Steel Baton (Mace, bulk 2)
When you are ready to hit the all-you-can-eat buffet
(and scoop up some XP), turn to section
260
.
You sit down and relax for a while. For some reason
the mercenaries Buford and Cletus wander up, sit near you, and take up where
they left off on some argument about various sports teams. Stuck between
boredom and frustration you sigh audibly but, before you can rise to leave,
Cletus eyes you and says, “
Boah
, what’s up with that
crazy getup, anyhow?”
“Standard issue vacuum-proof suit
and equipment for Jetpack Infantry.”
You hear the words
tumble out of you as if someone else was saying them. But it feels as if it is
right, or at least, as if that’s what you’ve been told.
“Hell’s that?” says Buford.
“An army,” you say.
“The Black
Lance Legion.
It’s led by the Shadow Government, whose members broadcast
our orders from their hidden base over secret channels. We use technology
that’s mostly reverse-engineered Invader gear, as studied by the organization
called Black Science. And we, the Black Lance Legion, are waging a guerilla war
against the Invader that’s taken over our solar system.”
After a long pause, the two laugh uproariously. “
F’you
want my opinion,” says Cletus, as if he’s about to
bless you with a glimpse of his narrow-minded vision of the world, “I think
you’re crazy.”
“Good thing I didn’t ask your opinion.”
“
Boah
,” says Buford, “you
can’t fight the Invader!”
“Not with that attitude, no,” you say, drawing up
defensively. You are, however, concerned about the charges against your sanity.
You have questioned it yourself over the past few weeks.
Cletus grows quiet, then leans forward
conspiratorially as he says, “I’ve heard about how they wipe out anyone they
want. Earth’s gone black for years
now,
it’s all one
big Invader playground. If it still exists at all. I’ve heard that stations
lots better defended than ours just... disappear, man, an’ it happens all the
time. People don’t like to talk about it. And I saw with my own eyes how the
guns of our station... they just... they had no effect at all on that ship. It
was untouchable. That shield -”
“Believe me,” you say, “they can be fought. And
we’ve got the means to do it.”
“How so?” says Buford, eyeing you seriously.
“The bullets couldn’t touch the ship because of its
shield. The shield is an electromagnetic, invisible barrier operating on a
certain frequency. I don’t understand the technology myself, but I know that
even high-powered lasers can’t break through, not without knowing the particular
shield’s frequency. Our own ships use the same technology.”
“So what do you do, soldier boy?”
“That’s where the Jetpack Infantry come in.
Theoretically, we fly out from our ship to meet the enemy - and they do the
same. Infantry against infantry, hand to hand. The infantry tries to reach the
enemy ship and then hack through its shield, cutting temporary holes with
weapons charged with their own electromagnetic fields. Swords, maces, spears,
things like that, and they’re not cheap to make, I’ve heard.
The soul of a
soldier is in his weapon
, they say. But it takes some time to hack through
those shields, time when the enemy can shoot an infantryman down, so by way of
distraction our own ship will send out several small bomber ships. These
bombers will fly at high speeds and fire missiles at the big capital ship, and
some of these missiles are equipped with the same expensive charged fields as
our own hand-to-hand weapons. Some of them could cut through the field and
damage the capital ship - so it has to assume that they all can, and spend a
lot of time shooting the missiles down. That gives an infantryman time to get
through the shield and then hack into the ship itself. From there, the troops
have to fight their way to the enemy’s shield generator, which is always in a
different place in each ship, mind you, and then destroy the shield generator.
“After that, they have to fight their way back out
before their own ship fires its lasers and blasts the enemy ship out of the
sky.” You finish, surprised that you knew even that much.
“
Well
all I know,” says
Buford, grandly looking about as if addressing a stadium full of people, “is
that they better have some
prime
snatch on that ship
yer
leadin
’ us to. Hell, as long as that ship exists, I
reckon I’ll be happy!”
“
Naw
,” says Cletus, “if it
don’t have some
primo-snatch
, it might as well not exist,
cause
I know I’d rather just be dead.”
Enraged, you get up to leave. Behind you, you hear
Buford say to his friend, “Know what you mean. If I don’t get it every day, I
can get pretty miffed. I’m not used to
goin
’ without
grade-A snatch, you know...”
If you are skilled in
Navigation
, turn to
section
230
.
If you do not have this skill, or choose not to use
it, but
Arturo the Navigator Poet
is with you, turn to section
12
.
Otherwise, turn to section
203
.
You kick off and reenter the dead room. If you have
not picked them up already, you can take either the
Knife (Blade, bulk 1)
or the
Wrench (Mace, bulk 3)
, or both. Be sure to adjust your inventory
accordingly. You see black spots gelling in your vision, and your chest
threatens to burst: Lose
2 Blood.
You float back into the dark antechamber and shut
the door behind you.
If you picked up the
Wrench
, you can slam it
into the control panel by turning to section
265
.
If you took the Knife, you can try to wedge it
between the door and wall and pry it open by turning to section
83
.
If you wish to cry out for help, turn to section
523
.
The man stops suddenly, says, “Thought you were
dead.”
His face looks like yours, though rougher. “Who are
you?” you say, confused.
The man stares at you, then forces out a sharp laugh
as he continues on. “You always were a little asshole,” he says, “
big
brother
.”
