Plugging away

Well, it's been about three months since my fantasy novella Shadowcursed has been released and so far the majority of feedback I've received has been really positive. I've also just had my first author interview, by Jill Marie at Little Hyuts, you can read it here.

Most of my recent time though has been been on getting my 3D level for the Dark Mod (tentatively titled 'Requiem') completed. It's turned into a very labor-intensive project, especially since I've never done anything like it before, but it's been really rewarding. One of the nice things about level design is that, unlike writing, it's a visual medium so you can take screenshots and share them before the whole thing is done. When you write a novel or short story you usually need to wait until you've got a completed draft before anyone gets a peek at it, and usually that'll be beta readers who will tear it apart. I think I still prefer writing overall, but it's definitely nice to get immediate feedback :-).

As I've completed sections of the level, I've been uploading screenshots to the Dark Mod forums and so far everyone seems to like what I've made. Here are a few of those shots. Apologies if they're dark, I haven't been able to find a way to adjust for that in the shots. In game it's much brighter:

A mentor whose helping me on the Requiem got inspired and wrote up a really flattering post here. Let's just hope the finished project lives up to the praise :-). I'm hoping to get the level done and into beta-testing within a month, or two at the latest so we should see shortly.

I've also started thinking more seriously about my next writing project. I've gotten the main plot down, and will start outlining as soon as Requiem is finished up. 

So, still plugging away, stay tuned for more. 

Babies, novellas, and video games

Wow, has it really been a year since my last post? Crazy how time flies. The lack of posting definitely hasn't been because of a lack of working, in fact this last year has been one of my more productive ones. I'll be getting back to posting more frequently (at least bi-monthly), but here's a recap of what I've been up to:

First off...I'm now a dad :-).

It's been a couple of months, and so far fatherhood is great. It definitely makes you think differently about writing too. I've always found myself drawn to grittier topics, but having my daughter around has made me warm a bit to more mellower plots and story ideas. Go figure.

I've also finished and e-published a novella. As of this blog it's available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble (still working on getting it up on Smashwords). My friend Jon really came through with an amazing cover too:

I'll be writing in a bit more detail about the novella in a future post.

I also have two computer game projects that are pretty far along now. One is an edutainment game that I'm making with my brother, and the other is a game level for the Doom 3 modification "The Dark Mod". Details on these will probably be for a future post too, but here are some pictures:

So, that's a summary of what I've been up to during this long silence. More details to come in future posts.

Words written on the wind

Another quick writing piece to match a speed pic that Ioan sent me (incidentally, go check at out Ioan's most recent concept for the just-announced F2P MMO World of Mercenaries). I really love the lighting and scale of the pic and I hope I did it justice. Just as I was getting ready to write this story, I saw that Guy Hasson had set up a  "memorable entrance" contest, so consider this my submission.

***

Words written on the wind

Gelo R. Fleisher

Ahmiz let his eyes flutter shut as a ray of sunlight hit his face. He inhaled deeply and leaned back in the saddle, taut muscles relaxing as a sensation of warmth began to soak through his ruddy flesh.

Behind him, Jena's camel bleated and stamped its feet as it came to a halt. He ignored it, enjoying the feeling of the sun across his skin. The camel bleated again and there was a light tug on his robe. Cracking his eyes open in annoyance, he saw Jena at his side. A fine sheen of dust covered the young girl's features and bald head, putting into contrast her black lips and the scars running across her cheeks and throat. She signed with gloved hands. The sun is up. We have to go.

Ahmiz let out his breath and gazed out over the distant sun. "Soon child, soon. Let me enjoy the sunrise."

Sunlight was crowning over the distant tips of the mountain range, changing the red sandstone into the color of amber, fingers of light spilling out through the valley and stretching out towards them.

She rolled her eyes and pouted. There's too much sand here now, I don't like it anymore.

Ahmiz nodded but didn't move. "There's no hurry, we found what we were looking for." He patted the bulky saddle bag of his camel. "And Oska will still be waiting for you when we get back home."

Jena blushed and looked away, blinking her olive eyes rapidly.

The sunlight had reached the cliffs behind them now, the rocky tips turning bronze in the growing light. Jena was right; there was sand everywhere. He could hear it, falling down the sides of the cliffs, in thin waterfalls, a set of gentle, unending dribbles. The sun continued to move and soon handfuls of the grains were being lit by the sharp morning light, glittering like motes from a dying fire as they tumbled down off the cliffs before fading back to the color of ash as the shrinking shadows covered them again.

