Hi folks, Mercenary Pen here. Now your average mercenary works for the
money, but me, I'm working because I'm loyal to you folks, and also because
I enjoy this sort of stuff. So in other words I'm still posting this story
even though no one has actually bothered to review it yet. Please review,
I'll even allow for moderate flames! Just be warned, I have set up a
Justice field to govern extreme flames, so that your own flame gets you
burned. Now, getting back to business, lets see whether Garth Meyer gets
taken prisoner by the bandits, or whether something entirely different
happens.
Chapter Two: What price survival?
"I will not abandon the quest of a lifetime," bellowed Karyl Meyer, professor of history at the university of Geigolos.
His wife replied, in her quiet yet astoundingly clear voice, "Then Dearest, you have sentenced each one of us to death."
"Not really," came a voice from behind them. "What you don't understand," continued the professor's brother, Thorsten, "is that the hovercargo has, as standard, about the thickest armour of just about any zoid known, as well as defensive gunnery turrets, and beyond that, my Gordos is fully armed and combat ready, and the excavation equipped zoids could come in handy too."
"How so?" the professor asked, "those eight Godos units are only fitted with pile drivers, they can't knock out swarms of Guysacks! Besides, we only have pilots for seven of them if you plan to take the field in your Gordos."
Garth's uncle replied almost conspiratorially, "I thought there was a chance we might run into trouble, so I bought an emergency arsenal for each of the Godos units, and in an emergency seven pilots are better than none!"
Finally the matter was agreed and the professor had just one more thing to say, "Garth, I want you to go to your room and wait this out, you are not to leave until we tell you that everything is alright, do you understand?"
Disappointed, Garth replied, "Yes Father".
Then, spurred into action, the professor ran off, heading to take charge of one of the gun turrets of the Hovercargo.
As Garth left to return to his room, his uncle beckoned him over, "Garth," he said, "I hate to go against your father, but I think someone ought to give you a chance. I want you to pilot the eighth Godos in battle for me."
Hesitant for a moment, Garth finally decided to go for it and take his first step on the road to becoming a zoid warrior. Hastily following his uncle, he helped to lever open the crate in which the sixteen shoulder- mounted rifles were stored and to load them onto the gantry crane for fitting to the zoids. Meanwhile, his uncle, not one to waste even the slightest bit of time, was busy performing checks on his Gordos, and by the time the others were in the cockpits of their zoids he was moving out through the open front hatch to provide a volley of covering fire as they deployed their zoids.
Immediately he let loose a mighty salvo from the two double-barrel pulse- laser cannons fitted to his zoid. "That's the thing about using a swarm of Guysacks in combat, they're almost impossible to miss with the first few volleys of shots, but it's virtually impossible to take out every single one of them without getting hurt badly yourself."
The eight Godos units, all fully functional, disembarked the hovercargo, moving to either side as an immense barrage poured from the Vulcan-gun turrets at the top of the hovercargo. Then, as the Godos' turned to face the Guysacks, all hell broke loose as the Guysacks opened fire.
"Hey, these guys aren't using standard guns," came the cry of shock from one Godos.
Quickly the reply came from the Gordos, "Watch out men, those are pulse- lasers."
Meanwhile, Garth was busy wrapped up in concentration, his mind focussed on trying to master keeping the balance of his zoid. Okay, he thought to himself, lets see whether we can make it through this without falling over. Hey, that's a Guysack, coming straight for me; it's almost in my sights, fire. With a moment of adulation he rejoiced, the body shell of the enemy zoid rupturing as his shells found their mark. Then in a wave of clarity he suddenly understood and began to battle in earnest.
Advancing he fired off a volley of shells, turning as he did, to decimate an advancing line of bandits, the few he missed burrowing into the earth. Suddenly, he felt the zoid start to tip over. Sure enough a Guysack was surfacing from the ground beneath his left foot. In a moment of extreme exertion he forced that foot down, crushing the claws of the Guysack through the canopy of the zoid as if they were made of wood. A shot came from behind, barely missing the hip of his zoid. A line of bandits had now formed behind him and was advancing on him fast. Their pincers raised, these five zoids moved in trying to deal precise close-combat damage to put him out of commission. The Godos twisted beneath him, its tail swinging to either side, knocking the zoids behind him prone on their backs. Garth roared as he almost succumbed to the battle instincts of a zoid gone berserk and then abruptly the Guysacks were no more.
Back in the ruins one of the bandits was making a report to their leader. "Honestly sir, our squads fell to a supercharged Gordos and eight Godos units, their pilots... one of the Godos' defeated twenty three of our Nightstinger Guysacks sir."
"Then," replied the bandit leader, "we shall see how they fare against more powerful zoids."
