I figured I had another four hours at least. Well, the systems are online, it's down to a bare bones look, might as well get this thing a tune up. I saw a previously dead side screen had what looked like a web access window on it. This thing gets the web? Must have gotten downloaded with the big shock. I love how these things work, you just sit back and watch them upgrade. I typed in an order for some older blueprints for a modern and this particular Saix. In a second I had a side by side view of the factory prints and a print of this exact Saix from the web site of one of Max's fans. Hm, judging by the diagrams the legs are lousy because the parts degraded to the point of just falling off. Modern ones had everlasting ones, so I just need to pick up some new leg supports and joint stabilizers and this thing may be able to run a bit. Wait, I have no cash or job. Wait for the old guy it is then. Might as well play with whatever the heck this Web thing was like. Back in the desert all our web could do was get some files. This thing had pictures. Weird. Hm, odd, the blueprints were part of a series on the search. Might as well look at the Command Wolves for Riz's sake. Standard model, dear god! Look at the supports in the torso! That thing could snap like a candle. The cockpit is a sitting turtle. Hm, what about a Konig wolf? The old guy always ranted about how he loved them in battles. Click click. Wow, looks pretty squared away. Good defense, sniper compatible, great combat skills. And only worth the price of fifteen hundred Command Wolves. Those dogs were military issue, no wonder they're so cheap. Well, the Konig is nice but it's for decent pilots who actually have won a battle. Not Riz, apparently. She's nice and all but huge earrings and super zoids don't mix.

" Trey, you trade in your zoid or what?"

"Yeah, how'd you get the rust off?"

I looked up from the cockpit to spot Clara and Riz. They were both finishing sodas from another fast food place; this hanger must be a hot spot for cheap food.

"Just hooked up the Bio and gave it the Frankenstein treatment. It even has the internet now, gotta love these things!"

Riz ran over like a school girl to look at the cockpit and the head of it, Clara hung back and nodded to herself. She went into the Molga and came out with a camera.

"Stand the thing up, and take out the cable for a minute. And stand next to Riz by the front paw."

Okay, talk about a picture person. Ten minutes later we were arranged like a pot of flowers, and she snapped a few pictures. As I got back to work on the cockpit, some one tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see a man about fifty or forty, good shape considering his salt and pepper hair. He had another of one those pilot outfits on. Where do you buy those things?

"You Trey? The kid with the old Saix?"

I just nodded at the one I was standing next to.

"A guy named Max Brand just passed through, he told me to tell ya there's been a change of plans. Some family issue down South. He left a letter for you down at the registration counter."

Family issue? Change of plans?

"Thanks, where's the counter though?"

He pointed and gave me directions.

"And right to the left. Just my opinion on all this though, you may of just got yourself a zoid, Chase."

Chase? Who the heck calls a kid 'Chase' casually? Wait, I got a zoid?!

"Whoa. . . um, thanks, watch the Saix, Riz!"

I sprinted all the way to the counter. I heard the guy chuckle as I took off like a marathon athlete. It was a casual looking lobby at the edge of the hanger, a food court right next to it. I stopped at the desk and caught my breath.

"Trey Brand . . . letter . . . please?"

The red-head receptionist smiled and handed me a disk.

"Th. . . anks. . Have a nice day. . ."

I then had to go all the way back to the zoid, panting. The lobby didn't have a disk reader; I'd have to do it in the Molga. These days everything comes on disks, even though readers for them are a bit spaced. That's why they put them in cars and zoids. I came back to find Riz sitting on the Saix's paw, rubbing the remote card for with a piece of cloth, it was so rusty it no longer matched the Saix.

"Disk port, now!"

She just pointed to the Molga. I limped in, holding my side and clutching the console in the kitchen set. I popped in the disk and watched the loading screen blink. The old guy's face popped up on a background of the hanger, he must have borrowed a guy's zoid console.

"Trey, this is Max. I've been here about an hour; I got a good break on traffic. I just got a call from my sister down South; my nephew is about to ruin his life and she's calling the family down to try and get some sense into him. I was going to save this for when you got here, but the Saix is yours. Let's face it, you have a mind for battles, and I have a mind to get myself one of those Ultimate X zoids before I croak. I was going to give you the Saix and have you help me find this one my friend tipped me off about. But family before zoids. You can sleep in the Saix until you get a place and some creds, just tell any old guy in this hanger that Brand sent you. Good luck, and trust the cat. As in the zoid, Trey"

He laughed to himself then turned around and started talking to the guy who told me to get the letter. He always did chuckle at my antics. Then the screen went to a replay icon. The Saix was mine? That was amazing, true, but what was he talking about after that? An Ultimate X? I thought they were all in labs and winning battle teams by now. But back to the important stuff, I had a zoid! A few hours later I was in the Molga, watching my Saix get carried away on a trailer being pulled by a Gustav, along with an Atak Cat and a Rev Raptor. It was like the end of a sad black and white movie. You see, I mentioned to an older pilot that my name was Trey Brand. Soon I explained about Max Brand. Supposedly he owes Max some favors. We struck a deal, he was on his way to a parts warehouse out of town, and he would get the leg supports for my Saix, and even fix it up a bit with his mechanic friends. I could pay him off once I got some income. So I just got my Saix, and I was sending it away to get fixed. So far this zoid pilot thing stinks.

