When Worlds Collide

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So, this is my last finished work. In my opinion, it is probably one of my worst. I was basically trying to experiment with a different style and a different premise. I'm not sure how successful I was. The first few chapters were fun to write, but as the story progressed, it got harder and harder and by the end, I was struggling to finish it. It was always my intent to return to the world in this story and write another with a more cohesive plot.

Here are my inspirations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phantom_Crash

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Armored_Core

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Starship_Troopers

I'll start posting chapters when I have more time.

 

[God]

Knock yourself out friend.

 

[Wanker]

I though SP are your inspirations :-Cool/"

 

[JJ Mitchell]

No porno references :sorry2:

 

[ERecTile]

I though SP are your inspirations :-Cool/"

Well, IfYouSeekAmy has inspired me to start thinking about writing again. But I'm primarily a MP guy!

 

[ERecTile]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]When Worlds Collide

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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Chapter 1 – Lost Brother


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor stumbled briefly as he walked down the unsteady ramp. At first he thought that the ramp was feeble and bouncing more than was safe, but a moment later, he realized that the bouncing and unsteadiness had more to do with his current inebriated state than the questionable safety of the shuttle ramp. He swore under his breath as the white hot sun stabbed through his eyes and seared a raging path deep into his alcohol soaked brain. He patted his pockets desperately; where the hell were his shades? His clumsy fingers probed his face and he found his the frames of his shades resting over his nose. If he were wearing his shades, why in Hadis’ stinking armpit was it so bright? His fingers probed some more until his drunken mind managed to absorb the fact that his fancy expensive aviator style shades were missing the lens. Somehow, as he tossed, turned and otherwise decorated the first class section of the transcontinental shuttle with the previous night’s overindulgence, both lenses had popped out of his shades. He cursed again and in a moment of impetuous rage, ripped them off his face and threw them away. He had worked a shitty job all summer before his last year of high school to buy those shades, but right now, he didn’t care. It had been a long time ago.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He squinted his eyes and wobbled his way into the spaceport terminal. Where the outside temperature had soaked his clothes with his own sweat and stink, the temperature inside the spaceport felt like the inside of the meat freezer where he had spent the last summer before his last year of high school. The cold air hit his already dizzy brain and he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that the world would stop spinning. He needed to get his bearing so he forced his eyes open and looked around. He instantly regretted this action as the hurricane inside his stomach turned into a blazing volcano. He dropped to his knees as he expelled sour vile liquid onto the pristine spaceport floor.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Before he even had time to feel disgusted, a maintenance robot zipped up from out of nowhere and with an almost happy hum, vacuumed and mopped L’Cor’s vomit away. L’Cor felt that that was almost like a metaphor of his life - one big huge mess that was quickly cleaned up, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell of a man.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Surprisingly, he actually felt almost human again and was finally able to drag himself to the baggage reclamation area. Once there, he spotted his mottled black and green duffle bag. He grabbed the floating bag out of the levitation tube and slung it over his shoulder. With his meagre worldly possessions close to him once more, he felt a little bit more like his usual self.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]On his way out of the spaceport, he stopped off to buy another pair of shades. Unfortunately, the only styles that the little shop had were the new wrap-around visors that were so popular with the younger generation. He felt a moment of remorse at throwing away his aviator shades but quickly quelled it. Without lenses, they were nothing but empty frames. Just another reminder of what he was today.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He paid for the visor shades and checked himself out in the holo-mirror. He looked like an idiot. He took off the shades was about to throw them away when a flash of blue caught his attention. His dark blue eyes, reflected back from the holo-mirror had not lost any of their sharpness - eyes that were one of the many features that he had shared with his brother. He slammed the visor back over his eyes before his thoughts could stray into dangerous territory.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]He stalked out of the spaceport and hailed a taxi cab. As the hover vehicle pulled up, its door slid open. He tossed his duffle bag inside and got in.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What is your destination please?” The robot driver’s voice was pleasantly neutral. It sounded neither male nor female.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Hinton Embassy Hotel,” snarled L’Cor. “And turn down the lights will ya?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As you wish sir.” The windows in the cab dimmed to an almost night-time level.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor muttered to himself. He hadn’t intended on snapping at the driver. It was just doing its job. His headache was starting to wear off he was feeling a little sheepish about his grumpy mood. “Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just have the mother of all hangovers, you know?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No need to apologize,” said the driver. “May I suggest a Fizzy-pop? It is said to cure hangovers.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What the frak is a Fizzy-pop?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In response, a bottle filled with clear green liquid popped out of the dispenser in front of him. Curious, he picked up the bottle and twisted off the cap. The bottle fizzed as it opened: he sniffed hesitantly before taking a long gulp. The liquid was cold, sweet and heavily carbonated. The drink burned a path down his throat and only his orbits of heavy beer drinking prevented him from gasping from the pain. The flavour was not unpleasant and after an embarrassingly loud belch, his headache actually faded slightly.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Thank you,” said L’Cor with feeling.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You are very welcome sir. The Fizzy-pop is the current fad among the young people here these days. If you ask me, I would say that they finally got something right.” The robot driver’s voice was melodious and humorous at the same time.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor didn’t respond right away and as if sensing his need for silence, the robot driver did not say anything else. L’Cor stared out the window at the unfamiliar city. Here…It was funny how his perspectives changed with time. When he was younger, ‘here’ was simply his hometown of Avon Mist. When he joined the military, ‘here’ was first his boot camp and then it was wherever he was stationed. Now ‘here’ was New Neomar, the reborn city. “I can’t believe how clean everything looks. I can’t see any signs of battle here.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That is because there was no battle here sir.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor looked to the front of the cab where the robot driver’s head had turned around 180 degrees. The driver’s vaguely human shaped head with its large eyes regarded him expectantly. “What’re you talking about?” demanded L’Cor. “This is Neomar, where they blew up that frakkin’ hive right?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The robot ignored L’Cor’s profanity and launched into a lecture. “This is actually New Neomar. The old Neomar is nothing but radioactive ruins. The Royal Gayan Armed Forces could not oust the Saxx from their hive and after several attempts, which saw the end of many young lives, decided to use atomic weapons. Old Neomar is over 500 miles south of where we are now. The name New Neomar was later given to this city to celebrate the destruction of the first Saxx hive on Gaya.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor glanced in the direction that the robot driver indicated. His mind was suddenly thrown back almost six orbits ago, on another continent of Gaya, where atomic weapons had also been used.

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“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Pull back! Pull back!” The voice coming through his helmet speakers was thin and grainy. The S-Wave communicator was supposed to provide crystal clear communications in the heat of battle. However, L’Cor was sure that the engineers who designed the frakkin thing had never been in a battle. The rumble of gunfire and explosions could be felt and heard even while nestled in the combat harness in the cockpit of his MAAC.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor’s transmitter was built into his helmet’s chin guard and he used his chin to key it before barking, “This is Captain Penrag’n. All tri-quad elements pull back. I repeat, all tri-quad elements pull back now! Thernuke incoming! I repeat, thernuke incoming! ETA eight minutes!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor stared at his scanner screen while putting his MAAC into a long loping run. He counted twelve steady green lights that represented the twelve MAACs in his tri-quad. The battle had been going relatively well and he had not lost anyone yet. The mission brief had seemed simple at first. The Saxx were suspected of building another hive in the Badlands and his tri-quad was sent to investigate. L’Cor’s tri-quad was a mixed bag. He had one quad of heavy MAACs, one quad of medium class MAACs and his younger brother commanded the recon quad of MAACs. As per standard operating procedure, R’Tus’s quad had dropped first and was promptly ambushed when they were about ten miles from the suspected zone – a mountain range in the Badlands. Upon hearing R’Tus’s initial reports, L’Cor had cancelled the regular drop order and immediately dropped both medium and heavy quads at the same time. L’Cor had dropped last from the air-carrier. Moments after he had slid down the ramp, the air-carrier was hit and blown out of the sky. That was when L’Cor knew for sure that someone in Intelligence had seriously frakked up.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]On the way down, L’Cor had juked his jump jets in random patterns but couldn’t prevent his heavy Drac’en MAAC from being hit several times. Fortunately, none of the hits were crippling and he had been able to fight his way out of his LZ.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]An alarm suddenly chimed and L’Cor twisted his waist instinctively. His human shaped Drac’en MAAC copied his muscle movement – thanks to his skin-tight neural suit – and dodged the plethora of red bolts that screamed past. L’Cor followed his twisting motion through by pulling up his right arm and cutting loose with his MBC. The gigantic multi-barrel cannon mounted on the forearm of his Drac’en spat hundreds of rounds of armour piercing and high explosive bullets. L’Cor’s ammunition load alternated armour piercing and high explosives. The theory was that if the first round failed to kill a Saxx, then the second round would at least slow it down.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Either the theory was right or it was the sheer volume of fire that worked, L’Cor’s target – a Saxx in powered armour – collapsed and didn’t move again. L’Cor quickly scanned the Saxx for vital signs and when he didn’t see any, grimly said to himself, “If the first round doesn’t kill it, then the next hundred and ninety nine will.” That was where his and R’Tus’s fighting styles were different. R’Tus preferred finesse with the one shot kills while L’Cor liked to bull his way through any opposition. Thinking of his brother made him check his scanner screen again. “R’Tus! Pick it up little bro! You’re gonna be the main course at the BBQ in a few minutes!”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I’m trying bro!” R’Tus’s voice sounded like it was a hundred miles away. “…am…swarmed…Lis is down…I’ve…some damage…jets…fire support…”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor enhanced his scanner screen. Sure enough, 2[SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif]nd[/SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif] Lieutenant Liselle Teshen’s MAAC was showing damage to its legs. “Lieutenant Teshen! Get ready to bail out!” ordered L’Cor.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ack…ged…sir!” Lieutenant Teshen’s voice was tinny, but her tone was steady. L’Cor grinned tightly. Teshen was a good pilot with tremendous potential. L’Cor was going to enjoy teasing her about getting her MAAC damaged so early in the fight when they all returned to HQ later. Who knows? Maybe the teasing would lead into some private tutoring with the feisty redhead!


