Lay Of The Last Minstrel: Canto Seventh

[Orange]

Chapter 21: Like a Fluffy Tornado.

``Sir William of Deloraine, good at need,
Mount thee on the wightest steed;
Spare not to spur, nor stint to ride,
Until thou come to fair Tweedside;
And in Melrose's holy pile

---

“And that’s how we solved the mystery of Groom Lake!” Sef finished, a big grin on his face.

Timbre groaned. “Sef, please. Stop talking about your dog and the zany adventures you’ve had with him.”

“Why? It’s the only thing I can talk about without getting into an argument with Adie.”

“This is because you don’t present bloody stupid opinions in your tales of mutt related heroism.” Adie snapped back.

It had been a long two days of driving, and all parties within the Gustav were getting somewhat sick of it. It was quickly discovered that Sef and Adie had quite… complex personalities. They were perfectly nice people, of course, but something in them just made them seek out conflict. They would argue about ANYTHING. It was all good natured, of course, but Timbre being the peace-loving soul he was, could not stand it. So, for Timbre’s sake, Sef and Adie pretty much avoided talking directly to one another. Sef could not stand to keep quiet for long, though. He soon launched into a very long set of tales about the adventures of his dog, Tornado.

And there were quite a few. Timbre knew Sef was making a lot of them up, but it was still more interesting then nothing. Or, it was, until the tales got a bit too tall, and a bit too long.

The three had been taking turns driving, only stopping for a quick meal and wash at a lonely road-stop. As they went deeper into the interior, things became more and more spread out, sparse, and boring. The prairie fields turned into wasteland, and wasteland into rocky badlands. They were driving through a canyon now, flanked on all sides by towering red rock. It was inspiring, to say the least. But a bit imposing. Timbre was wary, but Sef assured them that there was no problem with bandits around here. The Union did a pretty good job of policing the areas immediate to their home range.

“Allrighty, we’ll be there in just a few more minutes, guys.” Sef said, pulling the Gustav around a tight bend. “Past this bend, we start to go up a hill to the Union plateau. Right on top is the Union Center.”

“What kind of place is it, Sef?” Timbre asked.

“It’s pretty awesome. It was some kinda monastery or hotel or something before the Dust. Really gothic stone structure, really awesome and imposing. The original founders dug it out, and used it as a home base. They then put up two zoid stables and garages up on the flanks. Really put a lot of work into ‘em to make them match up with the Center. So, the garages go out at a kinda 60 degree angle from the corners of the Center, so this forms a kinda courtyard in the front. If you go past the Center for two hours, you hit Line Town. They drive cattle and stuff there, and got some kickin restaurants and bars for the cattle boys and us Union boys.

“How many people are in the Union?”

“About sixty active service workers. We kinda filter in and out of the place. It’s more of a dispatch usually. But if we got broke zoids, or need to crash down, or need to train, or get paid, we head in. There’s about forty support guys and girls that live full-time either in the Center, or in Line Town. Then we got part-timers that pop in every now and again, usually run a few jobs then disappear for a few months to spend their cash. It can be kinda lucrative if they run something really dangerous.”

“Wow. You make a lot?” Adie asked, somewhat interested. And this was something that colud not be made an argument of.

“Well, it depends on the job. This one was pretty good, begging your pardon. Sorry about your co-workers.”

“I told you, they were kinda assholes anyway. Jerks, really.” Adie replied, then taking a swig from her flask. She was happily sauced again, and quite amiable.

“Anyhoo, some jobs are lucrative, but that’s because they are dangerous, or take a long-ass time. Kidnappings and bounty work are cool, but if you screw up, or loose the bounty, it’s a huge loss. Most of our stuff is contract work, where we rent out security services for smaller towns and cities that need some bulk for their defense. And, sometimes, we get rented out for real heavy-duty fighting. So, I’d say I make a decent amount. Got my own bit of savings, but nothing to retire on, really. We don’t do a lot of retirement planning. And here we are!”

They pulled over the crest of the hill, onto a flat plateau. It was a good sized plateau, several square miles in size. The Center was clearly visible from the road, and it was an imposing structure. Stone hauled from the surrounding badlands had been hewn into massive blocks, and settled down to create a main structure that was taller then a Gojulas. Four spire bellowers marked each corner, and sweeping arches decorated the outside.

Speaking of Gojulas, there was one on he road ahead of them. An old silver model, devoid of the signature CP-10 Orge cannons.

