Lay Of The Last Minstrel: Canto Tenth

[Orange]

Chapter 27: Vickers Steading

His spear, six Scottish ells in length,
Seem'd newly dyed with gore
His shafts and bow, of wondrous strength,
His hardy partner bore.

-

Timbre lay on top of Fiver's head, quite comfortable between his ears. The sun was warm, cutting through the slight early fall chill that was building. He stared up at the sky, watching the clouds go by. Clouds were like his little muses, they always seemed to inspire that certain tranquility he enjoyed to daydream in. Not quite sleeping, still lucid enough to think. It was almost a replacement for dreams.

The weather was turning from the dry heat of summer, to the cool chill of fall. Here in the forests, the cold carried a smell of oak sap and settling loam. Timbre did little to change his usual outfit, preferring to stick to his favorite green Blade Liger t-shirt, but had taken to wearing an old jean jacket he found stuffed in one of the corners of the Gustav. It had been Babe's at one time, and even had 'Handsome Boys Escort Services' sewn in on one arm. He really should cover that up, and put on the Iron Kong, Gojulas, and Salamander Union standard, but he was lax to change it. Like the old ring, it was one of the few things that Timbre actually had of Babe's.

Vickers Steading was a nice enough place, if a bit out of the way. Timbre had to run Fiver all the way to Ender-on-Wau, to catch a Whale King ferry across the continent to Timur. From there, he got a ten hour Gustav ride to Vickers, all of which was very boring.

Vickers Steading was actually quite a nice place. It was more north then the Union, and had a nice dry atmosphere. It was also cooler, and far more hilly. A nice change from the faceless interior. Most of Vickers Steady was surrounded by old-growth, giant Speltwood Greater Oak trees, large enough to hollow out and stick a Gojulas in, with room for a tea party. Their wood was very spongy, and needed to grow in such broad proportions to support it's self.

As such, it was not often harvested, since it was such poor quality. But some enterprising souls in Vickers Town managed to saw through the trees and move them into town, carving houses into the trunks, using the natural shape of the tree to form the walls. They were interesting, to say the least, and were quite well insulated, and very comfortable. Timbre had been in several over his time in Vickers.

The days passed easily, if slowly. Vickers Steading was really boring. They were straight laced, well behaved, conservative people. Their largest export was Speltwood truffles, which grew wild amongst the Speltwood Greater Oaks. Almost everyone in the town had a truffle pig or dog. In the mid-winter truffling season, the entire town mobilized, spreading out over the forest with their pigs and dogs, having the animals sniff out the delicate roots. They were then packaged and sold off to the highest bidder.

When the town was not out looking for truffles, most of the people participated in small cottage industries. Furniture making, mostly. Beyond the large stands of Speltwood, there was a logging mill that harvested the smaller, sturdier Staddtwood Lesser Oaks that grew on the fringes of Speltwood forests. The Staddwood was imported in bulk, and sent out as expensive furniture.

Of course, over time, the trade of the town was discovered by less desirable elements. Bandits. Apparently, a small group of less-then-desirable pilots had moved somewhere into the Speltwood forest, and would watch carefully for the Gustav convoys that were always coming and going from Vickers Steading. They seemed to be quite classy about the whole thing. They only 'harvested' the largest convoys, leaving the smaller ones to come and go. They were careful not to scare off the majority of their prey. In fact, rumors abounded of the leader of the small group, a woman called simply 'Velt'. She appeared to be a lady of high class, even if she was of lesser means. Her old Saber Tiger was a relic of the Pre-Dust Guylos, and was kept in pristine condition. her gang rarely ever fired a shot, instead, preferring to surround and overwhelm their prey, politely informing the convoy that they would be taking their stuff.

Escorted convoys cut down on the 'attacks' somewhat, but it was still an issue. Vickers Steading, afraid of loosing their convoy customers, scrambled to set up a town guard (before, they relied on a small police force consisting of BattleRovers), mostly of hired mercenaries. They would have to start setting up their own convoy guards, to escort the traders in and out of their immediate area.

Timbre was not one of those escort mercenaries. Instead, he was temporary muscle. He was there to look impressive, make everyone feel safe, and 'scare off the bandits' for awhile until the bulk of the new guard was established. Which was fine by Timbre. It meant he didn't have to do anything besides show off a bit with Fiver, which he was more then glad to do. He actually spent more time in the kitchens of the best restaurant in town, having somehow charmed the owner into teaching him a few truffle recipes.

Everyone in town loved their new protector. To them, Timbre was everything the 'perfect warrior' should be. This in it's self made Timbre roll his eyes whenever he heard it. Polite to a fault, an excellent pilot, with a bit of a bad-boy side. They considered his smoking and shaggy hair to be enough of a deviation from their almost creepily idylic lives in the town. The fact that Fiver was a one-of-a-kind zoid was also a big plus in their minds. As such, Timbre once again found himself shooing away the affections of the townspeople. He thought he left that deal behind in Riko Town.

Ah well, it got him free meals. He was invited to just about every house in town for breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner. He found himself bouncing from family to family as he was 'hosted to dinner', and had nearly every single truffle recipe known to man set down in front of him. And the family cooks were almost besides themselves when Timbre asked for recipes.

Of course, some looked down at Timbre's popularity with scorn. In particular, the three hired guards that had a more permanent position in town. They thought of Timbre as nothing more then a skinny wet-behind-the-ears emo bastard (which did have a certain element of truth). They piloted heavy, bulky Cannonforts, painted in the blue and silver colors of the town flag. In comparison, Fiver was a green and charcoal butterfly on the wind, agile and swift, with just enough firepower to make him useful in a real fight.

Of course, the events and details of his new work site were not what concerned Timbre's daydreams. Mostly, he was thinking about Louiza. What guy wouldn't? Timbre suddenly found himself with a girlfriend, a girlfriend that was a direct result of drunken stupidity. Which, admittedly, Timbre thought was really cool. Sure, he only spent about five minutes with her before she had to take off, but still. This whole girlfriend thing was actually turning out to be a lot easier then he thought it would be. Louiza was always his friend, only now it came with kisses. Neat.

When he first got to Vickers, he found himself looking for gifts that Louiza might like. Then he kicked himself back into reality. Louiza hated most of this stuff, and scorned the 'hopeless romantic' thing. She was an explody action movie girl, not a chick flick lady. Timbre decided that if he really wanted to impress Louiza, he'd be best off bringing home something that went boom. Or, liquor. Actually, Vickers Steading had some nice local wine, maybe he would grab a few bottles of that...

Timbre knew his thoughts were silly, but he really couldn't help them. This was a new, cool thing for him. He tried talking to Fiver about it, but the zoid would hear nothing of it. It's not that Fiver didn't care, it was just that the zoid didn't really want to hear Timbre's rambling one-sided conversations towards the subject. When Timbre would start talking about the whole thing, Fiver would start grumbling. Not in any aggressive manner, but more of a Shut Up Please way.

That was fine, though. It reminded Timbre of what Babe might do. Hell, if Babe was there, he would probably be teasing Timbre about the whole thing, and give the kid simple, straightforward advice, then advising Timbre to shut up, because Babe was a bit sick of hearing about it. Not that Timbre knew what advice Babe would be giving him, but he could imagine it well enough. Probably something to do with using common sense, and not acting stupid. Actually, that's what nearly all of Babe's advice had constituted of. Which is why it was generally pretty good advice.

