Chapter 2
The intensified devastation of stilling ash and dust was the modest look that the patrolling Veritech groups got. Out of view or covered with a layers of feathery dust, skeleton pictures of Zentraedi giants lied around their cruisers, that had knifed themselves into to the ground after their engines had died along with their crew. The long ago cities become graveyards of scrapeless Robotechnology, Veritechs and Battle Pods served in the same graves.
Above in the liquid heat of the day, a small collection of Veritech fighters nimbly watched for any disruption from the revolting Zentraedi. Once ace pilots now spent their time watching sand collect on the useless pieces of rusting war machines that littered the wastelands.
"Doesn't look like there's going to be any activity of renegade attack or looting, boss. Now a days all we, pilots, can do is hope for some target practice with some unarmed Battle Pods." With slight chuckles of growing boredom, Max Sterling, lunged further down from the cluster of fighters.
"Doesn't look like there will be for awhile. It just may be true that peace isn't too far away." Rick's voice toggled over the TAC net.
Max's once impressive skills droned to only piloting in free roaming air. Though, he didn't like the fact that he couldn't showboat his skills to the new recruits and impress the hell out of them, he was glad that the war was finally over and everything would slowly follow in the ways of peace. "Hey, boss, I think I see something down there, I can't really see what it is, but it's worth investigating. At least it will give me something to do."
Cooling jets frenzied with the superheated flames as Max's Veritech rammed the density of the atmosphere. The thin layers were serrated and grated by the VF-1J's super imposed engines, cleaving the pattern of the heavens. As speed grew, the vista that peaked at Max's eye became clearer, sparkles of ever most green stippled the drying land of tranquil, tanned dirt. Measured speeds routed around the spreading feet of the Veritech as they swung down below the plane's body to shape lumbered legs and bulky arms. With just a minuet thrust of velocity, Max hovered over the dimpled pit that thrived with energetic plants of warping vines and desiring olive leaves.
"Boss, there's plants down here, actually plants that weren't made by human hands. The earth has finally forgiven us for the pain that we put it through for our survival. I have to take a closer look at this." Before the alarming words could hit a listener's ears, Max had set down his Veritech in the confined jungle that secluded itself in a cavity that was there only as a reminder of the war.
The sealed canopy hissed with restraint as it was lifted behind Max's head. The air whined with moisture, sweeping out the sickly dirt that booked his lungs. With a deep breath, Max scanned the area refreshed. The vivid green was a change for the better for Max; there was nothing more than brown in this world now, and it had been so long since any other color was apparent. Branches and leaves chafed across Max's flight suit, but he didn't mind, the lost feeling of the scuffed texture of leaves was comforting to him in someway.
"It's strange, I never paid attention to the plant life before, since there was so much of it, but now I'm almost praising this small section of it. I just can't believe how much we have lost." The plants took in Max's whispers of words as they rustled with life, parting to clear a view of a hidden, blustered Battle Pod that lied stretched across the patches of grass, its body bristled with rusting spot of bubbled armor that was burnt under the heat of some unknown battle. And in the light of paradise, the truth was once again emerged.
The dismal smell of cooked oiled was endorsed by the large machinery that sat gloomy and heavy in the room. Emphasize by the dusky shadow of the room, Emil Lang, presented in his never tiring white suit, necked by a heavy, cobalt collar that run along his shoulders. With a reach of his hand, he greeted his visitor.
"Captain Gloval, I was expecting you."
With a brief nod, Captain Gloval placed his hand into Lang, shaking the very hand that is responsible for the human race still being here today.
"Yes, Dr. Lang, I wanted to check in with you on the conditions of the Veritech fighters and Destroids." Captain Gloval's strong accent further pushed the seriousness of the issue.
