Hey this is Mercenary Pen here, first a word of thanks to my fellow author
Steam Detective, first for permitting me to use his concept of the Panzer
Dragon zoid family, my member of which, the first ever, and the tenth most
powerful, will appear in the next chapter or so, although the basic details
of the arsenal for this zoid family have been tweaked ever so slightly to
fit what I had in mind, but what can I say, all I've done has been to make
the lasers a multi-modal weapon to encompass the auto-fire function and
added a few highly unstable experimental weapons designs to my Panzer
Dragon, there are some more additions/modifications but I shall send these
as part of my review of your next chapter. Also thanks S.D. for finding the
solution to why I wasn't getting any reviews until now, the problem has now
been solved. Meanwhile lets get down to what everyone's here for, the
story.
Chapter 3: The beginning of a dream?
The three of them sat in the conference room late into the night, discussing the events of the day just gone, but only now had the conversation heated up to any significant degree.
"I won't back down on this brother," shouted Garth's uncle, trying to be heard over his brother's loud and narrow-minded arguments, "your son has the raw talent to become one of the best zoid pilots of the century, did you see the way he harnessed every weapon his zoid had to offer against a vastly superior force and damn well near won? With those skills I refuse to let you squander his abilities by throwing him into the stuffy confinement of a university whether he wants to go there or not."
"But how can you risk the life of your only nephew quite like that?" protested Garth's mother shrilly, "given what that boy means to you, just to stick him into a zoid cockpit and hope that he survives when that boy has been the only thing that's kept you going during the years since your accident, unless your telling us that your legs have somehow healed or that our son has finally developed into the sort of nuisance that you feel must be killed at the first opportunity!"
"If you'll let me speak," Garth's uncle roared, "I did what I did because my love for the boy is so great that I have to give him the opportunity to realise his dreams, even when the pair of you want him to be nothing so much as a reflection of that which you are, moreover I was not trying to get the boy killed and thought, apart from the colour, we were facing nothing more than standard Guysacks, which those most emphatically were not. However, now that young Garth has proven where his skills lie, I hope that the pair of you will actually consider letting him do something he is good at, rather than wasting your money for tutors to teach him anything that will keep the boy out of a zoid cockpit. Remember, if you don't try letting him achieve his potential, you may not have any way of stopping him from putting himself in serious danger when he finally snaps and decides to follow his dreams with or without your permission, the least you can do for the boy is think about it without considering it as something that is beneath your dignity as an intellectual," and with that Garth's uncle Thorsten swept from the room, or at least came as close as he could manage on his pair of crutches, not looking back as he left the pair of them to discuss this amongst themselves.
Garth woke in his bedroom, wondering whether the battle he remembered so vividly had been a dream, or whether he had truly seen the death of both men and zoids alike.
He began to pull himself up out of bed, looking round with still tired eyes to see that his mother was watching over him.
"You're awake," she gasped, breathing a sigh of relief, "if you're feeling all right, I'd like to talk with you."
"Sure," replied Garth, suppressing a yawn.
"Your uncle tells us that your bravery and aptitude may well have saved our lives. He has stated quite emphatically that those outlaws were skilled enough that they could otherwise have broken through by sheer weight of numbers, not to mention that they had more advanced weapons fitted to their zoids than they had any right to have. Your father and I have decided that, after we get home from the expedition to the Red River base ruins, if you still want to, and I would urge you not to make a hasty decision on this matter, we will support you in your quest to become a skilled zoid warrior.
"Thank you, mother. I shall seriously consider my choice, of that there can be no doubt," Garth replied.
The next morning, at the crack of dawn, his father woke him. "Son," he said, "if you feel well enough, I would like you to join us on the excavation team."
"Sure thing, dad," he replied, and jumped out of bed, frantically pulling on clothes as he did so.
They walked together down to the hangar of the hovercargo, the father filling his son in with a list of casualties from the battle of, as it turned out, three days before. The first thing they did was to survey the site, as far as possible, on foot. Finding no sign either of intact zoid hangars or of the base's central computer system, they began to start the excavation of the ruins, the five remaining Godos units, once more fitted with excavation tools, carefully cutting through the topsoil to expose what might lie beneath the surface. This continued for the next couple of days, until Garth, who had, on a hunch, gone off into a different area of the ruins, found something.
"Father," he reported, "I seem to have found a roof hatch in some building or another. Do I have your permission to investigate this further?"
Surprisingly his father permitted him, his only stipulation being that he first try to find the base of the building, and that he enter the building from a side entrance if one presented itself. Bearing this in mind, he continued to excavate, first finding one of the walls of the building beneath his feet. As the day wore on, more of the other excavators began to join him, speeding up the excavation of this surprisingly intact building.