"What possessed you to take out a zoid into the conflict," demanded the professor of his son, "especially after promising me that you would stay in the transport, safe?"
"It was my fault Karyl" came the voice of his uncle over the intercom, "I know all about your son's dream of becoming a zoid warrior, especially since the Blitz team won the royal cup in such style three years ago."
"Uh, dad," Garth interrupted, "we seem to have some more company."
"Give me the low-down," snapped his uncle, "what do we have incoming?" "Looks to be Dark Horns and Rev Raptors," he replied, "yes, that's a definite, four Dark Horns and eight Rev Raptors."
"Okay then men, take aim at the 'Raptors first before turning your guns on the Dark Horns," came the order.
"And Garth," came the professor's irate voice over the comm, "you keep yourself as safe as possible, we'll talk about this later, you understand."
The enemy line formed, Rev Raptors forming the flanks of the bandits' Omega squad, their retractable blades extending as the Dark Horns, bristling with oversize weapons, took their place at the centre of the line. Then they charged, the Rev Raptors taking the lead as they raced to cripple their foes in close combat, although barely any got that far. Garth felt a surge of pride as his shells finally caught up with the evasion of a Rev Raptor, assessing the situation he saw that the remaining Rev Raptors were too close to his fellow pilots for him to be sure of any shot he might make against them. He turned his shots against one of the slower, more ungainly Dark Horns, a target lock confirming itself as he fired off two shells. The Dark Horn's main cannon turned, loosing a couple of bolts of energy, which disintegrated his shells before they reached the zoid. Turning, the Dark Horn he had targeted bore down on him as he tried to move aside to evade the Pulse cannon of the oncoming zoid. He fired, forcing his opponent's cannon to snap up and protect it as the Godos twisted, its tail smashing through the canopy of the oncoming zoid with a mighty heave.
The Rev Raptors were gone now, but the other three Dark Horns were now converging upon him, firing. Suddenly, as he fired his last shell at one Dark Horn, the canopy heads up display blacked out and the message
Command System Failure appeared on his screen before blanking out. He pulled the lever for the ejector seat, being thrown up, out of the cockpit just in time to hear the final, anguished roar of his Godos before, with the impact of another shot it was no more.
Then, a salvo of shells ripped into the back of the three Dark Horns, destroying them utterly before they had the chance to turn. None of their pilots ejected, the explosions had been too quick. Finally, succumbing to the exertions of battle, Garth passed out.
Will Garth survive the aftermath of battle, and if so will he be scarred for life by his experiences? Will his father, having seen his natural aptitude for piloting a zoid, relent and permit him to become a zoid warrior? Find out next time folks.
Chapter Two: What price survival?
"I will not abandon the quest of a lifetime," bellowed Karyl Meyer, professor of history at the university of Geigolos.
His wife replied, in her quiet yet astoundingly clear voice, "Then Dearest, you have sentenced each one of us to death."
"Not really," came a voice from behind them. "What you don't understand," continued the professor's brother, Thorsten, "is that the hovercargo has, as standard, about the thickest armour of just about any zoid known, as well as defensive gunnery turrets, and beyond that, my Gordos is fully armed and combat ready, and the excavation equipped zoids could come in handy too."
"How so?" the professor asked, "those eight Godos units are only fitted with pile drivers, they can't knock out swarms of Guysacks! Besides, we only have pilots for seven of them if you plan to take the field in your Gordos."
Garth's uncle replied almost conspiratorially, "I thought there was a chance we might run into trouble, so I bought an emergency arsenal for each of the Godos units, and in an emergency seven pilots are better than none!"
Finally the matter was agreed and the professor had just one more thing to say, "Garth, I want you to go to your room and wait this out, you are not to leave until we tell you that everything is alright, do you understand?"
Disappointed, Garth replied, "Yes Father".
Then, spurred into action, the professor ran off, heading to take charge of one of the gun turrets of the Hovercargo.
As Garth left to return to his room, his uncle beckoned him over, "Garth," he said, "I hate to go against your father, but I think someone ought to give you a chance. I want you to pilot the eighth Godos in battle for me."
Hesitant for a moment, Garth finally decided to go for it and take his first step on the road to becoming a zoid warrior. Hastily following his uncle, he helped to lever open the crate in which the sixteen shoulder- mounted rifles were stored and to load them onto the gantry crane for fitting to the zoids. Meanwhile, his uncle, not one to waste even the slightest bit of time, was busy performing checks on his Gordos, and by the time the others were in the cockpits of their zoids he was moving out through the open front hatch to provide a volley of covering fire as they deployed their zoids.
