Post by Orange on Nov 19, 2005 1:13:26 GMT -5
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Chapter 11: A New Life
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Still as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what hath been,
Seems as, to me, of all bereft,
Sole friends thy woods and streams were left;
And thus I love them better still,
Even in extremity of ill.
It had been a year since Babe picked Timbre off the gull beach. And how things had changed! Babe decided to settle down temporarily, for Timbre's benefit (who he unofficially adopted). He got a job with the RSFZD, as a pro-bono hired security man. Fiver was marked as such, and the two fell into a routine of policing the areas between Ravenstaad and Kellenberg. It was boring, but it was a job. And Fiver didn't mind the exercise.
It was discovered that Timbre couldn't read (which the boy managed to hide for a few weeks), and was enrolled at the town school for 'adult education', which basically meant 'you are a legal adult in the eyes of the law but we're still gonna get you some edumacation'. He quickly picked up reading (though it was not something he enjoyed), and took basic science and writing classes. His math skills were unusually good, so good that he easily passed the graduation requirements after only a month of study. He became a popular, friendly guy within the small school community, but mostly kept to himself. He did not make friends easily, and while he occasionally hung out with groups of people, he was not a social butterfly.
When he wasn't at school, he was at his part-time job at the local diner, washing dishes and learning to cook. It was another thing he was particularly good at, even with his revulsion to meat and animal products. He kept his vegan ways, but soon accepted that cooking with meat and eggs was the norm amongst people, and had to be tolerated. Timbre didn't need to have a job, Babe was willing to pay for all his expenses, but Timbre was determined not to be a burden on his new father-figure.
And when Timbre wasn't at work, he was hanging out with Tinder, his only real, consistent companion. Timbre felt no particular bond to Tinder, but they had common interests, especially Zoids. Tinder was one of the few kids in the town with his own zoid, and Timbre was soon learning to pilot on it. Pike was a fun little zoid, and Timbre quickly mastered the basic controls. When it was his turn to mess around with Pike, Timbre devoted his time to mastering the finer, small things, like agility and balance. These skills were also quickly mastered.
Tinder didn't mind having to share his Zoid, mostly because he now had his own, fully operational and combat ready Rev Raptor. Salvaged from the wrecks of the Connan Seige, the Raptor was overhauled and transformed from a badly constructed, crappy zoid to a beast comparable to Manny's own Rags. Tinder called his zoid 'Utah', and was quite fond of it, especially with it's mottled green and brown paint, the same as the RSFZD. He was not allowed to pilot it without supervision, but supervision usually meant 'Babe and Fiver hanging out with you', which he often was. It was hinted that Tinder may be able to graduate early and join the RSFZD, due to the demand for pilots, and Tinder took the hints seriously, trying his hardest to impress his father with his skills in Utah.
Timbre was sleeping in, which was something he enjoyed to do. When he had no school, work, or obligations in the morning, he would devote the time to sleep. His old weakness was mostly gone, slowly fading as his strength grew over the weeks. But the excessive time he had spent sleeping in the first few days of his new life had left him with a certain fondness for naps. It's not that he was lazy, it's just that he preferred his dreamless world. It was strange, how Timbre never had dreams. Babe put it down to Timbre's lack of memory. But now Timbre had his own, new memories. Why they never reflected themselves in his sleeping mind was a wonder.
The boy cracked open one eye, looking at the digital clock on his dresser. It was about half past 15, and was a perfectly good time as any to wake up and have lunch. That, and Timbre really had to pee.
He dragged himself out from under the covers, wearing nothing except a pair of sweatpants. Timbre walked to the bathroom, most of head really not awake, and went about the usual morning routine of emptying out, cleaning up, and dressing one's self for the rest of the day. Timbre developed his own sense of style, and tended to stick to a certain way of dressing. For school, he had the unofficial uniform of a button-down white shirt, black slacks and flat-soled shoes. Work required a similar outfit, complimented by an apron and hat. But when he was free from both, Timbre stuck to the same style of outfit. He had a favorite pair of baggy, loose fitting and outrageously comfortable jeans, which were held up by a heavy canvas belt Timbre salvaged from an old tool belt. With this, he wore one of a dozen different t-shirts, neatly tucked. Over this was an older button down shirt, slightly grayed and left unbuttoned, billowing down the sides.