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]R’Tus! Heads up little bro! I’m sending a flight of AROWs your way!” L’Cor hit a button on his left handed control and a large cylindrical missile flew out the blocky launcher mounted on his Drac’en’s left shoulder. The missile arched high up into the air and then broke apart into ten smaller missiles. Each of the sub-munitions seemed to hover for a second before suddenly accelerating downwards. The L-Wave engines in each missile kicked in as their optical sensors picked out individual targets. The warheads were almost invisible as they streaked down on beams of incandescent light.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Nice…s…L’Cor! Chalk up...ten for the…killing machine!”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No time to chit chat little bro! Get Lis out of her MAAC and get her out of there!”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Already done…her to Rosba…holding rearguard…”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What’re you talking about?” L’Cor felt a hand clutch his chest as he watched two green lights from R’Tus’s quad break away. That still left two MAACs left behind. One was obviously Teshen’s abandoned MAAC. That meant that the other one was R’Tus. “R’Tus! Retreat dagnag-it! There’s a thernuke on the way right now!”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Can’t…free…bro…boiling…of the ground.” Frequent gunfire could be heard as R’Tus spoke. “Jensen, Rosba! Get Lis…of here! Get home safe!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor’s AROW round had left a camera hovering up in the air. He linked into the video feed and watched in growing horror as hundreds of Saxx seemed to magically emerge from the mountain range. Under the telescopic view of the camera, L’Cor could see that the Saxx had literally carved a chunk out of the mountain. From satellite, it would appear like a normal mountain, however down near the ground, the oval shape of a fully functional hive was unmistakeable.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor zoomed in on R’Tus’s Wyv’en MAAC. R’Tus had lost the heavy shield from his left arm early on in the ambush. L’Cor watched as the Wyv’en’s left arm reached back and pulled out an extra long monofilament cutter while the Wyv’en’s right hand weapon, a medium sized auto-cannon, fired short controlled bursts into the tide of Saxx. L’Cor zoomed out to see the bigger picture. R’Tus’s MAAC looked like a tiny human wielding a sword and a gun against a horde of giant three-legged alien bugs.

 

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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]2[SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif]nd[/SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif] Lieutenants Jensen and Rosba suddenly boosted past L’Cor, their jump jets were glowing red from over usage. Their Wyv’en MAACs were heavily scarred and Rosba’s Wyv’en had its hands cupped in front of her as if holding something precious. L’Cor wanted nothing more than to run to his brother’s aid, but he had other people who needed him now. “Rosba! I’ll take Lis into my Drac’en. She won’t survive if you keep bouncing her around like that!” L’Cor’s Drac’en was a modified command MAAC. His cockpit was enlarged to hold an optional person for monitoring communications. Due to personnel shortages, L’Cor didn’t currently have a communications officer so the seat above him was empty.



[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The transfer took a few precious minutes but soon Liselle Tenshen was safely inside. L’Cor glanced up and saw her shapely legs. “You alright Lis?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I’m fine sir,” said Lis in a clipped tone. “I think I have some broken ribs but that’s all. Thanks for the pick up.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ready for another go at the Saxx? I need to bail out my little brother.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]With all due respect sir, that won’t be possible. Look!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor looked to the left and saw a blazing line of fire. “Oh frak it!” Indecision gripped him at that moment. His brother was still in the midst of hundreds of Saxx. Brotherly bonds demanded that he go save his brother. However, duty to his people meant that he had to get the rest of his team to the minimum safe distance. It wasn’t just his hide or even Liselle’s. Both Rosba and Jensen’s Wyv’ens had shown obvious wear and tear to their jump jets.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor was just about to key his S-Wave to tell his brother that he was coming when R’Tus beat him to the punch. “I see it big bro!” Ironically, R’Tus’s voice was coming through crystal clear this time. “Get going! Get my quad out safe and get them home!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor launched his last AROW missile and then pushed his Drac’en to maximum speed. He jettisoned all of his weapons and quickly caught up to Jensen and Rosba. He put a titanic hand on each of their backs and timed his next jump with theirs. “Jensen, Rosba! By the numbers….boost!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor kept looking at the ETA of the thermo-nuclear missile. There was about thirty seconds left. Thirty seconds to say a lifetime of things to his little brother. Thirty seconds to tell his brother that their parents – if they were alive today – would be proud of him. Thirty seconds to tell his brother that he loved him. He opened his mouth but no sounds came out.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tell him!” hissed Liselle. “Tell him that you love him!”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I…”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Hey bro! Don’t get mushy on me now!” R’Tus’s voice was coming through a bit strained. He was obviously pushing himself and his MAAC to both of their physical limits. “Hey Lis? You’re a great pilot! And because I know he’d never say anything, L’Cor thinks that you have great legs! Take care of the big lug for me ok?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There was a pause of a few seconds. The timer on L’Cor’s screen read five seconds. When next R’Tus spoke, it was with great exertion. “I…good-bye L’Cor.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There was a brief flash of light before the Drac’en’s sensors automatically blanked out. Tears were streaming down L’Cor’s face. The shockwave hit him in mid-air but he struggled with the controls to keep himself, Jensen and Rosba righted. As the trio of MAACs touched down again, L’Cor whispered to no one in particular, “Good-bye.”

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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor woke up with a start and realized that the taxicab had stopped moving. He glanced out the window and saw a huge pristine building with the words Hinton Embassy Hotel. He was here.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Will you be participating in the games sir?” asked the robot driver in a metallically respectful tone.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor shook his head sharply like a wet daggit shaking water out of its pelt. All traces of his hangover were gone. What was in that drink? He would have to stock up on the Fizzy-pops! “Yeah, I came here to enter the Tournament.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Have you purchased a Mick? Ownership of a Mick is mandatory to enter the tournament.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor frowned. What was with the twenty questions? “No I haven’t got a Mick yet. I have read the rules you know.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I apologize sir. I merely wanted to point out that if you do not currently own a Mick, you have two options. You may purchase a new model directly from the factory of any one of the manufacturers. I have loaded their locations on this map card.” The robot driver extended a mechanical appendage and passed a small flat box to L’Cor.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor took the box and a three dimensional hologram sprang up from it. The hologram showed a 3D map of the city of New Neomar. There were several blinking red dots clustered in one part of the city. L’Cor assumed that these were the factories currently producing Micks. He noticed a blinking blue dot and pointed it out to the driver. “What’s this blue dot?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That,” said the robot patiently, “is Ivan McMac’s Shop. He sells used Micks, spare parts and other useful modules. You would be wise to pay him a visit. Very few new contestants in the game can afford a new Mick.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Don’t bet on that,” said L’Cor under his breath. He knew from his research that his veteran’s pay out was just enough to buy a basically configured new Mick. It would be enough to get him into the game. He figured that after facing hordes of giant three-legged aliens, these pansies who thought they were warriors should be pushovers.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In the lobby of the hotel, you will find many possible sponsors. With a sponsor supporting you, you will not have to worry about living and maintenance expenses.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor nodded to the robot. He had thought about that too. A sponsor was basically a large corporation or a group of smaller companies who paid for a contestant’s living and maintenance expenses. In return though, you have to fight when they told you to fight and you also had to promote whatever product or agenda they were trying to sell to the general public. After fifteen orbits of military service in the war, L’Cor was fairly certain that he would rather starve than march to someone else’s tune. He stared wistfully at the hotel and sighed. A sponsor could easily afford to put him up in a fancy hotel for a few nights but his veteran’s pay out could not without digging into his budget for a Mick. “Keep the meter running. I’m just going in to register as a contestant.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Actually sir, with all due respect, you do not have to register here,” said the robot driver.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? I thought all new contestants had to register at the Hinton to get into the game.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The robot driver shook its head. “Actually sir, that is just a trap to get new contestants to sign up with a sponsor and to buy a new Mick.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]A bulb of light flicked on in L’Cor’s head. “Of course! If I go in there, the sponsors would be circling around me like vul’pits over dead meat. They’ll get me to sign up and mortgage my soul with promises of fancy living and new equipment.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Exactly sir.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Well, where else can I register?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Anywhere that you can find a Tournament Kiosk, sir. There is one at Ivan McMac’s Shop.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor slapped his thigh and came to a decision. “Ok, take me there.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]As the driver silently drove, L’Cor reflected on how close he had come to making a big mistake. Almost half of his life had been spent in the service of his planet. Almost fifteen orbits of taking orders and killing alien invaders and when the war was finally done, all he got was a lousy pat on the back and a cheque for two hundred thousand credits. At least his brother got a state funeral and a death bonus cheque of three hundred thousand credits that went to their last living relative - their sister Q’Wen.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Two hundred thousand credits was more than enough to start a new life, but L’Cor’s brief stint as a regular civilian ended when he almost threw his idiotic boss out the window of the fast food restaurant.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The taxicab came to a stop outside of a large warehouse that had a small storefront. “What’s the damage?” asked L’Cor.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The driver gave him a robotic shrug and said, “The fare has been paid for by Ivan McMac sir.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor laughed. So that was how that worked! Well at least a cab ride was easier to swallow than a life contract to a bunch of corporate hacks! “Thanks,” he said as he grabbed duffle bag and exited the taxicab.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The storefront had a used but well maintained look. Beside the door was a mechanical humanoid figure that stood at least twenty feet. To L’Cor, it looked like a miniature MAAC. Of course, the Mobile Armoured Assault Craft was regulated for only military use and even a light MAAC like a Wyv’en stood taller than the figure in front of him. During the war, as the need for MAACs grew, many factories employed the use of Mobile Civilian Construction Vehicles to aid in building, rebuilding and even urban defence. Some militias even adapted the MCCVs for police and peacekeeping uses. This of course, eventually gave rise to the concept of the Tournament.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The new sport of the new age was for aspiring contestants to pilot the Micks (as they came to be known) through the ruins of destroyed cities for the sole purpose of hunting each other down. Live small calibre ammunition was used so while injuries were quite common, actual fatalities were not the norm. Still, the average life span of a successful contestant was measured in the months. Most of the contestants were young, barely out of their teens. Some were street waifs that had a knack for piloting the Micks and were picked up by a corporate sponsor. Others were spoiled rich kids looking for just another thrill. Still others were like L’Cor, veterans of the war, looking for a way to survive in society.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor thrust his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. Inside of his right pocket, he found the map card that the taxicab driver had given him. Inside his left pocket was his brother’s AV journal. It was small, about the size of a pocket computer, and it was one of few possessions of this brother that L’Cor had kept.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Not feeling quite ready to enter the shop, L’Cor walked down the street a bit until he found a bench. He sat down, turned on the AV journal and browsed to the first entry. Even though he had watched the entry many times – enough to have almost memorized it – L’Cor still found comfort in seeing his younger brother’s face and hearing his younger brother’s voice. Tears streamed down L’Cor’s face as he watched R’Tus’s young face beaming with youthful enthusiasm. L’Cor had protected R’Tus for as long as he could - from simple street smarts to beating off the occasional bully. Still, the one time that it truly mattered, L’Cor had failed his brother. “I’m sorry R’Tus. It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me.” L’Cor closed his eyes to the storm of tears and touched the Play button.