Finally when no side entrance had been found to this structure, which appeared to be a high security fortified bunker, except for an armour- plated tunnel, which, according to geophysical scans, extended all the way beneath the cliffs, his father permitted him to use the roof hatch, if it was operable. Scurrying across a plank bridge that had been hastily erected to cross the trench in which all of the Godos' had been excavating, he reached the roof hatch that had been his first archaeological discovery. Sure enough, beside the main hatch, which was big enough to allow the entry of even a Whale King, their was a secondary hatch, just large enough for a man to fit through, its mechanism untouched by the excavation. Slowly but surely he opened the hatch, thankful for the existence of rustproof alloys when this base had been assembled. Tentatively, he lowered himself onto the ladder beneath the hatch, keeping radio contact with his father as he descended. Then he had reached the bottom of the enormous hangar. Around him stood a number of devices, most of them obviously developed for the purpose of research and testing, although there were also the more disconcerting sights of full-blown artillery emplacements that were mounted on rails leading to the area beneath the roof hatch, or rather beneath the elevator that led to the roof.
Quickly recording the rest of the main hangar, he followed what felt like a physical call, entering the tunnel that led from the main building. The tunnel, it seemed, was big enough to accommodate a rank of ten Gojelos' side by side, and although it seemed to go on forever, he found after a four-hour trek, a chamber at the other end. The chamber contained a large number of upright tanks, each of which was drawing power from its own dedicated generator. Above them ran an observation gantry, a ladder reaching to it from the ground on either side. Also there was a large computer console in one corner of the chamber. Here there was also an elevator leading to the roof, although this one was far smaller, and seemed to be designed for the accommodation of such zoids as stormsworders and other airborne zoids.
Still he felt that he was being called, indeed this time the feeling was even stronger than before. He climbed up to the gantry, taking care with the ladder that climbed to the gantry itself, although it was still completely sound. Then, walking along the gantry, he surveyed the immense upright tanks beneath him. Each of the tanks was filled with liquid, an oddly phosphorescent fluid that glowed in the comparative darkness of the chamber (Garth had brought only a flashlight with him and had not found a light switch yet). Within the fluid off the tanks, however, he saw silhouettes, dark blocky shapes that he thought...he was almost certain...he knew that they were zoids.
Suddenly, one of the tanks began to drain, revealing the zoid within and instantly Garth knew that this zoid would be his partner, until death parted the pair of them.
Ah isn't that sweet? No, not quite but it's a start. Now time for the usual selection of end of chapter questions: Will Garth choose to become a zoid warrior after all he's been through? Has he become too shell-shocked to be a high-ranking zoid warrior even if he still wants to? What design is his new zoid anyway? Mercenary Pen signing off.
Chapter 3: The beginning of a dream?
The three of them sat in the conference room late into the night, discussing the events of the day just gone, but only now had the conversation heated up to any significant degree.
"I won't back down on this brother," shouted Garth's uncle, trying to be heard over his brother's loud and narrow-minded arguments, "your son has the raw talent to become one of the best zoid pilots of the century, did you see the way he harnessed every weapon his zoid had to offer against a vastly superior force and damn well near won? With those skills I refuse to let you squander his abilities by throwing him into the stuffy confinement of a university whether he wants to go there or not."
"But how can you risk the life of your only nephew quite like that?" protested Garth's mother shrilly, "given what that boy means to you, just to stick him into a zoid cockpit and hope that he survives when that boy has been the only thing that's kept you going during the years since your accident, unless your telling us that your legs have somehow healed or that our son has finally developed into the sort of nuisance that you feel must be killed at the first opportunity!"
"If you'll let me speak," Garth's uncle roared, "I did what I did because my love for the boy is so great that I have to give him the opportunity to realise his dreams, even when the pair of you want him to be nothing so much as a reflection of that which you are, moreover I was not trying to get the boy killed and thought, apart from the colour, we were facing nothing more than standard Guysacks, which those most emphatically were not. However, now that young Garth has proven where his skills lie, I hope that the pair of you will actually consider letting him do something he is good at, rather than wasting your money for tutors to teach him anything that will keep the boy out of a zoid cockpit. Remember, if you don't try letting him achieve his potential, you may not have any way of stopping him from putting himself in serious danger when he finally snaps and decides to follow his dreams with or without your permission, the least you can do for the boy is think about it without considering it as something that is beneath your dignity as an intellectual," and with that Garth's uncle Thorsten swept from the room, or at least came as close as he could manage on his pair of crutches, not looking back as he left the pair of them to discuss this amongst themselves.
Garth woke in his bedroom, wondering whether the battle he remembered so vividly had been a dream, or whether he had truly seen the death of both men and zoids alike.