Timbre was quite comfortable on top of Fiver's head. And he probably would have stayed comfortable for quite a bit longer, if his day-dreaming wasn't interrupted by a gruff voice.

"Hey, Conway. You up there?"

Timbre sat up, and looked down at the source of the voice. He didn't have to look down far, as Fiver was lying on his belly, his head settled on the ground. It was Jok, one of the three Cannonfort drivers. He looked like what Timbre hoped to never be. He was almost skinnier then Timbre, but a kind of sunken in skinny, with pale unhealthy skin, yellowing teeth, and a busted-up nose that had been broken one too many times. And unfortunately, Jok was the nicest of the three guards. Timbre and him usually bummed smokes off of one another, and sometimes talked a bit, usually about the weather. Jok was even more bored then Timbre, and probably took any company he could get.

Jok was an old-timer. He was probably a bit older then Babe would be, and had been piloting just as long. He had been a hired guardsman for many years, before trying to open his own business, an electronics store. The store crumbled, and Jok went back to doing guard work.

"Hey Jok." Timbre said, swinging his legs over the side. "What do you need?"

"Nothin. Just checkin up on you. What's up?"

"Not much at all. Just napping."

"You and your naps. Whatever." Jok shuffled a foot in the dirt for a moment, then reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes, which he fiddled with for a moment. "The cops and us are gonna go out huntin' for Velt tonight. Wanna come?"

"Sorry, but that is not in my job description." Timbre replied, sliding down the side of Fiver's head, landing neatly in the dirt.

"Yeah, well. We could use the help. And I think the boys would appreciate it. I doubt we'll find 'er, it's mostly to keep ourselves at least looking useful."

"Huh." Timbre thought this over for a moment. He didn't really like the fact that the other two guards, Mikale and Dave, pretty much outright hated him. It was tempting. "It's not going to be an all-night thing?"

Jok snorted. "Naw. I doubt it'll even go two hours before the cops start whining. Pusses."

Timbre sighed, reaching for his own cigarettes. Damn it, his lighter was missing again. "I'll think about it. Spare a light?"

"Sure." Jok said, tossing his own lighter over to Timbre.

It was a sturdy steel windproof lighter, and looked about as old as Jok himself. On it, was etched some weird symbols. Actually, not weird. Timbre recognized them immediately. They were blocky kana, composed of straight, simple, and thick lines. He knew what they said. N E B. Or, Ni E Bi. Only, it wasn't Ni E Bi. For some reason, the sounds formed themselves in his mind, but the characters didn't match up with what he usually could read.

Timbre lit his cigarette, and took another moment to look at the lighter. "Can I ask you something? Where did you get this?" He asked, tossing the lighter back.

Jok shrugged. "My old job. New Europa Brotherhood. Don't ask me what they did, I just guarded the compound. It was a weird place. Why?"

"Just thought it looked familiar."

"Huh, cant see why. It's a really weird logo."

Timbre looked confused for a moment. "It's not a logo, it's an acronym. N E B."

Jok's eyebrows knitted, and he took a moment to look at the lighter. "Man, where are you seeing that?"

Timbre shook his head. "Never mind."

"So, you gonna join us tonight?"

Timbre thought about that for a second. The lighter was a new mystery. How the hell did he read that? Or, why couldn't Jok? It gnawed at the edges of his brain, demanding attention."Depends. Maybe you will feel like telling me a bit more about the New Europa Brotherhood?"

Jok smiled a bit. "I'll tell ya all about it out on the hunt."

[Orange]

-

Chapter 28: The Straw

The red cross on a southern breast
Is broader than the raven s nest:
Thou, Whitslade, shalt teach him his weapon to wield,
And o'er him hold his father's shield.

-

There wasn't much to tell, unfortunately. Jok could only say what he knew, which was very little. The New Europa Brotherhood was, apparently, a group of rich guys that invested heavily into zoid research and development. The compound Jok had guarded was a weapons testing facility in the middle of nowhere, where things exploded on a regular basis. Jok was never allowed to directly observe the trials, but he had seen the results. Usually large craters and the like.

However, Jok didn't think it was always regular munitions they were testing. He reckoned that a lot more rocketry and missile stuff was tested out there, mostly because of the regular shipment of very, very long Gustav shipments marked 'HANDLE LIKE EGGS'. That, and he had caught glimpses of what looked like missile launches.

At the NEB, he had piloted a Metal Rhimos, and never saw any real action. The worst he had ever been involved in, was when an escorted Gustav convoy stumbled on the place, and the escorts did not take kindly to being diverted. They were quickly taken care of, as were the Gustav pilots.

The whole story took half an hour, time which Jok and Timbre had spent 'looking' for Velt. It was more like 'wandering around', really. When Jok finished, Timbre excused himself, and ran Fiver off into the forest, mostly just to amuse himself. He had taken a liking to slaloming between the wide trees, and used them has handy obstacles to test himself against. He spent another hour wandering the Speltwood forests, finding new little challenges for himself.

He probably would have continued to do this for quite awhile more, had he not nearly tripped over a black and gold Gylos Saber Fang.

Well, tripped is a bit harsh. The Saber Fang made it's presence quite clear, and in quite a polite manner. But it still spooked Timbre and Fiver quite a bit.

"Good morning!" The Saber Fang pilot said, sidling up to Fiver.

Fiver yelped, and jumped to one side, quickly pivoting around to face the Saber Fang. Timbre was just as startled. "Who are you?" He demanded.

"No worries, m'boy. Just want to have a chat with you." The voice said calmly. Then, the Saber Fang's hatch popped open, revealing the driver inside. This was the ultimate sign of truce, that all pilots and zoids recognized. Timbre was obliged to do the same.

He was then able to get a good look at the pilot. She was an older lady, her brown hair streaked with noble bits of grey. It was cropped short for easy care, and was a bit messy and disheveled. But she was still quite handsome, with a soft face lined with faint wrinkles. Her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. Which is what she was doing.

"Timbre Conway and Fiver the Waize Wolf, I presume?" She called out across to Timbre.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Velt, and my companion is Lance the Saber Tiger. You wouldn't happen to be related to Baeddan Conway?"

Timbre was taken aback for a moment. "You knew Babe?"

"In passing. We crossed paths a few times. His Handsome Boys were quite the team of escorts. Only managed to beat those suckers once. An excellent adversary." Velt explained, smiling. "How are you related to him? Nephew?"

"His son. Somewhat." Timbre rubbed the back of his neck. "He adopted me, really. Wait. Why does everyone seem to know Babe?"

"Well, he was quite a prolific guy. The Handsome Boys were somewhat famous in some circles. Anyway.. Is it true he Ragnarok Fanged?"

"Yes. He did it to save my life."

"I expected no less. And you named your zoid after his?" Velt said, stepping out of the cockpit, and sitting on Lance's nose.

"Not really. It's a long story." Fiver said, still standing in his cockpit. He was wary, however nice this lady might seem.

"Ah well. Enough pleasantries, my boy. I know you're from the Union, and I know you're here to guard the town from me and my family. Unfortunately, I'll be putting you out of a job. We're leaving the area."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I thought I would save the fine people of Vickers the cost of keeping on a force of Cannonforts. Really, we've done them enough harm as it is. But I had my dues to pay. Now that they are done, I'm free to leave with my family."

