"Under the English legal system you are innocent until you are shown to be Irish."
"The Scottish verdict 'not proven' means 'guilty, but don't do it again.'"
"My soul is my own business." –Istian Goss, Dune: The Battle of Corrin
No one noticed as Bek began to asses Brad.
Brad did not seem to notice, though his gaze seemed to linger on Bek more than the others.
"B-B-Brad H-H-Hunter?!" stuttered Rama, who seemed to be on the verge of having a stroke.
"That'd be me."
"Were you here this ENTIRE TIME?!" shouted Cliff. Cliff was the... outspoken member of the small group of comrades.
"I suppose I have. Though I did watch you guys in the cafeteria. Getting some impressions of candidates being their wonderful natural selves. An unofficial test, if you will."
"Wonderful. Now we're being monitored when we aren't aware of it as well as when we are," commented Talia dryly.
"Ya know, I always did hate tests," commented Brad. "But... I ain't taking them am I?" he said with an evil grin.
Cliff's eye twitched slightly. "Twisted," he said finally.
"Nah." Brad's expression hardened and his eyes focused on a point beyond the friends. "Others have already claimed that position."
At this, the Cliff, Rama, and even Talia shifted slightly in sudden discomfort. Bek gave an almost imperceptible nod. Almost a salute.
Brad made his way back to his seat in the shadows, signifying that the conversation was done. The others slowly made their way to desks.
'Drone, drone, drone. Blah, Blah, Blah. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Get on with it.' Bek glanced at the wall, so bored that his brain was beginning to feel numb. Unfortunately, the wall didn't have any useful suggestions.
'Yeah, I know how to work one of these crazy things, okay? Let's DO something, how 'bout?'
"Mr. Ross. Would you be so kind as to tell me how you would use the Strike Laser Claw function?"
Bek slowly drew his gaze away from the wall, to the "Drill Sergeant Wannabe."
"Well," he said matter of factly, "the left thumb button on the Fox's controls should do the trick quite nicely. Or, you could manually shunt some core energy into the SLC, but that would take at least thirty seconds. Which could very well get you killed. Not to mention back fire. Which is dangerously cheesy."
All of a sudden, there was a dull thud and Bek winced.
"Sorry—my bad. It would not be... advisable, sir."
The Sergeant glared at Bek, as if his fondest hopes had just been crushed. "Very... good, Mr. Ross. So you have been paying attention," managed the Sergeant through gritted teeth.
Though Bek could think of several fairly nice comebacks, he really didn't feel that it would be worth the trouble. Especially since Talia had just given him a rather painful reminder that she was behind him and the chairs had large holes in the back. Instead, he went back to staring at the wall.
"All right. Now, for the fun part. You recruits get to participate in a simulation. Here, we will find out how many of you 'mech monkeys can actually pilot a Zoid.
The goal of this sim, is to, well, destroy the enemy. This is a full scale battle. You will participate in lances, which, as per Commander Hunter's instructions, will be made up of whom you choose. Any questions?"
Regis raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"We will be piloting Shadow Foxes, correct?"
"Of course."
Regis nodded at this.
"Any more questions? Good. Dismissed. Proceed to the sim-room."
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"Everything looks good. Black One, headin' out."
"Black Two, everything is green. Prepped for departure."
"Black Three, same here."
Bek took one last look at the readouts, then announced his readiness. "Black Four, let's do it."
Yes, let's! Is it time yet?!
No. Not quite. Be patient. I'll let you know, don't worry.
Aaagghh. Hurry up. It's more cramped in here than you realize.
I'll bet.
"Black Four, you want to join your lance some time today?" came the voice of the Sergeant.
"Uuuh... Roger that, control. Sorry 'bout that. Be right with ya."
"Geez Bek, get with the program," came Cliff's voice teasingly.
"Black Two, shut up and stay in formation."
"Yessir—er—ma'am. I mean, Black One."
Talia's voice, that of Black One came over the com, "Guys, you have to remember to call each other by call signs. It can cause huge trouble if you don't during an operation. As in, screwing the entire thing up. Copy?"