The sun continued to stretch and and Ahmiz could see sheets of sand whisking off the tips of the dunes in thin diaphanous sheets, slowly settling over the ruins of the valley. The force projector that had kept the desert at bay was safely in his saddlebag now, the warriors who had defended it lay where he had slain them in the valley below. Now the dust was coming, and there was nothing left but to leave.

Jena's hands moved. Where shall we go now? To the north?

Ahmiz sighed and jabbed his camel with his heels. "Yes girl, now to the north."

Speed Writing for Speed Painting

Hey all, I've slowed down the rate of posting recently as most of my attention is focused on finishing up a larger writing project (hopefully I'll be able to post about it here soon). So it was a pleasant surprise when Ioan dropped by to tell me that we was going to crank out a series of speed paintings this week (all done in under 90 minutes). Here's a set of speedy writings I put together to match them. I hope you all enjoy!

***

Marshall watched with grim satisfaction as the ULIK pulse drive rose slowly up out of the jagged ruins of the space station, the squat booster wending its way through the torn belly of the storage bay on tiny bursts of pressurized air. The two guidance cables that wound from the control unit to the ULIK floated as well, snaking around him in coils as they rose up into cold space.

With a soft kick, Marshall floated up to join the ULIK, squinting as the shimmering outline of the blue planet to come into view. Hasson and the others didn't know yet that he was still alive, but that was about to change. He pushed the ULIK gently, pointing the tip of the booster down towards the shimmering planet. Marshall didn't really care where on the surface the booster crash-landed, as long as it hit the atmosphere the rocket's fuel cell would go up in a multi-kiloton explosion. He could almost imagine the looks on their faces when the fireball lit up their little preserve. He had twenty more of these things in the storage bay, and aiming could wait for later.

Marshall entered in the ignition code and unhooked the ancient guidance cables. Dropping back down into the chamber below he paused for a second to look up and see a gout of white hot flames erupt out of the ULIK's backside as it hurtled away from the station and into a collission orbit with the planet below.

He smiled. Merry Christmas you bastards.  

***

Carla eased the safety off the hunter gun as she continued to move across the obsidian black skin of the processing station. Above her, past the jutting solar barriers, she could see the inflamed glow of the star, throwing waves of fire against the blackened hulk. Even sticking as close as she was to the barriers, Carla could almost feel the solar radiation slice through the suit and into her body.

Forget it sister, she told herself, after this is done you'll have more than enough money to pay for cancer treatment.

In front of her, past the tips of the grinder array, she could see the cool, glowing blue of the intersep arrays beaming threads of data into the folds of hyperspace. Jamming herself up tight against the solar barriers, Carla raised the gun up to her visor, sighting in the pale blue dots, and fired.  

***

Ahura brought the hoverbike to a stop on the waterfront next to the hovering husk of the Beetle. Taking his helmet off, Ahura took in a deep breath, enjoying the sensation as the salty air flowed into his lungs. The dark blue waters lapped around his boots, the edges of the waves lit in a foamy silver by the low-hanging binary star. To his right, the smooth curves of the Beetle hung wordlessly, lit by the same opalescent glow.

Closing his eyes, Ahura slipped out of his human avatar, each of its five senses fading away one by one as his ephemeral white form phased out and over to the waiting Beetle.

Ahura stretched as he felt himself merge into the Beetle, the servos and memory cores come to life as his essence poured into this new shell. Ahura turned his still wakening scanner banks over to his human avatar, standing immobile next to the hoverbike. He wished he'd be able to take it with him after this wall all over.

Ahura's essence continued to stretch and flex into the Beetle, reactors humming back to life as Ahura slowly pushed off from the waterfront, moving back up towards space. The humans had responded and now it was time to see what the rest of his people were going to do about it.

***

Meacham drummed his fingers idly on the flightboard as the small gauge on the fuel readout inched slowly upwards. Looking out past segmented planes of cockpit glass, he took in what looked like an absolutely beautiful summers day, with a pale blue sky peaking out from behind strands of rolling clouds.

