Charles Newburn had been doing a the Lion’s share of the Bunny wall breaking. With the chief vowing to stand aside and let the Defender’s juniors maximize their loot, the duty of hitting the heaviest opposition was fallen only on him. His mind burned from fatigue poisons and the feedback of systems pushed too long. Stim packs had left his mouth tasting of metal and blood, come to think of it, there was some blood. He swigged from the horn of sweet honey mead and tore of a strip of bacon from his emergency rations.
His HUD had been flashing, now it just went away. He querried his AI and it replied in what sounded like Old Norse. He banged on it until the language shifted, and got Meijin Japanese. Keying his implants he heard the moaning of his great Antithesis Helverger was chanting its death chant, and he realized all of his weapons were offline, and two of his reactors were critical, the rest were suggesting emergency shut down. He looked at the pass, and saw rank after rank of Jadoon, the great Crablike mecha topping the weight limit of existing mech designs. Only he and the chief could face them, and he needed to return to base.
“Hammer to Asgard, I am Skosh coolant, TIC, Jaddoon.”
Translated from battlecode into civilian; Charles to base, I may just have enough reactor coolant to get back to base without exploding, I have teams in contact with 90 ton crab mecha.
“Roger Skosh coolant. Return to base. Code Sleipnir”
Translated from battle code; get home before you blow up, the Chief will take care of it.
Charles limped his reeling machines back towards the gate, passing John’s lighter but still fearsome lineup stalking the other way.
“Hey boss, solid Jadoon, two ranks I can see. Not newbies either, battlescarred vets every one.”
The chief’s image appeared on his screen, then split, merged, split and turned green. Maybe he had left it a bit long, even his video was going……
“Got it in the bag. Knockers set me up with the ultimate Jadoon hunting equipment. Swapped out a Betrus Processor for it!”
Charles couldn’t think of any cockpit equipment specific for Jadoon hunting, and he knew he was going to regret asking…..”What equipment?”
John flashed the picture of what looked like the bastard child of a coffee urn and cockpit cup holder. An open flame from a candle lit the bottom of a strange yellow liquid…..no way…..it couldn’t’ be….
“I swear Charles, you just can’t go Crabbing without melted butter!”
They both laughed loud and long. Before he made it through the gate, the death screams of Jadoon pilots echoes in his ears. Charles laughed. They should have run when they smelled the butter.
John T Mainer 28840
Defenders of Bunny