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]

 

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Chapter 2 – Winning and Losing


White light emanated from the small screen and projected a 3D hologram that hovered above the small AV journal. A holographic representation of R’Tus’s head from the time he made the entry appeared and began to speak. L’Cor knew without looking at the date of the entry that this recording was made shortly after R’Tus’s eighteenth birthday.

Start of Entry - Orbit 3011, 6[SUP]th[/SUP] Moon, 5[SUP]th[/SUP] Solar Cycle​

Hello? Is this thing on? Oh…yeah…I’m an idiot. This is recording, right? Oh well, I’ll check it later…


Anyway, our instructors here at Mobile Armored Assault Craft Basic Training advised us to keep this AV journal of our trials and tribulations. Specifically, we’re to talk about our experiences with the MAAC trainers so that we can revisit our mistakes and learn from them. But what if we didn’t make any mistakes?



I sound cocky now don’t I? It’s true. My instructor, Master Sergeant Frekkin said that I was a natural talent. I don’t know about that. I just know that the MAAC trainer just felt right to me. As the rest of my unit struggled to get onto their feet, I was already standing and walking.



Anyway, maybe I should back up. First of all, we wear this really - I mean really - tight suit called (of all things) a neural suit. I mean, dagnag-it! I was downright embarrassed! Hadis, the girls sure looked hot! I wasn’t the only guy holding his hands in front of his groin! Anyway, the neural suit links into the internal feedback system of the MAAC trainer. You half sit, half stand in this harness that captures your muscle movements and transfers them to the MAAC. They said that it was like wearing powered armour, but it’s not. First of all, you don’t really take full steps. You just flex your muscles and pretend to take a step. Ditto with the arm movements and the torso movements. The MAAC trainer is 40 tons of layered alloy armour. It’s too stiff to exactly duplicate a person’s movements. By the time the rest of my unit could stand straight, I was jogging a lap around the track. What can I say? It was fun!


After the exercise, one cute little blonde named Cinda came up to me and asked why I made it look so easy. I didn’t know what to say so I said, “It’s like wearing a huge piece of metal armour all around me.”


She frowned at me and said, “I don’t think so. I’ve heard of that comparison and I’ve worn powered armour in Infantry Basic and this was nothing like that.”


She was looking at me rather intently and I was beginning to feel a little clenching in my chest. Dagnag she was cute! Her blonde hair was cut short in standard military fashion and her eyes were a strange shade of green. Her nose curled up ever so slightly at the tip and her lips were full and red and sweat poured down her face from her earlier exertion. I suddenly realized that she was waiting for me to say something so I improvised. “It’s kind of like those VR sim games, you know? All you have to do is just stand as still as possible and move with minimal movements. Once you’ve trained your mind to adjust to how much minimal movement equals how much actual MAAC movement, you should be fine.”


She cocked her head to one side and she had a strange smile on her face. “VR sim games? You mean like the ones where you simulate sex or the like the ones that teach martial arts?”


I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Was she flirting with me? I mean dagnag-it…girls don’t come on to me! They usually go for my brother L’Cor who is tall, athletic and built like a rock. Most girls don’t give my skinny frame a second glance. I stumbled a bit but finally managed to say, “Uh…martial arts of course. I just got my sixth degree platinum sash.” I cursed inwardly. That sounded too much like bragging!


Cinda seemed impressed though. “Really? I’ve only got a third degree gold.” She slowly turned away while maintaining eye contact for as long as possible. “Maybe you could show me a couple of pointers some time?”


“Sure,” I stuttered. I watched as she turned and sashayed away from me. I couldn’t help it. My eyes just could not look up from her round heart shaped butt. Dagnag-it, these neural suits left nothing to the imagination, which wasn’t really that bad a thing when you think about it!


Anyway, that’s it for now…signing off until the next time!

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]End of Entry
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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor still did not feel up to going into Ivan’s shop to look for a Mick so he browsed through the AV journal until he found another entry that looked promising.

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Start of Entry - Orbit 3011, 6[SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif]th[/SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif] Moon, 26[SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif]th[/SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif] Solar Cycle​

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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We had our first live fire exercise today. By now, I’ve gotten somewhat used the dirty looks that many of my unit-mates shoot at me whenever they think I’m not looking. Even Cinda’s attitude has cooled a bit towards me. We had a few sparring sessions as well as a couple of tutoring sessions, but they didn’t lead to anything else. I think she wanted me to make a move of a sort, but I guess I was just too nervous. I mean, I’ve dated a few times in high school, but none of the girls I went out with were quite as aggressive as Cinda. I mean, I know she’s a few orbits older than me and all that but dagnag-it! Everyone in my unit was older than me. They had all gone to Infantry Basic first before scoring high enough in their aptitude tests to go for MAAC Basic. As for me, I guess the high brass was getting antsy about getting frontline MAAC pilots because my enrolment officer had put me through a series of strange tests before bumping me directly to MAAC Basic. I’m practically a civilian and my unit-mates treat me as such. What would L’Cor do? I know what he would do! He would pummel anyone who dared to speak out and then he would take Cinda out on a weekend pass and show her a good time. Ah, who am I kidding? L’Cor would probably slap me on my back and ask me what the frak am I waiting for!


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Anyway, by now, the whole unit was up and running and today, the instructors gave us a taste of real MAAC weapons. MAAC weapons came in two main flavours: mounted and held. A typical MAAC with a combat load had a mixture of mounted and held weapons. A mounted weapon was the type that was mounted on fixed hard points. These include the shoulders, upper arms and forearms, and upper thighs and waist. Mounted weapons tend to be heavier with more destructive potential and higher ammunition levels than held weapons. Held weapons have the advantage of being more versatile and a MAAC would switch out held weapons right on the battlefield without the aid of a Field Maintenance Unit. Heavy MAACs like a Drac’en could mount up to four heavy calibre weapons and be a truly devastating force on any battlefield.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Anyway, I digress. Today, they handed out small calibre auto-cannons that we held in the hands of our MAACs. At forty tons, our trainer MAACs were theoretically the equivalent of a large medium class MAAC - which meant that we could have mounted heavier weapons, but I guess on our first day, they didn’t want us accidentally killing each other or blowing up the camp.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We were transported out into the desert and put through our paces. We started off with the standard range shooting at static targets. Everyone did fine here, even without the aid of targeting computers. However, when the instructors fired up the moving targets, the unit didn’t do so well. When more than one person started to complain about the lack of targeting computers, Master Sergeant Frekkin called a halt to the practice.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Cadet Lieutenant Penrag’n, front and centre!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I keyed my S’Wave communicator and said, “Yes Sergeant!” All the cadets at the camp had an honorary rank of Cadet Lieutenant. That meant that I was technically higher rank than Frekkin, but hey, I wasn’t going to try to pull rank!


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Uh oh, here comes the whiz kid!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I don’t know who said that but I ignored it. There were some muffled chuckles and several groans but again, I didn’t pay any attention. It wasn’t that I was trying to show off or anything. I just wanted to get through this training as fast as possible so that I could join my brother on the frontlines.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Frekkin fired up the Gauntlet, a huge combat simulator on an area large enough to host several starball stadiums. “Show these losers how it’s done kiddo!”. He hit my right shoulder with a thump that was hard enough to half turn me to face the Gauntlet. “Yes Master Sergeant!” I kicked my MAAC into a slow jog and entered the Gauntlet. My targeting computer was still down so I figured I would have to do this all on manual. A movement out of the corner of my right eye caught my attention. Without slowing down, I brought my auto-cannon in a one handed grip and fired off a shot. The target, a life-sized representation of a Saxx recoiled from the hit. It fell to the ground and I shot past it without another glance. The fact that it went down with only one hit meant that the Gauntlet wasn’t programmed to simulate real Saxx behaviour. From everything that L’Cor has told me about the Saxx, it would take more than one shot from a small auto-canon to bring one down.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I was coming to the ‘Downtown District’ of the Gauntlet. It had been modeled after a real city. There was a dark blur over my head that splattered on the wall of the building across the street from me. I glanced at it and felt a thrill of surprise. It was a globule of paint. They were going to shoot at me! Master Sergeant Frekkin must really want to see what I could do. They didn’t usually let the targets shoot back until a trainee’s fourth visit to the Gauntlet. I ducked down a bit and sprinted to the next intersection and dove to the right. I had just enough time to spot a Saxx in powered armour walking down the street with its weird three-legged gait. Of course I knew that it wasn’t a real Saxx. It was really a mountain of plastic and metal overtop a thin moveable endoskeleton, but still, the sight of the weird looking monstrosity sent a chill down my spine.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I side stepped out from behind a building and fired off three quick shots. All three shots hit the main torso of the Saxx and then I ducked back before it could fire back. I heard a loud crash and I knew that the target dummy was down.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I didn’t really have any mission objectives so I loped along inside the fake city for a while. I didn’t have any radar so it was a pure combination of luck, reflex and instinct that let me avoid the next globule of paint. It splattered on the ground beside me as I looked around for the shooter. Far off in the distance, across a fake park, I saw a trio of Saxx in powered armour. There were two more faint blurs in the air so I dodged to the right and ran. As I ran, I saw on my secondary monitor that the Saxx were moving towards me. They were staying close to each other as they moved. This was a good thing for me. I suddenly pivoted and changed direction. I twisted my torso and brought my auto-cannon up. I couldn’t shoot well from this angle so I transferred the auto-cannon to my left hand. That was the neat thing about held weapons. You could do things like change hands in the middle of combat! With the gun now in my left hand, I had a much better field of fire. I took aim at the Saxx on the far left so that if I missed, my shots would have a chance at hitting the other two. While wishing my gun had a full auto mode, I fired through the rest of my magazine. Semi auto just doesn’t cut it for strafing! In any case, I had the satisfaction of seeing the centre Saxx fall down. Ok, so my aim was a little off! The other two suddenly split up, as if the remote human operators of the simulators realized what a bad idea it was to move in such close formation. I slapped another magazine into my auto-cannon and moved away.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I could see that they were going to try to encircle me, so I decided to find some cover. I lumbered over to another cluster of buildings and looked around for some cover. There wasn’t anything that could cover me from two different directions. I glanced up and saw a hovering camera. Of course Frekkin and the rest of the unit would be watching. They all wanted to see me get iced. That wasn’t going to happen! There was a large artificial pond off to the side. The water was dirty and very murky. What if?