His casual outfit applied, Timbre walked down to the kitchen, grabbing his cigarettes from the counter. Babe called it a 'nasty-ass habit', Craig called it 'necesary evil'. Timbre picked it up from Craig and Tinder (who was a far heavier smoker), and indulged on a fairly limited basis. His morning smoke was absolutely required to start his day, along with his coffee. Besides that, he usually smoked less then four or five a day. He was particular to rolling and packing his own, and had his kept in a silver tin, along with his rolling papers and tobacco (a specific brand called 'Wolfie's Bane', it had a nice chocolate-cigar flavor). He put his coffee on to brew, grabbed a day-old jelly roll from the counter, and walked outside to the stoop, where he quietly enjoyed his late morning.
Cig smoked and coffee finished brewing, Timbre walked back in to the small house, and noticed a note on the refrigerator.
'Tam, clean dishes, come to garage at 16.00. -B'
Timbre looked over at the sink, and groaned. Yep, yesterday's dishes were still all there. He sighed, and got to work.
It was as close to 16 as a person could get, and Timbre headed out to the garage, taking the familiar path through the wide streets, greeting a few people as he went. It was hard to not be known by nearly everyone when you were the local mystery. Kid with no memory, washed up on the beach.. Who didn't love that story?
As he approached the garage, he noticed it was strangely empty. Timbre suspected some big project was going on in one of the closed-off sections, probably why Babe asked for Timbre to come. As well as becoming a decent zoid pilot, Timbre also became decent with basic zoid repairs. No master, but if anything, he was certainly helpful.
Timbre poked his head in, and looked about the open sections of the garage. Nobody around. Weird. And no noise. Ever weirder. Timbre immediately started to worry. What if there was something wrong? He jogged over to the other section of the garage, quickly opening the door.
"Hello?" He called out into the dark garage. It was completely dark, none of the windows open, the doors masked off, impossible to see. Timbre took a cautious step in...
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Timbre near passed out.
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Chapter 12: A New Zoid
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But no whit weary did he seem,
When, dancing in the sunny beam,
He mark'd the crane on the Baron's crest;
For his ready spear was in his rest.
Few were the words, and stern and high,
That mark'd the foemen's feudal hate;
For question fierce, and proud reply,
Gave signal soon of dire debate.
Their very coursers seem'd to know
That each was other's mortal foe,
And snorted fire, when wheel'd around
To give each foe his vantage-ground.
"We call him Vector. How do you like him?" Babe asked.
Timbre found himself standing in front of quite an interesting zoid. It was far smaller then most zoids he was used to working with, the best he could compare it to was a Leoblaze, but it looked totally different.
After having the crap scared out of him by Babe, Craig, Tinder and most of the garage crew, Timbre was quickly introduced to the fact that everyone had decided that today was his 'birthday', since they had no other reference to compare to. Timbre had been to several birthday parties over the last year (Tinder's had included the delivery of Utah), but had never really thought that he may also be entitled to one. Obviously, he was wrong.
"What is it?" Timbre asked.
Babe gave Timbre a friendly slap on the back. "Aint it cool? It's a Genius Wolf."
Craig stepped up in front of the zoid, motioning for it to lower it's head. "Genius Wolves are basically Leoblaze's with modified cores and looks. They basically turned a cat into a dog, and it works pretty well. Stats near identical to the Leo's, except this baby is faster and more bouncy, if a bit less open to damage. Just your style." He said with a grin.
"Anyhoo, y'like it?" Babe asked.
Timbre took a few steps forwards, examining the wolf. It was certainly sleek, and it's stock green matched nicely with Fiver's colors. The back-mounted cockpit would be bouncy, and none too comfortable over any extended amount of time. It had no guns, and it looked like the Leoblaze's Strike Laser Claw system was disabled. The SLC vents were instead replaced by a pair of boosters, and what looked like a static discharge system.
"What kind of weapons does he pack?" Timbre asked, starting a free-climb up the Genius Wolf's leg.
"Static Strike Claws, Exploding Bite, and it's Zan Blade, but for some reason, it's dead. So, we call it the Spank Blade." Babe explained, pointing out the dinged up tail blade. "Those are never very useful anyway. It's more for the fusion partners then anything."
Timbre quickly scaled to the top of the zoid, and to the cockpit. He found the release catch, and popped open the cockpit, taking a look inside. The interior was a bit beat up, and smelled slightly of mold. "What is the story behind him, Babe?"
"Dunno. Barney found him on a lot somewhere. He scooped it up and sent it over here for us to fix up for ya. The interior ain't too crispy, but a good shampooing should get the gunk out. Like 'im?"
"Yes." Timbre said, smiling. "I like him very much. Thank you, Babe. And Craig. And everyone else." Timbre turned to look back down at the small group, still gathered on the garage floor. "Can we take him out for a spin?"