Timbre's eyebrows knitted. "Dues?"

"It's a long story." Velt said, echoing Timbre's past words. "Let's just say the world of banditry is a bit more complicated then one might think."

Lance rumbled at this, shifting his weight from paw to paw for a moment.

Velt smiled again. "Anyway, please tell the people of Vickers what i've told you. I'm sure they wont believe us, and that you probably don't believe me..."

Velt's speech was interrupted in the most violent way possible, as a massive shaft of beam energy impacted onto Lance's head.

The zoid had no time to scream, and Velt was incinerated instantly. But even as the Saber Tiger fell, more fire arced in from the woods beyond. Timbre spun Fiver around, jumping to one side to get away from the target site, casting about for the source of the fire.

It didn't take long to figure it out, as Jok's Cannonfort stepped forward.

"Jok!" Timbre yelled. "She had her cockpit open! You shot her zoid in the head!" He said, in disbelief. Before his eyes, a peaceful, unarmed woman had been murdered. It was the first time he had seen death in such a personal, upfront manner.

"Thank you, captain obvious." Jok replied over his external speakers, shifting his cannons from their firing position. "And thank you for distracting her."

"She had her cockpit open!" Timbre yelled again, his hands rolling into fists. "She was LEAVING!"

"You don't know that. And I don't know that. Get over it, kid. Come on, we have work to do." Jok replied, turning his Cannnonfort to the west.

It was then that Timbre heard the other explosions.

"Fiver!" Timbre shouted, jumping back into his seat, slamming his horse collar harness in over his shoulders. Before the cockpit even fully closed, Fiver wheeled around towards the source of the explosions. Timbre throttled him up into a bounding run, easily guiding him around the massive Speltwood.

He slid to a stop at the edge of a small clearing, where new fires burned. There were tents and shacks there, well camouflaged against the large trees. One of the trees had even been hollowed out, and had been acting as a zoid stable, housing two now destroyed Command Wolves. In the center of the camp, a pair of Molgas burned.

Timbre could see people running from the fire. There were maybe a dozen people in the camp. Against the harsh light of the fire, he could see them, running terrified. His heart seized up as he realized that of the people, several were children. Children were in the camp. That was Velt's family.

And the Cannonforts continued to fire, intent on leveling the whole place. Timbre watched, horrified, as a small group of escaping people were blown from the earth, shattered and burned by the powerful beam cannons.

"STOP!" Timbre screamed over the comm, stepping Fiver forward. "Stop! You disabled the zoids! There are children! Children!"

"Kids that will grow up into the same scum." Jok said from besides him. The firing stopped for the moment, as his Cannonfort broke through the forest, into the clearing. "Pilots that will live to steal again. What we do is no worse then what they have accomplished over a lifetime."

"This is murder!" Timbre yelled, his eyes welling up with tears. "You killed Velt when she was unarmed! Her cockpit was OPEN. You do not break that trust!"

"Conway, get into the real world!" Another Cannonfort pilot said, pulling up closer. It was Mikale, an even older salt then Jok was. And he disliked Timbre the most. This most recent interference only made him despise the young pilot even more. "You stupid puss, this is how crap WORKS. You eliminate the source of the problem. The problem is people. The tool is the zoid. Destroying the zoid does not solve the problem of people who live to take from others. Not just things, Conway. These people are killers, like us. They take lives. We take theirs. This is their end."

Timbre could only sit back in his seat, frozen in horror. Like us. Timbre wasn't a murderer. Fiver did not wantonly kill. Did he? How many lives had Fiver ended over his time?

"You'll never make it in the real world if you don't get this simple fact through your head." Mikale continued. "You stupid, worthless puss. You ride in the finest killing machine I've seen in my entire life. It's wasted on you!"

Timbre felt something shift inside of him. Something turned off in his head, like a small light going out. His chest tightened, his gut aching in a mix of nausea and tension. His jaw was slack, his mouth dry. Fiver snarled at this change, feeling Timbre's emotions swell. He lowered his head, his claws gripping into the dirt, mouth gaping slightly.

Jok laughed. "Even the zoid knows this! See? He wants to be let loose. Let him kill, Conway."

Mikale seemed about to say something else, but his words were cut off before he could even voice them. In a bound, Fiver covered the distance between them, his jaws seizing on the bull zoid's long snout. The Cannonfort bellowed, trying to shake Fiver free, firing it's horn mounted beam cannons. But their fixed angle well cleared the position of Fiver's body. Fiver was tossed about, but did not release his lockjaw pit-grip on the bull's face.

An electric whine pierced the night, quickly charging into a high-pitched, screaming keen. Small generator's in Fiver's body quickly spun up, developing a deadly charge between the two pairs of front fangs of Fiver's jaw. Power was then suddenly, violently shunted from the Waize Wolf's body, arcing through the head and body of the Cannonfort. It's bellows turned into the primal zoid death scream, as it's body convulsed wildly, electricity shorting out every circuit in it's massive metal body.

Fiver let go of the zoid, letting it fall to the ground. It still twitched as spare bits of energy leaked from what remained of it's core. There was no life left throughout the entire zoid, the massive electric shock blasting through all forms of protection that may have lined the core or cockpit. There Fiver stood, almost admiring his work for a moment.

Two blasts of beam energy struck the ground next to him, inspiring Fiver to take a quick jump to the side, then pivoting to look at his enemy. Jok's Cannonfort stood in front of him, eerily backlit by the fires that still burned in the old bandit camp.

"You'll pay for that, Conway." Jok said, his voice dangerously level. It was the voice of a man long-used to the sights and sound of battle, a voice barely containing the rage behind it.

"Make me."

Fiver made a quick scoot to the side, narrowly dodging another blast of fire from the Cannonfort. He ducked behind a tree, using it as handy cover as the Cannonfort continued to fire, seemingly intent on leveling the tree. Fiver made a quick turn, looping back from the tree into the thicker undergrowth, scrambling for cover as the Cannonfort tried to track his path.

Jok turned his Cannonfort with his guns, adding his horn and chest mounted guns to the main fire on his back mounted beam cannons. He was firing almost blind now, the beams of his arsenal carving through the soft wood of the Speltwood. He was operating on the theory that, if you threw enough fire out there, you would eventually hit something.

Which would be true, if you were firing in the remote area of your target. But Fiver was way ahead of the line of fire, easily weaving through the thick stands of Speltwood. He spun up his 25mm Vulcan, firing through the breaks in the trees, peppering the Cannonfort's thick hide with bullets. The bull bellowed, trying to turn faster to keep up with the Waize Wolf, using it's turreted back mounted cannons to shift it's line of fire.

Fiver stopped firing, instead focusing on his run, activating his leg-mounted maneuvering boosters to speed up his pace, dodging again through a thick stand of Speltwood. He easily lapped the Cannonfort's turning radius, then breaking from the cover of the trees, charging at the Cannonfort's off shoulder. Fiver slammed home, knocking the bull into the inertia of his turn, and off balance. The bull stumbled, and was slammed again as twin blasts of extremely close range, high gage Shot-Pancor shells slammed into his middle. This was enough to slam the Cannonfort to the ground, struggling on his side, hooves kicking out blindly.

