1. Torus
"Waaah! Waaah!" The baby's wails reverberates throughout the rickety old house. In another room, a woman of thirty-odd years is sitting, stirring a pot on an old-fashioned fire - not a stove, but an actual fire. The baby is sitting in an old cradle, falling apart in places, and has half of one of the rockers missing. "Shhh, quiet, Adam, dinner will be ready soon." The woman responds, looking over at the cradle with a motherly look. "And hopefully, Torus will be joining us tonight." She adds to herself. "Sheila! I'm home!" A man's voice yells out in the old house. He is clad in a yellow jumpsuit that is used for piloting HECTORs, or Hostile Environment, Combat, Tactical Operations Remote. The HECTOR is a fairly old invention, made by the Russians, it was developed to be a counter to the MAD (mutually assured destruction) policy that developed in the late 19th century. A very powerful weapon, the HECTOR was created to be versatile and fast, able to take out nuclear silos before the attacked country knew what hit them. However, during one of the first practical uses of this new weapon, Russia sent a group of six highly skilled pilots to deal with the military threat of England. Dropped from a height of 50,000 feet, the HECTORS landed with a thud, and were immediately detected by seismic monitors placed to detect earthquakes. The pilots knew they had been detected from the early-warning-siren that went off in the nearby town, and had to rush their mission in order to get out. Unfortunately, as a consequence of this rush, the pilots missed their target with two missiles. The errant projectiles continued traveling until France, where they hit a classified biological warfare tank - releasing a powerful agent on the world. This created the "Mist." The period in time that followed was called - imaginatively - "The Mist Period." The air was breathable only through very advanced gas masks, and more than three-quarters of the human race died before domes could be built to protect the populace from the Mist. Because of the strained population and economy, the world was de-secularized and became one government. History shows that the Mist Period lasted for 100,000 years, during which no human not related to the government could leave the domes without dying. As with all periods of anarchy, looting and crime ruled, and people with tanks or even a few cars could mount weapons on them and go around attacking the domes. This is why the HECTORs were used again. Pilots for this weapon of war were found to be few and far-between, however, as the advanced versions developed required not only physical controls, but also needed psychic energy to be able to use to it's fullest degree. Most pilots were born into families of pilots, and those families were usually very rich. The Strata family was an exception, however. Torus Strata, though a very powerful pilot, was not employed by the government, he was a member of a clan called Blue Angels, documented as BA on the sides of their HECTORs. He got only what the clan paid him, and he was not very high- ranked. Adam is soon to grow up, though, and provide for his family what his father never could. 1. Torus
"Sheila, I'm home!" Yells Torus Strata, two years later. "Honey!" Sheila cries out with joy as she runs into his arms in a long embrace. Torus had been away for two weeks working for the Blue Angels, and every day there is a chance that he wont see the next. Understandably, Sheila was worried. "Hey! And guess what I brought," Torus waves his paycheck in the air, "Two-thousand credits. It pays to be a HECTOR pilot, eh?" "Not really-too dangerous." Sheila replies. "True, but it DOES pay well," Torus rebuts with a smile. Sniffing the air for the faintest fragrance of food, he adds, "Dinner ready?" "Of course, what would you do if you came home without dinner on the table?" "Starve," Torus jokes as they sit down to eat. "So Adam," he addresses his four year-old son, "How's school?" "It's going good, Dad!" Replies the exuberant child. "No, Adam, 'well,' it's going 'well'" Sheila corrects automatically. "Ahh lay off the kid, he's only four," admonishes the yellow-clad man. After a while of eating in silence, Adam blurts, "Daddy, why do you always go away for so long?" "I have a job, Adam, I have to work so we can eat." "Oh," the child responds, looking disheartened. "So if you stayed home tomorrow then we'd starve?" "No no no," reassures Torus fervently, "Why do you want me home?" "'Cuz I haven't seen you in a LONG TIME! I wanna spend time with my Dad!" Torus laughs, "I'm sure that can be arranged, Ace." Now now, I jumped ahead of myself-I haven't even told you anything about the characters yet, and already I'm weaving my tale. You must forgive me for that fault, I get far too involved in my story-telling, and neglect to give you necessary information. Torus stands 5'10" with broad shoulders and graying hair, with small scars still lingering around his left eye where the implant needed for piloting HECTORs was installed. He is 42 years old, and time and battle are starting to show their toll on him. Years of almost constant battle have fine-tuned his reflexes, so he could catch a fly coming past him and squash it before you could blink. It has also honed his mental abilities. All pilots need to be able to communicate, as it were, with their HECTORs. The better able to do that you are, generally, the better pilot. As it stands Torus could efface all thoughts in your head, or simply telekinetically pick up a fork and lunge it at your body. Either way, he is a dangerous man to get riled up. Sheila is 5'7" with flowing brown hair to her waist-however, the constant worry for her husband has caused a few specks of gray to appear in that, too. At 41, she is a year her husband's minor, but, as she always reminds him, "At this age, I'm a year your better, too." Sheila has only limited control of the telepathic and cannot use telekinesis at all. Adam is a child of four, with his mother's hair and his father's deep brown eyes and frame. Though still young, his masterful use of the psychokinetic is starting to surprise even his parents. Inquisitive since he was old enough to know where he was, Adam always seemed to get into trouble, and Sheila was often looked at as a bad parent as a result of Adam's misbehavior. Now that you know the basic background, I'll continue, thank you. "Yay!" Adam responds joyfully. Torus and Sheila exchange a loving, parental glance, and Adam is dropped out of the conversation for now. "So, Love, how was your patrol?" Sheila asks pointedly, seeing the cuts and bruises on Torus' body. "Not bad," The pilot responds. "We only encountered bogeys twice in a month -- not half bad if I do say so myself." He smirked a roguish smile that fitted him nicely. However, Sheila detected that he was hiding something, and gave him a piercing stare. "What?!" Torus demanded, squirming under his wife's glare. "What REALLY happened, Love? What are you hiding from me?" Torus' happy smirk fell like a mask. "I was released from the Blue Angels, Honey." Sheila's eyes immediately began to water. Although pilots were essential to life during this period of time, their upkeep was costly if the pilot was not a top-notch "ace." It stands to reason that the best pilots took far less damage than the less talented, and the repairs on these high-tech war machines were very expensive. This meaned that many lower-quality pilots ended up working as mechanics or working for the Guard, a high-powered police force, designed to keep vandals from attacking the domes. The Guard was an extremely difficult and dangerous posting, because any mercenary who could rightfully be called a mercenary could attack the dome at any time, not to mention any clans that weren't affiliated with that dome. Torus' position as a Blue Angel was the only source of income for the Strata family, and his release was a huge blow to them. "Yo-you were re-re-realesed?!" Sheila had to confirm that thought. Torus nodded his head grimly. "They said that I cost them more than I was worth. I racked up ?200,000 this year alone, and I only had five encounters...." Sheila said tearfully, "Adam, go to your room and go to bed." The boy replied "But-" "-Just go!" Sheila yelled forcefully. As Adam retired to his room, Sheila broke down crying in Torus' arms. "Oh my God, Torus, what are we going to do?!" "I don't know, Hun, I don't know. I'll have to get another job, I guess...." "Like what?! What else is there?! The closest other clan is three domes over, and you're not cut out to be a mechanic! DAMMIT!" "There, there now. It's alright, I'll find a job. It'll all end up alright. It always does." Torus stroked his wife's hair softly. Sheila closed her eyes, presumably to shut out everything on the outside and go into total sensory depravation. The end result was her crying herself to sleep in her lovers' arms. Torus noticed after a short time and carried her to bed, while he stayed up pursuing a new career.
----------
"Well?" The concerned wife asked her husband in the morning. She had had a less than restful sleep, and awoke to find her lover still about in the house. Rising, she saw that he had fallen asleep where he sat, searching for temporary jobs that would make ends meet until another more permanent job could be found. Seeing that he was asleep, Sheila quickly became quiet, and tip-toed over to her loving but currently un-employed husband to see what he came up with. To her dismay, circled three times on the newspaper (some things never become obsolete) was the ad for "The Guard."
