You wake after bizarre dreams of exploding cows dropping on you as a demented gamemaster moved you about on a board.

And then your ship shudders under your hand, and you realize you're still flying.  But its totally dark outside with only moonlight to light up the night.

Doctor Carmine gulps.

"Whaaaaaaat? Ok. Ok. I'm calm. I'm calm, well functional anyways. I thought we got exploded, but obviously we haven't."

You feel something familar off to your right.

PT

What a lousy day this has turned out to be. Alein stealth craft suck. And what's up with that nightmare? I've been playing way too many games. ;)

I realize that I just got killed (again?). Now this is something new to me. I always was lead to understand death would be different. Judgement and all that. Well, never mind all that. The point is that I need to obtain my supplies and in...

I'm airborne?

I look at my surroundings, with particular emphasis on the right. And hopefully I can find a place to land without dying. If landing zones exist. I could be anywhere after that last experience.

You see nothing but darkness to your right.  However, Dr. Carmine looks out that way intently as well.

"I feel like I know something of mine is out there to the right.  Which should be, no is, quite impossible.  Thus, we are dealing with a new phenomenon because my alternate theory is that I'm crazy, and I don't like that theory."

You and her fly through the star-studded night over dimly seen great shapes, and at one point you realize you're seeing the remains of a skyscraper thats been 'twisted' and thrown down.  Nearby, you see a landing spot, but its not the 'feeling' area.

PT

It's better than nothing. I'll probably have to discover and confirm that feeling on foot. Besides, I have a feeling that once Carmine lands, she isn't going to like this. I move in for a landing and hop out.

This is strange on so many different levels I don't even know where to start. I'm supposed to be dead twice over, and yet I'm alive, and once more in unfamiliar territory. Carmine is going through what I just experienced, except this is her first. Is this destruction the Singers' handwork?

What is going on here?

You get it down to a smooth-cut grass field in the shade of somehuge, dark, oblong shadows trimmed by a primeval forest that presses in closely on all sides.

Doctor Carmine gets up, wobbles outside, and throws up.  Then she starts talking to herself as she tries to reason the situation out with a lot of exasperation and more than a little fear.  She counting up points on her fingers...

"Point One: If I'm crazy, totally, its pointless to assume so.  Point Two: This is unlike any afterlife I've ever heard of, much less the one I expected.  Point Three: (to get out of order) [she mutters] Last transition was unlike any preceding transitions aka temporal jumps.  It seemed that we exploded.  Possible solution--the machine has some sort of emergency jump, an ejection seat, if you will that tosses you wildly into the universe.  If true, that would make that familar feeling a locator beacon."

PT

Somehow, throwing up was exactly what I expected her to do. Glad I decided to land. The only reason I didn't and won't is because of how proud I am. Somehow, I don't think that familiar feeling is going to be a locator beacon. For all I know, we could end up following different feelings. Mine were my belongings put exactly in proportion to where I was. How in the world would that work when your belongings are 50 years in the future?

"Try not to think about too many things at once. One thing at a time. First, let's find out what lies that way." I point towards the feeling. Somehow, I have a hunch she's going in the same direction, although this isn't concrete yet.

She heads that way muttering irritably about a locator beacon which confirms your theory.

As you walk away from the oblong mass rearing above the trees, you hear a bit of rustling up ahead of you in the tree line.  Its at least a large mammal or other animal.

Carmine grabs your arm, and pushes you ahead of her muttering something about a man's responsibility as she pulls some mace from her purse.

PT

Apparently she wants me to go first. Now personally I think she's out of her mind if she thinks I want to be in the line of sight of any mammal larger than myself, because my knowlege of biology states most of them will eat me. I gesture to her to put away the mace, because that will not only do absolutely nothing to a creature of that size, but it will probably fly back and hit both of us. I sneak ahead, this is a time for surveillance.

By the way, I've forgotten, do I have any weapons on me or were they all confiscated?
This message was last edited by the player at 00:54, Wed 04 July 2007.

You hear her crouch down after a few seconds.  You slip forward into the grass, and into the edge of the forrest.

And there you see a man, with abundant tattoos on his face.  He is hiding very poorly behind a tree,a nd peeking out frequently.  He has a spear, and a pair of loose brown trousers, and a cape of brightly colored feathers.

Your impression is of someone without a great amount of skill.

PT
OOC NO weapons.

(Crap. Must be with my gear.)

I don't quite know what this guy is hunting or waiting for, but if he is hunting me, I will be very surprised. I move out of the brush directly towards my supplies. I am not going to confront him and I'm going to avoid looking in his direction. If he doesn't want to be seen, I will honor that. I just want my gear.

You head to your gear, and he bobbles in and out of sight, and then as you reach your gear, he comes running forward.  When you turn to face him, he smiles brightly and points at your gear.

"Shippuin, shippuin, myaah, grande mojo manny."

He divides his efforts between pointing happily at your bag, and bowing very enthusiastically with a huge grin on his face.

PT

Oh, crap. He's speaking Cajonese, which is not one of my strong points. It takes me a moment to realize that he just said something about me being big mojo, a difficult thing to define, but one I understand. He thinks I'm some kind of supernatural sign, and from the smile he thinks I'm a good one.

"Yeah, uh, grande mojo I." This spoken a little uncertainly. I move to acquire all of my once confiscated gear. The sooner I have my weaponry again, the better.

He smiles, and bows, then frowns as you reach out to your gear.  He reaches out to your gear tentatively.

"Shippuin. Myaaa."  He points to his feathered cloak with a hurt look on his face.

"It looks like he thinks its his."  Doctor Carmine said from behind you about twenty feet away.

The man brightens and turns toward her.  He looks very hopeful.

"Shippuin!!  Myaaa?"

PT

Oh man. I have to negotiate for my own property? What kind of...

"Say," I turn to Carmine. "Can you understand what he is saying? I can hardly make out his words." I make no further moves towards my things, they can wait until I know where this guy is coming from. Often even the irrational has a pattern of logic to it, it's just a matter of finding out what it is.

"He doesn't seem to have a large vocabulary.  And it seems to be related to English.  And..."  She pauses dryly. "I'm very familar with his current look.  He's thinking he maybe can have me.  Like you have the power to give him, well, I imagine a wife."  She pauses again.  "Note: If you try this, I'll kill you."

"Of course, he seems to be calling your gear, and me, 'shippuin'.  'myaaa' might be mine.  And you're heap big magic man.  So..."