Fiver hopped the body of the Cannonfort, spinning up his Vulcan again. Without pause, the cannons were angled towards the head of the bull, and within moments, high energy automatic fire was streaking home into it's target. The armor held up at first, but the continuous fire eventually pounded through, blowing through into the cockpit of the Cannonfort, silencing it's bellows, and smearing Jok into little more then red goo.

Fiver continued to fire for a moment, if only for the pleasure of overkill. The Vulcan was then silenced, spinning down from it's fire, before finally stopping.

Inside the cockpit, Timbre's hands rested lightly on the controls, easily guiding them through their needed movements. His thumb released from the firing control, and he tilted Fiver's head up to look at his remaining target. The last, silent Cannonfort. It had stood quietly during the entire action, it's pilot in shock.

A sudden moment of benevolence tugged at Timbre's numb head. He was seeing red, but his mind was focused. Sharp. His body, his zoid responded to every calculated thought that arced from his head, down his spine and through to the many nerves that controlled his movements. In exacting time to these synaptic responses, Fiver had moved in perfect sync, effortlessly obeying every minute adjustment Timbre's fine control demanded.

"I highly suggest running." Timbre said over the comm, his voice level. There was no trace of emotion behind it, even a dangerous lack thereof. It terrified Dave, the last Cannonfort pilot. He took Timbre's suggestion, and wheeled his Cannonfort off into the trees, running back for Vickers Steading.

Then, Timbre passed out.

[Orange]

-

Chapter 29: Aftershock

That day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner's stay?
How shall he meet that dreadful day?

-

Timbre heard the rain.

Over the steady thunking pace of Fiver's trot, Timbre could hear the rain. It splattered over the canopy, dribbling down in tiny rivulets, arching down at gravity's pace. The drops were fat, big lumps of water, the sort that almost feels refreshing. Not that spitting, tiny gnat bits of drizzle, but good, thick rain. They made their small impacts, reverberating with that specific sound that is a rainfall on a zoid's canopy.

Timbre was slouched over in his seat, his horse-collar harness the only thing keeping him from slumping over his console. The skies were light, enough to see by, but darkening with nightfall. How long had Timbre been passed out? He pulled himself up straight, his back cracking painfully as he did so.

He glanced at the HUD clock. "Ugh.." He groaned. His head hurt like hell. He must have hit it, or something. It really just... hurt. Not an ache, or any sort of specific pain. It just felt bad. His eyes took a moment to focus. It was 18, right before nightfall in the thirty hour day.

Timbre must have done his usual trick of passing out for strange amounts of time. If anything, he was good at sleeping.

"Fiver, where are we?" Timbre asked, looking out at the landscape. It was significantly flatter then the land of Vickers Steading, with far less trees. It was more grassland, with a few stands of lonely, thick trees dotting the landscape. Fiver also scaled back his pace, slowing from his trot, to a walk, plodding sedately along the road.

Fiver rumbled, flicking something up on the HUD. It was a map overlay, with a helpful little blipping circle around a certain bit of road. As far as Fiver could tell, this was where they were. And his reckoning was usually pretty good, as Timbre was sure to frequently calibrate his inertial navigation settings.

Timbre leaned in closer to see the map (his vision was a bit blurry), studying the few details available. It was no place he had ever been. He zoomed the map out to get a better look of just where he was.

Fiver had been heading to the southwest, following a rough pattern of roads that branched out from Vickers Steading. As the Pteras flew, they were about 2000 kilometers from Vickers. Timbre did a quick rough calculation of the roads, and figured that Fiver had been traveling at a steady trot of about 65 km/h, for about 35 hours.

35 hours ago, Timbre killed two men in a blind rage.

It hurt to think about. Real pain, not just the guilt and terror associated with the memory. Fiver whined, and Timbre ran his hand over the console, trying to console the zoid as much as he was consoling himself. The touch of something real, familiar. It took his mind off the hurt.

Timbre tried to move his hands to the controls, but they shook as he did so. He overshot their position, and struggled to find their balance. He wrestled with this simple task for a few seconds, before settling his hands in his lap, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling, as if looking for guidance.

"Ugghh. Fiver, you drive."

Fiver whined, but kept his pace steady.

"Where are you taking me?"

Fiver whined again, flashing something on the hud. It was down the road quite a ways. If he went back to his trotting pace, they would probably reach it by morning. It was a nameless place, thirty miles from the nearest town. But Fiver zoomed in on it, marking it with a broad circle.

Timbre sighed. "Whatever you say, Five. I cant really.. think of any options right now." He said, finding it hard to find even his simple words.

Fiver rumbled softly, picking up his pace. He took care to transition smoothly, speeding back into his gentle trot. Timbre continued to stare at the ceiling for a moment. His head settled back into the strange realm of what Timbre could only describe as 'bad'. It almost felt like nausea, only he wasn't light headed, and his stomach felt fine. It was like his head was wrapped in wool. Itchy red wool. The best he could compare it to was when Scott punched him upside the head, only this was the weird numb part that preceded the real pain of a mild concussion. He wondered if it was bad that the numb part was lasting a lot longer then it should.

The gentle rocking of Fiver's trot soon lulled Timbre into natural, peaceful sleep.

-

When Timbre woke up again, it was from Fiver shaking his head. A most unsettling alarm clock, but it worked. The sky had cleared a bit, letting the dawn sun peek through. The light hurt Timbre's eyes. And his head. Well, his head actually just hurt anyway, but the light really didn't help things.

The pain was almost relieving. It was something Timbre was a bit more familiar with, unlike the weird detached numbness from before. Yes, it felt like someone jammed a jarid in his skull, but at least he knew how to deal with that. Timbre reached down the side of his seat, fumbling for a moment to reach this first aid kit he kept down there. His hands still didn't feel like cooperating much, but he finally managed to grab the kit and pop it open. Luckily, his goal was right on top. Several paper packets of motrin. He ripped one open with his teeth, swallowing the two pills inside. He groped for the water bottle he kept handy, and washed the pills down with several gulps.

Then, Timbre realized he was pretty damn thirsty. He made himself take his time, sipping the lukewarm water a few sips at a time. As he drank, he looked over the map Fiver had kept up on the HUD.

They were on the edges of the Randalt Flood Plains, a very fertile area of Europa. Rivers streamed in from the forested highlands, joining into two great rivers that gushed down the heart of Europa, before finally pooling into the Timur Lake, which then drained into the ocean from one great expanse of water known as the Stall Depths.

The flood plains benefited from great overruns of silt, that accumulated on the banks of the rivers, which then naturally washed down into the lower plains. The area Fiver was wandering through was nearly empty, though. The development of giant corporation farms had not stretched this far upriver from Timur. Fifty miles down the road, there was a small town marked out on the map. But that was about it.

Or, seemed to be about it. A small road split from the main path, little more then a driveway. Fiver took that path, shifting back into a walk.

Timbre peered out at the landscape, trying to pick something out against the morning light. It took a few minutes, but he finally spotted a dominating bulk at the end of the road. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but it had obvious mechanical angles to it. It was lying in front of what looked to be an ancient, crumbling foundation, half full of mud.

