CLARK
And how long ago did you notice this?
KENT
Just yesterday evening. I couldn’t get him to come outside to graze.
He seemed to be in considerable pain.
Cut to MS of CLARK kneeling down outside a small straw-lined pen within the barn. In the pen is a rather miserable looking ram, WILSON.
CLARK
Hmmm...any recent changes in his environment? Switch feeds, maybe?
KENT
Well, I’ve switched him onto grain for a bit, as he was looking a bit
thin, and I think he should look impressive for the ladies, don’t you?
CLARK’s eyes widen when KENT speaks, and he reaches over to gingerly feel he ram’s left side, near its rear end. WILSON bleats disagreeably, but CLARK soothes him with a pat and a low “shhhhh.”
CLARK
That would explain this, then. He’s bloated.
KENT looks relieved.
KENT
Oh, is that all?
CLARK frowns
CLARK
Bloat can be pretty serious in ruminants, even life-threatening.
KENT goes from relieved to horrified quite quickly.
KENT
Oh, my heavens!
CLARK
Don’t worry, I’ll just need to pass a stomach tube through to
vent the gas, since he can’t belch. You’re welcome to stay
and watch.
KENT blanches a bit.
KENT
Perhaps...I’ll just leave you to it. Come by the house when you’re
done, Clark.
KENT quickly exits, as CLARK unzips his bag ad begins uncoiling a long, flexible tube.
CLARK
Well, Wilson, this isn’t gonna be fun for either of us. It beats exploding,
though, I promise you that. Say, “ahhh”
With a bit of cajoling, CLARK gets a speculum into WILSON’s mouth and begins gingerly threading the tube into the ram’s upper rumen.
CLARK
Lemme tell you what I’ve been up to lately; it’ll
keep your mind off the big rubber snake crawling
through your guts!
WILSON
Mrraaaa!
CLARK
Okay, no need to get testy, I was just joking around. You think
you’ve got it bad? I had LIVE BOMBS dropped on me last
week! Me and these, uh...
He looks around conspiratorially, but relaxes when he realizes they are alone in the barn. CLARK gives WILSON a mock-suspicious look.
CLARK
How about it, Wilson? Are you a Word of Blake sympathizer?
The ram gives CLARK a pained yet patient look. He sighs.
CLARK
Okay, fair enough, we’ll keep going. But these ComGuard guys
I’ve been hiding at my ranch keep wanting to spy on the Word’s
activities as long as they’re stuck on Terra. I can’t blame them,
and the Word really are out of their minds, so I help them sometimes.
WILSON
Mrrrrrrrggg!
CLARK pauses to adjust the speculum and calm the ram down.
CLARK
I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s for your own good! Now, like
I was saying. We heard about a demonstration of some weapon
I was saying. We heard about a demonstration of some weapon
they were trying to sell to TerraSec called a “Wyrm.” Well, who
knows what that means, but with them messing around with Branths
and noroviruses, any new weapon to come out of WoB R&D had to
be trouble. My friend Simon did an A-1 job cracking TerraSec
communications, and he found out that the Denver chapter hadn’t
sent any response to the invitation! So, we faked one. Pretty clever, eh?
CLARK, apparently satisfied that the tubing has gone in far enough, begins adjusting it carefully until he hits a pocket of gas, which he allows to vent.
CLARK
Alex and I went in as TerraSec representatives while Shin and Cho
snooped around as maintenance people at the docks down in
Galveston. Uh, that’s in Texas, if you didn’t know. Simon stayed
back to monitor WoB communications. Well, let me tell you, this
Wyrm was a piece of work. I’ve never seen anything like it. Well,
I guess that’s not saying much since I’m a large animal vet, but the
actual military guys with me seemed pretty impressed, too.
A faint tooting can be heard as some of the ruminant gases begin to vent through the tube. CLARK nods, and WILSON seems to relax a bit.
CLARK
Of course, the funny thing was, the WoB was trying to sell
one of these loaded-for-bear super war-subs with like four
different kinds of missiles that can engage in low-earth orbit, and
they were trying to sell it to the cops! Did they really think that
civilian law enforcement would shell out for an armored weapons
platform of that magnitude?
WILSON fidgets, and CLARK gently but firmly pushes his hindquarters down to prevent him from rising.
CLARK
I guess someone wanted to axe the prototype and take out a lot of
TerraSec reps at the same time, though, because just as the WoB
guy is giving his sales pitch, a bunch of bombers swoop overhead
and start dropping their payload! Alex and I high-tailed it, but they didn’t
cover jumping five yards down off a war sub in the middle of an aerial
bombardment at veterinary school. I fell on my keister, so it’s a good thing
Alex was there to drag me along before I got toasted.
The last of the gas seems to finish emptying itself from the ram’s system. CLARK begins to slowly draw the tubing out.
CLARK
I guess it’s nice to know we’re not the only ones trying to mess
with the WoB, but I wish we knew who these other guys were! We
need to start coordinating so we don’t accidentally drop bombs
on each other, at the least. I think the others may have gotten some
blueprints of the Wyrm, so hopefully they can make some use
of them if we ever manage to contact any other Resistance people.
Me, I’m just glad to not be blown to smithereens!
WILSON
Baaaaaaa!
CLARK removes the last of the tubing and the speculum from the ram’s mouth. He pats WILSON on the head as the animal rises to its feet unsteadily.
CLARK
You’re lucky you didn’t blow up, yourself! I need to have a talk with
Kent about switching you over to an all-grain diet from pasturage
cold turkey. That’s probably why you got so bloated.
CLARK washes off the tube and speculum, packs up his things, and exits the barn.
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