“God it sucks out here. Exactly why is it we can’t guard these guys from the comfort of our Mechs again?”“Because the moment one runs, you blow them up into a red mist. The Symposium wants them alive.”
“So my shooting them with a blaster as opposed to my Dread is supposed to guarantee liveliness.”
“Yan, just guard the prisoners, if you have to shoot, aim for a leg or a foot or something. Frak.”
Yan Laflamme was hot, sweaty, and miserable. Why the Dragon Clans had decided to use Rizpah as their home base was beyond him. Of all the more agreeable planets and moons they had visited (and summarily blown the frak out of) this had to be the worst.
Now, instead of working on formation outputs or equipment upgrades, he was having to pull guard duty on a handful of poachers and smugglers that the Symposium wanted to take back to stand trial.
One such prisoner, Sam Ripplesomething, was in bad shape. He was missing most of his right arm. The flesh had been pulled from the bone something akin to a hungry man, sucking the meat off of a chicken wing. They had had to spray it down with shock foam and ferrocrete to stabilize him. A few months back, this guy had set some record for the largest Snavurm killed on record. If it wasn’t for his habit of taking rich kids out hunting after Season, he’d probably be a celebrity.
“Hey pilot, can I get a hit off that flask? For the pain.”
Yan looked at him for a hard eight count before tossing his flask to him.
“You should be doped up on enough painkillers to choke a Snavurm, but hey, misery loves company.”
At the mention of the word Snanvurm, Sam flinched.
“Gods. If I ever see a Snavurm again it will be too soon.”
“What, didn’t we catch you by setting a fake hunt?”
“Yeah, but I had to get a kill for little rich boy over there or there wouldn’t be any payment for me since our original hunt went South.”
“What exactly happened out there?”
“Well, you remember that vid of me getting SnarvumZilla, the record holder?"
“Yeah…”
“Well, let’s just say he wasn’t alone. I took this party out to the same hunting grounds, hoping to bag some decent trophies since I had such good luck there before. The area is outside an old Bunny stronghold that got blown apart in the Bad Santa wars. Dead, rusty mechs everywhere. Even old equipment that hasn’t been scavenged.”
“Wait, natives scavenge everything. Especially old battle sites. Why not this one?”
“That’s what tipped me off to it possibly being a good hunting ground. The area is thick with Snavurms. Big ones. Natives can’t get close without becoming dinner.”
“Huh. Weird. Hey, thanks for the tip. Here, keep the flask. Something tells me you’ll need it worse than me.”
“Not if you think you’re going to that place. But thanks, I’ll put it to good use.”
Yan got another pilot to cover for him then headed off to the Com tent. He then got Commander Brose on the line and told him about the large, untouched battle field out in the forest and why it should have some salvageable equipment there.
“Huh. Tempting, but I’m not about to risk a salvage party to an area that is unscouted and probably highly dangerous to anyone not sitting in a mech.”
“I gotcha boss. I have a replacement for me on guard detail and can be saddled up and in the bush in 10.”
“Make it 5 and you got a deal.”
Yan was now striding through the great forest in his 85 ton Dreadnought named Dion. This is where he was meant to be. Not out sitting on a log in the sweltering heat wondering if an ant had crawled up to his gibbelies. His Dreadnought was decked out for clearing Ambershard Stalker nests currently (his last detail). Fire and missile weapons all bristling about the mighty frame of the mech, and a strange coating of what was called “Fruitcake Armor”. This stuff was a left over chassis upgrade from the war that the battlefield he was en-route to visit came from. It was fantastic protection against projectiles, missiles, pincers, and lasers, just don’t fight anything that breathes fire and you’ll be okay.
Quite suddenly, the forest opened up. He was now in a roughly one mile square clearing that had been burned away. All over were blown up and war torn machines. There wasn’t any rust showing yet, but the jungle was already starting to grow over and reclaim its rightful domain. Off about 2 clicks to the east was the abandoned Bunny compound, also good and blown up. Damn, this was one hell of a battle.