But some good news at least, the old guy entered my name into the Zoid battle Commission. It was his back up surprise, I didn't know until a guy in a ZBC jacket walked up to me asking for me. I figured I couldn't keep my zoid, and I had to get it back before that guy put parts onto it. I even had a pocket-knife behind my back to buy myself time. Not really, just thought it'd be funny. Then he explained my license had gone through. The old guy had recommended me to the ZBC about two weeks before we left town. He gave me my plastic-wrapped PDA license, my wallet with card built in, my programmable key card, and my complimentary key chain and calendar. The guy also looked at my clothes.

". . . So you're the kid Max told us about?"

"Huh? Eh, I'm more of an errand boy."

"More like prodigy. Max was on our Board of Licensing for a decade. He came to my daughter's graduation. We went to college together!"

Then the guy proceeded to tell me about his hijinks with Max. Usually the Commission sent down an intern to hand out the stuff, but he went because he called Max once a week in the desert and heard about how he adopted me more or less. It went from an official licensing to a guy talking about how drunk they got in the frat back home. Soon he was asking when the Saix will be back, when I'm going to start battling, am I going to join a Team?

"Team? Uh, did he recommend me to one or do I have to pledge or something?"

"Well, he started Team Checkmate back in the day."

Team Checkmate? I knew he was a strategy junkie, but that just sounds a bit cliché. That triggered a half hour of stories about the team. Then Clara walked in and chatted with the guy, and I managed to sneak away while they were discussing the Liger Zero and how fast it changes armor. I took a few deep breaths after shutting the hatch behind me. Were all old pilots that obsessed? It should only be a week before the Saix gets back and I could start spotting out teams. Maybe the Blitz Team has an opening. HA! Seriously though, I need to find one with decent chemistry. Might as well look into my license stuff. Well, this little computer thing has a blinking light on it. Email alert. This thing has email? A little window popped up on the screen.

"Gustav Information required, please specify."

Oh yeah, you get a free Gustav when you join the ZBC. Until you join a team and have to give it back. Riz laughed her head off at that one. Gustavs were just an engine and a trailer hitch. The cockpit was the cabin; it had a little bunk bed off to the side. Great, maybe I could borrow their Molga for a few months. And maybe the ZBC will make me a king and give me a hundred Whale Kings and a Genosaurer to carry my food trays. I'll have to give it back once I get on a team, what's the point? I hit the red button on the little device and the message blipped off, and was replaced by a typed paragraph with a signature. Hey, a letter. Dear etc etc, etc etc, Yours Sincerely, The Justice Barracudas Team. Let's see, they say they're stationed in a single apartment in a resident area, that there may be ammo conditions, and to supplement my own equipment. So they're a bunch of poor losers who just found my name on a list and are begging me to join because they're eating store brand drugs. Oh boy, my first offer for a Team that is going to last a week before going bankrupt. Next Message, same thing except for the 'Mach Awesome' Team. These guys must do this like that telemarketer does back home.

"How many offers you get after a day of ZBC?"

"Just two, both duds."

Riz laughed and stopped leaning over my shoulder while I read an advertisement for a soft drink that had been sent to me.

"Man, Clara gets about five a week; those nobodies will do anything to get income."

"Says one lives in one little apartment, the other is 'currently in hiatus'. Homeless?"

"Figures. When my bro' joined the ZBC they sent him like all this free stuff."

"I just got a calendar and key ring."

"Hehe, they'd been scouting him at the Sectors anyway, he was killer at WM."

"WM?"

"Weaponry Mastery, you know, the pilot types?"

". . . I had my first French fry an hour ago. . .fill me in."

"Every pilot is classified by their top skill, Weapon Mastery, Close Combat, Long Range or Aerial Specialty."

"So they all get bunched into types?"

"Well, my brother was the best at WM, but he was also killer with a sniper. So if a guy knows other skills, that's just a bonus."

I nodded and figured I'd need to get evaluated once the Saix was back. And ask for more free stuff. I asked when it gets dark in the Bay, she said it actually stays pretty light out at night but the sun goes down at 6. She asked if I needed a blanket or some bedding for the couch in the Molga. I shook my head.

"I have a jacket, I'll be fine."

She quickly enforced that I should be able to relax, I had been through a bit in my home town and could use the sleep. Yeah, seventeen years of torment could be forgiven with one night with a warm blanket. I kept protesting the need of anything more than what they had given me. But by the start of nightfall I was alone in the Molga, stretched out on the couch in my spare set of clothes and jacket-less while watching a movie play on the screen on the table. While sipping the second soft drink of my life. And reading a clothing catalog on my new ZBC PDA. Okay, so I'd given in. A little relaxation never killed a guy. I can honestly state that night of recorded movies and air conditioning in the lighted hanger was the best night of my life. Sure I was sleeping on a borrowed couch and without proper sleeping attire, but I still slept peacefully for the first time in a year.