Babe grinned. "Sure."
-
It was an hour later (Timbre demanded that the interior be cleaned out and sprayed down with some quick-cleaner), and outside the walls of Ravenstad. Vector had been powered up and walked out, along with Fiver and Utah. Vector did not seem too personable, but this was fine with Timbre. He still had yet to figure out where he was on the whole 'zoid souls' issue, and it was all that much easier to handle a tamer zoid. Even though Pike was an old plug, the BattleRover was still prone to a few fits, and Timbre did not particularly enjoy handling those when he was riding.
He strapped into the heavy harness, and flipped the console controls down into his lap. It felt... comfortable. Even though he was unfamiliar with the 'wolf' style folding console, it seemed more natural then the upright stick controls of the BattleRover.
"Allrighty Tam, we're just gonna take a walk here, let you get used to the basic controls. The balance is a lot easier then on the BattleRover, but you gotta mind that you got four feet now. What you wanna do is find your paces, and get used to those." Babe crackled over the radio, sitting snug in Fiver's cockpit. "Try shifting up into your walk, and watch the pace. Vector should take care of the idle walk pace, but beyond that, you'll need to start concentrating on finer placement. But we'll get into that later. Shift up!"
Timbre gripped the throttle, and opened it up a bit, nudging Vector into a gentle walk. Besides him, Tinder and Utah kept slow pace.
"Smooth opening, Tam." Tinder commented over the radio, a bit impressed.. "Lotsa guys jolt their quads in the first paces. Hell, I nearly tripped Utah my first time up."
"I try to keep it smooth." Timbre replied, looking over his HUD. It showed his speed (10Km/h), energy levels (Full), basic topography reports, weather conditions, and list of open radio channels. It was similar to the small HUD on Pike, except this one had built-in crosshairs. Also, there was a click wheel selection of shift paces. Now, it was set on 'idle walk'.
"Okay, let's try the brakes. Nice and smooth now." Babe said over the radio, and Timbre complied, gently pulling back the console yokes, letting Vector slow to a stop.
"Nice. Okay, Tinder, take Utah out a bit. Tam, let Utah get out a bit, then try to catch up, then match speeds. Got it?"
"Catch up and match speeds, aye Babe."
Tinder urged Utah into a gentle trot, no more then 50Km/h, and pulled away a bit from Timbre's position. After a bit, Babe gave his okay, and Timbre opened up the throttle gently, slowly accelerating. The HUD put a crosshair on Utah, giving approximate distance and speed information, as well as helpfully designating the new target as 'Raptor01'. After getting comfortable with the walk, and itching a bit to catch up, Timbre opened up the throttle a bit more, shifting Vector into a trot. His efforts were immediately rewarded with what was turning out to be quite a bouncy ride.
"Okay, use the right throttle thumb click wheel to scroll out of 'idle trot', to 'range trot'. Idle trot is a joggy walk, way too bouncy, especially on a back mounted cockpit. Only use that on unsure terrain, where you need to preserve footing.
Timbre did as he was told, and Vector's pace smoothed considerably.
"Mind your pace changes. You want to avoid making pace changes while shifting, and if you are in a rough or odd pace at a high speed, you MUST click it down to range or idle before down-shifting, or else your zoid is prone to tripping. You'll learn pace tricks as you go on. Okay, your approaching Utah a bit fast, slow it up and match pace."
"Can I leave the range pace on?"
"Yeah, it doesn't matter much between range walk and idle much, it's just that idle consumes a bit less energy. Which we don't have to worry about now."
These paces continued well on into and past the hour, where Timbre slowly learned the complexities of piloting an advanced zoid. It was somewhat like the BattleRover, but the Rover had automatic pacing, and assisted shifting. In this zoid, fine control was required to pilot the zoid at it's maximum, a fine control that needed to be drilled and trained into one's brain over long practice.
Tinder and Utah quickly bored of pace-training (something they themselves had spent hours doing, even with Utah's integrated shift and pacing assistance), and wandered back into the town, leaving Babe and Timbre alone to practice. The practice lasted for a few more hours, where Babe stressed control over speed and raw power.
"You could easily just bounce around like an idiot in that thing, crashing gears and burning out your caps. But then you can't get any good attacks, and don't even think about complex maneuvering. Then you get into fine balance and pace issues."
"Is this how you learned to pilot?" Timbre asked, shifting down to a walk, rounding over back towards the Command Wolf, who had moved very little during the entire session.
