Nobody believed me on the quarantine thing.

Some Experience Necessary

1.4

Grace was going to be trouble from the get-go.

Raven sat on a munitions crate outside the general purpose locker rooms, starting moodily at his half eaten ham and cheese sandwich. It lacked mustard. And fresh bread.

After he'd accepted (kicking and screaming of course, Prozen would be hearing about this later) they'd all been bundled up on a military shuttle to make their way to the Orion Base, just on the outskirts of the city. Most newcomers went there for basic field training and zoid handling, so it made sense for the newbies to store their zoids there.

He wasn't jealous. No. Not one bit. Not one iota as Grace pranced around a red, pink and gold monstrosity that looked like it belonged to some movie somewhere. The work in progress name was the 'Energy Liger', but it didn't look like a Liger. It looked like someone rolled a Shield Liger in super strength glue and covered it with spikes and wings and cannons and gods knew what else. Exactly how it would manage to move beneath the armour it was covered with Raven didn't know – it was pretty, and shiny, and obviously arcanite, one of the most stable, inert, and hard to work with armours known to mankind.

Grace was swanning around it, a picture of elegance in a terribly fluffy dress, little tiny shoes and bitching at the mechanics currently trying to make the zoid move. She was under the impression it was their fault and not shoddy design work.

Ah well. It was best to get on with work, wasn't it? He stuffed the sandwich into his mouth, choked a little on it and managed to swallow then wandered off to find his zoid. It was a standard issue Zabrefang.

Perhaps here and now he would have gotten into a mental loop of how much he hated zoids – but hating them and working with them were too different things. This particular Fang was one he used regularly, so for the most part the wariness had worn off. Besides, knowing your enemy was half the battle and he'd been through enough training to understand the Zabrefang series inside and out.

It seemed okay. It was dwarfed by the battle-ready zoids currently in the other slots – Ironkongs, the lot of them, but there was nothing untoward there.

"Hey! You!"

Raven didn't respond, even though he recognized the voice. A moment later a hand gripped the padding of his piloting uniform and he was spun around to get an eyeful of Rosalita. She was too close for one, and the cotton singlet she wore covered just enough flesh to not land her an indecent exposure in public charge. Just. "Take your hands off me."

"You still haven't apologised to little blue eyes over there, hidin' by her zoid!"

He caught the momentary green flash of jealousy, and drew back a little. "She's a Zoidian. She has to deal with it. It's not my problem."

"You're a cranky little kid aren't you?" She drew herself up haughtily, swinging her vivid ponytail over her shoulder. "Don't know why we gotta have some kid trailin' with us."

Raven shrugged off the comment easily. He'd heard enough of it in the school from those that didn't know his records. "You'd be cranky too if you were having to watch over four rookies with four untested zoids."

"Who are you callin' a rookie?! Me and Starfang over there have been doin' great right up 'till the Empire wanted a piece of this fine ass!"

Despite himself, Raven did look. He didn't sneak it either, and she preened beneath the surliness.

"Eyes up front, mister!" Rosalita snapped, clicking her fingers beneath his nose. "Typical soldier!"

"Which zoid is yours?" Raven asked, tiredly.

She turned around, ass shining in her cut-off jeans. It was about as arousing as a pancake to Raven, who was only just starting to explore his own sexuality and had discovered quite quickly that a girl who knew how to handle her gun and to run the obstacle course and not be afraid to get dirty was the most attractive thing at the moment. He wondered what she was trying to prove, dressed like that? It wasn't military dress. "That bold and beautiful girl over there."

He looked. It was a dog zoid. Raven frowned, now, dog-style zoids were favoured by the Republic. If this was an attempt to slide into their forces, it might work, but not painted gold with pink highlights. The reflective armour would probably cost a bundle to replace and would do nothing for the desert heat. "What is it?"

"What is it?! You've never heard of the Konigwolf?! That beauty has won me heaps of fights-"

"I believe it's pointless." While Rosalita bristled in disgust, Harmony approached them in her cut-off khakis and shimmering, strappy peasant top. Did none of these girls understand the concept of military dress? Her messy hair that seemed to clump eerily into what looked like furry ears bothered him, and he had an unmistakable urge to groom her, just to see what was in those matted tufts. She fixed Raven with eyes of surprising steel. "It's such a low-grade creature. Are you sure you didn't win those fights by your enemies simply rolling over and laughing? Hah."

Rosalita opened her mouth to respond, but Raven was already pulling away. He found it interesting that Rosalita had gone from chiding him about the Zoidian to stroking her own ego so quickly. He mentally filed that away quickly – she wanted to impress quickly and was going for the tough angle. Interesting behaviour. Harmony just liked insulting people. He couldn't see the zoid that might be hers – the curving lines and spikes of the remaining zoids were terrible to behold.

The Zoidian was still sitting miserably in borrowed clothes, brooding over a mug of something. He hoped it was not coffee. Zoidians and coffee were worrying – they seemed to lose all ability to function and just ended up helpless and chatty once the caffeine fried their brains. She cringed when he approached her, using the mug as a shield. Raven happily ignored it once more.

"Which zoid is yours, and have you been issued a uniform yet?"

Lumina-La gulped, her voice quivering. "Um, um, no? And, um, that one over there."

Oh Christ. He followed her outstretched finger. At least Rosalita's zoid had made sense. This one was a flying horse. "Does it have a name?"

She seemed to warm to him then. "It's, uh, it's an Oruduis. They are sacred, you know, but I don't remember why. I call him Mister Cloppy." Enthusiastic nodding. Right.