The view was deceptive of course; the clouds were laced with a hydrochloric acid that was even now slowly eating away at the hull of his shuttle. Nobody stopped off on Krianos if they could avoid it, and nobody stayed longer than they had to. All the equipment hooked up to his ship was covered in a thick layer of rubberized plastic, even the refueling bot stomping about outside was wrapped in the stuff.

Nasty place, Meacham thought as he flicked his gaze back to the fuel gauge.

***

Frank rocked back on the balls of his feet, the tips of his bare toes sticking out over the black abyss of the elevator shaft. A noose of braided plastic lay wrapped around his neck, his hands tightly bound behind his back.

From behind him, Frank heard the clacking of high heels, and tasted the lavendar scent of Jasmine’s perfume wafting into his nostrils. “I’m sorry Frank, I really am.” Frank almost felt that the tinge of regret in her voice might be real, but he bit his tongue, saying nothing. He continued doing what he had done through the whole process of being trussed up for execution. Rolling his shoulders, listening to their quiet popping as he flexed against his bonds.

With a sigh Jasmine stepped back and a large hand grabbed his shoulder, shoving hard and toppling him into the shaft. The wind whipped past him as he hurtled downwards, the cord around his neck hissing as it unwound.

Not even bothering to think, Frank jerked his arms downwards, almost wrenching them out of their sockets as he pulled them up under his legs and up in front of his chest. He clawed at the unspooling cord, wrapping it around his forearms as it reached the end of its length. The rope snapped tight, cutting into his arms before unwinding and jerking him back upwards in a macabre bounce. He gurgled, feeling the noose tighten around his throat as he grabbed onto the rope with all his strength. He bounced once more before coming to a stop, swinging slowly in the inky blackness of elevator shaft.

Gulping in a ragged breath, he rolled his head up to see Jasmine’s silhouette peering down into the dark pit, it stayed for a second and turned away. Did she know he was still alive? Frank hung there, the rope wrapped around his hands and elbows, swaying slowly in the dead air of the shaft. The subtle creaks and groans of the rope were his only companion as he waited for his attempted killers to leave him for dead.

***

Tenzig settled into a cross-legged position and looked out over the monastery courtyard. The warmth of the summer day lay heavy in the air, but pale shadows cast by the pagoda held the heat at bay, gracing his skin with a soft gentleness. The small, round leaves of the carefully trimmed trees shimmered as the sunlight played against them, dancing furtively in the breeze.

He closed his eyes. For a moment the world was replaced with an afterimage of sensations. The whispering of the wind, the scraping of leaves dancing across the courtyard, the babbling of the river flowing, the chirping of a solitary bird. One by one these faded away, replaced by nothingness, the peace of Nirvana.

Anomis and Noai

Hey all,

I hope everyone had a good holiday season and new year! This flash fiction is another in my Ioan Dumitrescu series. Special treat is that I'm pretty sure that Ioan hasn't posted this one on his portfolio yet, so anyone reading this gets a sneak preview. After my last story, Ioan insisted that I not make my next one a "guy walking somewhere while thinking" piece, which admittedly does seems to crop up a lot in my writing. But then he goes and paints this...

I mean come on! Maybe next time Ioan :-).

Anomis and Noai

Gelo R. Fleisher

Noai could hear the chill wind whistling a lonely song high above him, but as he crunched along the cold ground, the air was stilled against his bundled face. Snow-encrusted purple cliffs rose up on either side of him, their walls the color of battered amethyst splattered with sky-blue paint. He was silently grateful for their protection; the only hint of the gales tearing through the clefts and ridges around him were a series of low eddies clinging to the ground and lazily waving thin strands of snow into the air. The temperature was still bitingly cold, turning the small patches of skin that stuck out between his goggles and unkempt beard into a cherry red.

Anomis.

She had told him he was crazy to come here, that she wasn’t going to wait for him if he left. He hadn’t cared.

Far above of the crest of the rocky ravine hung the spires of the Chirlin pagoda, same as they had every day that Noai spent trudging through the rocks and glaciers of this frigid world. Even farther above, the pale sky was starting to darken imperceptibly; the crisp clean sunlight that had guided him up past the base camp losing its edge. Noai willed himself forward, his leaden feet crunching loudly on the icy dirt.

He still remembered the first time he had seen her; the combination of her raven hair and white teeth had entranced him. She had told him later it was his eyes that had convinced her to give him a chance.