"Nah. I made the mistake of joining a security vanguard, where they sat me and fifteen other guys down in a classroom for hours on end, showing us how to do it, but never giving us practical experience. It was weeks before we got to a real zoid, and those were Molgas. I dropped and ran the hell out, something they did not exactly appreciate. I hitched a ride out of the area, found myself working as a Guysak plowboy on a big factory farm. I pretty much learned on the job how to pilot the Guysak, which are quite interesting little fluffers. I was saving for this sweet-ass Helcat on the local zoid lot, It was quite a steal, because all it's optical camouflage was busted and guns were stripped, but otherwise rode fine. But then they pulled in this old-ass clunker of a Command Wolf. It was beat all the way the hell up, was a work-in-progress for some local fix-er-upper that got bored with it. Me, being stupid, bought it. I knew almost nothing about mechanics, so I dropped my farm job and apprenticed myself under the local zoid mechanic for a year. It took all my spare time and money to fix the thing up. I found it's biggest problem was that there was a massive slice of shrapnel piercing the zoid memory banks, so I had to drag that out, and beg my mechanic-master to patch-code it back into working order. He did a crap job of it, and the moment I started up the Command Wolf for a test-boot, it went absolutely nuts.
"I quit my apprenticeship and went back to the farm (which paid a hell of a lot better), and used my spare time to work on the wolf. It took another year of patching and tweaking before I got it in any sort of working order, or to the point where it did not try to kill me every time it booted. By the time I got the damn thing to some sort of tame state, I had no money for paint. There was the old stock white, and on the shoulders were it's old unit code, a big old 5. So I called it Fiver, filled in what I could with some crappy matte black spray paint, and started figuring out how to pilot it."
Fiver whined appreciatively, as if adding his own commentary.
"Yeah, yeah. Anyhoo, with all my working on the memory banks, Fiver imprinted on me pretty heavy. At first, he wanted to target me and kill me, but I wiggled the settings around to where he would be pretty apathetic. Once I started piloting him, he started to warm up, and we got on fine after that. A few spats over the next few years, but nothing horrible. I got decent at piloting Fiver, I teamed up with Coke, and started the Handsome Boys Escort Services. And that's the story."
"Wow. Quite a tale." Timbre marveled. "I can see why Fiver is so devoted to you now."
"Yeah, he's a good buddy. I don't know of many other zoids you can let roam without a pilot, and trust them to come back. But I think Fiver sticks around because he'd be bored otherwise. I keep him entertained, he keeps me in the cockpit."
Fiver yapped, almost a laugh, and shook his head, as if teasing Babe back. Babe got a bit of a toss in his straps, and gave the console a hard thunk. "Brat." He grumbled, but with a smile.
"So. Babe, why did you get me this zoid?"
"Well, first off, you deserve something a bit more skippy then a timeshare on a BattleRover. That, and i'm getting itchy."
"Itchy?"
"Yeah. I don't really like to stay settled for very long, especially when there's an adventure to be had." Babe leaned back in his seat, smiling. "I was wondering... Do you want to try and find out where you came from?"
The question caught Timbre off guard. He never really contemplated where he came from, what past life he had. Timbre actually tried not to think of it, keeping himself busy in order to keep his mind off the question. There was the fear of, what if the place he came from was terrible? He was happy with Babe, in Ravenstaad, with his few acquaintances and his job at the diner.
"I.. don't really know, Babe."
"I know it's kinda scary to think about. But I cant help thinking that you might have family, Tam.You're such a great guy, and I'd hate to think that I was keeping you from your family. Mom, dad, sister, brother, cousins, aunts uncles... Who knows? What if you do have this family, and this entire time, they've been thinking that your dead?"
Timbre shook his head. "I dont know. If I did have a family, or someone that was looking for me, we would have known. Missing posters come in from all the other towns, Babe. None of them look like me, not even remotely."
"Yeah, but I still don't like thinking that you might have family. At the very least, you have a past, kiddo. And knowing your past is something I think you deserve."
Timbre was silent for a moment, looking over the controls of the Genius Wolf. What a birthday present. A zoid and an offer to unearth who he once was. Timbre's stomach twisted it's self in a nervous knot. But an old lesson came back to him, something from the very beginning of his memory. 'Courage is doing those deeds when you think you can not. When you're so scared that your voice stutters. So scared that you near wet yerself. There's a big difference between courage and not being afraid. Courage is facing and working against your fears. Lack of fear is abject stupidity.'
Oh, what the hell.
"Sounds like a good idea, Babe."