A voice crackled in over the radio. “Heave too and identify, green gustav.”

Sef keyed in the radio. “Mike, it’s me, Sef.”

A laugh. “I thought it might be. Where the hell did you get a Gustav and a Genius Wolf?”

“Long story. Is Tornado okay?”

“All fixed up and like new. You’ll have him up and out in no time.”

“Yay!” Sef giggled, quite un-characteristically. It scared Timbre.

“What was wrong with Tornado?” Timbre asked.

“He broke his leg and got all kinds of hurt on my last mission. I had to leave him behind this time, and bring the Glow Fox out instead.”

“Wait, what? The Glow Fox isn‘t your zoid?”

“Oh hell no. I hate foxes.”

“Wait, then what do you pilot?”

Timbre did not get an answer, because the moment Sef pulled into the courtyard, he popped the hatch and sprinted for the nearest zoid stable. “Tornado Puppyface McFluffFluff! Cutielumps, I’m HOME!”

Timbre and Adie’s confusion was complete as they hopped out, intent on following Sef into the stables. But they were stopped by an old man.

“Hello there. Who might you be?” The man asked.

Adie grinned. “Do you have a cousin named Sven?”

The old man smiled back. “No, but I have a barber named Dominique.” He then bowed. “Oleff. Third generation Root., son of Enoch, Lodge Forty Two, Frog. Captain.”

“Sixth generation Alie, daughter of Buck Alie, Lodge One, Elk. Leftennant General.”

Oleff smiled. “Oh my. It is a pleasure to have you here, Miss Alie. What gives us the honor to have an Elk join us?”

“Well, I think someone’s trying to kill me. Or capture me. See, that was Sef’s original job.”

Oleff looked abashed. “Oh my. Oh my indeed. My infinite apologies, Miss Alie. Had I known, I would have never taken the dispatch. You see, I am the dispatch general, and overall boss of the Union Center. Please, follow me! We will collect Sef.” And with that, the three of them strolled into the zoid stables.

They went down a few rows of stables, passing several impressive small and medium zoids.

Oleff explained, “These are our smaller stables. We will be sure to board your Genius Wolf here as soon as we can unload. I see he has suffered some damage?”

Adie shrugged. “Talk to the tall boy, not me.”

“My apologies, young sir. I did not mean to overlook you.”

“It’s all right.” Timbre said with a shrug. “Vector was beat up pretty bad by Sef and his Glow Fox.”

“Yes, Sef is one of our best pilots. Ah, here he is.”

It was pretty easy to track down Sef now, his cooing was quite audible, even over the ambient noise of the stables. Of course, when the reason for Sef’s cooing came into view, Timbre was quite taken aback.

No, literally taken aback. He nearly jumped several feet back, as he saw exactly what it is that Sef was hugging. Because Sef was sprawled out over the nose of one of the most imposing, armed, and downright SCARY zoids Timbre had ever seen.

“Sef!” Timbre yelled.

Sef looked up for a moment from his snuggles. “Yes?”

“When you said Tornado was a dog, YOU FAILED TO MENTION THAT HE WAS A ZEEKDOBER.”

-

[Orange]

-
Chapter 21: We don’t know what’s going on either.

For, welladay! their date was fled,
His tuneful brethren all were dead;
And he, neglected and oppress'd,
Wish'd to be with them, and at rest.
No more on prancing palfrey borne,
He caroll'd, light as lark at morn;

-

Timbre was quite riled about this, he rarely ever raised his voice.

And Tornado was, indeed, a Zeekdober. And one of the most imposing ‘Dobers that Timbre had ever seen. It’s particle rifles had been removed, replaced instead with two very odd spear-like things. One was a modified Lancetag Spear, that had been slightly shortened, and was mounted for storage, facing back and up. The second looked like a Jarid, which was a system similar to the Piledriver Lance, only less bulky, and the ‘spear’ end was far flimsier skinnier. The Jarid was designed to stab into a zoid, and then release the metal spear part, allowing the zoid to make it’s escape, and leave the very uncomfortable spear end behind. It carried six spear ends, and re-loaded it’s self in battle, ready to skewer someone else.