For a moment the smell of her hair filled Noai’s nostrils, the scent of her shampoo blocking out the icy chill of the mountains. She’d been his second lover, he had been her fifth. She hated breaking up and, under the stars of a warmer sun, she had sworn to him that they were going to stay together forever.

He looked up through the impassive walls of the ravine, trying to catch a glimpse of the sun. It was up there somewhere, past the tips of the cliffs, but it was lost behind whisps of pale snow, hissing off the mountains above in perpetual streams. The glare coming off the snow was still bright enough to make his eyes ache. He closed them and looked away.

The other five lovers had made Anomis paranoid, and the fights had begun almost immediately. She’d yell at him if he was late; was he running around behind her back? He’d yell at her whenever she would lie to keep him happy.

A flash of furious anger shot through him, banishing her scent from his mind, and he jammed the walking stick into the frozen ground. The lying still infuriated him, even here as he trudged alone through the ice. Every single one of those lies had been over trifles; he couldn’t remember a single one, but that didn’t matter. A lie was a lie, and he could not suffer a liar. Of all the things he needed in a relationship, trust was the most important, and he couldn’t stand that she kept it from him.

And so he’d yell at her to stop and she’d lash out when he’d hurt her enough. She didn’t care what she said when he got her in that state, as long as it stung. Frustrated tears welled in his eyes, pooling at the bottom of his goggles. Eventually it had stung too much, the needles to his pride.

The walls were narrowing, their purple heights coming together to wreathe the ravine in shadows and blocking out even the spires of the monastery. The sound of the wind echoed hoarsely through the narrow, gray space, crawling down through the walls and around him in gently hissing gusts.

He wanted to see her again, to hold her close one more time, to feel her body against his. But it was her who made the mistakes and he couldn’t forgive that. Some part of him knew it was like throwing away a diamond because it was flecked with dirt. In some manner, he knew it. But he couldn’t face her; it was still too raw.

For a moment he saw her standing there in front of him at the end of the ravine, her raven hair flowing in the icy breeze. He knew it was an illusion, but the thought quickened his heart, and his steps. The illusion lasted only for a second. The object at the end of the road came into clear view. It was just a pile of rocks, with wish papers and flags stuck into the crevices by earlier pilgrims lurching in the growing breeze. Above it lay the beginning of the thousand stone steps that led up to the monastery, their worn faces covered in uneven clumps of snow. The monks had said the truly repentant were to climb these on their knees.

He laid his walking stick gently across the pile of rocks. Noai’s body creaked as it knelt. He hoped that Anomis could understand why he had come here, and if not her then at least maybe God. He felt the cold, unyielding surface of the stone step through his pants and prayed that his hands and knees could give the penance that his lips still could not.

Fade Away

Sorry for the lack of stories these last two weeks; been playing too much Skyrim for my own good. Recently I saw a documentary about drug users in Russia, and it reminded me of a short piece I wrote back in college. I think everyone goes through some form of addiction one time or another in their life, not necessarily drugs, but destructive behavior you know is hurting you but you can't stop doing. This story is about being in that place.

___________________________

Fade Away

“Your debt becomes payable in two weeks. If you aren’t able to pay me then, your interest rate is going up by twenty percent.”

Oleg stared at the loan officer with a blank look on his pallid face. ‘Loan officer’ was actually too nice a description, “loan shark” was more accurate. The fat, greasy-haired man worked out of his living room not some bank building. A lender of last resort that only people who really needed money would come to. People like Oleg. “Twenty percent? I, I can’t find that kind of money.”

The loan shark leaned over his scratchy oak desk, his massive belly pushing up against its faux-varnished surface so that he looked like an angry bullfrog when he spoke. “Well then, I suggest you start finding ways to get it. You’re not going to find my business associates as pleasant company as myself. They’re the kind of guys who like breaking thumbs. For sport. And this is going to be business.”

Oleg was quick to back down, “Of course, of course, I’ll get you the money. Two weeks you said? No problem.”

Settling back into his chair, his girth causing it to groan uncertainly, the loan shark grunted. “Good, now get going. I’ll send one of my associates around to your house tomorrow to see how you and your lovely wife are doing.” Oleg started to object, but was quickly cut off with a wave of a fleshy palm, “And no need to tell me that it’s not necessary, I insist. I think you know your way out.”