Chapter 11: A New Life
-
Still as I view each well-known scene,
Think what is now, and what hath been,
Seems as, to me, of all bereft,
Sole friends thy woods and streams were left;
And thus I love them better still,
Even in extremity of ill.
It had been a year since Babe picked Timbre off the gull beach. And how things had changed! Babe decided to settle down temporarily, for Timbre's benefit (who he unofficially adopted). He got a job with the RSFZD, as a pro-bono hired security man. Fiver was marked as such, and the two fell into a routine of policing the areas between Ravenstaad and Kellenberg. It was boring, but it was a job. And Fiver didn't mind the exercise.
It was discovered that Timbre couldn't read (which the boy managed to hide for a few weeks), and was enrolled at the town school for 'adult education', which basically meant 'you are a legal adult in the eyes of the law but we're still gonna get you some edumacation'. He quickly picked up reading (though it was not something he enjoyed), and took basic science and writing classes. His math skills were unusually good, so good that he easily passed the graduation requirements after only a month of study. He became a popular, friendly guy within the small school community, but mostly kept to himself. He did not make friends easily, and while he occasionally hung out with groups of people, he was not a social butterfly.
When he wasn't at school, he was at his part-time job at the local diner, washing dishes and learning to cook. It was another thing he was particularly good at, even with his revulsion to meat and animal products. He kept his vegan ways, but soon accepted that cooking with meat and eggs was the norm amongst people, and had to be tolerated. Timbre didn't need to have a job, Babe was willing to pay for all his expenses, but Timbre was determined not to be a burden on his new father-figure.
And when Timbre wasn't at work, he was hanging out with Tinder, his only real, consistent companion. Timbre felt no particular bond to Tinder, but they had common interests, especially Zoids. Tinder was one of the few kids in the town with his own zoid, and Timbre was soon learning to pilot on it. Pike was a fun little zoid, and Timbre quickly mastered the basic controls. When it was his turn to mess around with Pike, Timbre devoted his time to mastering the finer, small things, like agility and balance. These skills were also quickly mastered.
Tinder didn't mind having to share his Zoid, mostly because he now had his own, fully operational and combat ready Rev Raptor. Salvaged from the wrecks of the Connan Seige, the Raptor was overhauled and transformed from a badly constructed, crappy zoid to a beast comparable to Manny's own Rags. Tinder called his zoid 'Utah', and was quite fond of it, especially with it's mottled green and brown paint, the same as the RSFZD. He was not allowed to pilot it without supervision, but supervision usually meant 'Babe and Fiver hanging out with you', which he often was. It was hinted that Tinder may be able to graduate early and join the RSFZD, due to the demand for pilots, and Tinder took the hints seriously, trying his hardest to impress his father with his skills in Utah.
Timbre was sleeping in, which was something he enjoyed to do. When he had no school, work, or obligations in the morning, he would devote the time to sleep. His old weakness was mostly gone, slowly fading as his strength grew over the weeks. But the excessive time he had spent sleeping in the first few days of his new life had left him with a certain fondness for naps. It's not that he was lazy, it's just that he preferred his dreamless world. It was strange, how Timbre never had dreams. Babe put it down to Timbre's lack of memory. But now Timbre had his own, new memories. Why they never reflected themselves in his sleeping mind was a wonder.
The boy cracked open one eye, looking at the digital clock on his dresser. It was about half past 15, and was a perfectly good time as any to wake up and have lunch. That, and Timbre really had to pee.
He dragged himself out from under the covers, wearing nothing except a pair of sweatpants. Timbre walked to the bathroom, most of head really not awake, and went about the usual morning routine of emptying out, cleaning up, and dressing one's self for the rest of the day. Timbre developed his own sense of style, and tended to stick to a certain way of dressing. For school, he had the unofficial uniform of a button-down white shirt, black slacks and flat-soled shoes. Work required a similar outfit, complimented by an apron and hat. But when he was free from both, Timbre stuck to the same style of outfit. He had a favorite pair of baggy, loose fitting and outrageously comfortable jeans, which were held up by a heavy canvas belt Timbre salvaged from an old tool belt. With this, he wore one of a dozen different t-shirts, neatly tucked. Over this was an older button down shirt, slightly grayed and left unbuttoned, billowing down the sides.