The long whip-blades remained intact, and were designed for fast slashing attacks, similar to a Blade Liger’s setup, only the blades were more rapier-like, and delivered much less striking power. It was good for scoring along the sides of an enemy zoid, but rarely used to deliver a killing blow. The stabbies on the front were far more appropriate for that. They were angled back, to stay out of the way. The tail gun had also been removed, replaced with a smoke discharger. In fact, the only ranged weapon on the thing was a small dual impact cannon bolted onto the front of the ‘Dober’s deep chest. Timbre figured it was not used very often.

The zoid’s paint job stayed mostly true to stock, only the red parts had been replaced with a more natural light brown. The chrome work had been blued, and there was quite a bit of blued chrome detail work on Tornado’s face, in the style of the old Guylos Scrollwork.

Sef grinned like an idiot. “I know. Isn’t he great? I wuv oo, Tornado.” Tornado rumbled in response to this, nudging Sef lightly.

Adie squinted, a sure sign that she was thinking. “Wait a second. Sef, is Tornado a Weathered?”

“True and original.” Sef replied, hopping up on Tornado’s nose, and using it as a seat.

“What is a ‘Weathered’? Timbre asked.

“Weatherman was a zoid customizer, about a hundred years ago. He specialized in old zoid tech, like Lidlers, or Ice Blazers. Every zoid he customized was named after some weather effect.”

“Whirlwind, Hurricane, Cyclone, and Tornado.” Sef chimed in. “His four dog customs. A Houndsoldier, Ice Blazer, Command Wolf, and Zeekdober, respectively. For a guy who made some of the most awesome customs ever, he was a bit uncreative with names.” Sef patted Tornado. “Tornado, say hi to the nice people!”

Tornado barked.

Oleff took this moment to step in. “Sef won Tornado in a very strange battle. He ended up destroying his very expensive Sword Wolf in the process, but he seems to think it was an even trade. This was five years ago, of course, and Sef has learned better. Now, Sef, I know you want to play with Tornado, but you have some debriefing to do, young man.”

Sef rolled his eyes. “Yes, Oleff. Sorry, Tornado.” Tornado whined, but tilted his head down to let Sef slide off. “Good boy.”

Timbre was amazed, to say the least. To a casual observer, it would seem that Sef and Tornado shared the same bond that Fiver and Babe had. But Timbre knew it was different. Babe and Fiver had a long standing respect for one another, and a deep friendship. Seff, on the other hand, simply adored Tornado like a puppy. A very powerful, destructive, pointy puppy.

Oleff led them into the Union Center proper, the large stone monastery. Both Timbre and Adie were quite impressed as they entered the large main hall (which was exactly what a main hall is for; good first impressions). It retained a lot of it’s gothic ‘charm’, with high ceilings, and large leaded glass windows, several with cut stained glass portraits of zoids. Three zoids in particular. A Gojulas, Iron Kong, and Salamander.

These three zoids were repeated on the large tapestry banner hung from the high ceiling. The tapestry was a beige field, with the Gojulas and Iron Kong supporting a simple black and white checkered shield. Perched on the top of the shield was the Salamander in full flight, and under, a motto printed in simple script.

“Excelence, Industry, Honor.” Oleff read out, motioning to the banner. “It is is the credo of the union, outlining our priorities. We pride ourselves on our fine fighters, our profitability, and our long standing tradition of honoring contracts without fail.”

“Uh, about that…” Adie started, but Sef interrupted.

“Oleff, I was attacked without provocation by two Bear Fighters by our hiring company. I believe they were trying to weasel out of the deal, and trying to forcefully obtain my bounty.” Sef explained, not quite expanding on all the details. “As a Brother of Booze, my obligation was the protection of my Brother, and the Bear Fighters were dispatched.”

“It is no problem. Did you find any compensation?”

“Oh, I got the cash. It just took a few more bullets then usual.”

Oleff led them down a side passage, which lined down a wide corridor, far more modern looking then the great hall. It was carpeted with modest cinnamon short-tweed, it’s walls wallpapered with a neutral pattern that was designed to be unnoticeable.

“This is our business and catering area. Cafeteria is here, but you must excuse our lack of any real food. Our chef quit a few weeks ago, and we have yet to find another.”

“Hey, great timing! Timbre’s a damn good cook.” Sef said with a grin, giving Timbre a friendly slap on the back.

Oleff’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? This is most fortunate.” Oleff paused, turning to face Timbre. “Timbre, is it?”

“Timbre Conway, sir.”

“Conway? Interesting. Do you have much experience with cooking?”