Oleg nodded, rubbing his sweaty palms on his ratty tweed pants as he got up. As he exited the crumbling building and stepped into the sweltering heat of the summer day, he wondered just how he’d gotten to this place to begin with. The rutted sidewalk in front of the loan shark’s house was littered with shards of glass. Broken wine bottles, shattered windows, cracked syringes, sometimes Oleg wondered if this entire place wasn’t built on a foundation of broken glass.

Walking down the crumbling sidewalks of the loan officer’s neighborhood, Oleg stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking with hunched shoulders and burying his face into the dirty collar of his unwashed striped shirt. He hoped no one would notice him. Not that it really mattered, it wasn’t like he lived in a neighborhood that was any better off than this. It was more of a neurotic fear that someone he had known in high school would see him. He had been better off back then living in a neighborhood where birds, not guns, sang out to mark the dawn. With parents who were mentally together enough to raise him up with at least a semblance of care. It was so weird, Oleg thought as walked briskly down the sidewalk, how teenagers thought they were so responsible; their folks did everything for them. Bought their food, drove them around, gave them shelter, paid their bills, hell they did everything but wipe their butts for them.

And things were so damned unfair that way, Oleg thought. Why couldn’t it just stay like that.

If there was one thing that his thirty-three years on Earth had taught Oleg it was that some things were like physics: you drop a ball and it’s going to hit the ground. You leave your parents house, crash at friends until they can’t stand you, do drugs because you’re thinking of your own happiness more than that of anyone else’s, and you’re going to live a crappy life. But why, Oleg thought with of a mental sigh of frustration, why did it have to be that way.

He walked past a Hispanic guy, sitting out on the concrete porch of a decaying flophouse, his bare-chest marked up with scars and a large tattoo of a red dragon that was inked into his abdomen. The guy had a dime bag brazenly held in his hand. Oleg felt that twinge in his arms, the twinge that was his body’s way of telling his mind that it wanted some more drugs. Oleg kept walking, not to get away from the dealer but because he already had a stash hidden at hom
e. Why, Ego thought as he walked, why wasn’t it that you could have it both ways. Why couldn’t you just feel good, and have a family that wasn’t hurt? It was just drugs, why did your kid have to hate your guts. Why couldn’t everything just be alright?

A red stoplight halted Oleg’s walk, the aging cars that were speeding by belched out an acrid smoke that made his eyes water. Keeping his eyes on the ground, Oleg looked into a puddle that had formed over a clogged sewage drain. In the muddy water he could barely see his face; hair that hadn’t been combed in weeks, puffy bags underneath his dark eyes, a pocked face with signs of wear that should have marred the skin of an older man. He knew that some things in life were like physics…he knew it but couldn’t help himself anyways. Just moan and groan and blame his weakness on other things, and then go back and do the same shit all over again. Just complain about how hard it was to change his life. Just complain and keep doing the same old shit.

Oleg made sure to step in the puddle as the light turned green, blotting out his image in a swirl of muddy water, but he still picked up his pace as he marched towards the stash waiting for him at home.

Mercenaries!

So, this week's story comes courtesy of my friend Ioan who wanted me to put together a small sketch about an A Team-esque band of space mercenaries. This one was tough to write; 'buddy comedy' can really be brain wracking, but when everything clicked I had a blast finishing it up:

pic link
_____________________________________

Mercenaries!

Gelo R. Fleisher

The insides of the drop ship shuddered and clanked as it hurtled through the outer atmosphere of Tau Ceti Six. Two men holding flechette rifles and clad in plaz-tek armor sat jostling about in their harnesses, one on either side of a hulking robot.

The shorter of the two was rocking back and forth, muttering. The taller one leaned around the robot and poked him with the barrel of his rifle. “Hey, Mauer. Stop gibbering to yourself for a second, I gotta ask you a question.”

Mauer snorted. “Trip, don’t pester me, you’re breaking my concentration.”

Trip rolled his eyes. “Whatever, the only things you ever think about are conspiracy theories and guns. Now, do you have any clue what we’re doing here?”

Mauer jerked his head up. “Hey man, you’re just blind to the truth. See, another piece of the puzzle just fell into place for me. Cows.”

“Cows?”