His casual outfit applied, Timbre walked down to the kitchen, grabbing his cigarettes from the counter. Babe called it a 'nasty-ass habit', Craig called it 'necesary evil'. Timbre picked it up from Craig and Tinder (who was a far heavier smoker), and indulged on a fairly limited basis. His morning smoke was absolutely required to start his day, along with his coffee. Besides that, he usually smoked less then four or five a day. He was particular to rolling and packing his own, and had his kept in a silver tin, along with his rolling papers and tobacco (a specific brand called 'Wolfie's Bane', it had a nice chocolate-cigar flavor). He put his coffee on to brew, grabbed a day-old jelly roll from the counter, and walked outside to the stoop, where he quietly enjoyed his late morning.
Cig smoked and coffee finished brewing, Timbre walked back in to the small house, and noticed a note on the refrigerator.
'Tam, clean dishes, come to garage at 16.00. -B'
Timbre looked over at the sink, and groaned. Yep, yesterday's dishes were still all there. He sighed, and got to work.
It was as close to 16 as a person could get, and Timbre headed out to the garage, taking the familiar path through the wide streets, greeting a few people as he went. It was hard to not be known by nearly everyone when you were the local mystery. Kid with no memory, washed up on the beach.. Who didn't love that story?
As he approached the garage, he noticed it was strangely empty. Timbre suspected some big project was going on in one of the closed-off sections, probably why Babe asked for Timbre to come. As well as becoming a decent zoid pilot, Timbre also became decent with basic zoid repairs. No master, but if anything, he was certainly helpful.
Timbre poked his head in, and looked about the open sections of the garage. Nobody around. Weird. And no noise. Ever weirder. Timbre immediately started to worry. What if there was something wrong? He jogged over to the other section of the garage, quickly opening the door.
"Hello?" He called out into the dark garage. It was completely dark, none of the windows open, the doors masked off, impossible to see. Timbre took a cautious step in...
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Timbre near passed out.
-
Chapter 12: A New Zoid
-
But no whit weary did he seem,
When, dancing in the sunny beam,
He mark'd the crane on the Baron's crest;
For his ready spear was in his rest.
Few were the words, and stern and high,
That mark'd the foemen's feudal hate;
For question fierce, and proud reply,
Gave signal soon of dire debate.
Their very coursers seem'd to know
That each was other's mortal foe,
And snorted fire, when wheel'd around
To give each foe his vantage-ground.
"We call him Vector. How do you like him?" Babe asked.
Timbre found himself standing in front of quite an interesting zoid. It was far smaller then most zoids he was used to working with, the best he could compare it to was a Leoblaze, but it looked totally different.
After having the crap scared out of him by Babe, Craig, Tinder and most of the garage crew, Timbre was quickly introduced to the fact that everyone had decided that today was his 'birthday', since they had no other reference to compare to. Timbre had been to several birthday parties over the last year (Tinder's had included the delivery of Utah), but had never really thought that he may also be entitled to one. Obviously, he was wrong.
"What is it?" Timbre asked.
Babe gave Timbre a friendly slap on the back. "Aint it cool? It's a Genius Wolf."
Craig stepped up in front of the zoid, motioning for it to lower it's head. "Genius Wolves are basically Leoblaze's with modified cores and looks. They basically turned a cat into a dog, and it works pretty well. Stats near identical to the Leo's, except this baby is faster and more bouncy, if a bit less open to damage. Just your style." He said with a grin.
"Anyhoo, y'like it?" Babe asked.
Timbre took a few steps forwards, examining the wolf. It was certainly sleek, and it's stock green matched nicely with Fiver's colors. The back-mounted cockpit would be bouncy, and none too comfortable over any extended amount of time. It had no guns, and it looked like the Leoblaze's Strike Laser Claw system was disabled. The SLC vents were instead replaced by a pair of boosters, and what looked like a static discharge system.
"What kind of weapons does he pack?" Timbre asked, starting a free-climb up the Genius Wolf's leg.
"Static Strike Claws, Exploding Bite, and it's Zan Blade, but for some reason, it's dead. So, we call it the Spank Blade." Babe explained, pointing out the dinged up tail blade. "Those are never very useful anyway. It's more for the fusion partners then anything."
Timbre quickly scaled to the top of the zoid, and to the cockpit. He found the release catch, and popped open the cockpit, taking a look inside. The interior was a bit beat up, and smelled slightly of mold. "What is the story behind him, Babe?"
"Dunno. Barney found him on a lot somewhere. He scooped it up and sent it over here for us to fix up for ya. The interior ain't too crispy, but a good shampooing should get the gunk out. Like 'im?"
"Yes." Timbre said, smiling. "I like him very much. Thank you, Babe. And Craig. And everyone else." Timbre turned to look back down at the small group, still gathered on the garage floor. "Can we take him out for a spin?"
