The traitors huddled around the map. Perhaps traitors was too strong a word.
Perhaps not. Teral, the ringleader (or perhaps simply the leader), took a
deep breath, and stabbed a paw towards a spider-like conjunction of lines 
in the northwest corner.

"Right there," he said, "A strike there could cut bunnymover lines between
 PAW and Chicago, half their connection to the rest of the country. Well,"
he added, after a second, "it's probably not quite that critical anymore,
 but it will certainly disrupt bunny activity in the area."

"A nexus like that would have to be well guarded," someone objected. 

Teral nodded gravely. "It is, by its proximity to major warrens in Detroit,
 Windsor, and several in northern Indiana. Ten minutes by bunnymover. But the 
 warren itself is pretty small."

"What does *that* mean," another squirrel chittered.

"Four, five hundred troopers, maybe one hundred armor, and about the same
number of civilians. BUT" he squeaked loudly, before anyone could object,
"We've gotten in touch with a proto-fudd cabal at the local university, and
we have significant personnel resources nearby. We can more than match them
in terms of numbers."

"You *do* remember Rabbit's Tail?"

Teral flicked dismissively "We were out-coordinated, and taken by surprise. 
But this time, if we strike while their communications are cut, we have 
surprise on *our* side."

He looked at the squirrels around him, one after another. "There is one other
thing to consider... our factory output here is limited by the power we can
steal without being detected. If we can hold the city... the grid there is
smaller, but less carefully regulated. A warren there would double our
production. And with the large number of possible recruits in the area, we 
wouldn't need long to dig in too firmly to be displaced."

There were some murmurs, but finally, it came down to one question. "What
about Loren? What affect would this have on his plan?"

Teral snickered. "None at all. Nothing in his plan needs the lasers and
explosives we'd... borrow until the mentats perfect the virus."

"That'll be the day. [flick!]"

"Gaia willing. The only worry is that he might object to our taking the
 heavy equipment and computers... and the transports. He'll miss the 
 transports." Teral chittered softly. "But I don't think he'll do anything
 about it. It'll be easier to replace the equipment than to hunt us down."

"But we wouldn't be able to come back here..."

"Unless we win. [flick!] What do *you* think Loren would give for a few
hundred test subjects..." The squirrels snickered and chittered until the
noise dissolved in frantic shushing and giggling.

"I think he'd give you a warren, Teral."

"So it's decided then?" The other squirrels nodded. "Then start preparing the
equipment we'll need, and I'll tightbeam our forces in the field." Actually,
he'd already done it -- he'd known, worked with, and occasionally commanded
all these squirrels for years, and knew they were as impatient for action as
he was. "We should be in position to strike in two days. And in three, Toledo
should be ours!" 

The squirrels left on their various tasks, leaving Teral to himself. He sat
down on the floor and looked at the map. He measured his paw on the scale,
and paced off the distance from UCirc to ToledoWarren, or whatever the buns
there called it. It was a long way to go for a squirrel that had only ever
left the warren once... not as far as Maine, but much more permanent.

One way or another, he was never coming back.