2. Bull
That same day, despite persistent nagging and even a flat refusal of any idea of him working for The Guard from his wife, Torus left the house again, and he took his HECTOR with him. He made his way through streets crowded with office workers who seemed less than thrilled to have the comparatively large HECTOR standing in the lane across from them. A HECTOR stands only three meters tall (about twice the height of a human man) but it is still an intimidating sight for a blue-collar worker whose only experience with them have been when mercenaries or pirate groups have attacked the domes. The pilot took the stretch of land after he abandoned the streets at an easy lope. Not too fast he thought-spoke to the HECTOR, affectionately named "Sally," It's a ways to The Guard's HQ, and I don't need you running out of power while we're being tested! The war machine responded to his super-conscious messages with a low purr and a deceleration, if slight. "Hehe," Torus thought, "Sally always has been one for going all out.... It's helped me before, and I'm sure it'll help me again." The hanger for The Guard was, like all other HECTOR hangers, outside of the domes. A special clearance had to be obtained to bring one of those machines inside a dome, because the make-shift shields designed to protect the dome from attacks until the appropriate defense force could arrive did not work from inside-out. They had only enough energy to have it withstand about five minutes of beating from outside the dome, not inside. Any attack from within the confines of the safe haven would result in immediate de pressurization. In lamen's terms, "Not good." As it was, Torus only barely got permission after pleading with the gatekeeper that he had, "Nowhere to store her!" The officer finally acquiesced, and he obtained his pass. Getting it again, he realized, would be impossible, so he'd better not lose THIS job! Suddenly, the soft claxon that was the gate awoke him from that mind loop. "So," he thought, "We're there already?" Sally's purr confirmed his thoughts. "Alright," he said to himself, and opened up a comm channel. "This is Torus Strata, currently freelance HECTOR pilot requesting authorization to pass this gate in order to seek employment from The Guard." Torus put on his most officious air while saying that, hoping that the guard would not delay him any longer on this mission of vast importance. Luckily, his proper etiquette and official manner had appeased the gatekeeper, and he let Torus pass without further questions. Just you and me for awhile, Sally ol' girl, Torus 'pathed (again, for the lamen, telepathed,) to his machine. It's slightly higher purr indicated that it understood, and it accellerated noticeably. Hey! Calm down there Sally! We haven't even gotten in sensor range of The Guard's HQ, we can relax! But obviously Sally didn't want to relax, as the machine moved at top-speed toward the awaiting Tower of the Guard.
----------
"We have an unknown HECTOR travelling toward us at top-speed, sir!" A bewildered cadet reported to his superior officer inside of the Tower of the Guard. "It has clan markings; should I open fire?" "Which direction is it coming from, and are there others?" The cool commander asked pointedly. "It's, uhh...it's coming from the dome, sir, and no, there are no others." The cadet reported, crestfallen. "Well, then, yes, let's shoot the crap out of this defector!" The commander said sarcastically. "You have a lot to learn, cadet. Open a comm channel to the approaching machine." "Yes, sir." Although quick to the trigger, the cadet also had fast fingers, the commander decided, as the window opened on the main screen almost before he had finished his sentence. "Unidentified HECTOR, please state your indentity and purpose in approaching The Tower." He spoke dictatorially. "My callsign is Bull, I have come to seek employment." Torus knew how to deal with cocky supervisors. "Say your full name, pilot." "I was under the impression that you folks needed more pilots, if not, then I'll be on my way." Torus tactfully ignored the commander's request. Sally, lay in a course exactly in the opposite direction of where we came from, and commence at 60 miles/hr. He waited until the aging machine made the course corrections, then spoke "Unless, of course, you really DO need help." The commander here was forced between a rock and a hard place, he had just been briefed this morning as to how they needed more capable pilots, but any potential employee was to state their full name for the record before they entered The Tower. Deciding that they needed the personnel more than the risk, he acquiesced, "Alright, come in, you runt. Here are the coordinates of the hanger." With that he terminated the comm sequence and emailed the coordinates to Sally. Onboard, Torus' computer spit out a readout of where the building was. Alright, old girl, fast as you can to that point. Go! He urged on the machine, feeling his pulse pounding for what seemed like the first time in ages.
----------
Arriving at the hangar, Torus parked his again HECTOR in an empty slot marked for freelancers. Spraypainted on the wall in front of him was an arrow pointing left and the words "Freelancers." He jumped out of his HECTOR and followed the arrows, while behing him a mechanic team converged on Sally and refueled, repaired, and rearmed the war machine. Torus found himself in a waiting room furnished with blank white walls, three spartan-looking couches and a number of unpadded chairs. He was one of five in the room. Walking up to one of the men, "Hey, my name's Torus "Bull" Strata. You a freelancer too?" And with that he held out his hand. "Yah. The name's Ulysses "Grant" Coleman." Pointing to each of the occupants of the room, "That white-haired wonder is Karen "Raven" Ross, he's Louis "Speedy" Gonzales, that stalky fellow is Roy "Slim" Woody, and the image of beauty over there is Laura "Diva" Hiron." Torus cheerily said hello to each of them, in turn. Met with a gruff reply, he assumed they had been kept waiting for a while. "So," he queried Louis, "How long you been here?" "No hablo inglés, señor." "Well...that will complicate things...." Torus thought. Ulysses turned back to him, "Ah, he knows English, don't let him sell you that!" To Louis, "Habla con él en inglés, Speedy." "Speedy" grinned from ear-to-ear, and said "Sorry señor, I had to do it! We've been here for two days, with only basic food and these," he pointed to the meager furniture "to sleep on." "Well, I'd better hunker down here for a long wait, then!" Torus said, too chipperly, as he got several long, dissaproving looks. "What?!" He objected, "I'm just trying to lighten the mood!" The pilot was met by cold silence. "Alright then, I'll just sit here," and he took a seat on one of the couches. Three days later, the door at the end of the lounge finally opened. During that time, two other freelancers had entered, Peter "Plum" Reidenger, and Gary "Mini" Roybeck. During those three days, Torus had time to establish a rapport with each of the prospective guardsmen and women. Before I go on, I should mention that all pilots have not only their own name, but their own callsign, their position number, and their HECTORs name. I will use their real name or their callsign during my narration, but I obviously cannot modify what other characters have said, so bear with me. After the sensory deprivation of the bland white room, the bright purple uniforms of the Guard seemed blindingly bright. "Welcome," the uniformed man greeted them. The potential trainees all muttered various salutations, then the man went on, "You will all go through training. Thorough, rigorous" with that, some of the less conditioned pilots sniggered, and even the cold face of Slim cracked a smirk. They'd all heard about the "rigorous" training of the Guard. If you could make a HECTOR walk and shoot all of it's weapons, then you made it. Speedy broke out laughing, unable to contain himself. The man cleared his throat, causing the room to fall immediately silent. "...As I was saying, rigorous" and he stressed the word "training, and IF you pass, then you'll be assigned to a squadron based on your skill..." He looked right at Speedy, "...Or lack thereof." Speedy, a short-tempered man in the best of circumstances, exploded into action, flipping out a kinetic-not-ionic-fighting-element (or knife.) It's azul laser that served as the cutting instrument shined off his face, and Slim quickly tried to hold him back from rushing the Guardsman. However, because of his slight build, Speedy quickly broke free of his grip, and the unnerved Guardsman drew a concealed plasma-blaster and fired once, twice, three times into Speedy's body, melting a hole the size of a fist in his chest, and frying his brain instantly. The body of one Louis Gonzales slumped to the floor and lay there, disfigured. The Guardsman muttered under his breath, "Clansmen," at which even the cool-headed Torus reached for his knife. "Now that we're finished with that little 'episode'" he glanced at Speedy's corpse, "we can commence with the training. Follow me." The pilots followed this mysterious man-in-purple, each stepping over their fallen comrade and wishing him blessings in the land beyond. As soon as they left the room, a group of cleaning robots