“I was a cook for a busy diner for about a year., as well as in charge of inventory. I suppose I could swing running a cafeteria with some help.”

“Excellent. Sef, continue down to the briefing office, and sign in with Rick. I will show Timbre the kitchen.”

“Righto. Nice job, Tam, swingin a job soon as you walk in. Hell, it took me a week of whining to get in.”

Oleff walked into the cafeteria, where several people were dining. Three were at one table, apparently discussing something to do with servos. Timbre noticed that all of them seemed to be eating from microwave packs, the kind that frozen dinners come in. Oleff pointed them out as his engineers. Two were typical little old ladies, eating sack lunches. They were two of the secretaries.

The kitchen was diner-style, a long cook top behind a serving bar. Everything was stainless steel, and looked quite new, but still had a certain wear about them. Timbre guessed they were somewhere between five and ten years old, a fine age for a kitchen when it comes to industrial cooking.

“Now, our last cook was quite the jerk, and left us in a lurch. He took his entire cooking staff, and we have yet to recoup the loss.”

Timbre took a moment to open up the stove, checking out the insides. “Nice set-up you have here. Gas ranges are always good. How are you for food?”

“Somewhat low. We’ve been surviving mostly on frozen dinners.

With that, Oleff opened up the refrigerator, revealing the contents. The fridge was well iced-over, and needed a good defrosting. Nestled in what looked like years of ice, were about a hundred microwave dinners. And all of them said the same thing.

Timbre picked one up, wiped the frost off, and read the label. “Mama Fitta’s Microwave Gourmet Vegitarian Lasagna?” He fliped it over to look at the nutrition information. “This is ALL you’ve been eating for weeks?”

“Well, we did have Penne with Chicken, and some Macaroni and Cheese, but we ran out of those a few days ago.”

“How are you not dead from malnutrition?”

“Well, we are pilots and engineers, mostly. We have lived on worse.”

Timbre asked, about to shut the door of the refrigerator, but not before Sef scooted in.

“Hey, score! Lasagna!” he said, and grabbed a box.

Timbre sighed. “Sef, that has twice the recommended daily sodium value.”

“So? I’ll call you when I’m peeing blood.”

[Orange]

Chapter 22: The Cook and the Fighter

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.

-

The Glow Fox charged across the empty badlands, intent on it’s target, the red Arosaurer. Rocks and dust flew up in it’s wake, leaving a heavy trail behind it. The Glow Fox’s laser cannons fired twice, two shots going wide across the landscape. The Arosaurer was quick to react, pivoting quick and making a sprint to the side.

The Glow Fox turned to follow, intent on running down the slower Arosaurer. In fact, the Aro seemed to be moving slower then usual. Score one for Glow Fox, which snarled as it made it’s approach.

As the Glow Fox sprinted in, the Aro made a quick sliding stop, balanced in on one leg. The Glow Fox seemed intent on charging in, a mistake. A mistake made obviously apparent as the Arosaurer’s heavy tail slammed it in the face.

The Glow Fox was sent flying, but somehow managed to land on it’s feet, a good trick for such a complex machine. The Glow Fox was quick to fire again, but the Arosaurer dodged, sprinting behind a rock outcropping.

The Glow Fox snarled, and took off towards the outcropping, encountering quite a steep rise as he did. The Fox’s anchors were quickly employed, and the menacing climb was tackled with little difficulty. At the edge of the outcropping, it dropped off into a sort of a deep canyon, surrounded by tall walls and rough terrain. Without pausing to asses, the Glow Fox was hurled off the edge, heading straight for the canyon wall. A lesser pilot would have been smashed, but the Glow Fox was ready for it, planting his feet squarely in the canyon face, executing a short wall-ride, and then jumping on top of the Arosaurer, for what was generally a killer pounce.

Unfortunately, that damn tail thing came into play again, smacking the Glow Fox away, and into a canyon face. The Glow Fox quickly recovered, and was off again chasing the Arosaurer, which was pulling away.

“For the love of… Timbre! Shoot the damn thing while it’s in a bottleneck! He can’t dodge!”

The Glow Fox slammed on the breaks, foot anchors scoring the stone and dirt below, sliding to a complete stop. The 80mm laser cannons fired again, managing to clip the Arosaurer before it could exit the narrow canyon.

“Get out of the canyon and try to FLANK him! Stop it with the damn Banzai charges!”