As the man rejoins his unit, you shout at his back,
“Are we brothers? What’s my name? Can I join your unit? Where did we... wait,
uh, where did we grow up?” but the man only raises his hand, middle finger
extended, without turning back to you. You hear another man call him
Kregus
.
Amazing
,
you think.
I have a brother on this ship
. You note that the name
Kregus
does not seem to fit; you have never heard such a
name before. In fact, it sounds made up, and so you decide that he was probably
given such a name by the Legion. And while it does not seem that he likes you
very much, you wish him well in the coming battle.
Too bad the little bastard couldn’t get you on his
unit so you could watch out for him.
Another unit marches down the hallway. There seems
to be little activity behind them, and you wonder if this is your last chance
to get into the upcoming battle. You spot the red badge of a Commander, then
approach him, saying, “Sir, let me join your unit during the battle.”
The Commander, a hulking man with dim-witted eyes,
barks out, “
F’you
got papers says you can join the
Nagasaki Rams, then alright, but if you doesn’t, then hell no.”
Walking sideways you say, “Sir there’s no telling
where any of my paperwork is, I’ve been stranded for weeks or months and I just
want to join a unit so I can -”
As the towering numbskull shakes his head while you
talk, you feel eyes on you and glance at the rear of the unit. There you see a
man with a charged mace clanging at his side and your eyes freeze in your
skull. The man has a sheepish expression, pale skin with freckles, reddish
blond hair,
gaunt
features. You can smell his fear. It
is
John
Christian
.
You grab the Commander by the back of his neck and
stop him from walking. “Hey!” he shouts.
Smiling a death’s-head grin and staring through his
eyes and into the back of his head, you say, “Let me on your unit and I will
spill more blood than any soldier you’ve ever commanded before.”
The Commander pushes you away and barks out
something about paperwork and protocol but you do not listen. As the Nagasaki
Rams move down the hallway you stop and watch them go. John Christian glances
back at you, mouth hanging open stupidly so that you can see his crooked teeth.
And you glare back at him, face stretched out in a psychotic smile. You can
feel your heart growing stronger as you eat his fear.
As they disappear, the hall grows still and quiet.
Well
,
you think,
guess I’m not going to get to join anyone. I can either sit here
and pray for the best, or sneak out there and risk getting shot by my own
comrades
...
Just then, one more unit stomps down the hall toward
you, marching and chanting something like a Viking funeral dirge. As they pass
through, a
lightbulb
flickers out and dies, casting
them into a preternatural gloom. Their eyes glow with madness. All of their
dark space suits are smeared with dried blood on the front.
They are human
fanatics and it may be better to run and hide than to face them
.
Turn to section
200
.
You focus the brunt of your will into your eyes,
boring them into the laborer’s skull. The laborer stares back, and beads of
sweat run down his face.
“Well now,” says the laborer, stalling for time.
“Shut up.” You glare at him as hard as you can down
the barrel of your gun. “Let the girl go.
Now.”
If your
Will
is 4 or more, turn to section
342
.
If your
Will
is 3 or less, turn to section
313
.
You grip your spear with both hands and drive it
forward, aiming for the mouth of the deconstructor.
You must now compute an abstract number that will
determine the outcome of the battle. This number is your
Ground Combat (or 1
G Combat)
added to your
Strength
stat. If you have the
Weapon
Proficiency: Hand-to-Hand
skill with a
Spear
, add 2 to this number.
If this number is 5 or less, turn to section
109
.
If this number is 6 or more, turn to section
452
.
While the spearmen form a line, you gather near some
others clustered at their side. A command is given and you all blast toward the
Invaders charging your ship. Your pulse hisses in your skull as you draw
nearer, nearer. For an instant you see the horns of the monsters, their black
swords and axes. You steady your weapon in your
hand,
pick out one black Invader from the cluster, then –
Fighters on both sides collide, you see Invaders
impaled on spears, face plates are smashed open, freezing blood gushes on all
sides. You slam into one Invader in a deadly embrace, spinning wildly. He
raises his short sword and swings it at your helm, but you knock the blow
aside, your wrist and elbow ringing with the impact.
You must now compute a number that will determine
the outcome of the battle. This number is your
Strength
stat added to
your
Zero G Combat
stat. If you are trained in
Weapon Proficiency:
Hand-to-Hand
, and it is with the weapon you are using, add 3 to this
number. If you are using a
Blade
or
Mace
, add 1. If, for whatever
reason, you are fighting unarmed, subtract 5.
During the battle you lose
10 Blood
, though
you may subtract the number you calculated from this amount. You may also
subtract your
Defense
rating from this amount. However, if you lose 3 or
more Blood, then you also lose
1 SD.
If you survive, then in a panicky haze of adrenaline
you manage to smash open the Invader’s face plate. Oxygen gushes forth,
then
red freezing goo sprays onto your own faceplate. As you
wipe it away the monster twitches his last in your arms.
You gain
2 XP
for killing the Invader. You
may take the Invader’s
Charged Short Sword (Blade, bulk 2)
if you wish.
All around you, it seems the enemy’s charge and the
defense against it have
dissolved into an all-out melee. An
Invader armed with a mace flies toward you. It seems that he is flying slowly,
and so you prepare to charge.
If you are skilled in
Sixth
Sense
,
turn to section
325
.