disintegrated Speedy's body and did a quick dust and mop of the room before dissapearing into the invisible portholes in the walls. "This," continued the Guardsman, "is our main lobby for the Guard." He made an extravagant gesture that included a small lounge area, a cafeteria, and a large commons room in the center. There were small booths on the outside of this bottom level of the circular Tower that he could only assume occupied merchants and arms dealers. All pilots that could be considered pilots fine-tuned their HECTORs in some way. However, a few things were considered common grounds on all HECTORs. If you did not follow these rules of HECTOR modification, you were shunned by clans, pirates, and legals alike. First of all, you must adhere to the amount of ammo you could carry (the payload of each warhead could be tweaked, but the amount must remain constant), second, each HECTOR must have a safeguard that makes them top out at 80 miles/hr if other machines or personnel are around (the accelleration rate is variable.) Lastly, the shielding must stay constant. Two hits from a grenade will break through the impact shields of any HECTOR, modified or factory, Light class or Heavy. The recharge rate of these shields, again, can be modified, but the basic stats of the shields, the speed, and the amount of ammo must remain the same. "Nice, isn't it?" Torus read into the Guardsman's mind a bit and caught the end of that sentence, "...Better than anything these peasants have ever been in." Apparently, quite a number of the potential pilots were telepathic, because they all bridled and kept their knifes at the ready. "I think that," Torus caught an "even you" in his mind "you can derive the purpose of each part. So let's move on, shall we?" The Guardsman must have sensed the tension in the air, but he moved on nonchalantly, brushing off the danger of having six armed men and women crowded around him. Next they moved into a smaller room, about the size of the bland waiting room, although decorated more warmly. "This is the testing room, where your written exam will be taken." The simplicity of this test was also well known, however, there were fewer grins after what happened to Speedy. "On to the hangar, then." As they silently walked to the hangar, Torus took note of which of the pilots were telepathic. He noted that all of them but Peter Reidenger was. After exchanging mental handshakes and greetings with each of them, he tried his luck on the Guardsman. He was met by a forbidding shield and the grim man planted one insistant thought in Torus's mind, Don't try it. Arriving at the hangars, Torus quickly peeked into each pilot's mind and identified their HECTORs. "That will be useful someday," he thought absently. "This is the life and blood of the Tower, the hangar bays. Our top-notch crew can repair anything from a blown radiator to a half- destroyed hull." His mental impression was nothing more than the competence of the machinists, and having heard nothing, Torus had to believe him. "Alright, find your way back to the commons area to meet your training instructor." Everyone breathed a heavy sigh of relief when they found out that the man-in-purple was not their instructor. "Well, at least our instructor couldn't be any worse than him!" "So, these are the MAGGOTS they send me." Notes the drill-seargent- ish looking man awaiting them in the commons. "Well, we'll just have to turn them into REAL pilots!" Everyone in the group grimaced, seeing the irony in their predicament. "My name is Sgt. Yuri, but you will call me sir!" He harangued the pilots. "You will take this seriously, you will taste blood, sweat, and tears, and you will like it or I will personally frag your HECTOR!" "Sir, I'd like to see you try, sir!" This came from Slim...of course. Always the joker; as Speedy was the consummate fighter. His face always bore a huge smile, and the person who was the victim of his jokes was usually left dumbfounded. "Then you will get your wish, cadet, because as of now you have become my personal 'favorite.'" The tone he used on that word made all the pilots cringe. "Report to the hangars, all of you! You," he pointed evilly at Slim. "You stay here."
----------
Bull! On your left! The 'pathed (telepathed) message from Diva took a split second, and therefore saved Torus's life. The aging pilot quickly swiveled his HECTOR's head to the left, while switching instantaneously into full reverse by manipulating a few controls and speaking with Sally telepathically. The end result was that the kamekazi UFO (commonly, UFOs are used as training tools, as even a novice pilot can destroy an innumerable amount of these unmanned drones) went sailing harmlessly past, and a few plasma bursts later, was destroyed by Torus's expert aim. Yeeee-hah! Now we're getting somewhere! He yelled in triumph. Over the loudspeakers, Sgt. Yuri yelled, "Nice shot, yellow 2, three points awarded for your economy of both power and firepower." The teams for this live drill were red, consisting of Grant, Plum, and Mini, blue, consisting of Raven and Slim, and yellow, consisting of Bull and Diva. Each teams goal was to accumulate the most points by destroying UFOs with the least cost possible. Red team had the three most cost in-effective pilots, followed by yellow, then blue. Bull, let's meet at the center holo-dome. Diva suggested as she blew away another of the flying menaces. Making use of the dome incurs a cost penalty for every second we're inside, One. Diva's mark as the team leader meant that her appropriate title was "One." Oh, that's right.... Ok, then, meet there, but don't go in, alright? Torus thought "She asks too many questions to be leader...." That's fine, One. Changing course now. Oh, bogey! I'll engage then resume my course. Bull's bogey was actually an energy-wasting dummy. It was programmed to make the foolish pilot follow it around until they had wasted too much power to make the kill cost-effective. However, the experienced pilot recongized this. Sally, he requested, please try and hack the UFOs navigation system and find out it's route. Sally beeped a response, and started work. After a few seconds, the route was relayed directly through the optical lens installed in every pilots' left eye. Ahh, I see. Torus mused. Let's cut him off here, Sally. Plot a course. The war machine started into movement immediately, and they were standing waiting for the appearance of the UFO. After a short while, the mindless drone came barrelling toward them. Bull fired one, two, three, and four plasma bolts into the hull of the UFO, and it burst into flames and crashed to the ground in a pile of broken machinery and shredded metal. Alright, resuming course, One. He noted calmly. After all, hadn't he done that many times before? It still gave him a noticeable high, though, watching the bogey smash into the ground and explode. Running across the bleak city-scape, Torus had time to let his mind wander while still keeping his eye on the monitors. His thoughts wandered, as they always did, to his family. His loving wife Sheila, who was worried sick about him, and his little son, Adam. "What I wouldn't do to give that boy a good life," he mused. "He's a part of me, he's what Sheila and I created together. I'd give anything for him." There you are. Diva's sudden telepath jarred Torus out of his thoughts. Yah, well, it was a dummy, I had to think to kill it. He remarked sarcastically. Well...what now? She queried. You don't know? You're yellow leader, Diva. He dropped the "One" formality, as she wasn't acting the leader. This is my first time as leader, they always made the decisions for me. She responded as a way of explanation. That's no excuse.... He admonished the younger pilot for her faults as a leader, but that doesn't matter now, what matters is that we kill the most number of drones as we can using the least ammo and power that we can. If I were to humbly suggest something to you, One, here his mind-tone became sarcastic, I'd recommend that we draw them all into a trap, and kill them using the small-scale Nuclear Armament Designated "Europa," y'know, greNADEs? Yah, I've heard of them. Her mental voice was a slap on the wrist for Torus, and he apologized. Sorry, I'm not used to inexperienced leaders, I'm from a clan. You are? Wow, not many clan members apply for the Guard, what happened? Let's just get our job done, shall we? He brushed away the subject like a buzzing fly. Not something I'd like to get involved with in the middle of a mission. Alright, promise you'll tell us all later, though! Her childish voice reminded him of his son's pleading, and he thought, "Shit! I was supposed to stay home today.... I'm sorry, Adam. I'll make it up later." Little did he know that he would never see his son again. Alright, he said, all too eager to drop that subject, and be on with the mission. You wait here, I'll be back soon with five to ten UFOs, shootin' up a storm. Don't you go and get hit now, that'll cost us points! He mentally winked at the annoyed Diva to show that he was just kidding. Be right back, One! Working his way in and out through the ruined city-scape, Torus picked up six UFOs, all "shootin' up a storm." With a mixture of jumping, ducking, speed and direction changes, Torus left his precious HECTOR unscathed. Here I come! He