"Well, as of now, we are in need of some more of the vital parts, mostly ammunition for the Gu-11 Gun Pods. As for the number of working Veritechs, we have over 200 working 1As, 47 1Js, 34 1Ss, and 13 1Ds. They are all in good condition. The Destroids we have an overt amount of them, which helps us provide more time and repair to the Veritechs. Also, I am proud to say that we were able to save the new Veritech model from the damaged remains of ARMD-4, which had been nearly destroyed during the Zentraedi's rain on the earth. We will be working hard to finish it, but I am sad to say that this will be the only one ever produced. We just don't have the parts to build another one, so it would be wise to assign this to one of your ace pilots." Dr. Lang's transfixing whiteless eyes gave their report as Gloval considered everything that was said
"It seems that if the Zentraedi were to attack that we would be able to hold them off, but outcomes are never planned with numbers. We can only hope that the rebels don't keep up their attacks like they are, because while we wait, Khyron is planning his revenge."
Craters of detonating, panicked fire rippled on Mar's bleak terrain. Laces of tight plasma energy triggered in the deepened hollow as something hungered for the wobbly Battle Pod. From the patches of dipping blackness, red-gemmed eyes glimmered with smiles as the Zentraedi warrior resisted the creature's demands and fingers as they continually reached from the night of the planet's core, baring orange tentacles that flailed alone in the shadows. A warrior's pride slipped into timid eyes, fearing for what might come. His once Zentraedi arrogance made him turn and run, leaving his dead comrades to rot with their nemesis. Hurried moans revamped from the cracking cavity that had swallowed a whole squad of Battle Pods, hastening the legs of the running survivor. He knew that lord Khyron would have him killed for not fighting to the bitter end, but to suffer death from the Gudis was the worst thing a Zentraedi could endure.
In the brassy red desert, the solitary reentry pod laid, waiting for the rest of its crew to return to its haul. Its bay door still left open, attracting the red sands of the still planet to collect on its open hand. Through the fiery wind, the cherry coated, intense white Battle Pod clambered on to the bay door, closing behind it, with whispers of pressing weight. With a shuffle of legs, the defected Battle Pod, shorted out by the translucent slime that wormed its way into the cockpit, bent down, huddling to the ground. The stressed hatch flew into a rage, peering a hand over the side as the anxious Zentraedi soldier staggered to the reassuring firm floor of the reentry pod. His legs were still weighty with fear as he scrambled to snatch a rifle from the wall. With stumbling bouts with the floor, the aimless survivor lurched heavy and lunged into the cockpit of the Reentry pod, startling the two pilots who sat futilely caressing the vista of the oddly planet.
With short breathes of stream and liquid fear, the Zentraedi combatant sparred his struggling breathe as it rushed to his mouth, hardly able to speak his running words, " We have to get out of here!"
His panicked shrills of anxiety and terror confused the pilots from their entranced musing, but their hands already begun functioning and influencing the controls of the outsized circus tent like ship. Tremendous rattles of jolting and trembling metal shuddered the small rounded vessel, rendering it from lift.
"What was that?" The irregular, coarse voice of the Zentraedi pilot dribbled from his mouth as he rounded his head over his shoulder to try and glance a look at what might be the problem.
"The bay door has come open." The other one said in an almost nonchalant tone. " Something most of opened it, it needs to be checked out before we can lift off." Teaming eyes stared dead less at the shaking warrior at their shoulders.
"I'm on it." The Zentraedi warrior voiced, regaining his warrior code.
The room gazed with nothing more than the lone Battle Pod that he had left there before. The hefty bay door, still littered with the lots of discolored red sand, laid once again on the ground, collecting the grains of the day again. With suspicious footsteps, the reclaiming solider stooped to the bedded door. A pointed gaze outside was all the Zentraedi dared to look. He knew the crimson ground was stained with his brothers' blood and whatever killed them was still out there. It was sly, concealing itself underground when they first neared it. Using a slimly substance to disable their Battle Pods and than taking the fearing soldiers out itself.
A timid chuckle bellied out from the warrior's throat, realizing his fear was just a rouse of his imagination. With a cuff of his palm, the manual close button locked into itself. The tranquil heated air staled in the shut Reentry Pod. Calmed with survival, the weary fighter leisurely relaxed his edgy muscles. Nickels of snapping membranes resounded behind the survivor's shoulder. A droning fear recycled itself in the warrior's body. The lone survivor wasn't alone anymore.