A chorus of "Roger that"'s acknowledged.
Even though they got to choose their own lances, the Sergeant chose designations. Soldiers were typically higher in the rank chart, with mercenaries at the bottom. Typical prejudice. Alas. Them's the breaks.
"OK, Lance One, head to the following location, and prepare to ambush the enemy supply train. Lance Two, head to this location, and do the same thing. Lance Three, you're to wait at the base as reinforcements. Questions?"
The lance leaders sent a general negative back.
"OK, get to it."
"Yay. The fun job," Cliff said, just about as sarcastically as he could.
"Hey, hotshots." Bek's voice came as a bit of a surprise to everyone. "Why don't you start sending us your sensor data?"
A low chuckle sounded from the speakers. "Moron," came one pilot's voice.
"That would give away our position. And in case you forgot, this is an ambush. The goal is not to give the enemy any clues about where you are."
"Naw. Ya think?" said Bek sarcastically. "Turn on your Sound Baffle Systems, intelligent ones. Then you can coordinate your ambush, so none of you does anything too stupid. Not to mention send us that sensor data I was talking about."
A short pause.
"Oh. Thank you, Black Four. And here's your sensor data."
"You guys remember to turn on your Optical Stealth Camouflage and Anti-Detection Scrubbers?"
Another pause.
"Thank you, Black Four. I think we can handle it." You could almost hear his teeth gritted.
"No problem. Any time guys."
"Black Four, I think that's enough," came the Sergeant's voice.
"Roger, Control."
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"First thing I do," said Cliff, "when I get maintenance's permission, is to put much more comfortable seats in my Fox. Seriously. How long have we sat here. Thirty minutes—an hour? In a SIMULATOR! Who organized THIS BRILLIANT exercise."
"Black Two. For the millionth time..."
"Yes ma'am. Just tryin' to pass the time ma'am."
"Pass the time more quietly, would you?"
"Roger that."
The exercise had continued this way for about a half-hour. Cliff is just one of those people that had to be doing something.
"I mean, it's just that there are no games in the computer system here. That's another thing that I'll need to add to my Fox."
A sigh. "BLACK Two."
"Sorry ma'am."
"Heads up, Black Lance. Shadow Squadron. Prep for ambush," came the designated squadron leader's voice.
On the sensor board, Black Lance, which consisted of Talia, Cliff, Regis, and Bek watched several Gustavs crawl into the canyon. Gold Lance, the head-honcho lance, was camouflaged in the far mouth of the ravine. Grey Lance, where Rama had gotten stuck, was evenly spread across the two sides of the canyon.
The enemy force appeared to consist of armed Gustavs, each pulling two covered trailers, about thirty-six Di-Mantis, and—
"Holy..."
"Hold positions. It's only one Elephander."
"That Elephander is capable of taking on two of us at once, and winning."
"Don't panic. There's eight of us, remember. OK. We wait until the Elephander is just beyond us, then we concentrate our fire on it. Once it's CSF'd, or dead, take out the Di-Mantis, then disable the Gustavs. Do NOT destroy the cargo. Copy?"
Gold and Grey Lances acknowledged.
"All right. Maintain comm. silence for the time being."
The Backdraft convoy moved slowly up the canyon, making sure that it's most important escort could keep up. The Elephander's footsteps shook the entire canyon as it stalked past, causing miniature avalanches.
A subtle, and totally accidental, method of detecting stealthed or camouflaged Zoids. Gotta give those programmers credit. They pay attention to detail.
One such avalanche rolled down a narrow wash in the canyon wall, hit a small ledge, and—
fell right onto a camouflaged Shadow Fox.
The Backdraftian Zoids suddenly halted, sensing that something was amiss. The Elephander slowly swung its head back and forth, looking for the cause of its upset.
Seeing nothing, it took another step, and—
it happened again. Unfortunately, this time The Elephander caught sight of the rocks, as they bounced off a Shadow Fox's Laser Vulcan Gun.
K, I do intend to add more to this chapter. For now, review.