yelled to the waiting Diva. Coming suddenly into the clearing, diva jumped out from behind the building and began pelting the UFOs with nades, while Torus did a quick 180° and fired his plasma bolts at the shocked drones. In less than seconds, the entireity of the UFOs in the yellow sector were destroyed, and the loudspeaker came on again, with Sgt. Yuri's voice rasping out, "Yellow team has destroyed all of their UFOs with little to no damage and very small cost, thanks to great teamwork and planning. Everyone please report to the commons in twenty minutes for debriefing. Dismissed!" With that one word, the city hologram dissappeared, as did the walls that seperated the three teams. What was left in the room were seven HECTORs, and two happy pilots. "Yah!" Laura high-fived Bull after the debriefing, in which Sgt. Yuri had complemented Laura on her good use of strategy and teamwork, to which she responded, "Actually, it was Torus's idea." Then the Sgt. gave the credit where it was due, and Torus did a tight- wave 'path to Laura, Thank you. After the congratulations, came the harangue. This time it was directed at blue team. "Raven!" Yuri bellowed at the blue leader, "That was the WORST show of piloting I've seen in my twenty years of supervising new recruits! I can't believe this! You not only failed to attack the UFOs and sustained many plasma burns from them, you failed to cooperate with your wingmate and ended up SHOOTING HIM! That is NOT ACCEPTABLE! One more mishap like this and you'll be dismissed from the Guard. Got it?" He asked demandingly. There was only one answer for such a question. "Yes, sir!" She glared evilly at Torus, who voiced his concern at dinner that evening. "What? Why are you glaring me down?" He asked the disgruntled Karen when the others had gone to bed. "You! You specifically tried to outdo me! You saw that we were having troubles and thought 'let's make a landslide victory, that'll show them up!' I know you've been competeing with Slim and I since the beginning, but this is not the way to play this out!" She practically yelled at him. "What?!" Torus objected strongly. "You heard what I said, you bastard." She hissed. "I do not compete with you two, and no matter what lying schemes you try to concoct, people will see that I am the superior pilot! You are nothing but a...but a selfish bitch!" The words were scathing to the already boiling Karen, and she drew her knife, "Why you slimy little...." Her thoughts were easily read, if her intent weren't already known. "I'm not drawing my knife on you, Karen. We're wingmates, whether you recognize it or not. Kill me if you want, but I don't think you'll have a good life as a pilot if you have a "Murdered Wingmate" on your record." The truth of that sentence only enraged Karen more, "You'll get yours, You senile bastard. You just watch your back!" She stormed off, shoving her knife clumsily back inside her loose coat. Left alone at the table, Torus began to reflect on what had just happened, before retiring to his room. Locking the door behind him.
3. Raven
What? Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Where were we? Awww, shit, I missed part of it! Oh well...what are they doing now, let's see.... Noooo!! Bull yells as he jumps on top of Raven before a grenade hits her, destroying her already disabled HECTOR. He triggered a booster immediately, restoring Sally's shields quickly, then turned to reengage the drone HECTOR. Take this, you slimy little bastard. He recognized those words from the mouth of Raven after he'd released his volley of grenades at the assailing machine, blowing it into oblivion. He reached out to Raven mentally, You ok? You.... Her mind-touch was a burning red, the color of rage, You...you bastard!!! I had him! I could have handled myself, thank you! No, you have to jump in the way and then steal the kill that was rightfully MINE! How dare you! I'll get you, Torus Strata! Quickly withdrawing from her mind, Bull was greeted with the announcement that the final exam was over, and to report to the commons for graduation ceremonies. Sitting there, everyone recieved their Guard uniform but two people. Peter Reidenger, "Because, son," Yuri explained, "You can't function as a pilot without telepathy. I'm sorry." And Karen "Raven" Ross. "You are the sorriest excuse for a HECTOR pilot I have ever seen! Torus had to save your life TWICE during your stay at the Tower. Go home, Karen. Go, go sew yourself a nice quilt and hang yourself with it!" She skulked out of the Tower, but not without a last glare at Torus and the words to him I'll get you, bastard. For the rest of them, they recieved postings that day. In two days, Torus, Ulysses, and Laura were to go out on patrol of the Tower from 2200 to 0200 hours, then trade with Roy and Gary, and on and off until 2200 the following day. Going back to his room, Torus ate a quick dinner and retired, and here we will leave Torus for a while and follow Karen and she boards her HECTOR with murderous intent. "Uno," Raven addressed the head of the Blue Angels later that day, "I have information that says that a former pilot of yours named Torus Strata has information regarding the location of your missile base, and is planning to send a platoon of Guardsman to destroy it within the week." She lied, smiling deviously inwardly. "Why would he do such a thing? What have the Angels ever done to him? We give him employment--" "--You GAVE him employment, Sir." Karen interjected. "You released him not a week ago, and he feels resentment towards the clan and wishes to act upon it." "Well...I'll believe that. I'll triple defenses of the missile base, then." Uno responded logically. "No! That will not withstand a platoon of Guardsman without casualties. I move that you give me four other HECTORs and I'll intercept Torus's patrol as it goes out in two days, and kill him before he can tell the Guard's higher powers the location of the base!" "...I do not like giving the lead of any clan HECTORs to an outsider, Raven." Uno said warningly. "I think it's a better idea to give command of a few HECTORs to me than to let your base be attacked and lose more than a few HECTORs. Besides, if I stray from the flight plan, I'm sure you'll have your pilots terminate me. I won't betray you, Uno." She reassured. That, for one, was not a lie. Uno responded with finality. "It is done."
----------
Ahhh, our first patrol! Grant conversed with his wingmates, and following that line of conversation, they passed the time until 0100 hours. Well, we'd better head back, Torus advised. Alright, One. Let's go, Grant! Diva commanded. The hierarchy is obvious, red one was Bull, red two was Diva, and red three was Grant. On their way back, Diva warned, I see a bogey coming in from 10 o'clock, should I investigate? Torus debated, he was concerned for the safety of his wingmate, but one bogey didn't justify expending the power for all of them to go. Yes, Diva. Go and report what you find. After a short time, Diva's signal came in faintly on the comm, meaning she was too preoccupied to send mentally, "I've encou------ --emy b- geys. T-- many f-- me to ha--le! I c-n'- g-t aw-y! H-L- ME!!!!!! HEL-" And there the transmision cut off, and the signal dissapeared. Dammit! Torus yelled. Diva!!! Let's go, Grant! Alright, let's go! They plotted a course for the last known coordinates of Diva, and began to trudge through sand dunes piling sixty feet or more above them. "Oh shit," Torus thought, "This is perfect for an..." Ambush! Grant screamed, as his instruments registered four HECTORs with distinct clan markings, and another freelance, that they both knew well. Grant, it's me she wants. Go back to Tower, and...tell my wife I loved her, and that I'm sorry. Her name is Sheila Torus, please...tell her that, and tell her one more thing. My son, Adam. His callsign should be "Rowen." Don't ask any questions, tell her that's how I wanted it. Now go! Torus knew he was going to die, but he also knew he could take down at least one of his assailants. RAVEN!!!! He screamed, the mental-shout reaching all the way back to the Tower. You got my former clan to attack me, to ambush my patrol, is this some twisted kind of thanking me for saving your life? Twice? No, Bull. Torus's screams were complemented by her calm, assured voice. This is called revenge. You ever hear that "revenge is a dish best served cold?" Well, I don't know...I think it's very hot in Hell. Raven! You may kill me, but I can get to you first!! And with that Torus yelled with pure emotion and pushed his piloting skills to new heights, helped by his anger. He eliminated two of his former clan members before stopping no more than 100 meters from Raven, a far better pilot than the mediocre clansmen. I guess we'll see who's better now. Raven noted in a very cold voice, as two other Angels flanked her. THAT we already knew. Torus had come down from his fury, and was now cold and calculating. This enraged Raven no end, thinking that her betrayel would leave the aging pilot feeling helpless, but instead, it empowered him. We'll see about that!! And as she charged, so did the two Angels, and so did Torus. Raven, I never understood why you hated me so much, but I understand now. You wanted to die. Well, I'll give you your wish! C'mon, Raven, show me what you've learned!