When Fiver finally approached within thirty yards of the thing, the Waize Wolf paused, lowering his head and popping the cockpit. Timbre hopped out, shoes sqicking in the still-muddy dirt. It took him a moment to get his balance. This seemed to be both from his headache, his strange tremble that now seemed to spread through his body, and the fact that he had been sitting in Fiver for more then thirty hours. His ass was thoroughly and completely numb. He shivered a bit in the morning chill, which cut through the light jean jacket he was wearing. He left his duffel full of clothes back in Vickers, at the inn he had been sleeping at.

He took the moment to take a better look at the bulk. It was at an angle to the road, and Timbre had to take a few very unsteady steps to the side to get a profile view. As he did, Fiver closed his cockpit and moved off, taking a few steps closer to the thing. He stopped next to it, and then lay down in the dirt, head resting on his paws. He rumbled softly.

Timbre finally saw what the thing was. It was covered in years of mud and dirt, but was still recognizable for what it was. A Shield Liger. Under the dirt, he could see a few rain-washed spots of royal purple on the armor, with stripes of noble platinum black pin striping, and a charcoal black undercarriage. Timbre felt a stirring of a memory, but the pain in his head prevented any serious thought from occurring. Instead, he just wondered at what the heck Fiver was doing.

Fiver seemed to be talking to the Liger. Or, trying to talk. Fiver rumbled in short bursts, as if trying to get the Shield Liger's attention. The Liger made no response, and Fiver whined softly, turning his head to nudge at the Shield Liger's mane. It was only then that the Liger made some response, and a faint one at that. It lay still, but rumbled softly in response to Fiver's nudges. This seemed to satisfy Fiver, who put his head back down on his paws.

Timbre watched, fascinated. Fiver was a very personable zoid, but this was the first time he had seen this kind of heartfelt response to a strange zoid. At least, it was strange to Timbre. The pain that arced through his brain prevented him from contemplating very deeply on the subject, as the motrin seemed to be having no effect so far.

There was a noise behind him, an engine. He slowly turned, taking care not to overbalance himself, to look for the source of the noise. It was a jeep of some kind, mud splattered and dented in several places, obviously having seen many years of hard use. It pulled up quickly, stopping about ten yards away.

A man hopped out, along with a dog. The dog was black, of medium size, some kind of retriever. It stood next to the man, as if waiting for some kind of command. It didn't seem to be aggressive in any way. The man shared this non-aggressive look. He looked to be about seventy, but had aged gracefully, his silver hair neatly combed back. He had almond shaped eyes, and naturally tan skin. He was wiry, but in a healthy way, that suggested that the man had been fit all his life. He had the clothes of a farmer, but stood like a fighter, knees bent slightly, arms unconsciously in a low guard.

"Excuse me!" He called out, stepping over towards Timbre. "This is private property. Are you lost?"

Timbre shook his head, looking back at the Shield Liger. "Sir, to tell you the truth, I have no idea."

Fiver picked his head up, looking over the Shield Liger at the man. He seemed to brighten, sitting up from his position in the mud. He cocked his head, and whimpered a strange descending three note whine.

This seemed to surprise the man. Well, at the very least, he seemed puzzled. He looked Timbre over, noticing his jacket. Specifically, the Handsome Boys Escort Services patch sewn in the arm.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Timbre Conway, sir."

"Conway? Then... " He looked up at the Waize Wolf, his eyes settling on the large five emblazoned on his leg armor. "Fiver!"

The man ran over to the zoid, who dipped his head to meet the man, carefully nudging him as he approached. The man hugged Fiver's nose, obviously very happy to see the zoid. Fiver rumbled softly, nudging the man again, in Timbre's direction. The man took a step back, then turning to look at Timbre.

"My goodness, I had no idea Babe had family left!"

The black dog had made his way over to Timbre, sniffing his feet over for a moment, then moving up his leg, taking in all the interesting smells that a new person always had to offer. Timbre ignored the dog, settling his attention on the man. "You knew Babe?"

"Of course. Goodness, this is no place to talk. Fiver! Would you like to come to the house, or will you stay with Aftershock?"

Fiver rumbled in response, shaking his head. He then settled back down on his belly, seemingly content to lie next to the Shield Liger in the mud.

"Of course. You have catching up to do. But so do we. You're welcome to come into the stable any time you like, it's wide open. Now. Timbre, is it? Come with me, you look chilled to the bone. We'll get some tea into you. Jagger! Jeep."

The dog turned, and took a few quick strides to the jeep, jumping up into the back. Timbre also took a few steps for the jeep, but found himself faltering. He felt strong hands take him by the arm, steadying him.

"My boy, are you alright?"

Timbre shook his head, even this causing him a dull pain. "I don't really know. My head is killing me..."

The man noticed that Timbre was trembling, and put an arm across Timbre's back, further supporting him. "Now now, let's get you into the jeep, and inside. Come on, one foot in front of the other. That's it. Now. My name is Yo. Don't worry my boy, I have just the thing for you. You are with family."

The significance of this passed Timbre by completely. It was hard enough for him to remember how to walk for the moment. Yo helped him to the jeep, loaded him up, and took off down the road from whence he came.

It took a few minutes, but they finally arrived at a large zoid stable. It looked large enough to hold a Gojulas, but was oddly empty, except for a pen in the corner, which held a dozen happy cows. Other farm equipment lay scattered around, and a few chickens pecked around, obviously glad for the cover from the breeze. There was another dog, who ran up to Yo and Timbre, showing the same interest that the black one had.

Hung from the ceiling, in the corner above the cows, was a large loft. It had to be three stories tall, and was bolted firmly in place, supported by the stable wall, and several support columns that rested firmly on the stable floor. Yo wrestled Timbre up the high stairs, finally getting him inside. Neither of the dogs followed him up.

Once inside, there was yet another dog. This one was a small lap dog mix, which yapped happily as Yo came in. Yo shushed it, and helped Timbre to a handy chair.

The first floor was completely open, except for a small walled-off bathroom area. It was a combination living room, kitchen, and dining room, cozily furnished. It even had a small fireplace, which was glowing steadily with raked over coals, killing off the fall chill.

Yo went over to the kitchen area, taking a pot of hot water from the range. He went about his cupboards, pulling out several ingredients. He spoke to Timbre as he worked.

"So, how are you related to Babe?"

"I guess you could call me his son. He's taken care of me for as long as I remember."

"I never knew. I'm sorry, it's just that I have not seen Babe in almost ten years. Where is he now?"

"He's dead."

"Oh my."

Yo put several things into a tea ball, and let it steep in the hot water. He took the pot, and two cups, over to the table where Timbre slouched. "How did he die?"

"Ragnarok Fang. We were being chased, and we all would have been killed if not for him and Fiver. Except... Somehow, Fiver came back. I don't know how..."

"Shh, slow down. I suspect it would be best if we started from the beginning. Here." Yo poured Timbre a glass of tea. "This should help your head. It wont taste very good, I'm afraid, but you'll start to feel better."

It was hard for Timbre to get a good grip on the cup. He felt very un-coordinated, almost as if his balance was skewed. He managed to hold on to the cup with two hands. Timbre took a careful sip, and made a face. Yo was right, it tasted awful. But it somehow smelled very comforting. Herbs and spices, like an old spice cabinet. As he breathed in the vapors, he could feel his sinuses opening up, and the pressure and pain in his head lifting slightly. This was enough to force him to suffer through the taste.