PT

"I get it, or at least I think I do. He wants the wizard to give him a gift. Either that, or he thinks he conjured us and is treating accordingly." The latter is not likely, as I assume he would have been more assertive. On the other hand, he might be simply trying to treat the spirits with respect.

Curse my close-mindedness, why did I have to encounter a foreign culture?

"Don't worry," I tell Carmine with a half-smile. "I won't be trading you off." I take my chances with angering him and pick up my gear.

Carmine laughs a bit, and then chokes it off as you reach for the gear.  You take it and the man's face falls.  Then he protests, fingering his cloak of many feathers.  Finally, shaking his spear, he pulls out an amulet formed of some animal tusks, a bit of shiny, worked metal, and some feathers.

He doesn't seem violent, but he seems determined and offended as he pleads his rights to you.

PT

"Now I get it." It's actually taken me this long to figure it out, but now that it has occurred to me, it's a matter of Duh. "He thinks this is his because he found it. He has absolutely no reason to associate this with us at all."

I set my belongings down. Now, how to go about explaining that we own this stuff?

"Okay, you understand some English." I'm saying this to him as a statement, and to set my own thoughts in motion. "That's fairly clear. What will it take to prove my ownership of this?" I gesture to my belongings. "After all, if someone stole your amulet, dropped it carelessly, and then I picked it up, you would what it back from me, right?"

I'm hoping that I haven't misunderstood the situation.

"Hombre mojo shippuin Denvah Raidahs.  Myaaa Iah.  Myaaa mojo. Raidahs workin mojo marry jane.  Shippuin. Shippuin!  Shippuin!!"  He then pauses,a nd an idea comes to him. "Hombre mal hombre. Black mojo."  He backs up a step.

PT
OOC: Sorry dude, you were right the first time.

Okay, NOW I'm confused. We have obviously hit an understanding impasse of mutual incomprehension. I grab up my belongings and ready my most damaging weapon first, because I've got the most negative intuition about this guy suddenly. I'm aware that would not be looked upon kindly in any culture, but I'm taking no chances, and this guy is making me nervous. "Black mojo" is a term I understand, and I'm guessing he thinks we are evil. And I don't even know what the heck I said to get him to that point.

He gives you a glance, and then runs off into the forrest with enthusiasm, and an obvious intent to do more than just run away.

Doctor Carmine speaks.  "I think we made an enemy.  You ready to leave?"

PT

"I have a feeling that you just made the understatment of the century. If I were him, I'd be getting reinforcements." While I'm speaking I'm gathering my belongings. "I don't know how many of his friends I'm going to be able to take down, but I have a feeling I know how many he's going to use. Thirty-to-one...er, two is not my idea of a fight I can win."

I kick myself mentally for my lack of grace with that, but to be honest, I figure her most likely reaction is going to be to run from danger like a sane and rational person. I'm the one with serious rage issues, and I'm moving in the opposite direction he is. Ordinarily I'd probably track him, and attempt to subdue him. But that would probably be very dangerous for me, and Carmine is a good excuse not to act on that impulse.

I hope Carmine doesn't have too many belongings.

She doesn't have too many belongings, and she agrees.

"I may be an Doctor, but in ways, I'm an old-fashioned girl.  You can fight off the bad guys, I'll cheer you on from the sidelines.  I mean, if I have to fight, I will, but I always had four older brothers who beat up anyone I said was mean to me."

Once inside the vehicle with your and her stuff, you gather your thoughts, and launch even as you hear drums begin to beat out the warning of 'evil black magician, come kill him'.

pt

She doesn't have too many belongings, and she agrees.

"I may be an Doctor, but in ways, I'm an old-fashioned girl.  You can fight off the bad guys, I'll cheer you on from the sidelines.  I mean, if I have to fight, I will, but I always had four older brothers who beat up anyone I said was mean to me."

Once inside the vehicle with your and her stuff, you gather your thoughts, and launch even as you hear drums begin to beat out the warning of 'evil black magician, come kill him'.

pt

OOC: Double posting? That's an intersting method of emphasis. (sarcasm, do not take seriously)

The vehicle works, which is a major plus. I thought this thing had gotten blown up. But then again, I went through the same thing not long ago, and I'm apparently fine. Except, of course, for the African voodoo tribe that wants to rub me out for being rude.

Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that this is not going to be enough to save me from them? That I simply cannot put enough distance between this enemy and myself?

You fly over the ruins of a major metropolis.

Suddenly Carmine starts.

"Denvah Raidahs."  She pauses.  "Could that be Denver below us, or what used to be Denver?"

PT

I recall the conversation as best as I can. Denver Raiders do not sound like people I want to be dealing with. The L.A. Raiders are bad enough. Still, I have a feeling I need to deal with both sides before this can be resolved.

Analysis: I'm in a post-apocalyse world. This is a lousy day. I also have a feeling I'll have to find a why to overcome the language barrier and renegotiate with that tribe I just angered.

You're flying onward as you analyze things, and suddenly you realize the 'sense of familarity' that you've been tracking is behind you.  Circling around a bit, you figure that its in a giant mound with shadow-draped juts and crags.

At first glance there are no clear landing spots nearby as ruins compete with wildgrowth for every spare square yard.

PT

I remind myself I'm in a VTOL (Vertical Take Off and Landing). All I have to do is find a spot large enough to land in this thing. It doesn't have to be smooth or even comfortable. Any landing you walk away from is a good landing, I say. I'm willing to park some distance away from this mound.

"This may be a little rough, Doc." I inform my passenger. "Brace yourself for landing." I also ready myself for more resistance in the mound itself, this time I won't be retreating unless I have to.

You jarringly slam to the surface.  The surface is rock, and its tilted about ten degrees.  Shaking off the teeth-bouncing stop, you climb out, and see the finish on the outside scraped by some branches, and leaves stuck in various crevices, and one of your landing struts is bent.

You're standing on what looks like tarvey, but its upheaved.  There is a chunk of what might be gutter edging about five feet away that has been pushed from its spot by a tree growing through the road.

The density of forest is about that of an orchard with easy clearance to walk between, but instead of a nice, green grass underfoot, its broken and slanting tarvey.  There are also what looks to be occasional thin, but far-ranging thornbushes.

Carmine climbs out.

"Any landing you can walk away from." She says. "Do we sleep or hike or...?"

PT

I realize its been quite a day, and I could probably use a little shuteye myself.

"Sleep." I say wearily. "I'm beat, and this has been the weirdest week, day or 500 years I've ever had. Let's sleep in the aircraft. I'll take pilot's seat, you take co-pilot's. Hope you can sleep in a chair."