“Yes, cows. Or to be more precise, the dairy industry. See, get this. It’s a well known fact that people of Jewish and African descent are three times more likely to be lactose intolerant than Europeans. That means the dairy industry is promoting defacto racist policies by pushing people to drink a product that will cause imbalanced cramping and flatulence across various sectors of society.”

Trip blinked. “What the hell are you talking about this time you crazy nut? All I want to know is why are we here now, like why did the Captain tell us to get into the drop ship?”

“Oh, I dunno. Ask the TX-500.”

The robot’s eyes switched on, glowing orange the mention of his name.

“I’m not going to ask the robot. Ever since the Captain tried messing with its data loop the thing’s been a broken record. See, watch this.”

Trip tapped TX-500 on it’s slick, metal head. “Hey chrome dome. What’s the weather like outside?”

TX-500’s eyes turned red. “Kill. Crush. Exterminate.”

“See, one track mind.”

“Kill. Crush. Exterm...”

“Yeah, heard you the first time buddy. And Mauer what the hell is that on your wrist?”

Mauer grinned. “You like? It’s my new good luck bracelet.”

“No, it looks like you glued a dead hamster to a piece of string.”

Mauer sniffed. “Make fun of it if you want, but when the plasma starts flying, you’ll be wishing you had one.”

“Yeah, I Doubt that. So how do you know it works?”

“Pff, of course it works; am I being shot at right now?”

“No...”

“Well there you go.”

Trip was about to respond when the door to the cockpit slid open and Captain Maxwell Greene stepped in, the orange light of a burning cigar lighting up his craggy face. “Rise and shine boys and girls, we’re now en route to our latest target.”

The captain paused to drop his cigar on the floor, grinding it out with the heel of his boot. “Now I’ve told you many a time that the greatest joy in life to meet a foe in singular combat and crush them. To defeat your enemy, smear yourself with his blood and roll around in his entrails. Today, sadly, you will not have such a opportunity. Our target,” Captain Greene jabbed a finger onto a holomap that had sprung up on the drop ship wall, “is the Trireme Metal Works. Automated tank production factory, not a living soul in the damned place.”

“Trireme’s thugs stole something from our current employer and we’ve been very well paid to go down there and elicit some retribution. This is going to be a sadly simple smash and bash job; parachute in, blow our way through the front door, and wreck some shit up.”

“Uh captain.” Trip raised his hand. “If there’s no people down there, why all the guns and armor?”

“Precautions son. Factory’s got a full set of automated defenses; flak towers, plasma launchers, and high velocity turret guns.”

“Uh, then do we really want to go in through the front door? I mean that stuff sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Trip, did I ask you for your opinion.”

“No sir.”

“No sir indeed. If I wanted to hear the sound of an bleating donkey I would have gone to a petting zoo. What do you think of my plan TX-500?”

The droid’s eyes flashed red. “Kill. Crush. Exterminate.”

“Exactly! Good robot. Now that’s precisely the attitude I expect from the rest of you chicken livers. Everyone put on their war face; drop is in two minutes and then the fun starts.”

***

Smoke lay thickly across the large concrete lot in front of the factory. On a backdrop of burning, smoking tank hulks, Trip, Mauer, TX-500, and Captain Greene huddled behind a shattered wall, bullets and explosions going off all around them. Captain Greene, peeked his head over the wall, swearing and ducking as a hail of gunfire erupted around him. “Shit!”

“Alright men! It looks like we’re in a pretty bad spot. The automated defense system saw us coming and it’s gonna turn us into pink confetti if we stay put.” A plasma rocket slammed into the ground a few feet away, throwing a plume of dirt onto the squad.

Trip clutched his rifle tightly. “I told you this was going to happen!”

“Thanks for reminder Tinkerbell! Now why don’t you shut your pie-hole unless you’ve got something constructive to tell me! And what the hell is that thing you holding onto Mauer?”

“Lucky charm sir!”

“Well quit praying to Buddha and think of a way out of this mess!”

Mauer ducked as a blast of gunfire raked across the top of the wall, chunks of cement flying everywhere. “Uh, well Cap’n this is a tank factory, maybe we can steal one for an hour or two.”

Another plasma rocket screamed overhead. “Why Mauer, that’s the first bit of commonsense out of your mouth all day! Alright, you two go find me a tank and bring it back here for me to commandeer.” Captain Greene jabbed a finger at the robot hefting a large mini gun. “TX-500, you move forward and provide suppressive fire. Now, let’s all go show ‘em what Delta Squad is made of!”