Babe grinned. "Sure."
-
It was an hour later (Timbre demanded that the interior be cleaned out and sprayed down with some quick-cleaner), and outside the walls of Ravenstad. Vector had been powered up and walked out, along with Fiver and Utah. Vector did not seem too personable, but this was fine with Timbre. He still had yet to figure out where he was on the whole 'zoid souls' issue, and it was all that much easier to handle a tamer zoid. Even though Pike was an old plug, the BattleRover was still prone to a few fits, and Timbre did not particularly enjoy handling those when he was riding.
He strapped into the heavy harness, and flipped the console controls down into his lap. It felt... comfortable. Even though he was unfamiliar with the 'wolf' style folding console, it seemed more natural then the upright stick controls of the BattleRover.
"Allrighty Tam, we're just gonna take a walk here, let you get used to the basic controls. The balance is a lot easier then on the BattleRover, but you gotta mind that you got four feet now. What you wanna do is find your paces, and get used to those." Babe crackled over the radio, sitting snug in Fiver's cockpit. "Try shifting up into your walk, and watch the pace. Vector should take care of the idle walk pace, but beyond that, you'll need to start concentrating on finer placement. But we'll get into that later. Shift up!"
Timbre gripped the throttle, and opened it up a bit, nudging Vector into a gentle walk. Besides him, Tinder and Utah kept slow pace.
"Smooth opening, Tam." Tinder commented over the radio, a bit impressed.. "Lotsa guys jolt their quads in the first paces. Hell, I nearly tripped Utah my first time up."
"I try to keep it smooth." Timbre replied, looking over his HUD. It showed his speed (10Km/h), energy levels (Full), basic topography reports, weather conditions, and list of open radio channels. It was similar to the small HUD on Pike, except this one had built-in crosshairs. Also, there was a click wheel selection of shift paces. Now, it was set on 'idle walk'.
"Okay, let's try the brakes. Nice and smooth now." Babe said over the radio, and Timbre complied, gently pulling back the console yokes, letting Vector slow to a stop.
"Nice. Okay, Tinder, take Utah out a bit. Tam, let Utah get out a bit, then try to catch up, then match speeds. Got it?"
"Catch up and match speeds, aye Babe."
Tinder urged Utah into a gentle trot, no more then 50Km/h, and pulled away a bit from Timbre's position. After a bit, Babe gave his okay, and Timbre opened up the throttle gently, slowly accelerating. The HUD put a crosshair on Utah, giving approximate distance and speed information, as well as helpfully designating the new target as 'Raptor01'. After getting comfortable with the walk, and itching a bit to catch up, Timbre opened up the throttle a bit more, shifting Vector into a trot. His efforts were immediately rewarded with what was turning out to be quite a bouncy ride.
"Okay, use the right throttle thumb click wheel to scroll out of 'idle trot', to 'range trot'. Idle trot is a joggy walk, way too bouncy, especially on a back mounted cockpit. Only use that on unsure terrain, where you need to preserve footing.
Timbre did as he was told, and Vector's pace smoothed considerably.
"Mind your pace changes. You want to avoid making pace changes while shifting, and if you are in a rough or odd pace at a high speed, you MUST click it down to range or idle before down-shifting, or else your zoid is prone to tripping. You'll learn pace tricks as you go on. Okay, your approaching Utah a bit fast, slow it up and match pace."
"Can I leave the range pace on?"
"Yeah, it doesn't matter much between range walk and idle much, it's just that idle consumes a bit less energy. Which we don't have to worry about now."
These paces continued well on into and past the hour, where Timbre slowly learned the complexities of piloting an advanced zoid. It was somewhat like the BattleRover, but the Rover had automatic pacing, and assisted shifting. In this zoid, fine control was required to pilot the zoid at it's maximum, a fine control that needed to be drilled and trained into one's brain over long practice.
Tinder and Utah quickly bored of pace-training (something they themselves had spent hours doing, even with Utah's integrated shift and pacing assistance), and wandered back into the town, leaving Babe and Timbre alone to practice. The practice lasted for a few more hours, where Babe stressed control over speed and raw power.
"You could easily just bounce around like an idiot in that thing, crashing gears and burning out your caps. But then you can't get any good attacks, and don't even think about complex maneuvering. Then you get into fine balance and pace issues."
"Is this how you learned to pilot?" Timbre asked, shifting down to a walk, rounding over back towards the Command Wolf, who had moved very little during the entire session.