It's not like we can rent a Hilton, Red Roof, Super 8 or something like those.

You wake in the middle of the night to some little noise.  Its Carmine deciding to change out her chair for sleeping on the floor.  She gives you an apologetic half-smile, and you doze off again.

The next morning, she's grumpy.  She wants coffee, badly, and she's got a kink in the neck, and is sore all over.  You're not feeling so bad being more used to roughing it than her, but you're  abit sore too.

About an hour later, as you follow the 'feeling', you and her come to a crumbled skyscraper.  Its perhaps ten stories tall.  At one time, it was much taller.  There are holes and windows open leading into it.

Carmine stretches, audibly cracking her back.

"One, I'm sorry. I'm always a bear in the morning.  Two, that building is not safe.  I'm not a civil engineer, but we could easily collapse it by stepping wrong."

PT

"It's fine." I take note of our present situation. "Frankly, we really need to find something to eat, and I have a feeling that may turn out to be more difficult than either of us would like. Still, we both have the same intuitions, and they are telling us, or at least me, to go in that building. I've already faced an army of psychotic machines this week. One decaying building doesn't really scare me after that."

"You are free to do as you feel you must. If you wish to wait outside, I see no problem in that." I hand her the pistol (if I have it, otherwise I'll hand her whatever I've got that passes for lethal). "Use it if you feel you must. I might not be able to fight all of your battles. And to be honest, I have a feeling I won't be needing it."

"Food yes, we can last another couple of days, but we're going to be seriously hurting before long...I think I ought to stay with you.  You seem to know what you're doing when it comes to fighting.  You didn't blink an eye when that crazy man was waving a spear in your face.  And I do know some about basic engineering so maybe I can help keep us safe from a collapsing building...just if I say run...run."

She gives you a very serious look, and then smiles.

You and her slip into the dark hole nearest you.  Its good exercise with ducking and weaving, and stepping over rusted railings bent like pretzels, and sliding between the collapsed walls of a hallway going ever deeper into the building.

You come up on a large possum in a confined space as you crouch under a fallen roof who just stares at you insolently from his twenty pounds of fat and meat.

PT

Well, I've never eaten possum before, and I doubt Carmine has, but I guess there's a first time for everything. I search my bag for a piece of food and, if I have it, hold it out for the possum, while grabbing a rock in my right hand. I call it over very quietly and in the most non-threatening tone I can concieve.

Cleaning it will be a bit of a trick for me, but I'll make due. I'm not sure how I'll cook it, but I guess I'll worry about that when I get to it. Maybe the heat from the engine..?

(If this works, one order of possum coming right up.)

About an hour later, you have Engine Heat Possum.  It tastes a bit sweet, and its dry, but edible.  Carmine is very skeptical, but once she tries it her hunger kicks in, and you and her down the whole thing.

You had to open a hatch to get at the engine.  What you see seems simple in form, although a number of parts have no apparent logic to them.  However, Carmine starts to study it with diligence as if she recognizes some of the principles it is based on.

In your look about the craft you find a number of spare parts, and a spare set of Ripple of Rockets that would have to be installed.  Also, you find a survial kit with a book inside it.

"What to do if you are cut off from your civilization, and awaiting rescue."  By Brigadier General Louis Pennyroyal, KBE.

PT

"Now this is quality literature." I'm suddenly feeling much more upbeat about my chances. "And this possum tastes better than I thought it would. Installing rockets will also give me something to do whie we are resting up."

"So...uh...how do you install these?"

I'm studing the engine with her. I don't know much about vehicles, but I do know basics and I might learn something. I figure as long as I am not showing any signs of waking up from this...whatever I'm in...I might as well learn something.

She flips through the book to the index, finds a page, and looks at it.  Then she hands it to you.

"It involves getting dirty, and crawling on the ground with high explosives in your hands."

You study the chart.  Its sparing of information, but it seems clear.  An hour later, with a skinned knuckle and much dirtier, you have reloaded the rockets.

She gives you a golf clap and then waves you to come join her at the engine.  She has a dozen pages of notes.

"I really wish I knew more about quantum mechanics. As near as I can tell this energizes to a higher level the vehicle, charges it with temporal energy, or potentiality.  Probably the same thing.  Potential energy allows us to have free will.  Without it, we'd all be automatons.  And this charging will lift you up into a super-universe that holds all the lesser universes."

She flicks a switch, and suddenly you see a long line running to the right and the left of her of ghostly images of her.  Some of them are doing something different than she is doing right now.  Oddly, she's the only thing that has its multiple shadows.

"You should have alternate realities as well.  Its like you're half of a person.  Its like this universe we're in is smaller."

PT

She flips through the book to the index, finds a page, and looks at it.  Then she hands it to you.

"It involves getting dirty, and crawling on the ground with high explosives in your hands."

You study the chart.  Its sparing of information, but it seems clear.  An hour later, with a skinned knuckle and much dirtier, you have reloaded the rockets.

She gives you a golf clap and then waves you to come join her at the engine.  She has a dozen pages of notes.

"I really wish I knew more about quantum mechanics. As near as I can tell this energizes to a higher level the vehicle, charges it with temporal energy, or potentiality.  Probably the same thing.  Potential energy allows us to have free will.  Without it, we'd all be automatons.  And this charging will lift you up into a super-universe that holds all the lesser universes."

She flicks a switch, and suddenly you see a long line running to the right and the left of her of ghostly images of her.  Some of them are doing something different than she is doing right now.  Oddly, she's the only thing that has its multiple shadows.

"You should have alternate realities as well.  Its like you're half of a person.  Its like this universe we're in is smaller."

She breaks down and starts crying.

PT

I have a feeling that an embrace is in order here. Not so much for romantic reasons, but simply because sometimes everyone needs a shoulder to cry on. Of course, I'm only doing this because no one else is around. I have a reputation as a jerk to maintain.

Maybe it's simply a delayed reaction to all of the craziness she's just been though. I mean, today has been really, really strange. And I have a weird feeling that it will only get stranger as time goes by.

'Half a person.' I wonder what she meant by that.

Maybe we've entered a temporal cul-de-sac of some kind, only one way in or out. Not that it would help me much in the first place, because we don't have a time machine. Was it a weapon unleashed by those strange machines that sent me here? It would certainly be an effective tool to elimanating an enemy. Send him into a future where his lack of presence on the field of war cost his nation dearly.

