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Wolfly Games
An ''In character'' story of a contest on Arc Royal
by Tempest |
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"Thanks, Zee." I offered her the plate of hor d'oeuvres I'd acquired. She took one in exchange for the punch Laura was now holding.
"No prob, sir." She paused. "If you don't mind, Walt managed to somehow get the number of that girl at the starport, and, er, well, she has a brother." Laura snickered a little.
"Go right ahead. Have a good time - all four of you. Don't forget the team trials tomorrow, though. Be here on time - and sober." I emphasized the last point, jokingly grabbing the blushing Private by the collar.
"Now Sergeant, no abusing your fellow competitors." The crowd spat out O'Bannon next to us, a Combiner on his elbow. I let go of Zee's collar and grinned at the Kell Hound.
"I'll let her live. This time." I winked at Zola, and she was off like a Locust with MASC engaged.
"Very merciful of you." O'Bannon smiled. "Ah, to be that young again," he sighed.
Laura lightly elbowed me in the ribs. "Robby and I are supposed to be the ones complaining about our age, not young ristars like yourself." I winced slightly at the Clan slang.
Laughing, O'Bannon motioned with his drink. "Before I forget, may I introduce Tai-i Muso Soseki, of the Ryuken-Ni. Muso, this is…"
The Snake cut in, extending a friendly hand to me. "Sergeant Major De Molay and Corporal Daives. I could not forget already. You were the cause of much surprise at the Opening Ceremonies." His voice was formal, kind of stiff, but not condescending like the Clanner, Tutuola. I shook his hand heartily.
"Yeah, I know. The Lyrans aren't speaking to us." I softly cackled in pleasure.
The Combiner raised one of his thin eyebrows.
"There is still division within the Ice Princess' realms?"
Laura stared at me. "Please, no politics tonight."
I grinned sweetly. "To keep my lovely escort from murdering me here and now, I'll say only this - I've never made a secret of the fact that I'm a loyal Davionist who follows Prince Victor, and there's no love lost between the Steiner and I. To change the subject before I get a glass of punch dumped over my head, what's your style, Tai-i?" I offered the plate of snacks to the Snake and O'Bannon.
"I do not believe I understand your question."
"I think the Sergeant is asking what mech you use, Muso." The suited Hound snatched something black and green on a cracker.
"Good guess, Mr. O'Bannon. Almost right, too. I've always believed that you can tell a lot about a soldier by what their preferred mech is, Tai-i. I favor the Phoenix Hawk, because I value agility and love a point-blank knife fight. Laura prefers the Griffin…"
"Used to, Robby. Remember I have not even looked at a simulator, let alone taken a real mech out, since Orkney."
"…Preferr*ed* the Griffin," I corrected myself, "because she's stand-offish and has a chip on her shoulder the missile launcher helps to cover up." I stuck my tongue out at her.
She promptly slapped me upside the head, laughing. "Take that back!" The Snake was laughing now, too.
"To answer your question, and to save your life, I proudly pilot a Grand Dragon. It is the symbol of my House's honor and strength, as well as a capable and powerful machine of war."
I nodded. Typical Snake choice - it represented the Combine. Powerful, fast as a snake, and with an intimidating reputation.
"You were expecting that, however. No warrior of the Dragon would choose otherwise. Were I to select a different one, it would be a Wolverine. The Marik have created an excellent design of it."
That was something more informative! A hunter's attitude. Ready to fight at any range and in any terrain, fast enough so the prey couldn't escape, and able to take a hit without flinching. "Good choice, Tai-i."
O'Bannon yelled something across the room, trying to attract the attention of the Roughriders contingent. Someone yelled something back, indecipherable over the crowd noise. "Excuse me gentlemen, lady." The Hound vanished , taking the plate of food with him.
"He has got to have some of that new null-signature paint on his suit."
The Combiner chuckled, then pointed to the katana on my belt. "I am curious of where you gained that blade. Not many outsiders carry a weapon of the Dragon."
Unbuckling it, I held the sword out, showing it off. "It's a war trophy, from '39. Got it when we liberated McComb. I forget the exact details of most of the battle, unfortunately. The fighting was pretty much over, but some of your units were still around the planet, doing guerilla raids. I ran into one of them - a really badly beaten Orion. I'd seen Locusts with more armor than that thing, and I doubt he had any ammo left. I radioed for him to surrender, but the thing just kicked up and hauled straight at me. Hauled being the operative word - it's one leg was dead weight, throwing off sparks and digging itself a little ditch, but that's all. So, I danced around it, picking away, until it just fell over. Half the gyro was sticking out the back, so it looked kind of like a staked vampire.
When we opened up the cockpit, the pilot had killed himself. I got his sword, but, really, it's a shame. Whoever he was, he had guts."
The three of us were quiet for a moment, nodding. Laura was the first to pipe up and break the silence. "Well, I seem to need another drink. Do either of you two.." We both looked at her, shaking our heads silently. She nodded and left us alone for a minute.
"So…." I prodded, carefully, "as long as she's gone, I'm free to talk politics again." We both grinned. "I've been hearing some interesting rumors from Combine space about Prince Victor…"
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Alright, stay in formation, hold speed. Give a shout if you spot anything.
Our four mechs were advancing carefully, spread out in a loose diamond formation. Zee's Assassin was on point, while Walt and his Centurion were holding the rear. The simple comfort of catching glimpses of Laura's Griffin off to my left made this whole trip worthwhile - the simulated mech was even painted like her old 'Dawn of Time', complete with a huge sunrise painted just below the cockpit.
Infrared flare, 600 at 285.