“I’m trying! Give me a minute.” Timbre grumbled back, his voice a steady tone. He pushed the Glow Fox into a quick acceleration, literally jumping the Glow Fox into a run from a standing stop.

The Arosaurer took it’s opportunity to exploit the bottleneck, turning to fire it’s own 40mm laser cannons., figuring that the finicky Glow Fox would be hard-pressed to do any kind of dodging inside the narrow canyon. It was proved wrong, as the Glow Fox jinked from side to side, missing the walls by centimeters. It blasted out of the canyon, and blew past the Arosaurer at high speed.

“Timbre, you just passed up a perfect pounce! He was all offense!”

“You said no banzai charges.” Timbre replied, turning the Glow Fox in a tight circle to flank the Arosaurer, trying to set up for a pounce.

“I will murder you. I will roast you in your own damn oven! I WILL COMSUME YOU AND GAIN YOUR POWERS.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” Timbre sighed, leaning the Glow Fox into a dangerously tighter turn, making a quick corkscrew as the Arosaurer fired again.

From the back seat of the Pteras hovering overhead, Sef grimaced. For the past six months, he had been trying to crack Timbre. Trying to nail some sense of battle tactics into his pretty blonde head between meals. It made Sef furious, that a person could be such an excellent technical pilot as Timbre was, and yet be such a miserable fighter! It boggled the mind. The kid just could not fight.

Timbre quickly outgrew Vector, and inherited the Glow Fox. The Fox had belonged to an old Union member, who was killed in an accident in Line Town. The Glow Fox was too good a zoid to scrap, and nobody really wanted to buy it. Glow Foxes are finicky things to pilot, more difficult then Shadow Foxes, and less ability then the Fox. So, it was kept around as a spare. Timbre had taken to it like a duck to water, finding it easy to pilot, and quickly mastered it. He could balance the thing on a single claw, walk it over eggshells without breaking them, everything. And yet, he had absolutely no head for fighting.

Which was proved once again as Timbre passed up a perfectly good opportunity to fire at the Arosaurer, instead charging in at full speed. Timbre shifted the Fox into a bound, setting up for a bounce-pounce, which the Arosaurer saw coming from a mile away.

Once again, Timbre’s Glow Fox got a face full of tail, and was flung away.

“Stop! Just stop. I’ve had enough.” Sef groaned from the Pteras. “Let’s just head back in.” With that, the Pteras pilot, a part-timer named Xylo, made a gentle turn back towards the Union Center.

Timbre sighed. “And he wasn’t even the one fighting.” He muttered as he picked his Glow Fox up off the ground.

“It is infuriating, Tam.” The red Arosaurer chimed in. It was a gentle older female voice, belonging to Oleff’s wife, Consa. “You should have had me at the canyon.”

“I’m just not a good fighter.” Tam shrugged, turning the Glow Fox for home, but at a slow trot. “Walk with me?” He asked.

“Go on without me. I think Sef wants to yell at you a bit without me looking at him disapprovingly.” Consa replied, with a bit of a smile. “He thinks you hide behind my skirts.”

“They are very safe skirts to hide behind, ‘mam. You and Battleaxe are the only things that keep him from smacking me around, I think.”

“Oh, Sef wouldn’t. He talks big, but he wont hurt a fly. Unless paid large amounts of money to hurt said fly. He’s just a screamer.” Battleaxe, the red Arosaurer, grumbled his support for his master’s opinion.

“I thought that was Adie…” Timbre mumbled, shifting the Glow Fox into a sprint, streaking away from the slower Arosaurer.

Timbre sprinted the Glow Fox to the Union Center, trying to absorb himself in it’s controls. He played with the pacing, dodged it around small rocks, anything to keep his mind on task. He liked piloting, he enjoyed it’s intricacies and nuances. He was a very good pilot, and always pulled the best from whatever he piloted. Even the Glow Fox’s heavy armor and hot running didn’t keep Timbre from running it at top speed.

Timbre loved piloting, but he hated fighting. Well, not hated. He just didn’t enjoy being bad at it. It was like how he hated Golf, mostly because he couldn’t hit the damn ball. And since the only thing anyone did around the Union Center was eat, fight, and play golf, Timbre was kinda on the outs.

Except in the eating department. Timbre found himself in charge of a very busy kitchen, turning out four meals a day. He hired help, five good assistants from Line Town, which made running things much smoother. Timbre was directly in charge of the big meals, Lunch and Dinner. Breakfast and Midrats (midnight rations) was left to the assistants, who generally put out a good spread.