And it would mean you force a surrender on your terms.

I had better get ready. But after Carmine is finished crying. We need a breather.

She cries on your shoulder for a few minutes, and then starts getting a hold of herself.  Suddenly, she steps back, and even as she is crying, she starts speaking thickly.

She hits the button again.

You see a shadowy line extending out to the right and the left of her of ghostly images like from when you first arrived in her dimension.

"Our time machine is working fine.  Its the world that has changed.  And somehow, you're not like me.  It was offensive to call you half a person.  I'm sorry for that.  Its just the first thing that occurred to me.  I mean look, I have all these alternate shadows of myself.  They are a part of me."

She pauses.

And then she yanks her hair to the left.  The shadow to the right yanks its to the right.  The one further on hops on one foot.  The next one claps her hands....

"I decided I was going to do something random. Unpredictable, unlikely.  So did all my others near me in teh probability band that is me.  You on the other hand are simply you. You have no probability band, no invisible existence extending sideways through time.  To put it into quantum mechanics, you are a collapsed wave form.  Me, I'm a partially collapsed one, which I thought was impossible.  But that makes you more solid than me.  I'm always partly a ghost, I guess.  I'm tempted to run an experiment.  Stab myself in the hand, and then see if I can push myself along the probability band until I no longer have the hand wound."

PT

I'm listening. What the heck. A little R&R never hurt anyone.

"Don't worry. I didn't take offense in your statement. I mean, I've never met anyone who had a series of alternate selves before. It's as strange to me as singularity of self is to you." I smile as a thought occurs to me. "At least you will never be lonely. And you can make all the multiple persnoality jokes you want."

I change the subject before she can answer. "That experiment you mentioned. That would actually be an interesting idea. Have you considered how you are going to try it? There is a very real possiblity that somewhere along that band you did more than stab your own hand. Not to mention what will happen to you in terms of personality and memory. By a large degree we are shaped by our experiences. Your alternates have not encountered me." In short, it's occured to me that while she might heal up, I could be facing a completely different human being when it is over and done with.

Meanwhile, I'm looking around, trying to get myself in a position were if something weird happened, I'd see it coming long before it could get to danger range of either of us.

She nods, and then bends down and focuses.  With a gasp, she cuts herself.  And then there is a faint shimmer around her, and the line moves to the left.  She restabilizes.  Carmine rises again.

Her eyes show no sign of recent tears.

"How remarkable.  My other self, or part of me, told me what she was doing."

She holds up her uncut hand.

"Would you prefer I go back to the version you are used to, or stay here with this version?"

About this time, you see an old man with a staff, long flowing white hair, and some sort of rifle emerge from the ruined skyscraper.  Its just before dawn.  He looks as if he is searching for something.

PT

This could be quite a headache. Most guys dream of having 200 girlfriends, I've got them rolled up in one. Of course, I've seen the series Tenchi Muyo, and know that the girl magnet experience is highly overrated.

At least I'll never be bored. And she can take care of herself, which lessens the throbbing migraine this would be a little.

"Uh, your choice. Be whoever you wish to be. I'm not going anywhere." I pause a moment. "And with that in mind, I believe we have company. I'm going to go check it out."

I wave to the old man. "Good morning sir!" I'm hoping he's reasonably sane, because I'm making quite a target out of myself right now.

"Good morning.  Is that you, Mentat? Why yes it is.  Excellent.  I'm in the cryovault in the basement.  Well, my body is.  This  is my mind, out for a stroll. I wonder if you could free my body."

He turns to walk away.

Carmine gapes at him with her mouth at full drop.

PT

I almost have the same reaction, except that Astral Projection is seeming quite ordinary considering I have a girlfriend (Is that really what she is?) who can go sideways through time and become another human being altogether. That coupled with the fact that I have commited my first homicide not to long ago, killing two KGB agents completely by surprise and stealing a time machine?

Yeah, Projection is just something which fits the theme of this insane coma-induced fantasy. So I just nod my head and agree. What the heck.

"Alright. I have no idea how you know me by that name, considering how it's online only, but what the hay. I'll help you out." I follow as well.

"Oh, well we met already, but that was in my personal back timeline.  'Nother universe, um, I think it was Seglan IV with the intelligent grass...no, it was Peridarcus, your magic was quite impressive there.  I'm Academician Roslov, or Ross as you like."

Carmine flips off the time machine.

"I'm a Doctor as well, in physics."

"Do tell.  My studies are in Large Scale Hyrdraulics, and in Robotic/Human Interface."

This starts the two of them babbling about schools attended, and disertations presented.

He leads the way into the ruined building and Carmine whispers to you.

"He's mad.  There are no Artificial Intelligences.  And there is definitely no Russian University on the Moon. Even with alternate timelines, I can't conceive of such a thing."

PT

"Well, prior to today, I would have told you time travel into the past was quite impossible without fixing the fate of the universe in question and destroying the timeline you just left behind. Yet here we are."

I check what I just said for a moment and realize I might have been a little harsh just now. "I'm not trying to offend you or insult you. It's simply that after what I've seen, I'm willing to go on a little faith right now. And even if he is mad, he clearly recognizes me, and I have to check this out. You're free to come along, and truth be told, I'd appreciate the company."

Indeed, I'm apparently already fixed into the destiny of this world as having had an effect on the past, which implies that I'm going to go into the past at some point and cause these things to happen, and that I cannot die until that destiny is realized. Or rather I should say, I won't die, because if I did it would cause a paradox that would lock this timeline in place until the anamoly of my death was altered.

I am really getting to hate time travel.

"But what if the universe is broader than what we normally see? What if there are unexpressed potentials, like me, and all my shadows?  What if Actuality is a small river in the midst of a vast plain of Potentiality?"  Carmine asks and you see her mind spinning at furious speed as she comes up with new ideas. "I mean we did travel, we probably changed things.  And that means we either killed a future like you say, or something else is going on. Since I don't want to be a mass murderer, I have faith something else is going on."

The old man leads you down into the tower.  For him its easy as he can walk through walls.  He impatiently waits for you and Carmine.

Finally, you come into an open spot, a great vault.

"Lights." He says.  And lights flame on.

There is a giant mosaic in the wall of a battle robot, a very detailed picture.  At its feet is a bit of machinery holding a large cube of ice.  Inside the ice is the figure of a man.

"That's me. You need to wake me so I can give you something, and we can help the poor people of this dimension.  I've been waiting for you, or another one of our verser brethren.  The Fellowship of the Undying as it were."  He cackles a bit madly, as he starts to walk toward his body across the broken floor.