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I walked over and tested the depth of the water by placing my right leg in. The water level went as high was the thigh of my MAAC - about ten feet. Good enough! I quickly made my way to the centre of the pond and lay my MAAC down. It was awkward because I couldn’t lie all the way flat without submerging my gun and my MAAC’s head unit. I didn’t know if either was waterproof and I didn’t want to find out the hard way. If this didn’t work, the shame and humiliation would be double. I half sat in a reclined position. I kept my auto-cannon horizontal to the water and the only other thing sticking out was the top of my head unit. With any luck, as the Saxx simulators came into this area, they would not be looking down at their feet.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Luck was with me. The first Saxx entered the cluster and scanned the area at what would have been eye level for it. I panned my head unit around until the cameras inside found the second Saxx, directly opposite of the first. I waited until they were both looking in different directions before making my move.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I triggered three shots into the first Saxx. All three shots made one large hole in the bottom of the Saxx’s torso. I then sprang out of the pool in to direction opposite to where the second Saxx was looking. That gave me a precious second before its targeting computers found me. I fired off another three shots just as its arm brought up its gun in my general direction. It crumpled to the ground and I breathed a sigh of relief.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Suddenly, my MAAC shook as if something hit it. Dagnag-it! I’d let down my guard! Of course there were more Saxx in the area! There was no call for an end of the exercise though. That was strange. Didn’t someone just splatter me with paint?


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I pulled my MAAC around in a circle and it shook again. Oh frak! Why was it suddenly so sluggish? My MAAC finally squealed in agonizing slowness until it faced my latest attacker. It was yet another Saxx in powered armour, but this one had a very real looking auto-cannon in its arms. The muzzle of its auto-cannon spat fire and my MAAC jerked as if in pain.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Wait…the pain was real! That last shot must have dented the armour of my MAAC’s torso, directly overtop of the cockpit. A small piece of the back of my mind said that the Saxx must have been firing short full auto bursts. The cockpit’s interior shattered and a sharp piece of metal from my harness stabbed me in my right shoulder. Thank goodness my gun was still in my left hand!


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I brought my weapon to bear and fired three fast shots. The Saxx recoiled but didn’t fall. This one must have been programmed for realistic response! A light auto-cannon like mine wasn’t going to stop it!


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]My mind raced as I tried to remember the weak spots in a Saxx’s power armour. There weren’t many. A Saxx out of armour was as big as a light class MAAC. In powered armour, it was bigger than a Drac’en. In combat, the only way to kill a Saxx in armour was to use heavy weapons like a Multi Barrel Cannon or an Aerial Remote Optical-recognition Weapon.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The Saxx fired again and this time, my auto-cannon flew from the remains of my MAAC’s left arm. My eyes filled with tears of pain as I did the only thing I could. I charged the Saxx. I had one chance and one chance only. This was not a real Saxx. It was not in real powered armour. In reality, it was a hunk of plastic and cheap metal. If I could get in close enough, I should be able to take it off line. What happened after that was completely unknown.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I was hit twice more and another piece of my harness broke off and stabbed me in my left thigh. But I wasn’t dead! I kicked out with my right left leg and one of the Saxx’s three legs broke in response. It fell forward as I raised my pain filled right arm and smashed down on its torso. My MAAC’s fist thundered through the plastic and metal plating and drilled deep into its body. The Saxx lay still.

 

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There was a flashing red light as well as a siren that I did not hear until now. Master Sergeant Frekkin’s voice rumbled in my ear, “Emergency! Emergency! Shut down the Gauntlet. Shut it down now! Medics on scene!”



I spit out some blood from my mouth. I must have bitten the inside my mouth as I fell forward onto the body of the simulated Saxx. I didn’t care that the exercise was over. I’d won. They didn’t get me! Only then, did I let myself black out from the pain.


Much later, I remember waking up in the hospital. Frekkin was there was well as General Mora, the base commander. General Mora was apologizing and explaining how someone had activated a live ammo drone in the Gauntlet and that it had followed a standard attack program. Live ammo drones weren’t part of the exercise. Obviously, someone had activated it as a way to bring me down a notch. Frekkin stepped in and told me that they had found the culprits responsible and wanted to know if I wanted to be there to see their whipping and subsequent dishonourable discharge. I shook my head. I didn’t care who was responsible. All I cared was that I’d won. They hadn’t beaten me. Just like those bullies who used to beat up on me as a kid couldn’t keep me down, these unknown culprits couldn’t keep me down either. Just then, a nurse came in to my room and ushered Frekkin and Mora out. She turned off the light and I fell into a restful sleep.


The next time I awoke, it was still dark outside. The hospital was quiet but I instantly felt the presence of another person in the room. It was Cinda! She was dozing in a chair beside my bed. I took my time to really look her over. While at rest, her face looked like it was at least five orbits younger than she actually was. She was wearing standard off duty trainee clothes, which consisted of olive green shorts and t-shirt. That gave me a chance to appreciate how beautiful she really was. She had well defined muscle lines on her legs and arms. Anyone who went through Infantry Basic came away with great muscle tone. My eyes traced a line up her strong but feminine legs, over her tight stomach and briefly paused at her chest. I briefly wished that I could see through her shirt to the soft mounds that I knew was underneath but I quickly quelled that thought. A gentleman does not take advantage of sleeping women! I managed to pull my eyes up until they finally settled upon her open eyes. Yikes!


“You like what you see?” she asked with a small smile on her lips.


“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare”


Cinda laughed and sat up straight. “I think I finally get you. I keep forgetting that you’re younger than all of us here. What’re you, like eighteen or something?”


My throat was too dry to answer so I merely nodded.


“Do you have a girlfriend back home R’Tus?”


My throat was still dry but I made an attempt to clear it and then said, “No, not really. I mean I’ve dated a few girls, but nothing serious.”


“Good,” said Cinda as she got up off the chair and leaned over me. She touched her lips to mine and gave me a deep long kiss. Yeah it wasn’t my first kiss ever, but man, did it ever put me in orbit!


I felt her lips open in invitation and I hesitantly pushed my tongue up. It met up with something soft and wet and I felt a spike in my blood pressure as I realized that it was her tongue that was touching mine. Her left hand gently massaged my chest before making a slow burning path down my stomach, over my thighs, and then back up under my hospital gown. Her hands encircled me and my back arched involuntarily at the sudden rush of pleasure.


I must have gasped into her mouth because she pulled away and gave me a humorous look. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”


I barely managed a nod and her resulting smile dazzled me. “Good, this is going to be more fun than I thought!” Her left hand stopped what it was doing and before I had a chance to sigh, both of her hands went to the bottom of her shirt and lifted it up. She threw her shirt on the floor and quickly took off her bra. Her breasts were just beautiful. I’m not a very experienced judge but they looked large on her small frame. She took my left hand and held it to her breasts. I gently cupped one and then the other, marvelling at their soft firmness. She sighed and her hand traveled back down under my gown.


She leaned down again and whispered in my ear, “You were absolutely amazing yesterday in the Gauntlet. Everyone’s talking about how a rookie took down four simulated remote controlled Saxx that were controlled by instructors and a drone that was programmed to kill with live ammo.” She licked my ear and then said, “Everyone wants to meet you. I wanted to be the first so I snuck into the hospital.” She sucked on my neck as her hands did something out of sight. Then she took my left hand again, and instead of moving it to her breasts, she directed it downward. I felt something that was smooth, wet and hot. I didn’t need my imagination to know what it was! “See how much I want you?”


She climbed up on top of the bed while being extra careful with my bandaged left thigh. I could see that she was fully naked. She lifted up my hospital gown and gently mounted me. As she lowered herself, I felt like giant fireballs were going off in my head. I think I groaned a bit too loudly because she covered my mouth with hers and duelled my tongue with hers. All too quickly, my body suddenly rocked with spasms as I came long and hard inside of her. She rode out the storm with a bright gleam in her eyes. When the storm was over, she sat still for a few minutes before she started kissing and moving her body again. She started much more slowly this time and…


Ah..uh..ahem…sorry, I got a little carried away there with my narration. Hkumph! Oh well, too late now. It’s not every day a guy gets to record his memories of how he lost his virginity right? Anyway, all of THAT happened earlier this morning. Cinda had to leave soon afterwards to get back into training. The doctor dropped by a few minutes ago and said that I should be able to rejoin my unit-mates in a few days.


Oh…wait…hang on a minute…


“What? Oh…uh thank you very much.”


Ok, that was strange, a nurse just dropped by with a package…let see…Oh, it’s a card and it’s signed by my unit-mates. It says: Get well soon Ace! Ace? Well maybe not yet, but soon! Oh, here’s another message. It says: Get some rest big boy. Your midnight visitor is coming back for a repeat performance!


Oh boy! I can’t wait. That’s it for now! Maybe I should turn this on later to record what happens? It would be for posterity, right? Nahhh! Signing off!

End of Entry

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor laughed as he turned off the AV journal. He was sure that R’Tus would’ve been embarrassed to Hadis and back if he ever thought that his older brother would be watching his AV journal. Imagine losing your virginity to a hot blonde like Cinda! After the war, L’Cor had tried to find Cinda, but without a last name or even the name and number of the unit she was assigned to, it was impossible. That was a shame. L’Cor would’ve liked to meet Cinda so that they could reminisce about R’Tus together. L’Cor stood up and put the AV journal back into his pocket. He was finally ready to meet Mr. McMac!

