointed around him. "We're in no shape to launch a counter-attack, even with your men covering us. From the number of bunny bodies, I'd say we need not worry about the buns either. You asked for orders, I gave them."

"Yes, sIR!" RosPierre saluted and headed back to his skidder.

"All LuMBerjacks heERE are oUr ordERs..."

"Ayuh, lost'em all."

"You weah some lucky theah wasn't anyone in that rabbit bahn when it blew, Mr. Pomerleau. But my boys have got the fire under control. Shows ya how little one can trust computahs these days." The China volunteer fire department captain turned back to watch his men continue dousing the flames of what was once the computer/communications center at Maine Fudd Volunteers.

The elder Pomerleau smiled as the fire captain bought his story about how the computer system monitoring the environment for his rabbit barn had shorted-out. "Now if you'll pardon me, Captain Adams, I've got cows to attend to in the bahn yondah." Mr. Pomerleau made his way to the barn he pointed to.

Within the barn/barracks lay many wounded. Among them, Eugene winced as old Doc Matthews finished-up stitching his arm. The Fudds had run-out of painkillers some time before. Doc bandaged the wounded left arm in clean linen as Eugene's dad walked in.

"They bought the story, Gene," he said quietly to Eugene. "But your mothah is a bit upset over the whole thing. She doesn't want the Fudds around any more. She blames them for the buns disturbing her life." (sigh) "And you know how it is once your mothah has her mind made-up. If she says the sky is plaid, you had best agree with her, 'cause there isn't enough scientific truth to persuade her othahwise."

Eugene opened his mouth, but his father shushed him.

"I'm not finished yet. Ol' Paul Roberts passed away as you know about a month back. None of his kin want to keep the fahm and they've finally cleared the last hurdle to put the estate up for sale....one hundred forty thousand is a lot of money, but I'm sure we can secure the propah financing...."

"But, that isn't right. I shouldn't have to depend on you to..." Eugene winced as Doc administered a syringe into his arm.

"Who said anything about me providing capital? It's something to think about sometime soon. Mothah wants the base out of heeya before spring. That gives you all wintah to find a way to raise the money."

Eugene's dad left.

"Great." was all Eugene could mumble as he drifted-off into sleep from the medication.

*****BUNIX™ WIDEBEAM*****

Greetings from Bangor, Maine, the latest human habitation to give way to the ky00t way of life.

This is Browny CrimsonPaw, commander of the Eastern Maine warrens.

Bangor has steadily turned towards the ky00t in the past year. First we were able to introduce a new farm league baseball team, the Bangor Blue Ox which has become an overnight success. Slowly we've been opening specialty shops, such as Hoppy's Pizza near the airport and 'The Hop' retro-60's shop downtown. Add to this a record crop (2 million bushels) of naturally cute wild Maine Blueberries which are shipped all over the world and the recent crippling of Fudd forces in Maine and anybun can see we have a strong pawhold on this area.

I am talking to you today to announce that the final stumblingblock for the reky00tification of downtown Bangor has been lifted and we shall finally be able to redevelop the old Frassier Department store into a cultural arts center. As the centerpiece of the renewal of the downtown district, this center will lead the way to ky00tness well into the next century. Other projects for the downtown region include a new Warner Bros. Studio Store and Disney Store, the second of each in the state. We will open a second Hoppy's Pizza downtown (and you haven't lived until you've had Hoppy's spam, spinach, and carrot pizza). We are also looking for entrepreneur rabbits with ideas for other ky00t business for downtown.

Before I forget I'd like to take a moment to thank the wonderful buns in DC Warren for speeding the Urban Renewal/reky00tification grant through the bureaucracy.

Browny "Blueberry" CrimsonPaw, commander Down East Maine Warrens.

*****END WIDEBEAM TRANSMISSION*****

CrimsonPaw turned to his brother and FlatPaw. "I'd have preferred to announce the annihilation of the Fudds." (STOMP!) "But I have my brother back. You will immediately begin recruitment and training of a new militia, brother. Your buns are more than welcomed here in Eastern Maine."

LT CrimsonPaw glared back at his brother. "Only if PAW isn't involved. As for BowsBuck Warren, it is up to the council whether or not they relocate, but they will never consider you their leader."

LT CrimsonPaw turned and left.

"FlatPaw, follow and keep an eye on my brother," Browny CP said the last word bitterly.

FlatPaw saluted thankful that he still had his ears despite the defeat by the Fudds and followed-out his orders.