PT

The Fellowship of the Undying? Not sure what that is all about myself, but apparently a few years of being unable to interact with reality in a conventional way have had an adverse effect on his sanity. After all, a mad chuckle is something I understand.

"Sounds like a good theory. At the very least, it will do until we know more about what's going on. But I'm not concerned with the idea of destroying a timeline, because it's very possible that I'm forced into the past, thus absolving me of murder in any sense. I don't see myself knowingly timetravel..." I realize that I had followed Russians into the past with the intention of bringing whatever ruin I could concieve on them. (The Manhatten Project in Russia, came to mind as one option. 'Guess they got itchy trigger fingers, huh?')

"Uh, nevermind that last. Let's just say that I don't plan on killing any futures. But I am still curious about this guy, and I'm going to find a way to thaw this loony." I turn to him as look for a way to thaw him. "Nothing personal."

"Wisdom often looks like lunacy to the ignorant." He snaps back with a force and clarity that seems to wake him up.  And then it fades. "Err, something like that.  I-I made this plan.  I knew it would be rough, just waiting.  But you've come, and I just have to hold it together a while longer.  Then I can go worldwalking, and find a nice, civilized world where I can recollect..." He goes blank. "Something."

He looks embarrassed.  Carmine grabs your sleeve.

"He's mad as a hatter. Are you going to trust him?"

"Boy, uh Mentat, Lord Mage, ah would 'hey you' do? Can you come over here, and type in this sequence on the control panel.  And then pull this lever.  Hopefully the lever won't be too rusty..."

"Mentat, I don't know.  There are serious high-voltage lines leading from the control box."  You see the cables she points out.  They look time-worn, and rat nibbled, and fist thick.  "You could easily fry yourself."

PT

"Somehow, I don't think that's going to happen, although I won't dispute your assessment of his sanity. But this is the only person I've encountered aside from you that I can somewhat understand, and the ones I can't understand want to kill me because I screwed up and crossed a line I wasn't aware of. I'll just have to be careful I don't cook myself."

I think about the implications of this. "Could you watch the door for me? I just got very paranoid all of a sudden." For all the good that would do. If this whole thing is a trap, I'm toast anyways.

I move over to pull the lever, careful not to get too close to the wires, which means if I have to throw my whole weight into the lever, this guy's out of luck.

You punch in the code offered, and yank the large metal lever.  Suddenly there is a cracking sound, and then the room is filled with ice cold fog so much you can't see your hand in front of your face.

The fog recedes as Carmine talks to herself about staying calm.

You see the old man standing in front of you.  This time he casts a shadow. Water is dripping off him.

"A hot fire, dry clothes or at least a towel. And food, preferably chicken noodle soup.  Provide this, and I've got a gift for you.  A very big gift."

PT

"I'll see what I can do." I am not sure where I can get anything resembling spare clothes, as I don't think it occured to me to bring any along for this trip into my own mind, or whatever kind of crazy I'm facing now. I reach for Carmine and help her out of the fog. Then I start considering my options.

Unless Carmine has a spare lab coat, I don't have much in way of clothing short of my own. Food, however, I do have.

"It's not chicken noodle, but we have food and a heat source. You know where our camp is, and you are free to come along if you like. This is all I can give you in way of clothing though. Sorry." I remove my shirt and toss it in to him. I turn to Carmine. "He can take care of himself from here I think. Frankly, I could use the heat myself. It's freezing in here." I head back to camp at this point.

I have literally given someone the shirt of my back. I have gotten such a ridiculously soft touch as a result of Carmine. Normally I'd have just told him to tough it out and go out in the buff.

He wants you to bring the food and fire to him, but he consents to going out to the craft.  Once there, you do find something that can pass for clothes, a blanket that becomes a kilt.

He wears it with style.

"Reminds me of the time I fought with Wallace.  I had a claymore, beautiful thing.  Unfortunately, I broke it in the skull of an English knight, and then the man's buddy came up and gutted me.  That was a couple worlds back."

He leans back, and takes another bite as Carmine gawks at him.

"Mentat, we were never great friends.  I mean, we weren't enemies either. We got along when we bumped into each other.  But here, I really need your help.  The locals in this universe were breaking out into space, and then a bunch of rapacious aliens showed up and KE'd their civ.  They would have finished the job too, but Mars had a huge collection of terraforming robots I was able to reprogram into battle bots.  They mostly keep the aliens out of the Inner system.  But any time anyone gets a bit ahead, the aliens make a serious effort, and punch a raid through.  Right now, its a Mexican standoff.  Thing is, before the collapse...which was oh, three hundred years ago...spent a lot of time on the ice...I wonder if I get to count that as age....in that case, I'd be five hundred years old, anyways....I had built me a Mecha to explore the Outer system, and operate in Jupiter's atmosphere.  Thing is, I wanted to run it, but I'm just too old.  Got versed out on my seventy-ninth birthday.  I can't run a Mecha even if I am immortal.  My body's too frail to withstand the nine g's of gravity getting to orbit is going to take.  So...I waited...until you or someone like you showed up.  I mean, much as I loved that claymore, I really should have been using a rapier.  So now I have a Mecha, hopefully a pilot and mechanic, and some nasty aliens who think that humans would be better extinct which is I think their goal."

PT

I ignore the comment about Wallace. As insane as this sounds, it smacks of dream logic. In short, it makes perfect nonsense.

"Nine G's is no joke for a person in top condition. Still, I might be able to do that." I think a bit more on what he is asking. "So you want me to drive back the alien invaders singlehandedly, right?" I've been watching too much anime. "Okay, before I go, I have one question. Refresh my lousy memory. Who are you again?"

He raises a bushy eyebrow.

"Well, then I am Professor of Columbian History in my first universe, and the other fields I already mentioned I picked up later.  My mother named me Lawrence De Vineir.  Also Apprentice Sorcerer Lamont, the Prince from the Outside to a very strange group of beings, and Sir Law to Wallace, and to the local tribes Teachah-man.  I am a Level Three Pschyic.  I've also been called Doc, hey you, and Doctor Larry."

He shakes his head.

"Not single handedly. The most attractive dark-haired female, a scientist..."

"Call me Carmine."

"She can be your mechanic. I'll be flight control.  And you might have some assistance from the battlebots, and who knows, maybe we can get the local tribes to help."

"Sounds like its mostly just you." Carmine mutters.  The Doc frowns at her, but does not dispute it.