TX-500’s eyes turned blood red. The mini-gun in his hands began to spin as he stood up and walked towards the turrets. “Kill. Crush. Exterminate.” The mini gun flared to life, spitting a hail of hot fire out at the enemy. “Kill. Crush. Extermi...” TX-500 got three feet out from the wall when a plasma rocket hit him head-on, turning him into an erupting pillar of burning metal chunks. Everyone ducked as smoking robot parts rained down on them.

Trip brushed a burning metal fragment from his shoulder. “Apparently Delta Squad is made up of busted scrap.”

“Ah hell.” Captain Greene hefted his rifle and stood up. “You want something done right you gotta do it yourself. Alright you two powder puffs, get out there and grab me a tank!” Greene vaulted over the wall, shouting and firing blindly. “Valahallaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Trip watched as Captain slid into safety behind a pile of smoking rubble, firing blindly while letting out a stream of profanity that had Trip blushing.

Mauer poked Trip. “Hey, let’s get moving, if we don’t Cap’s gonna get smoked.“

“Don’t tempt me.” Trip scanned the battlefield of burning hulks, his eyes lighting on a tank that seemed relatively intact. Alright, let’s try for that one. One, two, three...go!” Trip and Mauer scrambled out into the open, blitzing towards the tank. A plasma round screamed towards them, landing close behind as they closed in, flinging them both into the air. Trip landed in a heap at the feet of the tank. Mauer landed on Trip. Kissing his good luck bracelet, Mauer hopped off and clambered into the hatch, Trip following, dropping in head-first.

Mauer rubbed his hands, looking at the huge array at dials and levers in front of him. Trip scrambled over to him. “How’s it look? You driven one of these things before?”

Mauer grinned. “Pshh, of course not. But don’t worry, I’ve got my lucky charm. Let’s roll!” Mauer shoved a large green handle forward.

The tank lurched backwards suddenly, wheeling away from the factory. Trip went toppling to the tank floor. “You idiot! You’re going the wrong way!”

“Sorry! Sorry! It was in reverse. Okay, I got it now.” Mauer grabbed another handle and jerked it backwards. The tank screeched to a halt and then lurched forward, gunfire crackling against its hard hull as it rumbled towards the factory. “Heey! I see the Captain! Alright you bastards! Take this!” Mauer pressed a big red button with a rocket stenciled on it.

A pleasant female voice filled the turret.

Auto targeting system activated. Enemy target sighted.

The turret swung slowly in an arc, moving away from the enemy turret emplacements until the barrel was staring down Captain Greene. “Crap! Halt! No shooting!” Mauer started slapping random buttons.

Firing.

The turret shook as a loud boom filled the air.

“Captain! Is he alright?”

Trip stumbled back into the turret, squinting to see through the smoke thrown up by the blast. He could make out a smoking, soot covered figure, shaking his fist and yelling at the tank. “Yeah, looks like he’s shouting at us.”

“Oh halleluiah, what’s he saying?”

“Ehh, you don’t wanna know.”

Friendly fire disabled. Alternative target sighted.

The tank turret finally rumbled around, bringing the enemy emplacements into sight.

Firing.

One of the plasma turrets erupted in a shower of sparking electronics.

***

The insides of the drop ship shuddered and clanked as it flew up past the outer atmosphere of Tau Ceti Six. Two dusty, sweaty men holding flechette rifles and clad in plaz-tek armor sat jostling about in their harnesses, one on either side of a hulking pile of robot parts.

A slightly singed Captain Greene stood staring at the two, arms crossed. “Overall men, I have to say that the mission was a success. Opening phase was a bit hairy, it's gonna cost a bit to put ol' TX-500 back together again, and you two fruitcakes almost turned me into strawberry pudding. But Trireme's shit got wrecked, and in the end isn't that what matters?”

“Yes sir!” Trip and Mauer said simultaneously.

“Yes sir, indeed.”

Mauer fiddled with his lucky charm while Trip cleared his throat. “You know Cap', we weren't really trying to blow you up.”

“I understand son, and I am a forgiving man.”

“Thank you sir.”

“But not that forgiving. Toilet duty for a month. Now, get some shuteye, I just got our next job lined up and it's gonna be even more fun than this one was. See you pansies in a few.”

Fin