And Lunch was just was Timbre was going to be late for if Sef yelled at him too long.

Timbre bounced the Glow Fox into the court yard, jumping from the cockpit, and waving down an engineer. “Hey, Don! Can you take Fox into the stables for me?”

Don waved back, trotting over. “Sure thing, Tam. What’s for lunch?”

“Sandwich bar. Gotta go slice some stuff up. Thanks!”

Don jumped into the cockpit, and slowly walked the Glow Fox into the stables. Tam did not wait around, taking his opportunity to run off to the Center, and to his kitchens. Hopefully, Sef would not bother to interrupt Timbre while he was trying to get the meal together.

Tam sprinted into the kitchens, and hopped the serving bar, landing solidly on the tile of his domain, the kitchen. He grinned at his assistant. “Hey Betty.”

Betty was an older lady from Line Town, who drove in an hour every day, in her appropriately little and old Storch. Well, little and old, except for the fact that it went mach 2. Betty had been a merc back in the day, and liked to hang around the Union Center and chat with Consa. She worked for very little cash, instead accepting zoid services, which kept her old Storch in tip-top condition.

Betty smiled her old-lady smile, turning from her work for a moment. “Hello Timbre. Sandwiches today?”

“Yep. Let me throw my stuff on.” Timbre said, sprinting to the small back room, where his locker was. He kept most of his cooking gear in there, including his nice set of Ginzu knives, and his cooking uniform. He threw his apron on over his usual clothes, which consisted of a green t-shirt with a Blade Liger on it, and jeans. He stuffed his hair under a backwards ball cap, and darted back into to the kitchen with Betty, getting the kitchen ready for the lunch rush.

Remember that bit about Sef not bothering Timbre during lunch prep? Ha. Sef burst in through the kitchen doors a few minutes after Timbre got started with the deli slicer.

“TAM! Don’t you run from me!” Sef bellowed.

Timbre winced, and stopped the slicer, not wanting to get his fingers cut off. “Sef, I gotta make lunch..”

“Do you want to make lunch for the REST OF YOUR LIFE?” Sef yelled, slamming his fist into the serving bar. Unfortunately, this was the fist belonging to the wrist that he fractured two months ago. Not good. Sef yelped, and clutched the soft-cast wrapped arm to his chest.

Timbre couldn’t help but grin. “Want some ice for that?”

Sef bit back a painful cry. For all his tough nature, he was a *Watch your language!* when it came to being hurt. He cried like a baby when he managed to slip from the top of Tornado, landing quite solidly on body parts not meant to survive such impacts. He also bitched and moaned about his injuries for weeks. Of course, the only one that really cared was Adie, who was quite disappointed that Sef was out of commission. Because, for the past five months, Sef and Adie had been sleeping together. Sleeping quite loudly, actually. How they went from nearly wanting to kill one another on a daily basis to near-constant screwing astounded Timbre. Of course, they still argued, but Adie tended to win more often, since Sef liked having someone warm to curl up with at night. It was a bit annoying, with Timbre having the room next to them, but he survived through the virtue of headphones and good music that helped him drift into much appreciated dreamless sleep.

Timbre still didn’t dream. It was becoming a point of worry for him.

He threw a baggie of ice at Sef, and went back to his deli-slicing duties. Sef put the ice on, and returned to his yelling duties. Only with less yelling now, the pain kinda shocked the mad out of him.

“Tam, do you want to be a cook for the rest of your life?”

“Lets see. Cook, get blown up. Cook, get blown up…”

“Hey, I’m not blown up.”

“Yes, but statistically speaking, you currently have more of a chance of dying a horrible death then I.”

“Yeah, but at least I go out in a blaze of glory, and not from the stove exploding.”

“I could be attacked by kitchen ninjas. Betty could go rouge and stop the place to dust. With her Storch. That’s pretty glorious.“ Tam sighed, gathering up the deli meat, and putting it on a cold plate. “Sef, I’m not a good fighter. I suck.”

“You’re getting better!” Sef countered. “Come on, Tam. You’re the best damn pilot I’ve seen in my life.”

“Shoulda met Babe.” Timbre mumbled.