"Waaah! Waaah!" The baby's wails reverberates throughout the rickety old house. In another room, a woman of thirty-odd years is sitting, stirring a pot on an old-fashioned fire - not a stove, but an actual fire. The baby is sitting in an old cradle, falling apart in places, and has half of one of the rockers missing. "Shhh, quiet, Adam, dinner will be ready soon." The woman responds, looking over at the cradle with a motherly look. "And hopefully, Torus will be joining us tonight." She adds to herself. "Sheila! I'm home!" A man's voice yells out in the old house. He is clad in a yellow jumpsuit that is used for piloting HECTORs, or Hostile Environment, Combat, Tactical Operations Remote. The HECTOR is a fairly old invention, made by the Russians, it was developed to be a counter to the MAD (mutually assured destruction) policy that developed in the late 19th century. A very powerful weapon, the HECTOR was created to be versatile and fast, able to take out nuclear silos before the attacked country knew what hit them. However, during one of the first practical uses of this new weapon, Russia sent a group of six highly skilled pilots to deal with the military threat of England. Dropped from a height of 50,000 feet, the HECTORS landed with a thud, and were immediately detected by seismic monitors placed to detect earthquakes. The pilots knew they had been detected from the early-warning-siren that went off in the nearby town, and had to rush their mission in order to get out. Unfortunately, as a consequence of this rush, the pilots missed their target with two missiles. The errant projectiles continued traveling until France, where they hit a classified biological warfare tank - releasing a powerful agent on the world. This created the "Mist." The period in time that followed was called - imaginatively - "The Mist Period." The air was breathable only through very advanced gas masks, and more than three-quarters of the human race died before domes could be built to protect the populace from the Mist. Because of the strained population and economy, the world was de-secularized and became one government. History shows that the Mist Period lasted for 100,000 years, during which no human not related to the government could leave the domes without dying. As with all periods of anarchy, looting and crime ruled, and people with tanks or even a few cars could mount weapons on them and go around attacking the domes. This is why the HECTORs were used again. Pilots for this weapon of war were found to be few and far-between, however, as the advanced versions developed required not only physical controls, but also needed psychic energy to be able to use to it's fullest degree. Most pilots were born into families of pilots, and those families were usually very rich. The Strata family was an exception, however. Torus Strata, though a very powerful pilot, was not employed by the government, he was a member of a clan called Blue Angels, documented as BA on the sides of their HECTORs. He got only what the clan paid him, and he was not very high- ranked. Adam is soon to grow up, though, and provide for his family what his father never could. 1. Torus
"Sheila, I'm home!" Yells Torus Strata, two years later. "Honey!" Sheila cries out with joy as she runs into his arms in a long embrace. Torus had been away for two weeks working for the Blue Angels, and every day there is a chance that he wont see the next. Understandably, Sheila was worried. "Hey! And guess what I brought," Torus waves his paycheck in the air, "Two-thousand credits. It pays to be a HECTOR pilot, eh?" "Not really-too dangerous." Sheila replies. "True, but it DOES pay well," Torus rebuts with a smile. Sniffing the air for the faintest fragrance of food, he adds, "Dinner ready?" "Of course, what would you do if you came home without dinner on the table?" "Starve," Torus jokes as they sit down to eat. "So Adam," he addresses his four year-old son, "How's school?" "It's going good, Dad!" Replies the exuberant child. "No, Adam, 'well,' it's going 'well'" Sheila corrects automatically. "Ahh lay off the kid, he's only four," admonishes the yellow-clad man. After a while of eating in silence, Adam blurts, "Daddy, why do you always go away for so long?" "I have a job, Adam, I have to work so we can eat." "Oh," the child responds, looking disheartened. "So if you stayed home tomorrow then we'd starve?" "No no no," reassures Torus fervently, "Why do you want me home?" "'Cuz I haven't seen you in a LONG TIME! I wanna spend time with my Dad!" Torus laughs, "I'm sure that can be arranged, Ace." Now now, I jumped ahead of myself-I haven't even told you anything about the characters yet, and already I'm weaving my tale. You must forgive me for that fault, I get far too involved in my story-telling, and neglect to give you necessary information. Torus stands 5'10" with broad shoulders and graying hair, with small scars still lingering around his left eye where the implant needed for piloting HECTORs was installed. He is 42 years old, and time and battle are starting to show their toll on him. Years of almost constant battle have fine-tuned his reflexes, so he could catch a fly coming past him and squash it before you could blink. It has also honed his mental abilities. All pilots need to be able to communicate, as it were, with their HECTORs. The better able to do that you are, generally, the better pilot. As it stands Torus could efface all thoughts in your head, or simply telekinetically pick up a fork and lunge it at your body. Either way, he is a dangerous man to get riled up. Sheila is 5'7" with flowing brown hair to her waist-however, the constant worry for her husband has caused a few specks of gray to appear in that, too. At 41, she is a year her husband's minor, but, as she always reminds him, "At this age, I'm a year your better, too." Sheila has only limited control of the telepathic and cannot use telekinesis at all. Adam is a child of four, with his mother's hair and his father's deep brown eyes and frame. Though still young, his masterful use of the psychokinetic is starting to surprise even his parents. Inquisitive since he was old enough to know where he was, Adam always seemed to get into trouble, and Sheila was often looked at as a bad parent as a result of Adam's misbehavior. Now that you know the basic background, I'll continue, thank you. "Yay!" Adam responds joyfully. Torus and Sheila exchange a loving, parental glance, and Adam is dropped out of the conversation for now. "So, Love, how was your patrol?" Sheila asks pointedly, seeing the cuts and bruises on Torus' body. "Not bad," The pilot responds. "We only encountered bogeys twice in a month -- not half bad if I do say so myself." He smirked a roguish smile that fitted him nicely. However, Sheila detected that he was hiding something, and gave him a piercing stare. "What?!" Torus demanded, squirming under his wife's glare. "What REALLY happened, Love? What are you hiding from me?" Torus' happy smirk fell like a mask. "I was released from the Blue Angels, Honey." Sheila's eyes immediately began to water. Although pilots were essential to life during this period of time, their upkeep was costly if the pilot was not a top-notch "ace." It stands to reason that the best pilots took far less damage than the less talented, and the repairs on these high-tech war machines were very expensive. This meaned that many lower-quality pilots ended up working as mechanics or working for the Guard, a high-powered police force, designed to keep vandals from attacking the domes. The Guard was an extremely difficult and dangerous posting, because any mercenary who could rightfully be called a mercenary could attack the dome at any time, not to mention any clans that weren't affiliated with that dome. Torus' position as a Blue Angel was the only source of income for the Strata family, and his release was a huge blow to them. "Yo-you were re-re-realesed?!" Sheila had to confirm that thought. Torus nodded his head grimly. "They said that I cost them more than I was worth. I racked up ?200,000 this year alone, and I only had five encounters...." Sheila said tearfully, "Adam, go to your room and go to bed." The boy replied "But-" "-Just go!" Sheila yelled forcefully. As Adam retired to his room, Sheila broke down crying in Torus' arms. "Oh my God, Torus, what are we going to do?!" "I don't know, Hun, I don't know. I'll have to get another job, I guess...." "Like what?! What else is there?! The closest other clan is three domes over, and you're not cut out to be a mechanic! DAMMIT!" "There, there now. It's alright, I'll find a job. It'll all end up alright. It always does." Torus stroked his wife's hair softly. Sheila closed her eyes, presumably to shut out everything on the outside and go into total sensory depravation. The end result was her crying herself to sleep in her lovers' arms. Torus noticed after a short time and carried her to bed, while he stayed up pursuing a new career.
----------
"Well?" The concerned wife asked her husband in the morning. She had had a less than restful sleep, and awoke to find her lover still about in the house. Rising, she saw that he had fallen asleep where he sat, searching for temporary jobs that would make ends meet until another more permanent job could be found. Seeing that he was asleep, Sheila quickly became quiet, and tip-toed over to her loving but currently un-employed husband to see what he came up with. To her dismay, circled three times on the newspaper (some things never become obsolete) was the ad for "The Guard."