He sipped the tea in silence, somehow getting through the whole cup. Yo poured him some more, and Timbre drank again. It was stronger now, having steeped longer, but Timbre was past caring at that point. His head was feeling a bit better.

He looked at Yo over his tea. "What is in this?"

Yo smiled, and wagged his finger. "Ancient secrets, my boy. Good herbal healing with a healthy dose of witchcraft and quack. Feeling a bit better?"

"Yes."

"Good. You'll probably start to feel quite hyper in a few minutes. If anything, that tea has a lot of caffeine. We'll counter the jitters with a good shot of rum, and then, I think you'll be ready to tell me your whole story."

Timbre had two more cups of tea, and did indeed feel the jitters coming on. But it was a low price to pay for his head feeling better. The jitters did compound his already unsteady hands, but the prescribed shot of rum did wonders to calm them, if make him feel very, very weird. His head felt like there was a runaway lightning saix on the loose, only it was running away in low gravity, bouncing easily off the walls of Timbre's skull, floating and skittering at the same time.

As the tea and alcohol did it's work, Timbre told his story. Of how Babe found him on the beach, of Ravenstaad, how they found Adie, of the fight with the Redhorn, meeting Sef, and the Union. He went on a bit more, babbling about his difficulties with Fiver, and his new relationship with Louiza, which both confused and amazed him at the same time. Yo stayed quiet during most of this, only interrupting several times to ask for clarification on a few things. It was only when Timbre found himself running out of things to say, when he realized that he had no clue who Yo was.

When he finally asked, Yo laughed. "Ha. I'm not surprised you don't know of me. Babe was my son-in-law."

Timbre blinked. "You are Jannet's father?"

"Jannet? No. My daughter was Nami."

"Nami?" Timbre asked. The name seemed familiar, but not from Babe ever saying it.

"Babe's second wife." Yo sighed. "He never told you about her at all?"

"He did mention he had a second wife, once. But he never told me much about it. He never really spoke about his past at all."

Yo settled back in his chair, folding his hands together in his lap. "Poor Babe... I guess he never did recover from it."

"From what, sir?"

Yo rubbed his temples, before pouring himself a cup of the herbal tea. "Well, my daughter was the pilot of Aftershock, the Shield Liger out there. Aftershock has been in my family for generations, since my Great Grandfather right after the Dust. I piloted him as a freelancer for a decade, before settling down on my farm here. I got married, and Nami was born. Aftershock absolutely adored Nami from the first moment, and doted on her like an older brother. He taught her how to pilot, and how to fight. She went off on her own for awhile, joined up with the Handsome Boys Escort Services, and married some guy named Yar. I never liked him much, and their marriage did turn sour. But they never did divorce. Yar was killed on an escort mission. About a year after he died, Nami comes home, dragging along this brute of a guy and his green Command Wolf.

"She says to me, 'Dad, this is Babe, can I marry him?' Of course, I wanted to get to know this one better before I gave my approval. And did I ever. Babe won my wife and I over within hours. Fiver too. It seems that Fiver and Aftershock became very close friends while they were in the Handsome Boys, and by default, so did Bab and Nami. When Yar died, Babe was there for Nami, and helped her though a very difficult and confusing time in her life. They managed to fall in love, and Babe wanted to give up fighting to start a family with her.

"And he did. He turned to farming, with Aftershock and Fiver in a peaceful retirement. Nami and Babe had two sons. Twins, named Teggeter and Thornlan."

"They.. Their names. Those are names from the same book that Babe named me from." Timbre interrupted, surprised.

Yo nodded. "Yes, I read that book too. Babe seemed quite fond of it. Anyway, Fiver and Aftershock doted on that pair as well. Thorn seemed to like Aftershock the best, while Teg was quite taken with Fiver. They were the next generation of fighters in our family. They were riding before they could even walk. By the time they were six, they could pilot as well as anyone three times their age."

Yo paused for a moment, taking a sip of his tea. He seemed to be preparing himself, trying to dredge up an old memory. "Then, one day, Nami had a cold. She was staying inside with the twins, while Babe went out to take care of the fields." Yo took a breath, looking down into his tea. "Aftershock saw the smoke first. He and Fiver were in the far fields. Aftershock ran to get me, Fiver went for Babe. When we got there..." Yo shook his head. "The house was old. It went up like a haystack. Nami, Thorn, and Teg were trapped inside. We don't even know what started the fire. When we found their bodies... Nami had been trying to protect them."

Timbre felt his mouth go dry, tasting of that sour sorrow that builds up along with the tightening of your heart. He had never known. Babe had never said a thing about this. His family. His wife, his sons...

"We were all devastated, but Aftershock worst of all. The day after, he just lay down in the dirt in front of the house, and hasn't moved since. Babe might have done the same, but Fiver wouldn't let him. Nor would I. After a few months, I told him to move on. To try and find a new life. He would never find anything happy in this place.

"Babe sent letter every now and then, but he did move on. It was best for him to forget. He was a fighter, not a farmer. And his death almost seems... fitting, after the life he lead. I can think of no better end for a noble man."

"He... he never said a thing of this to me." Timbre managed to get out, His throat was tight, his chest aching and heart heavy. This was a new part of Babe's life that he never even dreamed about. If Timbre dreamed at all, which he didn't. He could never imagine that Babe had gone through so much. To loose his family... But then?

That was why. That was why Babe took Timbre in so readily. Timbre was a replacement for Babe's lost family.

Yo stood up carefully, looking out the window carved into the stable wall. "I had this window put in, so I could keep an eye on Aftershock. I don't know if he'll ever move again. He's been in my family so long... I don't know if he can function for anyone outside of my family. And this is all that is left, Timbre. You and I. When you first said you were a Conway, I thought that you might... But you have Fiver now. And he is lucky to have you, my boy."

Timbre blinked. "Cant you pilot him still?" He felt himself getting a bit dizzy as he said this, the effects of the caffeine crashing his system. The warmth of the rum was still in his veins, making him feel very strange. The hyperactive Lightning Saix had hit a wall, and was floating on a cozy ocean.

Yo shook his head, walking over to the window. "I just don't have the heart to. Aftershock is Thorn and Nami's zoid. I just somehow feel... It's silly. I feel like if I keep him there for them, they might come back." He sighed, looking back at Timbre. "But, it's good to see Fiver in the hands of a new generation. I feel, that if Teg was here right now, he would be a lot like you. Smart, well mannered, capable."

Timbre rested his head on his palm, elbow supported on the table. He really didn't hear much of that, but got the vauge feeling he was being complimented somehow. "Thank you, Yo." He muttered, closing his eyes.

Yo smiled. "You, my boy, look bushed. Let's get you to bed."

[Orange]

Chapter 30: The Flip Side

``Lo, Warrior! now, the Cross of Red
Points to the grave of the mighty dead;
Within it burns a wondrous light,
To chase the spirits that love the night:
That lamp shall burn unquenchably,
Until the eternal doom shall be.''--

-

Timbre passed the week peacefully at Yo's farm. The two got on quite well, and spent long portions of the day tending to the chores of preparing to harvest the crops, and talking. Yo would be hiring temporary workers for the harvest, and Timbre volunteered to stay on and help.