PT

He has piqued my interest. "Two things: one, how can the tribes help us? They seem rather low tech for this kind of fight. Two, even if they can help, how would we get it? That may prove difficult than either of us would like, as I have already managed to offend them somehow." I think a little longer. "Just for the sake of screwing up the count, three, can you teach me these psychic abilities?"

I'm having the impression that time is not a serious factor to us yet.

"Yes, the local tribes are, but over the course of a couple of years we could easily raise that a bit. Its not like you're getting any older after all."  He chuckles.  "They can begin by bringing us food so we don't have to hunt and gather.  In the very long-term, it may be neccessary to build more mecha, but by then I hope we'd have some educated tribesmen."

He slaps his chest.

"They call me Teachah-man for good reason.  I showed them how to salt and smoke fish, how treat head wounds--basic stuff, how to make a waterwheel although I don't know if they figured out what to use one for...but they know me as a local wise spirit.  And you can do the same, I'm sure.  The locals are not cargo culters like the ones further into the city which makes things easier in some ways.  They believe in trade, but oh, do they haggle."

He nods.

"Oh yes, I can teach you some. This universe supports a fair amount of psionic ability.  I don't think you can do gaseous TK, but it could be simply that I'm not that skilled at it.  But basic things like telepathy, and astral travel you should have no problem with unless you're a Null, but thats unlikely."

I notice he hasn't really answered my question of how do deal with ny little cultural foul-up. It doesn't matter, I suppose. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Meanwhile, this talk of raising technology levels tells me that I have a lot more time than I expected. Not sure if I like the like the idea of immortality in this body, but what the heck. God is testing me further, and I have as much time as I need to learn from my own screw ups.

Guess for me at least, Judgement Day has been postponed.

"Telepathy it is." I look towards Carmine for a moment. "Would it be possible to teach her as well? If she is going to help me fight your war, she might as well have as many tricks up her sleeve as she can get."

"Well yes, but lets get you fitted to the Mecha first.  Besides, I think connecting to the Mecha will help you learn telepathy since part of the control system is a mind-computer linkage."

He taps out a small command on a tiny control he had attached to his ear.

You hear some noises below.  Then a roar.  Then a sound of rocks shattering.

The Mecha smashes through the building's roof, and arcs into the sky.

PT

My jaw drops. I mean I'm looking retarded right now. Seeing a colossal death machine on a video game is one thing. Looking at the real McCoy up close and personal is a whole new experience altogether.

And I get to pilot it.

"Oh yeah, baby." I just grin uncontrollably. I may be enjoying this thought way too much. "When do we get started?"

He taps out another command, and the Mecha drops on a tail of flame to land thirty feet in front of you.  You all are blasted with wind, and heat, and dust, and the occasional small pebble.  Your ears are ringing.

Its about seventy feet tall.

"Mecha, display, basic weapons load." The old man says.

"Display....Hypercannon.....DU Mega-Gatling Gun....Plasma Pulsar....Graviton Sword....Minelayer Autocannon....FTL Missile Launcher."  As it says each phrase, it undergoes a transformation of its right arm, and part of its body.

"Display...Neutronium Shield...Display Force Bubble Generator...Display Tactical Laser Defense System....Display Magnetic Disruptor Field Generator."  This is its left arm.

"Mecha, this is your pilot. His call sign is Mentat."

"Welcome Mentat. What do you wish to do?"

The old man begins to walk away.

"I'm going to take a nap."

PT

"If you can sleep through this, I'll be very impressed!" Normally, I'm not one for shouting, but my eardrums are still a little off kilter from the thing landing so close to me.

"Mecha, bring me aboard!" I'm not sure how to get inside, but I'm sure going to find out. "Hey Carmine, you may want to go for some cover right now!"

I just have to make sure I don't accidentally kill Carmine or something equally asinine.

"Hearing aids turn off, m'boy." He chuckles back in a shout.

Carmine follows him to the wedge craft.

The Mecha reaches down, and lifts you up while its head tilts back to expose a cavity in its neck.  You are allowed to clamber down into this man-sized hole, and then the head tilts forward and clamps shut around you.

Vices try to grasp your arm, head, and legs.  The chamber begins to fill up with liquid....

PT

Now this will take some getting used to. Breathing liquid is not something I do naturally. Still, pulling a chapter from Neon Genesis. That's an interesting bend my thoughts are going down.

So why can't I shake this feeling that all of this is very, very real?

I hold my breath when the liquid comes to my level. Reflex. My self-preservation instinct will not allow me to breath in a liquid, and I'm disinclined to suppress it, lest my body start getting into the habit of giving up.

The liquid goes over your head.  You hold your breath and panic nibbles at the edge of your mind.

Then you feel a prick in your neck, and a thump in your head follows it.

This shock opens your mouth, and liquid floods in.  Panic!  And then you feel life in the liquid.

Meanwhile, something is being banged on in your skull.

You hear a click through the liquid.

*Basic Communication Datalink Established. Would you like to download Mecha Control Programs?*

You hear this sterile, impersonal voice in your head.

*It is possible to pilot the Mecha without utilizing the brain-computer interface, but such is more complex to learn, and crude in control.  Would you like to go to orbit for a check-out flight/weapons test?  Pilot, my name is Mecha O1*

'Sure.' I think. I'm presuming this is a voice in my head, a mind-link interface. 'Maximum efficency for now. I'll learn how to pilot this thing without a mind-link at a future date. Let's just get the basics down, Mecha 01.'

I'm going into orbit. This way if I crash and burn, I'll do so in the atmosphere and give everyone below a beautiful display before dying a fast, painful and fiery death.

Besides, I'd love to fire the heavier weapons up here.

First a roar like a train is about to run over you.  Then the shaking starts, and if your teeth weren't cushioned, you'd be spitting them out about now.  Then a thousand pound monkey climbs on your chest, and starts screeching as you leave your stomach way, way behind.  You feel the vertebrae in your back crunching down.

Things are going grey, and then black.  There is a tunnel in front of your eyes,  and its closing.

*Hyper-oxegenating carrier fluid."

Things get back to grey.

It hurts.

And then you're floating.

It feels wonderful, except for the part that feels like someone with a black belt has worked a week's aggressions out on your poor body.  You're not crippled, but bruised..oh yeah.  And your brain feels....stuffed.  Its like you've crammed for the past week 24/7.

*Do you wish to activate Full-body Perspective, or Pilot Perspective or Porthole Perspective?  Which weapon should we test first?*

The liquid in front of your face clears and stills.  A window opens, and you see the Earth below you.