2. Bull
That same day, despite persistent nagging and even a flat refusal of any idea of him working for The Guard from his wife, Torus left the house again, and he took his HECTOR with him. He made his way through streets crowded with office workers who seemed less than thrilled to have the comparatively large HECTOR standing in the lane across from them. A HECTOR stands only three meters tall (about twice the height of a human man) but it is still an intimidating sight for a blue-collar worker whose only experience with them have been when mercenaries or pirate groups have attacked the domes. The pilot took the stretch of land after he abandoned the streets at an easy lope. Not too fast he thought-spoke to the HECTOR, affectionately named "Sally," It's a ways to The Guard's HQ, and I don't need you running out of power while we're being tested! The war machine responded to his super-conscious messages with a low purr and a deceleration, if slight. "Hehe," Torus thought, "Sally always has been one for going all out.... It's helped me before, and I'm sure it'll help me again." The hanger for The Guard was, like all other HECTOR hangers, outside of the domes. A special clearance had to be obtained to bring one of those machines inside a dome, because the make-shift shields designed to protect the dome from attacks until the appropriate defense force could arrive did not work from inside-out. They had only enough energy to have it withstand about five minutes of beating from outside the dome, not inside. Any attack from within the confines of the safe haven would result in immediate de pressurization. In lamen's terms, "Not good." As it was, Torus only barely got permission after pleading with the gatekeeper that he had, "Nowhere to store her!" The officer finally acquiesced, and he obtained his pass. Getting it again, he realized, would be impossible, so he'd better not lose THIS job! Suddenly, the soft claxon that was the gate awoke him from that mind loop. "So," he thought, "We're there already?" Sally's purr confirmed his thoughts. "Alright," he said to himself, and opened up a comm channel. "This is Torus Strata, currently freelance HECTOR pilot requesting authorization to pass this gate in order to seek employment from The Guard." Torus put on his most officious air while saying that, hoping that the guard would not delay him any longer on this mission of vast importance. Luckily, his proper etiquette and official manner had appeased the gatekeeper, and he let Torus pass without further questions. Just you and me for awhile, Sally ol' girl, Torus 'pathed (again, for the lamen, telepathed,) to his machine. It's slightly higher purr indicated that it understood, and it accellerated noticeably. Hey! Calm down there Sally! We haven't even gotten in sensor range of The Guard's HQ, we can relax! But obviously Sally didn't want to relax, as the machine moved at top-speed toward the awaiting Tower of the Guard.
----------
"We have an unknown HECTOR travelling toward us at top-speed, sir!" A bewildered cadet reported to his superior officer inside of the Tower of the Guard. "It has clan markings; should I open fire?" "Which direction is it coming from, and are there others?" The cool commander asked pointedly. "It's, uhh...it's coming from the dome, sir, and no, there are no others." The cadet reported, crestfallen. "Well, then, yes, let's shoot the crap out of this defector!" The commander said sarcastically. "You have a lot to learn, cadet. Open a comm channel to the approaching machine." "Yes, sir." Although quick to the trigger, the cadet also had fast fingers, the commander decided, as the window opened on the main screen almost before he had finished his sentence. "Unidentified HECTOR, please state your indentity and purpose in approaching The Tower." He spoke dictatorially. "My callsign is Bull, I have come to seek employment." Torus knew how to deal with cocky supervisors. "Say your full name, pilot." "I was under the impression that you folks needed more pilots, if not, then I'll be on my way." Torus tactfully ignored the commander's request. Sally, lay in a course exactly in the opposite direction of where we came from, and commence at 60 miles/hr. He waited until the aging machine made the course corrections, then spoke "Unless, of course, you really DO need help." The commander here was forced between a rock and a hard place, he had just been briefed this morning as to how they needed more capable pilots, but any potential employee was to state their full name for the record before they entered The Tower. Deciding that they needed the personnel more than the risk, he acquiesced, "Alright, come in, you runt. Here are the coordinates of the hanger." With that he terminated the comm sequence and emailed the coordinates to Sally. Onboard, Torus' computer spit out a readout of where the building was. Alright, old girl, fast as you can to that point. Go! He urged on the machine, feeling his pulse pounding for what seemed like the first time in ages.
----------
Arriving at the hangar, Torus parked his again HECTOR in an empty slot marked for freelancers. Spraypainted on the wall in front of him was an arrow pointing left and the words "Freelancers." He jumped out of his HECTOR and followed the arrows, while behing him a mechanic team converged on Sally and refueled, repaired, and rearmed the war machine. Torus found himself in a waiting room furnished with blank white walls, three spartan-looking couches and a number of unpadded chairs. He was one of five in the room. Walking up to one of the men, "Hey, my name's Torus "Bull" Strata. You a freelancer too?" And with that he held out his hand. "Yah. The name's Ulysses "Grant" Coleman." Pointing to each of the occupants of the room, "That white-haired wonder is Karen "Raven" Ross, he's Louis "Speedy" Gonzales, that stalky fellow is Roy "Slim" Woody, and the image of beauty over there is Laura "Diva" Hiron." Torus cheerily said hello to each of them, in turn. Met with a gruff reply, he assumed they had been kept waiting for a while. "So," he queried Louis, "How long you been here?" "No hablo inglés, señor." "Well...that will complicate things...." Torus thought. Ulysses turned back to him, "Ah, he knows English, don't let him sell you that!" To Louis, "Habla con él en inglés, Speedy." "Speedy" grinned from ear-to-ear, and said "Sorry señor, I had to do it! We've been here for two days, with only basic food and these," he pointed to the meager furniture "to sleep on." "Well, I'd better hunker down here for a long wait, then!" Torus said, too chipperly, as he got several long, dissaproving looks. "What?!" He objected, "I'm just trying to lighten the mood!" The pilot was met by cold silence. "Alright then, I'll just sit here," and he took a seat on one of the couches. Three days later, the door at the end of the lounge finally opened. During that time, two other freelancers had entered, Peter "Plum" Reidenger, and Gary "Mini" Roybeck. During those three days, Torus had time to establish a rapport with each of the prospective guardsmen and women. Before I go on, I should mention that all pilots have not only their own name, but their own callsign, their position number, and their HECTORs name. I will use their real name or their callsign during my narration, but I obviously cannot modify what other characters have said, so bear with me. After the sensory deprivation of the bland white room, the bright purple uniforms of the Guard seemed blindingly bright. "Welcome," the uniformed man greeted them. The potential trainees all muttered various salutations, then the man went on, "You will all go through training. Thorough, rigorous" with that, some of the less conditioned pilots sniggered, and even the cold face of Slim cracked a smirk. They'd all heard about the "rigorous" training of the Guard. If you could make a HECTOR walk and shoot all of it's weapons, then you made it. Speedy broke out laughing, unable to contain himself. The man cleared his throat, causing the room to fall immediately silent. "...As I was saying, rigorous" and he stressed the word "training, and IF you pass, then you'll be assigned to a squadron based on your skill..." He looked right at Speedy, "...Or lack thereof." Speedy, a short-tempered man in the best of circumstances, exploded into action, flipping out a kinetic-not-ionic-fighting-element (or knife.) It's azul laser that served as the cutting instrument shined off his face, and Slim quickly tried to hold him back from rushing the Guardsman. However, because of his slight build, Speedy quickly broke free of his grip, and the unnerved Guardsman drew a concealed plasma-blaster and fired once, twice, three times into Speedy's body, melting a hole the size of a fist in his chest, and frying his brain instantly. The body of one Louis Gonzales slumped to the floor and lay there, disfigured. The Guardsman muttered under his breath, "Clansmen," at which even the cool-headed Torus reached for his knife. "Now that we're finished with that little 'episode'" he glanced at Speedy's corpse, "we can commence with the training. Follow me." The pilots followed this mysterious man-in-purple, each stepping over their fallen comrade and wishing him blessings in the land beyond. As soon as they left the room, a group of cleaning robots