"Nah. I made the mistake of joining a security vanguard, where they sat me and fifteen other guys down in a classroom for hours on end, showing us how to do it, but never giving us practical experience. It was weeks before we got to a real zoid, and those were Molgas. I dropped and ran the hell out, something they did not exactly appreciate. I hitched a ride out of the area, found myself working as a Guysak plowboy on a big factory farm. I pretty much learned on the job how to pilot the Guysak, which are quite interesting little fluffers. I was saving for this sweet-ass Helcat on the local zoid lot, It was quite a steal, because all it's optical camouflage was busted and guns were stripped, but otherwise rode fine. But then they pulled in this old-ass clunker of a Command Wolf. It was beat all the way the hell up, was a work-in-progress for some local fix-er-upper that got bored with it. Me, being stupid, bought it. I knew almost nothing about mechanics, so I dropped my farm job and apprenticed myself under the local zoid mechanic for a year. It took all my spare time and money to fix the thing up. I found it's biggest problem was that there was a massive slice of shrapnel piercing the zoid memory banks, so I had to drag that out, and beg my mechanic-master to patch-code it back into working order. He did a crap job of it, and the moment I started up the Command Wolf for a test-boot, it went absolutely nuts.
"I quit my apprenticeship and went back to the farm (which paid a hell of a lot better), and used my spare time to work on the wolf. It took another year of patching and tweaking before I got it in any sort of working order, or to the point where it did not try to kill me every time it booted. By the time I got the damn thing to some sort of tame state, I had no money for paint. There was the old stock white, and on the shoulders were it's old unit code, a big old 5. So I called it Fiver, filled in what I could with some crappy matte black spray paint, and started figuring out how to pilot it."
Fiver whined appreciatively, as if adding his own commentary.
"Yeah, yeah. Anyhoo, with all my working on the memory banks, Fiver imprinted on me pretty heavy. At first, he wanted to target me and kill me, but I wiggled the settings around to where he would be pretty apathetic. Once I started piloting him, he started to warm up, and we got on fine after that. A few spats over the next few years, but nothing horrible. I got decent at piloting Fiver, I teamed up with Coke, and started the Handsome Boys Escort Services. And that's the story."
"Wow. Quite a tale." Timbre marveled. "I can see why Fiver is so devoted to you now."
"Yeah, he's a good buddy. I don't know of many other zoids you can let roam without a pilot, and trust them to come back. But I think Fiver sticks around because he'd be bored otherwise. I keep him entertained, he keeps me in the cockpit."
Fiver yapped, almost a laugh, and shook his head, as if teasing Babe back. Babe got a bit of a toss in his straps, and gave the console a hard thunk. "Brat." He grumbled, but with a smile.
"So. Babe, why did you get me this zoid?"
"Well, first off, you deserve something a bit more skippy then a timeshare on a BattleRover. That, and i'm getting itchy."
"Itchy?"
"Yeah. I don't really like to stay settled for very long, especially when there's an adventure to be had." Babe leaned back in his seat, smiling. "I was wondering... Do you want to try and find out where you came from?"
The question caught Timbre off guard. He never really contemplated where he came from, what past life he had. Timbre actually tried not to think of it, keeping himself busy in order to keep his mind off the question. There was the fear of, what if the place he came from was terrible? He was happy with Babe, in Ravenstaad, with his few acquaintances and his job at the diner.
"I.. don't really know, Babe."
"I know it's kinda scary to think about. But I cant help thinking that you might have family, Tam.You're such a great guy, and I'd hate to think that I was keeping you from your family. Mom, dad, sister, brother, cousins, aunts uncles... Who knows? What if you do have this family, and this entire time, they've been thinking that your dead?"
Timbre shook his head. "I dont know. If I did have a family, or someone that was looking for me, we would have known. Missing posters come in from all the other towns, Babe. None of them look like me, not even remotely."
"Yeah, but I still don't like thinking that you might have family. At the very least, you have a past, kiddo. And knowing your past is something I think you deserve."
Timbre was silent for a moment, looking over the controls of the Genius Wolf. What a birthday present. A zoid and an offer to unearth who he once was. Timbre's stomach twisted it's self in a nervous knot. But an old lesson came back to him, something from the very beginning of his memory. 'Courage is doing those deeds when you think you can not. When you're so scared that your voice stutters. So scared that you near wet yerself. There's a big difference between courage and not being afraid. Courage is facing and working against your fears. Lack of fear is abject stupidity.'
Oh, what the hell.
"Sounds like a good idea, Babe."