He began to pull himself up out of bed, looking round with still tired eyes to see that his mother was watching over him.
"You're awake," she gasped, breathing a sigh of relief, "if you're feeling all right, I'd like to talk with you."
"Sure," replied Garth, suppressing a yawn.
"Your uncle tells us that your bravery and aptitude may well have saved our lives. He has stated quite emphatically that those outlaws were skilled enough that they could otherwise have broken through by sheer weight of numbers, not to mention that they had more advanced weapons fitted to their zoids than they had any right to have. Your father and I have decided that, after we get home from the expedition to the Red River base ruins, if you still want to, and I would urge you not to make a hasty decision on this matter, we will support you in your quest to become a skilled zoid warrior.
"Thank you, mother. I shall seriously consider my choice, of that there can be no doubt," Garth replied.
The next morning, at the crack of dawn, his father woke him. "Son," he said, "if you feel well enough, I would like you to join us on the excavation team."
"Sure thing, dad," he replied, and jumped out of bed, frantically pulling on clothes as he did so.
They walked together down to the hangar of the hovercargo, the father filling his son in with a list of casualties from the battle of, as it turned out, three days before. The first thing they did was to survey the site, as far as possible, on foot. Finding no sign either of intact zoid hangars or of the base's central computer system, they began to start the excavation of the ruins, the five remaining Godos units, once more fitted with excavation tools, carefully cutting through the topsoil to expose what might lie beneath the surface. This continued for the next couple of days, until Garth, who had, on a hunch, gone off into a different area of the ruins, found something.
"Father," he reported, "I seem to have found a roof hatch in some building or another. Do I have your permission to investigate this further?"
Surprisingly his father permitted him, his only stipulation being that he first try to find the base of the building, and that he enter the building from a side entrance if one presented itself. Bearing this in mind, he continued to excavate, first finding one of the walls of the building beneath his feet. As the day wore on, more of the other excavators began to join him, speeding up the excavation of this surprisingly intact building.
Finally when no side entrance had been found to this structure, which appeared to be a high security fortified bunker, except for an armour- plated tunnel, which, according to geophysical scans, extended all the way beneath the cliffs, his father permitted him to use the roof hatch, if it was operable. Scurrying across a plank bridge that had been hastily erected to cross the trench in which all of the Godos' had been excavating, he reached the roof hatch that had been his first archaeological discovery. Sure enough, beside the main hatch, which was big enough to allow the entry of even a Whale King, their was a secondary hatch, just large enough for a man to fit through, its mechanism untouched by the excavation. Slowly but surely he opened the hatch, thankful for the existence of rustproof alloys when this base had been assembled. Tentatively, he lowered himself onto the ladder beneath the hatch, keeping radio contact with his father as he descended. Then he had reached the bottom of the enormous hangar. Around him stood a number of devices, most of them obviously developed for the purpose of research and testing, although there were also the more disconcerting sights of full-blown artillery emplacements that were mounted on rails leading to the area beneath the roof hatch, or rather beneath the elevator that led to the roof.
Quickly recording the rest of the main hangar, he followed what felt like a physical call, entering the tunnel that led from the main building. The tunnel, it seemed, was big enough to accommodate a rank of ten Gojelos' side by side, and although it seemed to go on forever, he found after a four-hour trek, a chamber at the other end. The chamber contained a large number of upright tanks, each of which was drawing power from its own dedicated generator. Above them ran an observation gantry, a ladder reaching to it from the ground on either side. Also there was a large computer console in one corner of the chamber. Here there was also an elevator leading to the roof, although this one was far smaller, and seemed to be designed for the accommodation of such zoids as stormsworders and other airborne zoids.
Still he felt that he was being called, indeed this time the feeling was even stronger than before. He climbed up to the gantry, taking care with the ladder that climbed to the gantry itself, although it was still completely sound. Then, walking along the gantry, he surveyed the immense upright tanks beneath him. Each of the tanks was filled with liquid, an oddly phosphorescent fluid that glowed in the comparative darkness of the chamber (Garth had brought only a flashlight with him and had not found a light switch yet). Within the fluid off the tanks, however, he saw silhouettes, dark blocky shapes that he thought...he was almost certain...he knew that they were zoids.
Suddenly, one of the tanks began to drain, revealing the zoid within and instantly Garth knew that this zoid would be his partner, until death parted the pair of them.
Ah isn't that sweet? No, not quite but it's a start. Now time for the usual selection of end of chapter questions: Will Garth choose to become a zoid warrior after all he's been through? Has he become too shell-shocked to be a high-ranking zoid warrior even if he still wants to? What design is his new zoid anyway? Mercenary Pen signing off.