disintegrated Speedy's body and did a quick dust and mop of the room before dissapearing into the invisible portholes in the walls. "This," continued the Guardsman, "is our main lobby for the Guard." He made an extravagant gesture that included a small lounge area, a cafeteria, and a large commons room in the center. There were small booths on the outside of this bottom level of the circular Tower that he could only assume occupied merchants and arms dealers. All pilots that could be considered pilots fine-tuned their HECTORs in some way. However, a few things were considered common grounds on all HECTORs. If you did not follow these rules of HECTOR modification, you were shunned by clans, pirates, and legals alike. First of all, you must adhere to the amount of ammo you could carry (the payload of each warhead could be tweaked, but the amount must remain constant), second, each HECTOR must have a safeguard that makes them top out at 80 miles/hr if other machines or personnel are around (the accelleration rate is variable.) Lastly, the shielding must stay constant. Two hits from a grenade will break through the impact shields of any HECTOR, modified or factory, Light class or Heavy. The recharge rate of these shields, again, can be modified, but the basic stats of the shields, the speed, and the amount of ammo must remain the same. "Nice, isn't it?" Torus read into the Guardsman's mind a bit and caught the end of that sentence, "...Better than anything these peasants have ever been in." Apparently, quite a number of the potential pilots were telepathic, because they all bridled and kept their knifes at the ready. "I think that," Torus caught an "even you" in his mind "you can derive the purpose of each part. So let's move on, shall we?" The Guardsman must have sensed the tension in the air, but he moved on nonchalantly, brushing off the danger of having six armed men and women crowded around him. Next they moved into a smaller room, about the size of the bland waiting room, although decorated more warmly. "This is the testing room, where your written exam will be taken." The simplicity of this test was also well known, however, there were fewer grins after what happened to Speedy. "On to the hangar, then." As they silently walked to the hangar, Torus took note of which of the pilots were telepathic. He noted that all of them but Peter Reidenger was. After exchanging mental handshakes and greetings with each of them, he tried his luck on the Guardsman. He was met by a forbidding shield and the grim man planted one insistant thought in Torus's mind, Don't try it. Arriving at the hangars, Torus quickly peeked into each pilot's mind and identified their HECTORs. "That will be useful someday," he thought absently. "This is the life and blood of the Tower, the hangar bays. Our top-notch crew can repair anything from a blown radiator to a half- destroyed hull." His mental impression was nothing more than the competence of the machinists, and having heard nothing, Torus had to believe him. "Alright, find your way back to the commons area to meet your training instructor." Everyone breathed a heavy sigh of relief when they found out that the man-in-purple was not their instructor. "Well, at least our instructor couldn't be any worse than him!" "So, these are the MAGGOTS they send me." Notes the drill-seargent- ish looking man awaiting them in the commons. "Well, we'll just have to turn them into REAL pilots!" Everyone in the group grimaced, seeing the irony in their predicament. "My name is Sgt. Yuri, but you will call me sir!" He harangued the pilots. "You will take this seriously, you will taste blood, sweat, and tears, and you will like it or I will personally frag your HECTOR!" "Sir, I'd like to see you try, sir!" This came from Slim...of course. Always the joker; as Speedy was the consummate fighter. His face always bore a huge smile, and the person who was the victim of his jokes was usually left dumbfounded. "Then you will get your wish, cadet, because as of now you have become my personal 'favorite.'" The tone he used on that word made all the pilots cringe. "Report to the hangars, all of you! You," he pointed evilly at Slim. "You stay here."
----------
Bull! On your left! The 'pathed (telepathed) message from Diva took a split second, and therefore saved Torus's life. The aging pilot quickly swiveled his HECTOR's head to the left, while switching instantaneously into full reverse by manipulating a few controls and speaking with Sally telepathically. The end result was that the kamekazi UFO (commonly, UFOs are used as training tools, as even a novice pilot can destroy an innumerable amount of these unmanned drones) went sailing harmlessly past, and a few plasma bursts later, was destroyed by Torus's expert aim. Yeeee-hah! Now we're getting somewhere! He yelled in triumph. Over the loudspeakers, Sgt. Yuri yelled, "Nice shot, yellow 2, three points awarded for your economy of both power and firepower." The teams for this live drill were red, consisting of Grant, Plum, and Mini, blue, consisting of Raven and Slim, and yellow, consisting of Bull and Diva. Each teams goal was to accumulate the most points by destroying UFOs with the least cost possible. Red team had the three most cost in-effective pilots, followed by yellow, then blue. Bull, let's meet at the center holo-dome. Diva suggested as she blew away another of the flying menaces. Making use of the dome incurs a cost penalty for every second we're inside, One. Diva's mark as the team leader meant that her appropriate title was "One." Oh, that's right.... Ok, then, meet there, but don't go in, alright? Torus thought "She asks too many questions to be leader...." That's fine, One. Changing course now. Oh, bogey! I'll engage then resume my course. Bull's bogey was actually an energy-wasting dummy. It was programmed to make the foolish pilot follow it around until they had wasted too much power to make the kill cost-effective. However, the experienced pilot recongized this. Sally, he requested, please try and hack the UFOs navigation system and find out it's route. Sally beeped a response, and started work. After a few seconds, the route was relayed directly through the optical lens installed in every pilots' left eye. Ahh, I see. Torus mused. Let's cut him off here, Sally. Plot a course. The war machine started into movement immediately, and they were standing waiting for the appearance of the UFO. After a short while, the mindless drone came barrelling toward them. Bull fired one, two, three, and four plasma bolts into the hull of the UFO, and it burst into flames and crashed to the ground in a pile of broken machinery and shredded metal. Alright, resuming course, One. He noted calmly. After all, hadn't he done that many times before? It still gave him a noticeable high, though, watching the bogey smash into the ground and explode. Running across the bleak city-scape, Torus had time to let his mind wander while still keeping his eye on the monitors. His thoughts wandered, as they always did, to his family. His loving wife Sheila, who was worried sick about him, and his little son, Adam. "What I wouldn't do to give that boy a good life," he mused. "He's a part of me, he's what Sheila and I created together. I'd give anything for him." There you are. Diva's sudden telepath jarred Torus out of his thoughts. Yah, well, it was a dummy, I had to think to kill it. He remarked sarcastically. Well...what now? She queried. You don't know? You're yellow leader, Diva. He dropped the "One" formality, as she wasn't acting the leader. This is my first time as leader, they always made the decisions for me. She responded as a way of explanation. That's no excuse.... He admonished the younger pilot for her faults as a leader, but that doesn't matter now, what matters is that we kill the most number of drones as we can using the least ammo and power that we can. If I were to humbly suggest something to you, One, here his mind-tone became sarcastic, I'd recommend that we draw them all into a trap, and kill them using the small-scale Nuclear Armament Designated "Europa," y'know, greNADEs? Yah, I've heard of them. Her mental voice was a slap on the wrist for Torus, and he apologized. Sorry, I'm not used to inexperienced leaders, I'm from a clan. You are? Wow, not many clan members apply for the Guard, what happened? Let's just get our job done, shall we? He brushed away the subject like a buzzing fly. Not something I'd like to get involved with in the middle of a mission. Alright, promise you'll tell us all later, though! Her childish voice reminded him of his son's pleading, and he thought, "Shit! I was supposed to stay home today.... I'm sorry, Adam. I'll make it up later." Little did he know that he would never see his son again. Alright, he said, all too eager to drop that subject, and be on with the mission. You wait here, I'll be back soon with five to ten UFOs, shootin' up a storm. Don't you go and get hit now, that'll cost us points! He mentally winked at the annoyed Diva to show that he was just kidding. Be right back, One! Working his way in and out through the ruined city-scape, Torus picked up six UFOs, all "shootin' up a storm." With a mixture of jumping, ducking, speed and direction changes, Torus left his precious HECTOR unscathed. Here I come! He