*Porthole Perspective*

PT

I'd be moving to shake off the fatigue, but I tell myself to suck it up. If I slap this thing on the head to shake off the pain, and I'm likely to take my own head off. I'm presuming it's movements mimic my own.

Take the pain. This is nothing you cannot endure. That usual mocking voice in my head, which never fails to let me know what a wimp I am being at times. Still, it encourages me to excel, and that is why I tolerate it. I don't move for now and simply get used to the idea of being hurt. After all, I'll be in this condition when I engage my enemy, so I had better get used to thinking clearly under pain, and not acting on my rage.

'This view is fine. Now, where are my sensors, and how do I get the most use out of them?' All the artillery in the world won't mean a thing if I can't locate and hit what I am aiming for.

*Full body perspective is generally the best way to get information.  Sensors include short camera..."  It shows you a flicker of shots going around the exterior of the mecha clockwise.  Its what you're using now.  "Also, radar...."  Suddenly, dozens of satellites and space junk items are highlighted in your view between you and the Earth.  "Ground probing radar..."  The viewhole shrinks dramatically,a nd you're looking down at the ground, and at a schematic which shows three stories below the ground.  "Gravitational scan."  It shows you everything in the Earth-Moon system.  "This is not as precise as radar, and it can be fooled easier."  and then it ends with telescope.  "This shows you the Outer System as it was nearly an hour ago."  You see some large dots.  "That is an enemy space station I believe.  Next to it is either a freighter or some sort of very large engine.  Its mobile."

It then shows you the aiming system.

"You will have to practise. Aiming is...going to be like learning to walk.  Once you can do it, it will be effortless, but until then, you can use a target reticle."  A circle with crosshairs appears in your vision.


PT

Okay, so I switch to full body perspective. Heck with it, might as well use the options I've got. I've learned how to detect my enemies. Grav scan, not as precise as radar? Oh, well. From the sounds of things the targets are big enough that it won't matter too much.

"So I get target practice huh?" I am trying to think ahead here though. "Say, am I authorized to fire on those targets? If ships start disappearing, that might force the pace of the war to a point where the armed response of the enemy simply exceeds my knowledge of the Mecha I'm piloting."

"Either way, what are my weapons?" Whether or not they are valid targets, I might as well learn what I'm going to be killing them with later.

Suddenly it seems like you are floating in space as a giant you think, but perspective is hard to decide on in space.  Still, you're not freezing to death.

"Generally most combats take place within radar range." You hear in your mind.

"You are the Supreme Commander-Earth Defense Force. You are authorized to take any actions you decide will help Earth if you decide to authorize those actions.  Strategic considerations are not a primary capability of this Mecha.  There is rumored to be a Strategic Comp somewhere on Mars.  However, your logic seems sound, but based on too many variables to be certain."

It begins with you training on space junk.

"Display....Hypercannon.....DU Mega-Gatling Gun....Plasma Pulsar....Graviton Sword....Minelayer Autocannon....FTL Missile Launcher."  As it says each phrase, it undergoes a transformation of its right arm, and part of its body or so it seems of your body.

"Display...Neutronium Shield...Display Force Bubble Generator...Display Tactical Laser Defense System....Display Magnetic Disruptor Field Generator."  This is its left arm or so it seems of your arm.

The Hypercannon sends out a great gout of energy at short range and disintegrates a sattellite.  The DU is stealthier, and more long range, and it operates like a machine gun.  The Pulsar is weaker, but even longer range.  A magnetic field holds a small spike of plasma in check, and it goes out to grav scan range.  You're able to hit the Moon with it, but more accuracy is not forthcoming yet.  The Grav Sword seems to eat the targetted satellite, and then spit it out...as quarks.  The minelayer can drop kiloton nukes as mines up to Grav Scan range, but it takes significant time to send them that far.  The FTL missile launcher doesn't seem to do anything, but ten minutes later you see a solar flare rise from the sun.  It took the missile two minutes to reach the sun, and eight minutes for the light to get back to you.  Accuracy is....pitiful.

PT

'Looks like fun. I could get used to this.' So I'm it. Well, if they haven't run earth over, it's because they aren't ready either.

I target the space station with the Pulsar weapon. It's not a moving target, and the accuracy issues should be somewhat reduced. I take my time setting up this shot. I don't want my first act of war to be a whiff. That's just bad luck.

You take your shot.  You think it hit, but its so far away that you can't tell for sure.  At this range, you're shooting at close to white dots.

There is also supposed to be a battlebot factory on the Moon which is helping defend Earth.  They have demonstrated the ability to take damage and raid Earth,  but they only do this when it seems important like when a spot on Earth shows advanced technological skills.

And then you realize that the white dot is getting larger.

And then it comes into outer grav scan range, and you see that its dozens of craft.  And then beams of light rise from the Moon, and what was fourty-eight is soon...fourty-four, fourty-two....thirty-seven....you see rocket flames rising from the Moon....

PT

Two things. One, I just made two enemies at once. I had better learn this things capabilities fast. Two, these are the lousiest defenders I have ever encountered. If you are raiding your charge, you rot.

I start laying mines behind me in case they rush me, than I hail them for radio communications. "I'm Earth's latest champion and defender against the incoming menace. Identify yourselves."

Jeez, that is the best I could come up with? I sound like a Saturday morning cartoon character.

...If you're raiding your charge, you rot....hunh?

IC:

At light speed you watch the battle bots missile launch from the moon take out four more of the advancing enemy.

Your mines stream out as they continue across the solar system toward you.

And then you get a reply from the advancing enemy.

"Surrender, defender of Earth, we will make your death painless as we sacrifice you to the Dark Gods of Chaos.  You have no choice, you will fail and die.  The only question is how painful for you it will be."

...speaking of Saturday morning cartoons, it seems like you've fallen into one.

*Two minutes until lead edge of enemy reaches minefield* your mindlink tells you.

PT

"Gee, you really make me want to give up and die." I reply sarcastically. "I mean, your choice is just so generous and thoughtful that I really have to give it some thought."

I wind up the Gatling cannon and after it spins up, I reply. "How about, um, go screw yourselves."

I open fire and get ready to lure these morons into the minefield.

OOC: I assumed they were planetary defenders gone bad. Hence my earlier post.

You start firing the Uber Gatling, and its like a thin streaky lance of fire.  Looking at it, your Mecha gives you a close-up window of the firing.

One in a hundred grains of sand is luminescent.