Immediately he let loose a mighty salvo from the two double-barrel pulse- laser cannons fitted to his zoid. "That's the thing about using a swarm of Guysacks in combat, they're almost impossible to miss with the first few volleys of shots, but it's virtually impossible to take out every single one of them without getting hurt badly yourself."
The eight Godos units, all fully functional, disembarked the hovercargo, moving to either side as an immense barrage poured from the Vulcan-gun turrets at the top of the hovercargo. Then, as the Godos' turned to face the Guysacks, all hell broke loose as the Guysacks opened fire.
"Hey, these guys aren't using standard guns," came the cry of shock from one Godos.
Quickly the reply came from the Gordos, "Watch out men, those are pulse- lasers."
Meanwhile, Garth was busy wrapped up in concentration, his mind focussed on trying to master keeping the balance of his zoid. Okay, he thought to himself, lets see whether we can make it through this without falling over. Hey, that's a Guysack, coming straight for me; it's almost in my sights, fire. With a moment of adulation he rejoiced, the body shell of the enemy zoid rupturing as his shells found their mark. Then in a wave of clarity he suddenly understood and began to battle in earnest.
Advancing he fired off a volley of shells, turning as he did, to decimate an advancing line of bandits, the few he missed burrowing into the earth. Suddenly, he felt the zoid start to tip over. Sure enough a Guysack was surfacing from the ground beneath his left foot. In a moment of extreme exertion he forced that foot down, crushing the claws of the Guysack through the canopy of the zoid as if they were made of wood. A shot came from behind, barely missing the hip of his zoid. A line of bandits had now formed behind him and was advancing on him fast. Their pincers raised, these five zoids moved in trying to deal precise close-combat damage to put him out of commission. The Godos twisted beneath him, its tail swinging to either side, knocking the zoids behind him prone on their backs. Garth roared as he almost succumbed to the battle instincts of a zoid gone berserk and then abruptly the Guysacks were no more.
Back in the ruins one of the bandits was making a report to their leader. "Honestly sir, our squads fell to a supercharged Gordos and eight Godos units, their pilots... one of the Godos' defeated twenty three of our Nightstinger Guysacks sir."
"Then," replied the bandit leader, "we shall see how they fare against more powerful zoids."
"What possessed you to take out a zoid into the conflict," demanded the professor of his son, "especially after promising me that you would stay in the transport, safe?"
"It was my fault Karyl" came the voice of his uncle over the intercom, "I know all about your son's dream of becoming a zoid warrior, especially since the Blitz team won the royal cup in such style three years ago."
"Uh, dad," Garth interrupted, "we seem to have some more company."
"Give me the low-down," snapped his uncle, "what do we have incoming?" "Looks to be Dark Horns and Rev Raptors," he replied, "yes, that's a definite, four Dark Horns and eight Rev Raptors."
"Okay then men, take aim at the 'Raptors first before turning your guns on the Dark Horns," came the order.
"And Garth," came the professor's irate voice over the comm, "you keep yourself as safe as possible, we'll talk about this later, you understand."
The enemy line formed, Rev Raptors forming the flanks of the bandits' Omega squad, their retractable blades extending as the Dark Horns, bristling with oversize weapons, took their place at the centre of the line. Then they charged, the Rev Raptors taking the lead as they raced to cripple their foes in close combat, although barely any got that far. Garth felt a surge of pride as his shells finally caught up with the evasion of a Rev Raptor, assessing the situation he saw that the remaining Rev Raptors were too close to his fellow pilots for him to be sure of any shot he might make against them. He turned his shots against one of the slower, more ungainly Dark Horns, a target lock confirming itself as he fired off two shells. The Dark Horn's main cannon turned, loosing a couple of bolts of energy, which disintegrated his shells before they reached the zoid. Turning, the Dark Horn he had targeted bore down on him as he tried to move aside to evade the Pulse cannon of the oncoming zoid. He fired, forcing his opponent's cannon to snap up and protect it as the Godos twisted, its tail smashing through the canopy of the oncoming zoid with a mighty heave.
The Rev Raptors were gone now, but the other three Dark Horns were now converging upon him, firing. Suddenly, as he fired his last shell at one Dark Horn, the canopy heads up display blacked out and the message
Command System Failure appeared on his screen before blanking out. He pulled the lever for the ejector seat, being thrown up, out of the cockpit just in time to hear the final, anguished roar of his Godos before, with the impact of another shot it was no more.
Then, a salvo of shells ripped into the back of the three Dark Horns, destroying them utterly before they had the chance to turn. None of their pilots ejected, the explosions had been too quick. Finally, succumbing to the exertions of battle, Garth passed out.
Will Garth survive the aftermath of battle, and if so will he be scarred for life by his experiences? Will his father, having seen his natural aptitude for piloting a zoid, relent and permit him to become a zoid warrior? Find out next time folks.