As Yan sat there letting it all soak in, he heard his motion detector go off. This was a bit curious as it was set to only go off for things the size of a mech, otherwise it would be a nonstop affair in the jungle. He scanned for heat signatures, but couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. He turned up his external speakers to listen and tuned in all his sensors to be on the safe side.
<skitter skitter>
<skreetch thumpa thumpa>
His guns followed the odd noises, and 20 meters off he saw a canopy from a Jadoon swinging to and fro, only he knew there wasn’t a breeze. So what’s out there…
Suddenly, atop another nearby Jadoon, he saw it. A gorgeous emerald Snavurm, about 15 foot in length was skittering along keeping pace with him. Its movements were fluid like as it weaved through the carnage. Its amber eyes never left his own as he was mesmerized, watching it.
<KUH WOOMPH!!>
That’s the sound the world makes as it tilts crazily out of control. The mighty Dreadnought lurched forward onto the front of its canopy. Yan was temporarily thrown out of his chair, but his harness kept him from going too far. One flaw that the Dreadnought has is not being able to regain its balance once it’s gone past its center of gravity.
Something had landed on the back of his mech. Something big. All rear cameras were offline from the impact. Sirens and warning lights were going off all over in the cockpit as Yan struggled to regain control of the situation while simultaneously trying to figure out just what situation he was in.
<SKREEEEEEEEKRUNCH!>
What the bloody frak is going on? That sounded distinctly like his armor being ripped from his frame! A new sense of urgency flowed through his body as he worked to get his mech turned around and upright.
Yan managed to get one of his ammo pods jammed in against something hard so he could push. The mech started to roll over, yet again met with resistance and was shoved back onto it’s face. What was strong enough to wrestle with an 85 ton machine? What the hell had ahold of him and how the hell did he get it to let go?
Without warning, his mech spun violently around. Open sky poured through his now cracked canopy onto his face. Then it was gone and replaced with the source of his problems. A Savrum.
The colossal queen of all Snavurms to be precise. The creatures jaws were close to 10 feet in length and its head was comparable in size to his cockpit. Purplish scales ran from its head down
towards its chest then turned to red in color. Its face had one long laser scar going down the left side of its face and its teeth were full of Fruitcake armor.
It was holding Yan’s weapon pods down and to the side, so he couldn’t bring the big guns down to bear, and he couldn’t risk using the close in flammers on it for fear of becoming a Roman Candle. This situation most certainly did not look good.
Then as suddenly as it started the attack stopped. The mighty beast looked Yan in the face and Yan noticed that the purple in its cheeks were turning a dark shade of green.
“No, please god don’t…”
<BLEEEEERRRRRRCHK>
A seemingly endless stream of partially chewed Fruitcake armor and other bits of nastiness poured forward over the front of the canopy, seeping into the cabin and sizzling where it landed.
“Ew man! Just Ew!!!”
The Beast blinked and looked a bit vacant for a minute as Yan worked hard to avoid the seepage in his cabin. Then it rose on unsteady feet and lurched off into the brush. Once again it was quiet.
Back at camp, Yan finally stepped out of his Dread, happy to breathe the hot humid air. Mechanics were looking his mech over in astonishment, not knowing what to make of the horrendous gouges all over it. Once back in the com tent, he got Commander Brose on the com.
“Yeah boss, it’s a treasure trove of equipment in there, especially for those specialized mechs used in the Bad Santa war.”
“What about the local fauna, is it hostile?”
“Oh Hell yes. Very hostile. But I think I have a way to avoid it without causing any more damage to it.”
“How’s that?”
“Cover all recovery vehicles in Fruitcake Armor.”
“What, really?”
“Yes sir. I have it on good authority that all and any of the threatening creatures in the area will leave us strictly alone if we suit up entirely in Fruitcake Armor.”
“Well, you’re alive, so there must be something to it. Okay Laflamme, get a team together and get to it.”
“If it’s okay with you sir, I’m gonna pass this one off to Bob. I’ve had enough playing with the wildlife for one day. Besides, isn’t it custom to pass Fruitcake off to a friend?”
<end transmission>