“Yes, Babe was awesome. Even though I never met the guy. He’s great, okay? We’re talking about you. Come oooonnnn. You could walk into any dressage competition in the world, and trounce the entire field.”

“So, why am I not doing dressage?” Tam countered. Dressage was a holdover word from the old days of horseback riding, where control and finesse was graded on the finest points. Timbre placed the cold plate on the serving counter, then going back to the slicer, now working on some cheese.

Sef picked a slice of turkey from the plate. “Because dressage wont make you any money. That’s for rich folks with nothing better to do. You can be a great fighter! Come on. I’m sorry I yelled. But we just gotta get you more comfortable with strikes of opportunity, and tactics.”

“Which I suck at.”

“Which you suck at CURRENTLY. Currently. Everyone needs practice. You’ve only been going at this serious for, what? A year? Not even. You came from not knowing what a Command Wolf was two years ago, to this. People don’t pick up walking that fast.”

Timbre slid another plate onto the serving bar, this one full of cheese. He then set out three loaves of bread. “Make me a sandwich will you?”

Sef grabbed some whole wheat bread and mustard, and started layering some cheese on it. “Look, I’m just saying that you could be great. Don’t ever loose sight of that.”

“Uh huh.” Timbre mumbled, taking the sliced veggies from Betty. The first hungry pilots and engineers were wandering in. “More peppers, Sef. I’m a vegetarian. I’ve only just gotten used to cheese here.”

Sef added the veggies, and slid the plate to Timbre. “You know, when my wrist heals up, I’m taking you out with me no matter what. You might as well not get killed.” Sef said, then going to making his own sandwich

“I got food to serve, Sef. I‘ll see you later.”

“Yeah, laters. Come into the garage when yer done tonight.”


-

Rick hates Glow Foxes.

[Deadborder]

Damn right I do. All Glow Foxes - and Scout Foxes - need to die horrible deaths. Repeatedly. Probnably at the hands of the Japanese fanart guys who created them only to have them stolen ad infinitum by CERTAIN CRAPPY RPGS.

Ahem.

Anopther cool set of chapters there. Nice development of the characters and enviornment, and good to see more of TImbere's development as a pilot. He's got to be only amnesiac orphan in all of Zoids Fandom who isn't automatically the bestast pilot EVAR. This is very cool.

Oh yeah... ZEEKDOBER! You get a zillion points and get to proceed to the next round. Now al you need is a trio of Zeekdober pilots (A militatry guy, a surfer dude and a ninja) and all will be totally sweet.

Ah, who am I kidding? Anyone who uses Zeekdobers in a fic is cool with me.

Keep at it. WE NEED MORE GODO FICS HERE!

Rick R.

[rantinan]

Zeeekedoobers!
im likeing this espicaly the animisim of tornado. you ahve described him perfectly as the big playfull puppym, and i do like it.

[Orange]

Thanks for your kind words! Rick, what is GODO?

And, it seems that the first chapter wasmy 600th post. Go me.

[Deadborder]

GODO = Good typed by an overexcited slightly distracted dyslexic. Be thankful it doen't include the letters "K", "Q", "J" or "]".

I love you too. Now write more.

Rick R.

[Abaddon]

I've loved LOTLM ever since I stumbled upon the first Canto while browsing the forum looking for stuffs to read.

Canto Seventh is great with all the character development. I sorta like the way you don't use overly powerful Zoids (Like Deathsaurers) in your fic. Keep at it.

Abaddon is looking forward to Canto Eighth.

[Orange]

abaddon said:

I've loved LOTLM ever since I stumbled upon the first Canto while browsing the forum looking for stuffs to read.

Canto Seventh is great with all the character development. I sorta like the way you don't use overly powerful Zoids (Like Deathsaurers) in your fic. Keep at it.

Abaddon is looking forward to Canto Eighth.

Those will come, in time... You'll enjoy meeting a girl and her Gojulas Giga next canto. You'll also all want to kill me with the cliffhanger I'm planning.

Hey, where's Vig? I usualy have him singing my priases by now.

[Hidocker]

berserkorangefury said:

Hey, where's Vig? I usualy have him singing my priases by now.

He done joined the army!

[Orange]

hydocker said:

berserkorangefury said:

Hey, where's Vig? I usualy have him singing my priases by now.

He done joined the army!

Huh? Australia has an army?

Just kidding, australian armed forces guys are scary. Huh? Vig joined the army? Darn. What ever will I do without his strange use of commas?