The intensified devastation of stilling ash and dust was the modest look that the patrolling Veritech groups got. Out of view or covered with a layers of feathery dust, skeleton pictures of Zentraedi giants lied around their cruisers, that had knifed themselves into to the ground after their engines had died along with their crew. The long ago cities become graveyards of scrapeless Robotechnology, Veritechs and Battle Pods served in the same graves.
Above in the liquid heat of the day, a small collection of Veritech fighters nimbly watched for any disruption from the revolting Zentraedi. Once ace pilots now spent their time watching sand collect on the useless pieces of rusting war machines that littered the wastelands.
"Doesn't look like there's going to be any activity of renegade attack or looting, boss. Now a days all we, pilots, can do is hope for some target practice with some unarmed Battle Pods." With slight chuckles of growing boredom, Max Sterling, lunged further down from the cluster of fighters.
"Doesn't look like there will be for awhile. It just may be true that peace isn't too far away." Rick's voice toggled over the TAC net.
Max's once impressive skills droned to only piloting in free roaming air. Though, he didn't like the fact that he couldn't showboat his skills to the new recruits and impress the hell out of them, he was glad that the war was finally over and everything would slowly follow in the ways of peace. "Hey, boss, I think I see something down there, I can't really see what it is, but it's worth investigating. At least it will give me something to do."
Cooling jets frenzied with the superheated flames as Max's Veritech rammed the density of the atmosphere. The thin layers were serrated and grated by the VF-1J's super imposed engines, cleaving the pattern of the heavens. As speed grew, the vista that peaked at Max's eye became clearer, sparkles of ever most green stippled the drying land of tranquil, tanned dirt. Measured speeds routed around the spreading feet of the Veritech as they swung down below the plane's body to shape lumbered legs and bulky arms. With just a minuet thrust of velocity, Max hovered over the dimpled pit that thrived with energetic plants of warping vines and desiring olive leaves.
"Boss, there's plants down here, actually plants that weren't made by human hands. The earth has finally forgiven us for the pain that we put it through for our survival. I have to take a closer look at this." Before the alarming words could hit a listener's ears, Max had set down his Veritech in the confined jungle that secluded itself in a cavity that was there only as a reminder of the war.
The sealed canopy hissed with restraint as it was lifted behind Max's head. The air whined with moisture, sweeping out the sickly dirt that booked his lungs. With a deep breath, Max scanned the area refreshed. The vivid green was a change for the better for Max; there was nothing more than brown in this world now, and it had been so long since any other color was apparent. Branches and leaves chafed across Max's flight suit, but he didn't mind, the lost feeling of the scuffed texture of leaves was comforting to him in someway.
"It's strange, I never paid attention to the plant life before, since there was so much of it, but now I'm almost praising this small section of it. I just can't believe how much we have lost." The plants took in Max's whispers of words as they rustled with life, parting to clear a view of a hidden, blustered Battle Pod that lied stretched across the patches of grass, its body bristled with rusting spot of bubbled armor that was burnt under the heat of some unknown battle. And in the light of paradise, the truth was once again emerged.
The dismal smell of cooked oiled was endorsed by the large machinery that sat gloomy and heavy in the room. Emphasize by the dusky shadow of the room, Emil Lang, presented in his never tiring white suit, necked by a heavy, cobalt collar that run along his shoulders. With a reach of his hand, he greeted his visitor.
"Captain Gloval, I was expecting you."
With a brief nod, Captain Gloval placed his hand into Lang, shaking the very hand that is responsible for the human race still being here today.
"Yes, Dr. Lang, I wanted to check in with you on the conditions of the Veritech fighters and Destroids." Captain Gloval's strong accent further pushed the seriousness of the issue.
