The Piker and the Chicken Dancer by Kenneth Hicks; #846092

“Nothing like having down time, pfft.” I was in a ripe mood today. A number of Clans had been ordered from the last excursion to beat feet over to Vupa 6 in case of another Gateway anomaly. This was not taken well by the men as it cancelled R&R, made them put in extra hours readying things from the last battles, load onto and off of the drop ships, and now 84 hours later, sit in cold mud waiting for something to happen.

Colonel Ken Hicks was sitting on the foot of his Pike, trying to keep his feet dry. While he wasn’t in the mud itself, the mist was so heavy that everything was still a bit soaked through.

“Ay there, Cochese! You look so down, I’ve seen the arse end of a Dingo look prettier than you!”

Ken looked to his right and saw the slanted smile of Joel Parras walking his way. The crazy Aussie was always good for a laugh, but a devil in the field, always boasting some great kills for the Northwind Dragons.

“If I’m the arse end, you must be what I sicced up last night you belligerent Dundee.”

“Aw, don’t be that way big fella, I brought ye somthin’ nice!”

In Joel’s left hand, an amber bottle appeared that had a green wax seal and a set of fangs on the label. In his right, a white bottle, red wax, and a Gargoyle on the front.

“Snarvum Venom and some Olde Stoney. You are a sick man sir. Get over here and I’ll start the tunes.”

After about three hours of drinking, both bottles were gone and both pilots were feeling a bit sassy.

“Hey Hicksey, we need to do something to break up this monotony. Got any ideas?”

“How about a friendly Point mech challenge?” Ken said with a sidelong glance.

“That’d be fun, but the ground crew’d have my guts for garters if I get any damage to her.”

“Who said anything about damage? We have a set of that Mecha M.I.L.E.S. gear for training shave-heads. We could whip that up in a jiffy. It’d be fun!”

Now to the layman, M.I.L.E.S. stand for multiple integrated laser engagement system. Where this becomes interesting is it’s a giant harness that fits your mech with sensors, and has low output lasers that shoot in the place of your armament.

So both pilots go and abscond with a mule (transport platform), sign out two sets of gear, then head back to their Point Mechs to get them harnessed up.

Needless to say, when you have an outpost of bored pilots, grunts, and techs, tongues start to wag. Pretty soon, there was a 10 square click grid sectioned off with seating and bets being placed. Both the Brotherhood and the Dragons were present, whooping it up, eating BBQ, and generally making a party out of it.

While Ken was Piloting his massive Pike, decked out with shiny niodes, Joel was suiting up in his old reliable Dreadnought, the Chicken Dancer.

Bets had the Pike at 3-1, but Ken knew better. Joel was a frakkin’ demon when it came to Chicken Dancer, putting through paces that normally an 85 ton machine has any right to be performing. This’ll be tough.

Both pilot’s went to their respective ends of the grid and came out when the Beacon sent a ping. Ken looked for a nice piece of outcropping to put his back to. That way he could keep Joel in his front 180, cutting down on where it could run.

As if on cue, Chicken Dancer came sprinting out from his left, racing headlong down the ridge line, turning at the waist to try and get some shots off with his massive Chronysis Rails.

Expecting this ploy, Ken let loose with a volley of ten Omen Barrels in a back to front sweep pattern. This drove the Chicken down the hill even faster so as to outrun the barrage.

“Ah you sneaky bastard, you set that up, dintcha!” Ken heard over his com.

“Aw c’mon Parras, you know I’ve been hit in the head too many times to use strategy!”

At this point, the Pike’s gears finally kicked in and he was able to dodge out of his nest. And not a moment too soon as pings started going off in his sensors from multiple hits being sprayed with Joel’s Arbitrator shots.

Four Meson Drives started to whine as The Piker ran out of the line of fire much faster than what Joel was expecting.

“Shooo! Lookit you! You spent some credits after the last war!”

Right then, Joel’s sensors started sending off massive pings as three Blue Dragons went straight across his hull.

The crowd was screaming as the two mighty mechs squared off. Several times, you’d think that Chicken Dancer was pinned down, only to leap to safety and cut up the Piker’s hull.

“I’ve gotta do something different or he’s going to continue to pick me apart” Ken thought.

Running straight at Chicken Dancer, Ken shot volley after volley at the legs of Joel’s mech driving him to the South East corner.

“He’s gonna run him right out of the zone!” many cried. Members of the Brotherhood shouted warnings as Dragon’s whooped with glee.

Ken stopped running forward just in time to avoid a particularly marshy field, then set loose with every missile to the rear of the Chicken Dancer.

“Now, dammit!” thought Ken. And just as expected, at the last possible moment, you saw the Dreadnaught come to a halt, leg hydraulics popping with the strain as the mecha transferred the energy of it’s run into a crouch, then leaping backwards through the air.

Everyone gasped as 85 tons of mecha flew (not unlike an ungainly chicken), it’s arch clearing 25 feet.

Ken backed up and ran to the right, keeping his Ieye on the Dreadnaught as it flew backwards, came down, and landed in the marshy field that he’d avoided earlier.

THRUMSHLORPTCH!!!!!!

All the way up to the cockpit.

“Nooooo!!!” everyone heard over the com as Joel screamed in dismay.

Kem walked his Pike up gingerly behind the Dreadnaught, took his mecha’s cannons on his left arm, held them up to the cockpit, and opened up his external speakers.”

“Boop.”

They crowd fell about themselves laughing as hard as they could. Gales of laughter flooding the field.

“Ha, ha, ha Mr. Smart Guy. Now help me outta here.”

“what, and get my mech stuck? Sorry man, my groundcrew would have my…”
“I know, I know!!! Just help me out of the cockpit, I’ve gotta go explain this!”

After it was all said and done, everyone had fun, no one got hurt, and we remain ready for when the enemy does show their faces. And maybe just a little fresher than before.