Over the week, Timbre found his hands getting steadier, his balance improving. He put it down to stress, from a situation he did not wish to dwell on, and nothing to worry about. He lost himself in the farm chores, working hard to get his strength back. He almost felt as he did when Babe first found him, weak and kittenish. He got most of his strength back within the week, but found he could not quite trust his hands to fine tasks.

Which was fine by him. He didn't plan on piloting Fiver any time soon. If anything, he was planning an extended stay with Yo, to help with the harvest. And then? He would probably have to drag himself back to the Union, and explain how badly he screwed up. And he would probably be fired. Then this reasoning entered Timbre's head. If he was going to get fired, why bother going back?

Louiza. And Sef. And Adie. Even Tornado. He couldn't just abandon his friends like this, leaving them without a clue to where he went. He resolved that he would head back one day. Some day. Just not now.

Fiver did not mind the break. The fight and long run to the farm seemed to have tired him. He spent most of the week resting alongside Aftershock, speaking with him. Or, as much as Aftershock's dilapidated systems allowed. The poor Liger had been out of commission for so long, that his systems were slowly rotting away. His self-enforced exile was slowly driving the Liger to madness, or worse. Senility.

Fiver did what he could, even trying to get Aftershock to run an auto diagnostic and data-scrubber. Just to clean out his buffers, he said, just some spring cleaning. Aftershock refused. He saw no point in it. His people were dead. He had no use.

When Fiver's patience was running thin, he took breaks from Aftershock's issues, taking walks around the property, exploring old haunts. He was upset to see that his favorite tree had been knocked down by lighting. It was a good tree, it was always home to some family of field sparrows. He also wandered out beyond the property, exploring the long tracts of un-developed land, even kicking himself into a run, trying to make his gear transitions as smooth as possible. He was still unused to his new body, and now took his opportunity to get some practice in. He had gotten spoiled by Timbre's skilled piloting, and was now paying for it.

Fiver found himself wishing for simpler times. Back when he was in retirement. Sure, it was boring, but he had the kids to look after. Teg had been such a great little kid. A miniature version of Babe, really. Back then, he looked forward to when Teg would grow up, and they would go on new adventures, fighting new fights.

Like the rest of the family, he was devastated when the fire took away Nami, Thorn and Teg. But unlike Aftershock, Fiver still had someone to live for. His original partner in crime, his best friend, and most trusted compatriot. Once they got on the road again with the old gustav, things got back to like they were used to. Babe made himself forget, throwing himself into work.

It worked pretty well. Seven years passed without too much issue. Except for the fact that Babe was pushing himself and Fiver very, very hard. Taking dangerous missions, throwing himself into difficult and unnecessary fights. After awhile, Fiver was convinced that Babe had developed a death wish, and refused to fight for a few days. This annoyed Babe to no end, but in the end, it changed his life. While Fiver was being difficult, Babe got the message that Craig needed help. After convincing Fiver that, no, he would not get them killed, the duo set off for Ravenstaad.

It was Fiver that saw the kid on the beach. He had been bored, and was running his scout radar on the area, trying to optimize his scanning resolution. When he saw a strange discrepancy, he ran his IR sensors, and picked up the shape of a body. He alerted Babe, and they investigated.

Fiver was not impressed with Timbre when they first formally met. He was a skinny, scared kid. But he quickly warmed up to him, and felt quite comfortable that first time Timbre sat behind his controls. He just seemed to fit in. Was on the same wavelength as Babe and Fiver.

Fiver liked the kid also because he gave Babe something else to live for. Babe needed something to concentrate on, and educating an amnesiatic kid about the ways of the world seemed to be a good challenge. They became as close as father and son, those two. It was never officially recognized, and never even spoken about. But the relationship was there. Babe became Timbre's father, pure and simple.

And because Babe was his father, Timbre found himself in a new family. It was small, just him, Yo, Aftershock and Fiver. But it was comforting. How lucky was Timbre, to find that he had a ready-made awesome grandfather? He was spry for his seventies, and had a lot of stories to tell.

Like Fiver, Timbre found himself wandering the property alone sometimes. He made a habit of taking walks after dinner, using the time to daydream, and to think. And to have a smoke. He needed some time to himself, and Yo understood that.

Timbre found himself leaning up against a wood fence that trailed along the edge of one of the fields. It was a resting field, growing low-trailing soybeans. Speaking of soy, Yo made some mean tofu dishes. Timbre quickly picked up on his recipes and his 'ancient secrets'. It really was just good herbology and a hearty helping of harmless quack medicine. Whatever it was, it helped his headache. The pain stuck around for another two days, but was quickly diluted away by all the tea Timbre drank over the week.

Timbre leaned up against the fence, looking out at the house. Well, technically, zoid stable with a loft. It was an imposing structure, but did it's job well. And it silhouetted nicely against the setting sun. In stark backlit black, Timbre could see a few of the milk cows roaming about, as well as one of the dogs (The barn dogs were Jagger and Izzy, the lap-dog was Bratty) roaming about. It then noticed Timbre, and loped over.

Timbre pulled out his tin of cigarettes, pulling one out. Fortunately, Timbre kept his tobacco in the cockpit, and unlike most of his clothes, did not leave it in Vickers Steading. He grabbed a match, and fumbled with it for a moment, before finally getting his cigarette lit.

The dog trotted over, panting happily. As it got closer, Timbre realized it wasn't Izzy or Jagger. This dog was taller, with a sharper muzzle and erect ears. His fur was wiry and thick, and his fur was a dark mottled charcoal. It barked at Timbre, stopping a few feet away, and wagged it's tail.

Timbre, cigarette dangling from his lips, looked at the dog. "Who are you, boy?"

The dog just barked again, still wagging his tail. Timbre shrugged, and ashed his cigarette.

"That's still a nasty-ass habit, y'know."

Timbre was startled at this new voice. There was someone standing next to him. How did they get there? And why wouldn't anyone let him smoke in peace? He turned to face his accuser.

There stood a middle aged man, a bit taller then he was stout. He was not an old man, but rather, one that had seen more then his years worth of life. His short cropped hair and beard were graying in places, fading out the rich brown that once grew un-tainted. His face was lean and leathery, much like the rest of his body, tanned and toughened by decades of abuse. His skin was marked by faded zoidscars, twin lines across the bridge of his nose, a dark russet that nearly faded into his tanned skin.

The cigarette fell from Timbre's hand. "Babe!" he managed to croak out through his surprise.

"Hey. What's up?"

Timbre just stood in shock for a moment, staring at the other man. It was as Babe had been, just the moment before he died. Absolutely unchanged. Absolutely perfect. It was surreal.

Babe leaned back against the fence. "I just wanted to come out and apologize for not telling you about Nami. That was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Even the Ragnarok Fang paled in comparison."

"Where have you been?" Timbre croaked again, his throat tight with emotion. After so long, there was Babe. Back. There to help him out, give him a hand with his problems, and just in general be the same old sage guy he always had been.

Babe smiled a bit, and thumbed over towards the dog. "With him. Duh."

The dog barked.

"Who's he?"

"Fiver. Or, what Fiver thinks himself to be. I would have gone with something a bit more poodleish, but to each his own."

Fiver rumbled in response to this. He took a few steps foward, and slid under the fence between Fiver and Babe, then jumping up to put his front paws on the fence. As if to say, There. Now I'm on your level. Insult me to my face, please.