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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Chapter 3 – Of Micks and MAACs


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan McMac was a big bea’ram of a man - even bigger than L’Cor. Ever since his days as a starball athlete in high school, L’Cor had become used to being somewhat bigger than everybody else. Ivan McMac though, stood at least a foot taller and his chest resembled the chest armour of a MAAC rather than that of a human. Ivan McMac’s arms were heavily muscled and his face looked as if it were chiselled out of rock. His hair was snow white except near the crown of his head where he was bald. He looked up as L’Cor walked into the store. His sharp green eyes sized L’Cor up and his mouth broke into a broad and friendly smile.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Welcome!” Ivan stepped out from behind the counter and offered his hand to L’Cor.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor took the hand in a firm grip and shook it. “What, no fanfare, no ‘we’ve got the best bargains’ speech?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Bah!” exclaimed Ivan. “The simple that fact that you are here means that you had the sense to stay in the taxicab. You value something more important than all the glitter and glitz that a corporate sponsor can give you.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Curious now, L’Cor asked mildly, “Oh? And what is that?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Freedom,” said Ivan. “Freedom to dictate your own actions. Freedom to do as you please in this world. Freedom to decide when to fight and when to live to fight another day.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor narrowed his eyes and said, “You don’t get very many new customers to you?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan heaved a large sigh. “Sadly not my friend. Too many youngsters are blinded by the glamour of being a Tournament Warrior these days. My customers are mostly the old timers who’ve done the circuit a few times and have managed to break free from those soul stealing scum buckets!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor gave him a brief grin and decided to get down to business. “Tell me about the Micks.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]But of course!” rumbled Ivan. He clapped a friendly hand on L’Cor’s shoulder and led him through the back doors and into the warehouse. L’Cor was amazed at what he saw. The warehouse was set up like a huge MAAC hangar. Instead of MAACs lining the wall stations though, there were a number of decidedly smaller machines. The machines came in many shapes and sizes. Some were humanoid with two legs and two arms. Others had tank-like treads instead of legs. Some even had a flat boxy platform where the legs should have been. These, surmised L’Cor, must be hovercraft types. Still others had either three or four legs. Despite the variances though, L’Cor could see that the MCCVs had at lease three distinct classes.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan stopped in the middle of the warehouse and face L’Cor. “So, you’re ex-military eh?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I never said I was,” said L’Cor with a frown.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You didn’t have to m’boy!” Ivan laughed and the sound echoed in the warehouse like thunder. “It’s written all over your face. It’s in the way you stand, the way you walk, and the way you’ve already noticed that Micks come in three basic flavours – light, medium and heavy.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]You read too much into things old man.” For some reason, maybe it was the open friendliness of Ivan, but L’Cor did not feel the usual resentment or anger he felt whenever someone brought up his military past.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I’m just good at reading people is all,” said Ivan. “In fact, I used to be in the military too.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Oh? Were you a MAAC pilot?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Me? A pilot? Ha! They could never fit me into one of those neural suits! Didn’t have one my size!” Ivan laughed again and this time, L’Cor laughed with him. He had to admit that the image of Ivan trying to fit into one of those skin-tight neural suits was pretty funny indeed.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan wiped a tear from his eyes and said, “I was a MAAC crew chief and a dagnag good one too.” Suddenly, Ivan face grew sombre as if remembering a sad thought. “When supplies got scarce at one point during the war, I had to send too many young kids out with unmaintained MAACs. Too many of those never came back. That’s how I got into this business. Now, as long as kids have enough money, they get the best that their money can buy.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor remembered very well that time when supplies were scarce. He had been stationed in the northern hemisphere on the continent of Arca. The frontlines were scattered because the Saxx had the advantage of being able to land wherever they wanted. Most of the planetary resources were devoted to space defence to try to ward off future invasions. L’Cor had to admit that in the long run, it had been the right move because once the space stations were online, the number of successful Saxx incursions declined dramatically. Still, it had been a rough year. The only up side was that in the north, normal rules regarding fraternization had been relaxed in an effort to keep the spirits of the troops up and their body temperatures warm. L’Cor smiled at the thought and said, “I remember how glad I was when orders came in to do anything possible to stay warm. I got to know the other side of my troops quite well! Many of the maintenance and admin staff were women and [FONT=Arial, sans-serif]very[FONT=Arial, sans-serif] friendly.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan let out a huge laugh. “I can imagine. You were stationed in Arca then? I remember when some of the stories started to filter back south, we had a sudden interest amongst our younger pilots to – oh how did they put it – join forces with our beleaguered brothers in the north!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor’s mood darkened. R’Tus had just finished MAAC basic at the time and was and was assigned to another unit on the front lines. It had been hard to pull the strings that would get R’Tus attached to L’Cor’s own unit where he could watch over his younger brother, but in the end the transfer had happened. In hindsight, L’Cor now wished that he hadn’t tried so hard. If R’Tus were never part of L’Cor’s unit, then he would never have been in the Badlands that day, holding rearguard against a tidal wave of Saxx, only to be blown up by his own people’s thernuke.

 

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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan seemed to catch onto L’Cor’s mood change instantly. “Here, let me explain the basics of a Mobile Civilian and Construction Vehicle.” Ivan pulled out a hand held terminal and turned it on. It hummed as it projected a 3D hologram. Ivan spoke as he cycled through the images. “You probably know the history. The idea of using a civilian machine took form after the city of Atemus successfully repelled a Saxx attack with the help of some MCCVs that were hastily armed with some light MAAC weapons. The armed MCCVs supplemented the MAAC forces and although the MCCVs were almost completely wiped out, the Saxx were eventually beaten off. Later on in the war, armed MCCVs were often used by militia for guard duties, freeing up frontline MAACs for assaults.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]After the war, Gill’em Bates - a former militia man - came up with the concept of the Tournament. The idea took off like a L-Wave rocket and now he’s the richest man in the world. The main difference between a Mick and a MAAC – other than the size that is – is the lack of a neural suit. So, if you joined the Tournament hoping to see some hot women in skin tights, you can forget it.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The joke lightened L’Cor’s mood somewhat and he began to listen in earnest. Ivan chuckled at his own humour and continued on. “The pilot of a Mick sits in this cockpit, just behind the torso.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan pointed his finger at a hologram representation of a Mick. There was a large humpbacked lump on the back. L’Cor had assumed that it was just some miscellaneous equipment but now he realized how wrong he had been.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The obvious advantage of something like this is that that other than your frontal armour, you have your endoskeleton as well as your internal systems between you and incoming fire. You’re a little more vulnerable in the back though, but then if you let someone get behind you long enough to get a good shot in, then you don’t deserve to be in the Tournament. Anyway, in a fight, your Mick will likely become disabled long before any harmful fire comes your way.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor nodded his head thoughtfully. “What about an ejection system?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The whole cockpit assembly on all Micks are designed to break free and mini L-Wave engines will blast you free from the Mick. That way, you’re still protected both from secondary explosions and from radiation.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Radiation?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan face took on a serious cast. “Yeah. It’s not that bad in Old Neomar since it was the first city that we had to nuke, but in other arenas, I’ve heard the radiation is still pretty bad.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I’ll keep that in mind,” said L’Cor.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The Micks are too small in size to have a sophisticated neural harness interface like the MAACs. Instead, the controls are fairly simple. You have controls that can be simplified with pre-programed responses and weapons that are not that much bigger than regular human sized weapons. Don’t underestimate them though. A Mick sized auto-cannon can still punch through brick houses and a skilled Mick pilot can zip through city streets without slowing down.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]When L’Cor didn’t look convinced, Ivan turned off the terminal and waved his hand. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Curious, L’Cor followed until Ivan came to a stop beside a maintenance bin. Ivan reached in and pulled out a heavy glossy sheet of supple plastic looking material. “I’ll give you one free maintenance check if you can guess what this is.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor took the material in his hands and examined it. The surface of the material was smooth and shiny. He found that it was also very stretchy and when he put his arm in it, it conformed itself to the contour of his arm. As for colour, he found that he couldn’t really judge the colour of the material, which was rather odd. It seemed to catch the light a little differently depending on how he turned the material. “I suppose that if I were to cover something with this, it would make whatever was underneath very hard to see, right?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan chuckled. “Dagnag-it. I should’ve known that an ex-MAAC pilot would figure it out. I guess I owe you a free maintenance check. All you have to do is buy a Mick from me!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor laughed out loud. He was beginning to like Ivan McMac! “So, what is it exactly?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan took the material from L’Cor and explained, “This is a sheet of Optical Camouflage. They were working on this during the war but could never get them to work properly on a MAAC. I think it had something to do with the sheer size of a MAAC. Basically, you throw this baby on top of your Mick, and boom, the internal fibre batteries kick in and the OC blends in with its surroundings. It’s not perfect, but if you use it right, it’ll give you an advantage. Just don’t forget that your opponents have it too. The batteries don’t last too long though so you have to watch that. With a little luck and by standing perfectly still, you can effectively mask your presence and get the jump on your opponents. Move around too much and the OC won’t be able to keep up with the change in your surroundings and then you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. Oh, and any impacts will disrupt the illusion and potentially break the fibre wire underneath.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor gave the material one last look and said, “Stay still and don’t get hit. Got it. How many of these would I have?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan shrugged his titanic shoulders. “It depends on what OC module you load on your Mick. Anywhere between five and twenty in a module. You could theoretically install an OC onto the outside of your Mick and have your Mick’s engine power it. It would give you unlimited camouflage – until you got hit that is. Some of the contestants are known to do that.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]If I got hit, I would lose my advantage entirely.” L’Cor shook his head and said; “I think I’ll stick with using it when I have to.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan nodded approvingly. “Good man. Now, on to specifics. As I said before, there are three main flavours of Micks: light, medium and heavy. Much like MAACs in fact. The other nice thing about Micks is that every component is modular which is why you won’t find actual model names attached to any one Mick. Brand new Micks are stamped with a tag when they roll off an assembly line, but that tag is quickly obsolete as pilots start customizing their Mick.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That was definitely a new feature for L’Cor. With a MAAC, what you see was what you got. The only thing you could customize was your weapon load outs. “Are there any limits to the customization?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In theory? No. In practice…wooo boy, I could write an entire book! The basic rule is don’t make your Mick heavier than what your engine can handle. For example, if you put heavy arms on a light frame with a light engine, not only will your Mick be slow, but also the arms might rip right out of their sockets at the wrong time. Best thing is to stick with modules that were designed for your class.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Light arms on a light frame. Got it”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Now, we can either start customizing your Mick from the ground up or you can browse through my collection of complete Micks.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What’s the difference?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]By customizing, you will be using parts that I’ve traded back from other contestants or parts that I’ve been able to salvage from the arena. As for the complete Micks, well, it’s usually a waste of time for me to build a Mick without a custom order so all the complete Micks I’ve got are from pilots who’ve died in the arena. I usually buy back their Micks and the proceeds are used to fund their funeral. I then fix them up and hope someone will buy one or two as a spare Mick.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor raised his eyebrows and asked, “Any luck with that?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan sighed deeply. “Nah and not for what you think either. There’s no stigma attached to a Mick whose pilot has died. Everyone who enters the Tournament knows that there’s a distinct possibility of that happening. I guess in today’s suddenly peaceful world, many people need this sort of outlet. Besides, with the population growing the way it has, and with the number of liveable places are so limited, in a bizarre sort of way, we need this to give people something to do and look forward to.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan sighed and led L’Cor to another terminal. This one was solidly installed into the wall and it had a large holo projector. Ivan turned it on and continued to speak. “In truth, I can’t even pretend to understand what drives someone to enter the Tournament. It’s not like we’re at war or anything. All I can do is make sure that the kids who come to my shop are properly prepared for what’s out there.” Ivan powered up a program and when it finished loading, he typed on a keyboard as images in the holo projector changed around. “Ok, let’s get started shall we? First of all, choose a class. Light Micks are usually pretty fast and manoeuvrable, but lack heavy armour and lack the ability to use the heavier Mick weapons. Heavy Micks are the exact opposite while medium Micks are a combination of both. I usually advise new pilots to go for a medium.”

