OUTWORLD: Dog Eat Dog Epilogue 1

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Dennis Offerman, OSA Overseer (male Dog, age 46)
Sorcha Keenan, OSA salvager (female Fox, age 29)
Rochelle Littlejohn, aide to Dennis Offerman (female Pomeranian, age 34)


2nd NOVEMBER 7077, LOCAL OFFICES OF THE OUTWORLD SCIENTIFIC AUTHORITY, OKAMI FOUR

“You’ve found her,” Dennis Offerman said flatly. It was not a question, simply an echo of what he had been told just now. He sat forward in his chair and laid his arms on his desk, his canine ears twitching eagerly.
 “Yes, sir,” the salvage officer sitting before Offerman’s desk said. “She’s alive.”
 “Doreen Mundie?” Offerman asked, rhetorically of course. Yes, he knew of her. She’d been involved in a little incident on Sedalia Station a while back. She’d apparently been the victim of some sort of paranormal phenomena, from what eyewitness reports and videos taken on phones and other devices would imply. It had caused a lot of damage to the station, but somehow it had been contained, and Mundie – a geologist, from what Offerman had seen of her file – had returned to work after several medical assessments.
 But she had been one to watch. Covert filming had revealed that entity that had taken her over was still in there somewhere, and several of the OSA’s more clandestine sectors had expressed interest in it. Abigail Tock, one of Offerman’s more unhinged colleagues, had been one of the most vociferous of those interested.
 And now Dennis had a chance. He listened as the salvage operative went on. The report from Pomatta claimed that the OSA ship there had self-destructed, apparently due to some massive energy surge if analysis of the wreckage was to be believed, with Mundie onboard by all accounts. Her body had been found in local space.
 Her living body. The entity seemed to be keeping her alive.
 “You’re sure of this?” Offerman asked the officer.
 The salvager, a pretty female Fox with shortish brunette hair, nodded. “Aside from some rather unusual neural activity and body heat readings, she’s fine.”
 Offerman sat back in his chair. “Anyone else, Keenan?”
 Sorcha Keenan shook her head. “No, sir. We found the expedition’s shuttle some distance from their base; it had crashed with all aboard dead. Nobody was found at the base, either.”
 Offerman nodded. Less loose ends. Fine with him. “I want to you to declare a red case,” he told Keenan. “No survivors from the Pomatta expedition.”
 Keenan nodded. “Aye, sir. And, er, there is one more thing. We managed to capture something down there that might be of interest to you.”
 Offerman felt his fur ripple with excitement. This was already good news, but now more? He kept his voice as level as he could. “Have you now?”
 Keenan nodded again. “Yes, sir. It’s in the loading dock. I can show you, if you like.”
 Offerman stood, not caring if he looked too excited. “Then let us go.”

Keenan led Offerman, and his aide Rochelle, to the dock where the acquisition was being stored. She stopped at a large containment pod and slapped it with a gloved paw. “Here it is, sir. Sorry, but this is the only one we could get.” She opened an observation panel on the side of the pod.
 Offerman peered into the glass window under the panel. A pair of blazing eyes stared up at him, and a growl could be heard from inside. The pod rocked as the thing inside it howled and threw itself against the window. “Wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “What is this?”
 “Some kind of alien creature,” Keenan said. “They teleport somehow; a pack of them tried to surround us from out of nowhere after we checked out the base. Two of our team got injured, but we scared them off and trapped one with a lightning spear.” She snorted, her ears twitching. “According to records we found, the researchers on the ground at Pomatta called them ‘Splitter Hounds’. You can read the report if you like.” Keenan slapped the pod once more. “We’ve got this one under electromagnetic suspension, so it can’t get loose.”
 Offerman was elated. The secret of teleportation, now in the hands of the OSA. He let his fur ripple, not caring if anyone noticed. He turned to Rochelle. “I’ll have Mundie transferred up here. We’ll see if we can separate that entity from her. If we can’t, we kill her. If we succeed, we’ll wipe her memory and put her back to work.” He looked back at the box and its snarling occupant – and the Fox who had brought it here. “Meanwhile, I’ll have you put in for an extremely handsome bonus, Miss Keenan. Something in the region of one thousand percent?”
 Keenan’s muzzle bore a smile that nearly blinded him. “Thank you, Overseer Offerman.”
 “No,” Offerman told her. “Thank you. Have this creature sent to Headquarters. We’ll find a use for it.” He found himself laughing. “Oh, we’ll find a use.”
 Keenan saluted. “Overseer.”
 Offerman returned the salute. “Miss Keenan.”
 He waited until he and Rochelle were out of Keenan’s impressive earshot before addressing his aide. “Miss Littlejohn?”
 The Pomeranian smiled, cocking her head as she awaited his order. “Overseer?”
 Dennis smiled back. “Get me Abigail Tock.”