yelled to the waiting Diva. Coming suddenly into the clearing, diva jumped out from behind the building and began pelting the UFOs with nades, while Torus did a quick 180° and fired his plasma bolts at the shocked drones. In less than seconds, the entireity of the UFOs in the yellow sector were destroyed, and the loudspeaker came on again, with Sgt. Yuri's voice rasping out, "Yellow team has destroyed all of their UFOs with little to no damage and very small cost, thanks to great teamwork and planning. Everyone please report to the commons in twenty minutes for debriefing. Dismissed!" With that one word, the city hologram dissappeared, as did the walls that seperated the three teams. What was left in the room were seven HECTORs, and two happy pilots. "Yah!" Laura high-fived Bull after the debriefing, in which Sgt. Yuri had complemented Laura on her good use of strategy and teamwork, to which she responded, "Actually, it was Torus's idea." Then the Sgt. gave the credit where it was due, and Torus did a tight- wave 'path to Laura, Thank you. After the congratulations, came the harangue. This time it was directed at blue team. "Raven!" Yuri bellowed at the blue leader, "That was the WORST show of piloting I've seen in my twenty years of supervising new recruits! I can't believe this! You not only failed to attack the UFOs and sustained many plasma burns from them, you failed to cooperate with your wingmate and ended up SHOOTING HIM! That is NOT ACCEPTABLE! One more mishap like this and you'll be dismissed from the Guard. Got it?" He asked demandingly. There was only one answer for such a question. "Yes, sir!" She glared evilly at Torus, who voiced his concern at dinner that evening. "What? Why are you glaring me down?" He asked the disgruntled Karen when the others had gone to bed. "You! You specifically tried to outdo me! You saw that we were having troubles and thought 'let's make a landslide victory, that'll show them up!' I know you've been competeing with Slim and I since the beginning, but this is not the way to play this out!" She practically yelled at him. "What?!" Torus objected strongly. "You heard what I said, you bastard." She hissed. "I do not compete with you two, and no matter what lying schemes you try to concoct, people will see that I am the superior pilot! You are nothing but a...but a selfish bitch!" The words were scathing to the already boiling Karen, and she drew her knife, "Why you slimy little...." Her thoughts were easily read, if her intent weren't already known. "I'm not drawing my knife on you, Karen. We're wingmates, whether you recognize it or not. Kill me if you want, but I don't think you'll have a good life as a pilot if you have a "Murdered Wingmate" on your record." The truth of that sentence only enraged Karen more, "You'll get yours, You senile bastard. You just watch your back!" She stormed off, shoving her knife clumsily back inside her loose coat. Left alone at the table, Torus began to reflect on what had just happened, before retiring to his room. Locking the door behind him.
3. Raven
What? Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Where were we? Awww, shit, I missed part of it! Oh well...what are they doing now, let's see.... Noooo!! Bull yells as he jumps on top of Raven before a grenade hits her, destroying her already disabled HECTOR. He triggered a booster immediately, restoring Sally's shields quickly, then turned to reengage the drone HECTOR. Take this, you slimy little bastard. He recognized those words from the mouth of Raven after he'd released his volley of grenades at the assailing machine, blowing it into oblivion. He reached out to Raven mentally, You ok? You.... Her mind-touch was a burning red, the color of rage, You...you bastard!!! I had him! I could have handled myself, thank you! No, you have to jump in the way and then steal the kill that was rightfully MINE! How dare you! I'll get you, Torus Strata! Quickly withdrawing from her mind, Bull was greeted with the announcement that the final exam was over, and to report to the commons for graduation ceremonies. Sitting there, everyone recieved their Guard uniform but two people. Peter Reidenger, "Because, son," Yuri explained, "You can't function as a pilot without telepathy. I'm sorry." And Karen "Raven" Ross. "You are the sorriest excuse for a HECTOR pilot I have ever seen! Torus had to save your life TWICE during your stay at the Tower. Go home, Karen. Go, go sew yourself a nice quilt and hang yourself with it!" She skulked out of the Tower, but not without a last glare at Torus and the words to him I'll get you, bastard. For the rest of them, they recieved postings that day. In two days, Torus, Ulysses, and Laura were to go out on patrol of the Tower from 2200 to 0200 hours, then trade with Roy and Gary, and on and off until 2200 the following day. Going back to his room, Torus ate a quick dinner and retired, and here we will leave Torus for a while and follow Karen and she boards her HECTOR with murderous intent. "Uno," Raven addressed the head of the Blue Angels later that day, "I have information that says that a former pilot of yours named Torus Strata has information regarding the location of your missile base, and is planning to send a platoon of Guardsman to destroy it within the week." She lied, smiling deviously inwardly. "Why would he do such a thing? What have the Angels ever done to him? We give him employment--" "--You GAVE him employment, Sir." Karen interjected. "You released him not a week ago, and he feels resentment towards the clan and wishes to act upon it." "Well...I'll believe that. I'll triple defenses of the missile base, then." Uno responded logically. "No! That will not withstand a platoon of Guardsman without casualties. I move that you give me four other HECTORs and I'll intercept Torus's patrol as it goes out in two days, and kill him before he can tell the Guard's higher powers the location of the base!" "...I do not like giving the lead of any clan HECTORs to an outsider, Raven." Uno said warningly. "I think it's a better idea to give command of a few HECTORs to me than to let your base be attacked and lose more than a few HECTORs. Besides, if I stray from the flight plan, I'm sure you'll have your pilots terminate me. I won't betray you, Uno." She reassured. That, for one, was not a lie. Uno responded with finality. "It is done."
----------
Ahhh, our first patrol! Grant conversed with his wingmates, and following that line of conversation, they passed the time until 0100 hours. Well, we'd better head back, Torus advised. Alright, One. Let's go, Grant! Diva commanded. The hierarchy is obvious, red one was Bull, red two was Diva, and red three was Grant. On their way back, Diva warned, I see a bogey coming in from 10 o'clock, should I investigate? Torus debated, he was concerned for the safety of his wingmate, but one bogey didn't justify expending the power for all of them to go. Yes, Diva. Go and report what you find. After a short time, Diva's signal came in faintly on the comm, meaning she was too preoccupied to send mentally, "I've encou------ --emy b- geys. T-- many f-- me to ha--le! I c-n'- g-t aw-y! H-L- ME!!!!!! HEL-" And there the transmision cut off, and the signal dissapeared. Dammit! Torus yelled. Diva!!! Let's go, Grant! Alright, let's go! They plotted a course for the last known coordinates of Diva, and began to trudge through sand dunes piling sixty feet or more above them. "Oh shit," Torus thought, "This is perfect for an..." Ambush! Grant screamed, as his instruments registered four HECTORs with distinct clan markings, and another freelance, that they both knew well. Grant, it's me she wants. Go back to Tower, and...tell my wife I loved her, and that I'm sorry. Her name is Sheila Torus, please...tell her that, and tell her one more thing. My son, Adam. His callsign should be "Rowen." Don't ask any questions, tell her that's how I wanted it. Now go! Torus knew he was going to die, but he also knew he could take down at least one of his assailants. RAVEN!!!! He screamed, the mental-shout reaching all the way back to the Tower. You got my former clan to attack me, to ambush my patrol, is this some twisted kind of thanking me for saving your life? Twice? No, Bull. Torus's screams were complemented by her calm, assured voice. This is called revenge. You ever hear that "revenge is a dish best served cold?" Well, I don't know...I think it's very hot in Hell. Raven! You may kill me, but I can get to you first!! And with that Torus yelled with pure emotion and pushed his piloting skills to new heights, helped by his anger. He eliminated two of his former clan members before stopping no more than 100 meters from Raven, a far better pilot than the mediocre clansmen. I guess we'll see who's better now. Raven noted in a very cold voice, as two other Angels flanked her. THAT we already knew. Torus had come down from his fury, and was now cold and calculating. This enraged Raven no end, thinking that her betrayel would leave the aging pilot feeling helpless, but instead, it empowered him. We'll see about that!! And as she charged, so did the two Angels, and so did Torus. Raven, I never understood why you hated me so much, but I understand now. You wanted to die. Well, I'll give you your wish! C'mon, Raven, show me what you've learned!