 

[ERecTile]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor gave the matter some serious thought. Like many MAAC pilots, he had started off with the light Wyv’en and as he moved up the ranks, traded in his Wyv’en for a Grif’cen and finally a Drac’en. R’Tus was one of those rare pilots who preferred a Wyv’en for its mobility and speed. “If I go with a heavy, a good pilot in a light will run circles around me. If I go light, and get cornered, I’ll get the frak pummelled out of me. If I go with a medium, I won’t be able to keep up with the lights and I can’t go toe to toe with the heavies.” L’Cor thought some more while judging the pros and cons of each.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]There is no tried and true formula,” admitted Ivan. “It all depends on your style of fighting. For example, for obvious reasons, pilots of light Micks tend to use hit and run tactics. Pilots of heavies like to face their opponents’ head on and pilots of mediums are the jacks-of-all-trades. The reigning champion of the Tournament pilots a medium Mick.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Really? Let’s start with a medium and see where that takes us.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan hit a button on his keyboard and a series of images appeared on the holo projectors. From their shapes, they were obviously Mick torsos. “I won’t bore you with model names or numbers. Do you prefer a rounded armour or angled armour?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Well, rounded armour would be good against missiles while angled armour has a better chance of deflecting bullets. Neither is very effective against lasers. Hmmm.” L’Cor’s old Drac’en had angled armour and an anti-missile system as well. “Can you equip a Mick with an AMS?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan nodded affirmatively. “Sure, but it’ll take up one of your four weapon hard points.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor made up his mind. “Ok, let’s go with the angled contour. I’ll just have to be fast on my feet against missiles.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan punched a few buttons and an image of a torso with a triangular front became enlarged. “I like this particular one myself. It’s a little more aerodynamic than the other models. Now, how about the legs? You have five choices. You can have two legs, three legs, four legs, treads or a hovercraft.” Five 3D images of the various leg choices showed on the holo projector.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor looked at each one carefully. “All the leg types have built in rollers?” When Ivan nodded, L’Cor continued. “The treads and the hover types probably allow for heavier loads but there’s obvious disadvantages.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan smiled broadly. “You have a good eye. I’m glad I don’t have to do the explaining for once!”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor shrugged nonchalantly as if it didn’t matter to him. “The treads will probably allow for the heaviest loads, but it’s obviously very slow. If I were in a heavy Mick, I’d consider it. The hover type is tempting but my experience with hovercraft is that they throw up a lot of dust. That won’t work well with the OC, right?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]That’s right. Not only that, if you ground your Mick in order to use the OC properly, it could take you a good few seconds to fire up your blowers. Depending on how you time it, those few seconds could be critical.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I don’t particularly want to go with the three or four legs. I can’t imagine what kind of ride that would be. Let’s go with the two legs. You got any that can take a heavier load without suffering too much in speed?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan worked on his keyboard. His face had a thoughtful expression. “Let’s see…Kotobiuya had a Mick model recently…Ah, here it is.” A pair of legs appeared on the holo projector. They were chunkier than any of the others and the rollers on them were also larger. “These babies have a stronger endoskeleton and better mechanical muscles. Not only that, those rollers are bigger too. If you don’t weigh down too much on your weapons, you should have good zero to running speed acceleration. Top speed is nothing to sneeze at though.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Top speed is not that important in an urban setting anyway,” said L’Cor.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]True, but you’d be amazed at what some of these kids think is important these days.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I’m not a kid”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Also true! Ok let’s move to your weapon systems. You have four hard points for weapons and one for your jump jets. Theoretically, you could take out the jump jets and put in another weapon but I wouldn’t advise it. The jump jets are pretty standard. You could keep the ones that come with the torso or you can attach either bigger or smaller ones.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Are the jump jets directional?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yup. If you wanted to, you can hunker down on your rollers and use your jets to go faster.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Let’s keep the jets then. How much is this adding to so far? I want to know how much money I have left for weapons.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan typed in some more numbers and then said, “You’re looking at around one hundred and thirty thousand credits so far.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Frak!” exclaimed L’Cor. “You sure these are all used parts?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, I have to factor in my time to fix these parts up after I salvage them from the arena and the undamaged parts that get traded in have a high resell value. If you want, I can try to arrange for some private sales.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor did some quick calculations in his head. He had just over two hundred thousand credits to his name. That had to cover his living expenses for a while plus the purchase and maintenance of his Mick. After his first game in the arena, he should hopefully have earned more money. “Never mind that. After my first game, I should either have enough for better weapons or I’ll be dead.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Don’t forget the entry fee to some of the games. The entry fee ensures that only contestants of a certain level of skill are allowed to join. The lower end games are free but the prize money attached to each contestant is less.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Tell me how that works. I’ve read about it but I still don’t quite get it.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Well basically, the Tournament puts up a certain dollar amount as prize money for you when you enter a game. This amount is based on your stats and your skill. For example, since you’re new and an unknown, your prize is worth two thousand credits. Whoever takes you down will earn that prize money. As you play more and earn more wins, your prize value goes up. For the higher end games with the entrance fee, the fee you pay is added to your prize worth, which makes potential winnings in those games rather high. However, generally, you’d be facing top notch pilots in those games.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ok, that makes more sense now. How long does each game last?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Generally, each game last until there’s only one pilot left functioning. The tournament managers have been talking about setting different kinds of game scenarios but most of those are team based.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I guess I’ll worry about that later then. Now, I’m used to fighting with a balanced weapon load out. One multi barrel auto-cannon, one laser, a missile system and a howitzer type of cannon for blast damage potential.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan snorted incredulously. “Good luck trying to find that kind of load out. Not only is the cost for weapons such as those astronomical, the combined weight of the weapons you described would make you as mobile as a rock.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor sighed. “Fine, tell me what I can get for fifty thousand credits.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan started typing on his keyboard and several weapons choice appeared. “For fifty thousand credits, I would advise the following: one light rapid fire cannon, one medium shot cannon, one spring-fire grenade launcher and one single tube missile system. The RFC is basically a Mick sized auto-cannon and the shot cannon is a Mick sized shotgun. The grenades won’t do much damage unless you score a direct or near direct hit, but even a far miss will disrupt most OC. The single tube missile system fires one missile at a time. This will basically be your most destructive system. The single tube missiles systems have larger warheads and the lock-on times are faster. In multi tube systems, each missile needs to lock on individually which means that while you can shoot up to six missiles at once, only the first few will have locked on.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Why is that? I’d hate to have to wait that long to lock on only to lose half my missiles to pointless targets.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Two reasons. First, it’s cheaper and second, you can target multiple enemies at once that way.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yeah, but it’ll still take me forever to lock on. If I put two STMs on, will they both target at the same time?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sure, you can link their fire control systems like that. But you’ll be giving up the grenade launcher.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Not a problem. Switch out the medium SC for a light one. That’ll give me more ammunition for probing possible hiding places. Then put a medium RFC in place of the light one. That, I think, will be my primary weapon.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan whistled. “Ok, you’re the customer.” He made the changes then hit one final button. On the holo projector, L’Cor’s Mick was taking shape. The triangular torso sat upon the blocky legs. On the right side, was a rapid-fire cannon and on the left was the shot cannon. On the back, two single tube missile systems sat on the cockpit assembly, just above the jump jets. A blocky head unit sat on top of the torso. “When you get more money, you can update the targeting sensors and computer in the head unit. Right now, the basic models will do you just fine in the lower end games. Also, I’ve taken the liberty of installing a twenty-pack OC module in there. Looks like we’re set. Ready to check out?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor fished out his pocket computer and connected it to Ivan’s terminal. On his screen, he could see the appropriate number of credits being taken out of his account. “How soon can I expect it?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It’ll take about a week. Come back in a couple of days to check the status.”