I swung my mech's head west-northwest, flipping on the thermal imagers. A white-hot trail led out of the woods and right to the heels of a small mech, 600 meters out. Laura called out her bead.
Teec* has it. COM-5S. Locking…. Negative shot.
(* - Teec is slang for 'TTC' or 'Targeting and Tracking Computer'.)
The Commando disappeared below the treeline just a little too fast.
Alright, keep track of it if you can, but don't waste time or ammo on it. If you get a good shot, take it, but otherwise ignore it. We've got bigger fish to fry. And those came up rapidly in front of us.
Two magres, dead ahead. 65 and 80.
All halt. Zee, ID and return. Anybody still got a fix on the Commie?
Negative, lost it.
Same.
Zee's Assassin went about a hundred meters before rapidly spinning around and coming back at us, weaponsfire cratering the ground behind her.
ZEU-9S and CRD-5S. And they're very aggressive.
Great. The Lyrans decided to pull out the big guns. Alright, simple plan - I'll occupy the Zeus. Laura, Zee, get in close and take out that Cruddy. Walt, provide covering fire and watch for that Commando. We rolled into action, speeding around (or in my case, over) the bend. The Zeus and Crusader had found themselves a good defensive position, bordered by thick woods on either side. Jumping, I was the first one they spotted, and their first salvos were aimed right at me. A huge swarm of missiles flashed by, a handful burning my shoulder as I descended. The moment I touched down, I dropped into a crouch, the Zeus' energy weapons firing over my head, igniting the trees. I returned fire, putting a dent in his leg. Our own missile storm came out as the rest of my lance turned the corner, launchers blazing. The Crusader stumbled slightly, taking the brunt of our assault.
Staying low to keep under the fire of Walt's autocannon, I rushed the assault mech, firing my particle cannon almost exactly in time with his. This time, we both missed, further turning the surrounding forest into one huge blaze. The Crusader advanced forward, a stupid mistake against pulse-equipped Griffins and Assassins. With any luck, they could hit the Crusader's big ammunition bins and be able to swarm the Zeus. The only way I'd survive long enough for that to happen would be to stay behind and close to the huge mech. Cutting left, I dove under the arm with the missile launcher in it, narrowly avoiding a swipe at my head. A cluster blast from Walt's gun peppered the area, one of the pellets stinging my ankle. Disregarding my rifle now, I opened up with both wrist-chains - missiles, lasers and bullets lashed out, rippling along the mech's right arm and torso. The weaker rear armor buckled satisfyingly, jetting out a spurt of coolant fluid onto my windshield. Reflexively, I grimaced, the Zeus' rear-mounted pulse laser tattooing my shoulder, finding the same spot the missiles had hit before.
Nightsky!
Where?
New contact, NGS-4S, coming in with the Commie from behind! Boy, and I'd thought they had a better plan than such a basic trap. Walt could take the Commando, at least, and probably beat up the Nightsky a bit. That shotgun cannon of his would do the job.
They're too fast! I can't get a bead on 'em!
Well, or he could panic. I sprayed the Zeus, hoping for a lucky hit. The pulse laser struck again, cutting a painful slice along my leg.
Keep calm and let Teec do the work.
They're right on top of me! Negative lo
I hazarded a glance back south. The blocky frame of a Centurion's head rebounded off the ground, rolling into a tree. The Nightsky trotted to help the now smoking Crusader, hatchet held high in victory. My momentary look cost me - the Zeus pilot reversed his direction, clotheslining me into the ground with his cannon arm. The breath exploded out of my lungs, which didn't help the woozy feeling in my head that came with the impact. Warning tones went off all around me in the cockpit, distracting my attention until the sunlight stopped shining in. Looking straight up, the Zeus towered overhead, gloating. Drawing my arm up, I pointed my rifle right at the 10th Lyran Guards symbol on his big ugly head. A just as big ugly foot came down on my wounded shoulder, smoothly popping the arm off of my mech. My own arm went sympathetically numb. Desperately, I pointed my other arm upwards, firing for all I was worth. It was akin, as I once heard said, to throwing pebbles at a Battlemaster.
Finish the Cruddy and get outta here. Go guerilla, and don't let them corner you.
At about that point, the Zeus fired it's particle cannon at my not-quite-as-big-and-ugly head.
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Climbing out of the simpod, I immediately accepted an aspirin from Laura. Walt was sitting nearby, tenderly rubbing his neck.
"Don't worry, kid. Phantom pain from the interface. It'll go away in an hour or so." I tipped my head back, taking a deep drink of water. A couple of seconds later, I managed to comprehend that they were picking me up off the floor.
"Maybe I should sit down."
Laura forcibly sat me on a bench. "Yes, you should." I glanced at her.
"Nightsky, from behind. Pulse lasers got me while we were trying to pull out."
She motioned up at a set of eight monitors. "Zee's still in it."
I watched on them as the Commando and the Nightsky leapt through the flaming woods after her. Occasionally, a missile or two would sting them, but Zola's monitor showed her with only a few salvos left. We watched for a minute or two more. Her ammo ran out as they left the burning part of the woods, still jumping around in the smoke. "Just delaying the inevitable now." Laura nodded, but Walt wasn't convinced. He strained to get closer to the monitor, fists balled up and silently mouthing advice to his classmate. Finally, Zee landed a little wrong, and her mech's knee folded under her. The Commando was on her first, dumping all it's weapons into her. A few seconds later, a series of laser pulses removed her leg, just before the next wave of missiles vaporized the mech's engine. Her monitor darkened at the same moment the hatch of her simpod hissed open.
-T |
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