"You named your zoid?" Raven went to say something else, but gave up under those watery, miserable eyes. "Look. Uh, we have to ship out and ship out soon. D'you see that door over there? The one labelled supplies? Could you outfit yourself over there? They have people who can help out and-" He trailed off, as Lumin-La's eyes welled up into an ocean of angst. Maybe there was something in her eye, but whatever. "When you finish your drink and stuff. I…Uh…I need to be briefed."

Even as he said those words, one of the attendants was already calling them over, and bringing out cases. This would have been interesting, but Raven didn't have time to watch - the hanger doors were only open a crack from his position, but it was a large enough passage for a military jeep to buzz through and drive up the central deployment area, it's whirring engine lost in the high ceilings of the building. He felt relief for a moment as he recognized one of the people in the jeep – but oddly enough his second in command, Patricia Hardin, was missing.

Ignoring the other people in the jeep, Gunther Prozen, Minister of Defence for the Guylos Empire, scowled fiercely when his entourage tried to placate him with paperwork and what looked like an officially looking phone. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but Prozen finally turned around and added hand actions to his words and everyone backed off.

Raven saluted him as he approached. "Good afternoon, sir."

"Afternoon already? Tch. At ease, cadet." Prozen folded his arms. He'd opted for his former military attire as opposed to robes of office – a lot cooler in this weather and definitely more imposing. Perhaps not as vivid, and Raven suppressed a smirk at the thought of the missing heels. "Are those girls by the supply store the platoon you have to lead today?"

"Supposedly, sir." Raven replied, relaxing a little. While they were on business he had to keep up appearances, but he desperately wanted to stomp around and yell, a lot. It always made him feel better. "Uh. One of them is a Zoidian. Possibly two, but the other one is just kind of quiet and says weird things."

Prozen twitched. He managed to work out just a frown, and not a full on explosion of fury. "Do you know anything about either of the subjects?"

"It's the green-haired one that I know is a Zoidian. I think it's a girl, but I can't be sure." Raven folded his arms, glaring at his shoes. "It's not had a medical, and it's not had its shots. The other is…uh, the blond one? She's been out longer so I don't know. She's giving us the evil eye. I really don't want to do this."

"If it…if they…drops dead it's not your fault. We've only had three drop dead on us so far, so if either of them start scratching and it looks like chicken pox, just make sure she doesn't come too close to everyone else and she'll eventually keel over and die. We'll write her off securely and burn the remains. How about runny eyes?"

"Uh. Define runny? Greenie's pretty wet at the moment."

"Watch out for mucus." Raven twisted himself up into a look of horror and disgust. "Don't make that face, just be aware of it. She starts weeping pus, you shoot her quick and come back here right away for a full chemical shower. Get the other girls to come with you – think of it as a holiday for the month you'll be in quarantine. I promise ice-cream and cable access."

Raven eyed him nervously despite ice-cream being the obvious awesome factor. "How'd you know about that?"

"Let's just say I have some inside information and a second hand account from a Republican platoon that went horribly awry."

Raven felt ill. "Were there any survivors?"

"We stopped one person from dying completely…"

"That's good, isn't it?" The youth whimpered.

"…but he lost an arm and both feet when his body shut down." Prozen looked away for a minute, enough for Raven to miss the moment of pure panic, his voice tightening a little in embarrassment due to the fact he was speaking with a fourteen year old . "Milk-eye is highly contagious and lethal if in it's weeping stages. Even the zoids will have to be incinerated. For Zoidians it's just a minor infection that keeps on coming back like a whole-body herpes…for us its mucus Ebola." A pause, his voice dropping to a hiss. "You don't repeat this to anyone, by the way. Gods, I can't believe I'm talking to you about this. Have their zoids been checked out?"

"Standard procedure, isn't it? It's not like I'm having sex with them or anything, geez, we've been through the Talk already, and I'd totally use protection." Pause. "Uh, sir." It was nice to watch him squirm, but it was equally embarrassing for Raven to say the same thing. He guessed it was more embarrassing if it was like, his own parents or something. With Prozen it was merely an inconvenience punctuated with amusing anecdotes and a rather nice, open view on it. "I haven't been given a report on the zoids, sir, but I presume the chief of staff here will already have a paper written up for you to look at." He hesitated. "Uh…"

There was a moment of softening in that hard exterior. "You have doubts, cadet?"

Fuck yes I have doubts. "My concerns are centred around the willingness to participate and…'" Crap, now he had to think a little about how to phrase this with so many people watching. "…theeee…uhhh…the condition of the zoids we'll be travelling with." To hell with it. "Can't we put them in normal, workable zoids?" Ouch. Too much of a whine there. Inwardly he cringed, and he knew, just knew, Prozen had picked up on it.

"What's the matter, afraid of a little new equipment?" Prozen raised an eyebrow, even grinned a little, but Raven had long ago learned to read his eyes. He could get anyone to believe him, but he couldn't control his eyes.

"It's not the equipment I'm afraid of."

Distantly there was the clashing of glass and someone yelling. Raven ignored the flurry of activity at the supply store, trying not to stare in horror at the behaviour there.

Grimacing, and realizing now that this is what Prozen had to face every goddamn day, he took a breath and asked the question. "May I have the mission, sir?"

Lumina-La streaked away from the crowed, crying uncontrollably as Grace ripped through the containers. "Ugh. Better you than me. Just try not to kill them."

"Gee. Thanks."

~ To be continued.

As the chapters progress, I am liking the girls more and more. I am amused by this, and may use several of them again in future.