 

[ERecTile]

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor nodded and turned away. That was when he saw her. She was young, somewhere in her mid to late teens. She wore a ripped blue denim jacket overtop a thin white tank top that was threadbare in some strategic places. She also wore a tiny leather miniskirt that looked as if it barely reached past her hips, long white stockings that went past her knees and spiked black shoes. Multi coloured dyed hair; heavy makeup and several lengths of steel chain around her neck completed her attire. She blew out large pink bubble from the gum she was chewing and approached L’Cor and Ivan.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She stopped a few feet away and looked disdainfully at L’Cor. “Why doncha take a holo? It’ll last longer.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor hadn’t realized that he’d been staring. “If I had a holo recorder, I would. Are you dressed like that on a dare?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]The girl ignored L’Cor and addressed Ivan. “Is my Baby ready?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan said, “Yup, hang on.” He pulled a handset from his pocket and spoke into it, “Jan! Is Yoko’s Baby ready? Yeah, ok, come and get her.” He put the handset away and said, “Baby’s ready. Go and meet Jan by the repair shop’s door ok?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yoko blew another bubble and then snapped it shut. She inclined her head in L’Cor’s direction and asked, “Newbie?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Registering him today. He just bought a Mick.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yoko made a show at staring at the holo of L’Cor’s completed Mick. “You’re going to be piloting that?” She snorted contemptuously. “You’re braver than you look.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]No braver than you for putting on that hooker outfit!” L’Cor could feel his anger rise. Who the frak was this little girl which the giant attitude? If she had shown up in MAAC Basic dressed like that, the NCOs’ would’ve been all over her like grif’cens on a rab’hit.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan sucked in a deep breath in shock. He held up a placating hand to the girl and said, “He didn’t mean that Yoko. He’s new here.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Yoko gave L’Cor one last look and said, “Phfft! See you in the arena Newbie. I’ll be looking for you!” She turned and walked off. When she got to the far door, it opened and a younger version of Ivan greeted her and together they walked through the door.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Who the frak was that?” demand L’Cor.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan ran a hand through his thin white hair. “That, my friend with the death wish, is Yoko Ana. She’s the current reigning champion of the Tournament.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Her? That little thing?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Look, you have to remember that once you get inside a Mick, physical differences don’t mean anything. At nineteen orbits old, Yoko is the youngest champion ever of the Tournament. She’s chalked up over one hundreds wins in the arena. A fair number were kills to boot.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor silenced his anger. Ivan had a point. Even the smallest recruit in the war became a giant as soon as he stepped into the harness of a MAAC. That was just something else that Micks and MAACs had in common. “What was this Baby that she was talking about?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ah, good question!” Ivan instantly cheered up. “Remember when I said that Micks didn’t have model names? Well, Mick pilots usually name their Micks. Yoko’s Mick is called Baby. A rather silly name for an extremely competent and serious warrior.” Ivan pulled up another menu on the holo projector and started typing on his keyboard. “Ok, I can register you into the Tournament from here. Full name please?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Sure. It’s L’Cor Penrag’n”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Ivan’s head snapped back to look at L’Cor with questions in his eyes. He stared at L’Cor and said hesitantly, “Penrag’n? Any relation to…never mind. There were probably many Penrag’ns in the military.” Ivan went back to typing and finally said, “Ok, what name do you want to give your Mick?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]L’Cor was curious as to what Ivan was going to ask, but since the other man did not ask, L’Cor didn’t push the issue. He thought about how he felt about himself these days. Why had he decided to throw everything away and come here? Was it as his sister Q’wen had said: so that he could feel alive again? It was true that ever since war had ended, L’Cor had felt as if he were nothing but a shadow of his former self - a ghost that was doing nothing but exist. Also, when R’Tus had died, L’Cor had had a nervous breakdown and it had taken him weeks to get over that. It had almost been as if his internal systems had crashed and needed to be rebooted. Suddenly, he smiled grimly. He knew what to name his Mick. “Call it Phantom. Phantom Crash.”

 

[Rolex]

Right on dude EACE:

 

[CalmMan]

You must have a huge comic books collection.

 

[ERecTile]

Not really. I was late in hopping on the comic bandwagon. I didn't buy comics for their perceived value but rather for the stories. I have one box in my basement. Mostly Image and Malibu as they were still new back then and came out with some fresh stories. I remember they both started with fantastic art, with vibrant colours, subtle lines and expressive faces, rounded boobs and butts. Sigh, but they both devolved quickly and then I lost interest. Too bad. My faves were Savage Dragon, Mantra and Nightman and Prototype.

 

[ERecTile]

Chapter 4 – Mistakes and the Lessons They Teach

Start of Entry - Orbit 3011, 9[SUP]th[/SUP] Moon, 15[SUP]th[/SUP] Solar Cycle​

​

They say that MAAC training is almost over. Apparently, we’re in this accelerated course because they’re desperately short on trained pilots. I don’t know about that. I’ve been receiving somewhat regular communications from L’Cor. From everything he’s told be about what actual battle is like as well as the average survival rate of new MAAC pilots, I’m afraid that most of the trainees my unit are just not ready. I sometimes wake up in a cold sweat from dreams of Cinda getting swarmed under by Saxx. Yes, I can probably admit it here. I’m falling in love with Cinda. I mean who wouldn’t? She beautiful, smart, funny and sexy as hell. Oh yeah, and she’s the first woman I’ve ever had sex with. Maybe that’s why I feel the way I feel about her, but I sure have never felt this way about anyone. Well, anyone that’s alive I guess.


Ugh, I guess I’ll have to explain that a bit. See, ever since I was a child, I’ve been addicted to this book. It’s called, History of Royal Gaya. It’s chock of full of stories of the time before people on Gaya made that first important step towards the technological age. Most people call that time the Simple Age while I tend to just think of it as a Simpler World. The world that I had lived certainly wasn’t simple. My father died while I was still young. I barely remember him. I know for sure that Q’Wen doesn’t while L’Cor probably remembers him the best. Anyway, he left behind this book; this supposed history of our planet. Anyone whose read it knows that it reads more like a fantasy novel than it does a history text. Anyway, as a kid, I was drawn to the stories of knights, fair maidens and wizards and witches. Yeah, I know, how can anything to do with magic be a part of our technological world? Anyway, I digress. The book chronicles how our planet came to be called Gaya. Way back then – and other texts have verified this – our world was nothing but a bunch of continents and separate countries that were always constantly at war with each other. One ruler managed to unite the majority of the countries on her continent and her descendants went on to unite the rest of the world. By the time the technological age rolled in and connected the continents with unified communications, the world had taken her name, Gaya. Anywhere you go, you can find representations of her. I don’t know how accurate they are, but as I kid, I’ve always thought that she was beautiful. Maybe that was why I was more partial to blondes.


Anyway, I’ve been in love with Empress Gaya (or Princess Gaya as she was known before she conquered a continent) ever since I was a little kid. But that was an infatuation right? I mean, how could I really love someone who’s been dead for over two thousand orbits? That meant that these feelings that I’m feeling for Cinda must be real, right?


In any case, Cinda was fast becoming a competent MAAC pilot. She wasn’t quite near my level, but then again, who was? By now, even the instructors have stopped trying to take me down a notch. I didn’t let it get to my head though, which was probably why I was fairly well liked. I remembered the advice that L’Cor had given me. He told me to never make enemies of those who may one day watch my back. If they resented or hated me, they may one day decide to watch in a different direction.


So, I tried to act as modest as possible and didn’t hold my skill over anybody. Truly, all I wanted to was to get out to the frontlines as soon as possible. I wanted to join up with L’Cor and strike back at the monsters that had destroyed my home and killed my mother and stepfather.


I’m digressing again. Anyway, we had just completed a series of complex exercises when Master Sergeant Frekkin ordered us into teams. He made me a quad leader and told me to pick out three team members. The first one I picked was Cinda. She beamed at me with that brilliant smile of hers. After her, I chose Jonson and Micah. Jonson was an early supporter of mine and Micah and I both came from same province and there was that bond of similar backgrounds.


The teams split up to discuss basic tactics. I put Cinda on my wing and paired Jonson up with Micah. Jonson was a fairly good pilot but Micah needed a lot more polish. Frekkin came over and gave us our mission brief.


“Alright Penrag’n. You and your team are part of Blue Team.” He pulled out a map card and projected a map and began to make notes. “Red Team is here. They are the defenders. Blue Team has to break into this compound and take Red Team’s flag. I’ll be in command of Blue Team. Master Sergeant Sosa is in charge of Red. I want you to take your quad and knock out this communication relay here.” He highlighted an area that appeared to be a valley with densely packed trees. “After you knock that out, the main Blue force will advance and you’ll rendezvous with them at the compound. Any questions?”


My mind was racing furiously. The mission objectives seemed simple enough. What other things were they going to throw at us? “No Sergeant.”


“Good man. Now get your team ready. You move out in two hours.”


After he left, I took the holo map and showed it to the rest of my quad. “I think we’ve been dealt a bum hand guys. I’m sorry.”


“What’re you sorry for?” asked Cinda.


“Look at this valley. There’s no cover except for trees and there could be who knows how many bad guys up on the rim? No, I think they’re going to spot us the moment we enter the valley and pick us off from long range.” By now, we’d been assigned the full complement of available weapons. The ammunition was underpowered, but it was not unknown for trainees to get hurt in these training exercises.


“What do you propose we do?” asked Jonson.


I studied the map. I had a few options and I liked none of them. “Ok, Frekkin didn’t say anything about how fast we had to knock out the communications relay. Jonson, you and Micah will enter the valley from different locations. You’ll both load up with missiles. You’re job is to keep their attention away from Cinda and I. Fire your missiles randomly throughout the valley to keep them confused. Move fast and they might think that this was a full-blown push. That might even get them to pull some troops from the compound so that when the rest of Blue Team pushes in; there will be fewer of them. Once Cinda and I take out the relay, get the frak out of the valley. You should be low on missiles by then.


“So we just retreat and leave you guys in there?” Micah didn’t look happy at the idea.


“With any luck, they won’t even know Cinda and I are there until it’s too late. Any questions?”


“Just one, oh fearless leader.” Cinda was studying the map intently. I tried not to get distracted by how her neural suit flexed in and out as she breathed. I was trying very hard not to think of our session last night. It had been especially hot. “How are you and I supposed to sneak in?”


I pointed to a large river that flowed through the valley. “How do you feel about a swim?”

*​

​

The plan went fairly well until Cinda and I were almost to the relay. She and I were outfitted with Hyper Velocity Cannons and satchel charges. Not the most balanced of loads but HVCs could be submerged in water without fear of water clogging anything critical up. I don’t’ understand the technicalities myself, but the HVC was basically an L-wave engine connected to a long magnetic tube. The L-wave engine energized the magnets in the tube that propelled a large metal slug at hyper velocities. There was no muzzle flash that could give away our position to any nighttime observers. The HVC was usually reserved for heavy MAACs that could bear the weight as well as the recoil but I figured that if we fired from the river, the water should help with both the weight and the recoil. It was the closest thing to a sniper rifle that a MAAC could have.

 

[ERecTile]

We had just emerged from the river over five hundred yards away from the relay. I could see the large satellite dish without the need for magnification. The bright moon overhead provided ample light. There were no alarms or hostile fire coming our way. We had gotten in undetected! At this point, I suffered a moment of uncertainty. If Cinda and I could have gotten in undetected, could I have snuck in my entire quad? I knew second guessing myself at this point was dangerous so I rationalized that while Jonson might have been able to make the swim in the river in his MAAC, there was no way that Micah could have. While Micah was a solid man to have around, he lost his sense of balance as soon as he was encased in tons of dur-alloy armour.