"Well, as of now, we are in need of some more of the vital parts, mostly ammunition for the Gu-11 Gun Pods. As for the number of working Veritechs, we have over 200 working 1As, 47 1Js, 34 1Ss, and 13 1Ds. They are all in good condition. The Destroids we have an overt amount of them, which helps us provide more time and repair to the Veritechs. Also, I am proud to say that we were able to save the new Veritech model from the damaged remains of ARMD-4, which had been nearly destroyed during the Zentraedi's rain on the earth. We will be working hard to finish it, but I am sad to say that this will be the only one ever produced. We just don't have the parts to build another one, so it would be wise to assign this to one of your ace pilots." Dr. Lang's transfixing whiteless eyes gave their report as Gloval considered everything that was said
"It seems that if the Zentraedi were to attack that we would be able to hold them off, but outcomes are never planned with numbers. We can only hope that the rebels don't keep up their attacks like they are, because while we wait, Khyron is planning his revenge."
Craters of detonating, panicked fire rippled on Mar's bleak terrain. Laces of tight plasma energy triggered in the deepened hollow as something hungered for the wobbly Battle Pod. From the patches of dipping blackness, red-gemmed eyes glimmered with smiles as the Zentraedi warrior resisted the creature's demands and fingers as they continually reached from the night of the planet's core, baring orange tentacles that flailed alone in the shadows. A warrior's pride slipped into timid eyes, fearing for what might come. His once Zentraedi arrogance made him turn and run, leaving his dead comrades to rot with their nemesis. Hurried moans revamped from the cracking cavity that had swallowed a whole squad of Battle Pods, hastening the legs of the running survivor. He knew that lord Khyron would have him killed for not fighting to the bitter end, but to suffer death from the Gudis was the worst thing a Zentraedi could endure.
In the brassy red desert, the solitary reentry pod laid, waiting for the rest of its crew to return to its haul. Its bay door still left open, attracting the red sands of the still planet to collect on its open hand. Through the fiery wind, the cherry coated, intense white Battle Pod clambered on to the bay door, closing behind it, with whispers of pressing weight. With a shuffle of legs, the defected Battle Pod, shorted out by the translucent slime that wormed its way into the cockpit, bent down, huddling to the ground. The stressed hatch flew into a rage, peering a hand over the side as the anxious Zentraedi soldier staggered to the reassuring firm floor of the reentry pod. His legs were still weighty with fear as he scrambled to snatch a rifle from the wall. With stumbling bouts with the floor, the aimless survivor lurched heavy and lunged into the cockpit of the Reentry pod, startling the two pilots who sat futilely caressing the vista of the oddly planet.
With short breathes of stream and liquid fear, the Zentraedi combatant sparred his struggling breathe as it rushed to his mouth, hardly able to speak his running words, " We have to get out of here!"
His panicked shrills of anxiety and terror confused the pilots from their entranced musing, but their hands already begun functioning and influencing the controls of the outsized circus tent like ship. Tremendous rattles of jolting and trembling metal shuddered the small rounded vessel, rendering it from lift.
"What was that?" The irregular, coarse voice of the Zentraedi pilot dribbled from his mouth as he rounded his head over his shoulder to try and glance a look at what might be the problem.
"The bay door has come open." The other one said in an almost nonchalant tone. " Something most of opened it, it needs to be checked out before we can lift off." Teaming eyes stared dead less at the shaking warrior at their shoulders.
"I'm on it." The Zentraedi warrior voiced, regaining his warrior code.
The room gazed with nothing more than the lone Battle Pod that he had left there before. The hefty bay door, still littered with the lots of discolored red sand, laid once again on the ground, collecting the grains of the day again. With suspicious footsteps, the reclaiming solider stooped to the bedded door. A pointed gaze outside was all the Zentraedi dared to look. He knew the crimson ground was stained with his brothers' blood and whatever killed them was still out there. It was sly, concealing itself underground when they first neared it. Using a slimly substance to disable their Battle Pods and than taking the fearing soldiers out itself.
A timid chuckle bellied out from the warrior's throat, realizing his fear was just a rouse of his imagination. With a cuff of his palm, the manual close button locked into itself. The tranquil heated air staled in the shut Reentry Pod. Calmed with survival, the weary fighter leisurely relaxed his edgy muscles. Nickels of snapping membranes resounded behind the survivor's shoulder. A droning fear recycled itself in the warrior's body. The lone survivor wasn't alone anymore.