Babe laughed, and gave Fiver a quick scratch on the head, behind the ears. "Brat."

"So, wait. You've been hanging out at Yo's farm with the biologic version of Fiver?" Timbre asked, very confused at this point.

"No. Wait. back this train up. Okay. Tam, i'm dead. Really, really dead. I swear." Babe explained.

Timbre grit his teeth. "Then why are you here talking to me?"

"You really need to stop that whole teeth grinding thing. It's gonna wear away your enamel and make 'em hurt like nothing else."

"Babe.." Timbre glowered.

"Alright. I've been with Fiver. As in, the real zoidish one."

"What?!"

"Think of it as kinda a spiritual thing. See, I don't rightly know what the heck happened. I think Fiver's got a better clue about that then me, you'd have to ask him. Anyhoo, I find myself wandering the spiritual realm, trailing behind the weirdest looking wolf i've ever seen. But still cool. By the way, Fiver, nice job. Really slick on the whole 'evolution' thing."

Fiver whined appreciatively.

"And?" Timbre demanded.

"Aaannnd I've been kinda floating around. Watching you. It's hard to explain. I'm here and there at the same time. By the way, you do a good job of describing how cool I am."

"Here and there?"

"Like I said, it's hard to explain. I don't really get it either. It seems that I live wherever i'm remembered. I've ducked in on dozens of people, as they randomly thought, 'I wonder how Babe's doing', or 'What ever happened to that annoying Conway dude?'. By the way, Jannet is STILL an unholy jackass. She makes fun of me all the time. Man, when she finds out how cool I died..."

"Babe."

"Yeah, sorry. I haven't really talked to anyone for awhile. Anyhoo, some weird crap is brewing, Tam. And you're in the middle of it."

Timbre's eyebrows knitted. "Wait. You come floating in from the eatheral world to interrupt my smoke and babble about your ex, and then you just happen to MENTION that a crapstorm is brewing? Thanks, Babe."

"You know me. Anyway, I know the least about that. Something really weird is gonna go down. I only know what i've gathered from randomly ducking in and out of this world."

"Why are you staying here, though? Why don't you go and find Nami? If you're out here, I'm sure she is. Yo thinks about her all the time."

"Once again, I don't know how. I don't even know how I'm doing this. I'm playing it by ear. But even if I did know how to find her, you're the one that's alive. That makes you my priority. If I got this whole afterlife thing straight, I think I got a whole eternity to figure out where Nami went. You have another eighty years at best."

"So thats it then? My dead father is now my mysterious spiritual adviser, popping down from on high at opportune moments to dispense some sage advice?" Timbre said, obviously annoyed.

"It's so cute how you call me dad. I'm flattered, really." Babe cracked back with a grin. "And, unfortunately, I think this is a one-shot thing. Or whatever. You're the one with the brain i'm apparently living in."

"What?"

"I'm living in your head. Along with some other mystical otherworldly powers that I wasn't really paying attention to. I kinda skipped the orientation, the free doughnuts and coffee meet 'n' greet for the recently dead. Which sucks, because I could really go for a doughnut. Think me one up sometime."

Timbre just stood there for a moment. At first, he had been quite excited about the whole thing. But now? It was just an incredibly surreal conversation with Babe, in which he was the one terminally confused. This happened more often then he liked. "I still don't really get this, Babe."

"Join the club. Anyhoo, time to get up. Free advice, keep your friends close. And quit smoking, yer girlfriend hates it."

"Time to get up? What?"

"Catch ya on the flip side, kid."

Timbre sat bolt upright out of bed, his hands clutching the covers. It took him a moment to get his bearings. How did he get in bed? Where was he? He was just out in the damn soybean field. Where did Babe go?

Timbre slid out of bed, and stood up, taking a good look around. He vaguely remembered going to bed at some point. But he must have went out for a smoke or something. Right? But how did he get back?

He went to the window, one that looked out on Aftershock. He stood there for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. What just happened?

Then he realized. It came to him like a bolt out of the blue. He groaned.

"Geeze, that's a dream? Dreams suck."

And with that, Timbre got dressed, and went down to breakfast.

Or would have, if he didn't happen to notice the heavily armed Zeekdober plodding down the drive.

[rantinan]

The awesomeness of this chapter cant powwibly be explained in the english language. But i's a try to. The wigging out... fantastic. tyhe fiver runs home when sencing tam in trouble.. wonderful, and totaly dog like. The dream: Freaky as all heck.
ANd finaly the heavily armed zeekedoober. Is this tornado coming to find out what happened? or is this a bnouty hunter coming for the notorious friend killer fiver?

[Deadborder]

Wow. Just wow.

A really cool set of chapters there, Orange. So many things, so many ideas...

You had a set of Zoid-using Bandits who were more then just your basic village-burning, parent-slaying, black-obsessed orphan-creating axe murderers. Instead, they've actually thought it through, seeing a way to maintain their source of income without provoking a greater response. Nice one, really.

...but then the next parts blew me away.

The character development in this chapter was amazing... especially given how much of it was for Babe, who is dead. Both he and Timbre change a lot here, and it's good stuff. Its really, really refreshing to see a hero character who has to think about the consequences of his actions and cope with killing someone. Too often its just "Rarh me killed him" and that's it.

Oh, and the scenes from Fiver's PoV rawked.

Keep at it.

Rick at work oppressed by his EBIL TL

[Orange]

deadborder said:

Wow. Just wow.

A really cool set of chapters there, Orange. So many things, so many ideas...

You had a set of Zoid-using Bandits who were more then just your basic village-burning, parent-slaying, black-obsessed orphan-creating axe murderers. Instead, they've actually thought it through, seeing a way to maintain their source of income without provoking a greater response. Nice one, really.

...but then the next parts blew me away.

The character development in this chapter was amazing... especially given how much of it was for Babe, who is dead. Both he and Timbre change a lot here, and it's good stuff. Its really, really refreshing to see a hero character who has to think about the consequences of his actions and cope with killing someone. Too often its just "Rarh me killed him" and that's it.

Oh, and the scenes from Fiver's PoV rawked.

Keep at it.

Rick at work oppressed by his EBIL TL

You risked death to post this? I wuv oo, Rick.

I'm glad you all liked it so much! It's really inspired me to write more. As it stands, I have most of 11 done now, but I dont want to rush it. It is, however, turning out very nice.

I'm also working on the Directors cut. You might have noticed that the Chapters are a bit out of order. Mostly because I went back and merged a few shorter chapters together, so that we're not up to like, chapter 40. You wont see the fixed versions for quite some time, though. That's for the special DVD release.

[Vig]

Please don't call me late.. I try

anyway ,, OVERKILL.... love it, and the fact he has to deal with it.. Loved the whole burning scene and the shocking destruction of velt and sabre,, much angry emotion involved ...

I could feel the physical pain of timbre sometimes, I have had the same headachie/ feel like *Watch your language!* and extremely cold symptoms before too

damm babe has an interesting story,, gotta feel sorry for him ,, bringing him back as a ghost in a dream was kinda feaky

but Good job BOF

I'll read the next one when I aint so freakin tired

[Orange]

Take your time, Viggo. You've been off training to be some kind of kanganinja. We understand.