Suddenly, the night sky lit up with explosions. Micah and Jonson were making their move! I looked carefully and saw two distinct flashes. Dagnag-it! They were even more visible than I thought they would be! If I could see them from my vantage point, then the opposition up on the rim of the valley could too!


“Cinda, continue on to the mission objective! I’m going to try to give Micah and Jonson some cover fire.”


“Roger that!”


Cinda’s MAAC continued towards the relay station. She unlimbered a satchel charge as she walked. I took my attention away from her and studied my secondary monitor. Jonson was doing well. He was moving around a lot and firing from seemingly random positions. Micah, on the other hand, was not. He seemed to be stuck in one position.


I keyed my S-wave and ordered, “Micah! Get your butt in gear!” I saw a flash from up the side of the valley and marked it with my targeting computer. I magnified and saw the vague outline of a MAAC. It had a boxy missile launcher on its right shoulder. I brought my HVC up and aimed carefully. I knew the weapons being used in this exercise were underpowered, but a solid slug traveling at six times the speed of sound will still do significant damage. I aimed for the other MAAC’s waist and pulled the trigger. The other MAAC recoiled violently and on my secondary monitor, I saw it collapse as the right leg broke away. The recoil of my weapon’s discharge rocked me on my heels but I fought to stay upright.


“Help! I think I stepped in something. I’m stuck!” Micah’s voice came through clearly on the S-wave communicator.


“Hold tight!” I ordered. “Do not fire!” If he fired any weapon right now, it would be like putting up a signal flare as to where he was. Without the ability to move, he would be a sitting du’kar.


To this day, I’m not sure if either he heard my order too late, or he didn’t hear it at all. I saw a flash from his position and realized with growing horror that he had just fired a missile. At the same time, as if by some evil twist of fate, Cinda’s MAAC shuddered from multiple impacts. The relay station was not unprotected!


At that moment, I did something no quad leader should ever do. I froze with indecision. Who do I help? Who do I save? Looking back now, I know that there never really was a choice. Cinda was closer and her enemy was clearly in front of me. Micah was somewhere in the valley and probably had several unseen enemies targeting his position right now. Cinda was the only one that I was in a position to help.


Cinda’s MAAC had fallen face down. She was still over three hundred yards away from the relay station. I could see two MAACs in previously concealed positions taking aim at Cinda’s prone MAAC. I took aim at the closer one and let fly with a metal slug. This time, due to the distance, I could see first hand, the result of my handiwork. My ‘slug’ was nothing more than a computer-generated image. The other MAAC rocked backwards realistically and my own MAAC shuddered from the computer-enhanced recoil. A moment later, the other enemy MAAC fell spun away as Cinda’s slug hit it high in the right shoulder. She hadn’t fallen as I had thought! She was simply taking a prone firing position so that she could fire her HVC properly.


I turned to look for Micah and that was when I saw multiple lines of fire meet at his last known position. “Micah! Micah! Respond! Micah!” I got no response from Micah so I called out to Jonson. “Jonson! Head over to Micah and check him out.”


“Roger that!”


Jonson must have heard the urgency in my voice because he used his jump jets instead of running. I saw his MAAC rise up over the valley, a small human shaped object riding of twin plumes of smoke. I saw it jerk suddenly and then plummet towards the ground. I keyed my S-wave and yelled, “Jonson!” When I didn’t get a response, I keyed a private call to Master Sergeant Frekkin. “Sarge! Emergency. Pilot down. I repeat, pilot down!”


“Don’t get your panties in a bunch son. I got it!” Frekkin’s drawl was somewhat soothing, but I swore I could hear some tension in his voice.


Meanwhile, Cinda got close enough to the relay station to throw a couple of satchel charges. They stuck to the side of the relay and I hear a chime in my helmet. “Mission objective complete,” said a feminine voice.


Cinda formed up on my right and together, we headed out of the valley. With our current weapons load, we would be useless in the final assault so we set a course for home base. Cinda was quiet during the entire trip and I didn’t feel much like talking. I kept worrying about Micah and Jonson. I knew that I had screwed up, but I wouldn’t know just how badly until much later.


End of Entry

 

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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Start of Entry - Orbit 3011, 9[SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif]th[/SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif] Moon, 20[SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif]th[/SUP][FONT=Arial, sans-serif] Solar Cycle​

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[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Today, we were dressed in our full dress uniforms as we paraded in the central square. The band played deep mourning tunes as the drum pounded out a slow marching beat. File by file, we slow marched past the casket that was draped with the Royal Gayan Armed Forces colours.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I marched with my unit and saluted Micah’s casket as we marched past. It had gone down in the record books as a training accident. Micah’s MAAC was hit several times by underpowered missiles, but a lucky hit set off the underpowered warheads in his own MAAC. That many explosions at once was enough to tear Micah’s MAAC apart. To this day, I still don’t know why Micah had stopped moving. Was it a servo malfunction or had he stepped in a large hole and couldn’t get out? In either case, it didn’t matter. Micah was there on my orders. He was armed solely with missiles on my orders. His death was my responsibility.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Later, Cinda and I visited Jonson at the hospital. When his MAAC was hit in midair by a simulated HVC slug, his computer had cut the power to his jump jets and he had broken a leg as he crashed. It really hurt me to see him hurt because of me and I apologized to him.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Why’re you apologizing?” he asked with a frown. “It was my mistake for hitting my jump jets like that. I should’ve stayed closer to the ground and did a ground boost.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It was my plan, therefore it was my fault that you got hurt and that Micah died.” I sounded like a sullen little kid and I knew it.


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Hey, it was a gutsy plan and we all agreed on it, right?” Jonsen looked meaningfully at Cinda and eventually, she nodded her head. She seemed to be deep in thought about something.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]We sat around and hung out with Jonson for a while longer before heading out to the cafeteria for some food. We found a quiet corner and sat down with our food and began to eat quietly. Finally, I couldn’t stand the silence anymore and asked, “Cinda, is everything alright?”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She looked up and I could see her eyes were damp. “Things are not alright. I’ve realized that I need to do something unpleasant and I’m working up the nerve to do it.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What’re you talking about?” Uh oh, I know that look and that tone!


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I’ve realized that I’ve been extremely selfish in keeping you all to myself. It’s time for us to be non-exclusive.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me? Please don’t!” Dagnag-it! I was sounding like a whiny little kid again!


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Cinda smiled wistfully. “How can we break up when we were never really together? R’Tus, what we had…it was just sex and nothing more.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]How can you say that? Of course it wasn’t just sex! Cinda I lo-“


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She suddenly reached up and touched my lips with her hand. “Don’t. Don’t say it! You don’t love me R’Tus. You can’t. You don’t even know anything about me.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I know a lot,” I protested. “I know that you love mornings and the colour of the sun as it rises. I know you have a soft spot for cute animals but you hate the Saxx with a passion. I know you’ve lost as much as I have because of this stupid war. I know-“


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Shhh,” said Cinda quietly. “Please don’t make this harder than this is. Don’t you see R’Tus? Training is almost over. There has been dozens of young women making mooneyes at you in this camp. It’s not fair for me to keep you all to myself.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I shook my head vigorously. “I don’t care about anyone else. I just care about you!”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]R’Tus please. When training is over, we’ll be assigned to different units all over the world. There’s no way we could make a fling into something else in those kinds of conditions.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]It’s because of the exercise isn’t it? It’s because of my mistakes that got Micah killed and Jonson hurt.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Cinda hesitated and said gently, “Partly, but not for what you think. At first, I thought it strange that you wanted me on your wing. After all, Micah was the weakest one in our quad. He should have been on your wing where you could have looked out for him.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I didn’t choose Micah because I didn’t think he could have swam in the river in his MAAC.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]But you would have been there to help him. Besides, that river wasn’t that deep. We walked our MAACs in chest deep water. I wouldn’t exactly call that swimming. Anyway, I’m not second guessing your plan – just your motives.”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Motives?”


“[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]What was your real reason for pairing up with me? Truthfully.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I opened my mouth but didn’t answer right away. She had me and I knew it. I just didn’t have the guts to say it because I knew it would only solidify her decision.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]She didn’t wait for me though. She stared intently at my face and said, “I thought so. R’Tus, I’m not a damsel in distress that needs protecting from you. I’m a soldier in a war against giant alien invaders who’ve killed most of my family. There’s no way you can keep me safe and there’s not a chance in Hadis that I’ll let you either.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I didn’t respond. I had nothing to say. She was right. She was right about everything. I guess maybe in the back of my mind, I had made her out to be Princess Gaya, with me the Black Knight. But Cinda was not a princess and I was not a knight.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]Cinda gathered her food and stood up. “I’ll see you around R’Tus.”


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I stared down into my plate as she walked away. I had learned a very valuable lesson. I would never again get involved in any way with anyone under my command. My relationships to those in my quad must remain strictly professional. I can never again allow my personal feelings cloud my judgement.


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]After Cinda left, my table seemed to fill quickly with young women from various other units. As with Cinda, most of them were older than me, but I guess I was getting used to that. They talked animatedly. Most of them wanted to know how I did what I did with a MAAC. I asked truthfully that I didn’t really think it was all that special. That just seemed to get them even more interested. By the time I left, I had several invitations for private tutoring sessions and a few blatant recreational sessions. Dagnag-it! Women in the military sure were aggressive!


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]In retrospect, I guess they have to be. Military service draws a certain mind set. Not only does it draw those with a natural killer instinct, it draws those who truly appreciate what it means to have a lifespan that was shorter than civilians. In the military, if you saw an opportunity for pleasure, you took it with both hands wide open. Who knows when you would have another opportunity like that? Who knows if you would even live to see the next sunrise?


[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]I walked back to my barracks feeling a lot more light hearted than I should have been. After all, didn’t I just get my heart broken? Did I? Was I truly in love with Cinda? I think so. But then again, I think my heart always did belong to someone else - someone who only lived in my book and my dreams. In my dreams, Princess Gaya rode upon her drac’en steed while I, the Black Knight, ran tirelessly beside her.

[FONT=Arial, sans-serif]End of Entry.
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