These magnetized sand particles are shot out at half the speed of light.

Your aim is poor at such a long distance, but its rather like using a laser pointer, or a machine gun with tracers...you can walk the gun into the targets.

You rip a gaping hole in their formation, splashing eight enemy in gaudy flashes of light that cause your view to damp out the light.  The enemy starts dodging, and since you're at light minutes distance, you're accuracy drops even further.

And then they hit the minefield.  Nine blow up almost instantaenously.  One more is gotten seconds later.

"Enemy has cleared minefield, Supreme Commander." You hear from your Mecha.

Fifteen of the enemy craft are one light minute out from Earth and you.  The Battlebots on the Moon are launching pursuit craft, but you can see their acceleration is not going to let them catch the enemy before he gets to Earth and completes his raid.


PT

Not for long. Looking at the Moon, perhaps I got my enemy confused. Well, that's a relief.

I zip over to the enemy with Grav-sword drawn. My plan is simple: tear them apart at point blank range then use the Gatling to finish off the survivors.

You zoom toward them, and about ten lightseconds out you hear...

"Incoming..."

And then faint pains like you've been bit by mosquitoes up and down your body erupt,a nd you see flashes of light the length of your armor.

"We've been hit by multiple proton cannons, no significant damage."

A green flash of light nearly blinds you.

"Gamma ray laser contact.  Rerouting secondary shield arm energies to tertiary circuits.  Primary shield circuits still active."

You can see that the forces in front of you are dividing into two groups.  The one to your left is farther out, and away from the Earth and Moon.  The other is on more of a straight line approach.

"High probablity that more gamma blasts are incoming."

PT

"Activate the Force Bubble Generator." Defense meant more to me than anything right now. Learning how to evade ranged fire in this battlesuit was also important. As long as the enemy was clearly inferior to me in damage capability. I might as well learn to play with the suit a little more.

On the other hand, I wanted to get close to them and launch hit them with that Hypercannon before closing to sword range.

There are flashes of light around you, over a dozen....

"Shield failure complete."

More flashes.  You're blind, and various systems are babbling in your mind about what they need.

And then you hear over your transcom.

"You will suffer dearly, child of Earth.  We will stretch you between the poles of Yg'nor'dtha so that your screams will awaken the Dark It, we will...."  The disturbing threats go on for some time.

PT

This message was deleted by the player at 02:23, Sun 30 Sept 2007.

"All defenses up. If you have them, engage evasive protocols independent of me."

I now turn my attention to the voices in my head. "Now then, I haven't the foggiest idea what inane psychobabble you just said, but it sounds bad for me. And what's scary to me is that I think you might actually be speaking in a very literal sense. You and your retarded five-dimensional physics. And as for the Dark It, tell him I send my fondest regards."

I raise The Finger in what I preceive as their general direction. "Now get out of my head!"

The babble ceases.

"Defenses are activated.  System repair is activated."

You're now close enough that you can see the alien ships.  They look like someone melted a giant metal insect about halfway, and then stopped.  Your eyes slide away from them uneasily.

"Evasion protocols engaged."  There are flashes to your right and left, but none hit you. "Mecha O1 is now ninety percent functional.  A low probability hit disrupted main computer networks and forced a logic infinity loop.  Main network is now functional."

PT

"So they can hack the mecha, huh? Now that is a neat trick. Remind me to salvage as many of these guys as I can so I can return the favor at a future date. I have my own patron I'd like to introduce them to." That's me, ever the missionary. Foriegn culture exchange and all that.

And speaking of exchanging cultures, I introduce them to my Hypercannon.

You pulse your cannon, and ravening fire leaps from it and misses.  Another shot, and you wing a 'melted steel insect'.  It slowly disintegrates.

There is a flash of green light from your right, but the Bubble holds.

You lead one and punch a hole right through it, and then walk the beam over to slice its wingman in half as well.

Three of them fall apart, and you see a swarm of a dozen metal cockroaches dive toward you.  Some, the size of a VW bug, land on the exterior of your bubble.  Very sharp pincers act like jackhammers and extend from the roaches.

"Bubble strain increasing."

For some reason you're reminded of snotlings....

"We will cut your field with the Bugbots, and then peel you out of that can, and then, oh then, you will answer for your disrespect to the It....yes, you will, and it will be sweet, so sweet..."

PT

"Switching to Gatling." As far as I can tell, that would probably be the best anti-swarm weapon I presently possess. Although, I'm not liking this association with snotlings very much, as I didn't do well against those last I checked.

Bah, another stupid mind game courtesy of our local Chaos Cult 411. I smile inside the suit. The terrors of the mind aren't much, and every one of these I learn to deal with is one less that will haunt me in the future. I now understand the purpose of this coma dream.

It is to prepare me for death.

It's quite clear to me at this point, and the idea has been going through my mind for some time now, but the whole purpose of this bizarre series of dream a series of final tests before I'm judged by God. Why reality wasn't challenging enough is beyond me, but I don't make the rules.

My smile turns into a vicious grin as I unload my weapon at the incoming swarm, sweeping my weapon in an arc.

OOC: Who needs demons to push me over the edge when I can do that on my own. ;)
This message was last edited by the player at 22:19, Wed 03 Oct 2007.

You blaze away with your Gatling, and hit six of the small ones and two of the large ones.  They explode.

"Gatling ammunition is exhausted."

You can see the Bubble is fraying and some of the Bugbots are ripping holes in it.

"Bubble Field Collapse imminent."

PT

"Oh, I am not going to get wasted like this twice." I draw the Grav-Sword and start making slicing up Bug-bots. I'm probably a little wild, but it should take most of them out of the picture.

I hope.

You start slicing wildly.

"Bubble field...regaining integrity."

More slicing.

"Bubble field collapse."

You look around, and realize there is a trio of the Bug-bots on the bottom of your left foot.  They joined together and punched through.

There is also another one on your right pectoral shield plate.

In the process, you've also managed to take down two more of them.

There are still two with you.  The remaining few have sped past you, and are heading into Earth's atmosphere to wreak havoc on Earth's defenseless population.

PT

I'm in outer space. Now I have a problem and a choice.

Do I a)slice of my own foot to eliminate the bugbot threat and finish off the remainder? I don't need feet in space, but that brings me to b) disengage to attack the one's moving in on earth? Without feet, I can't do much in a gravity-based environment.

I have another epiphany, which I've been having a lot of lately. Without Carmine's presence, I'd have probably let Earth be devestated. It's post-apocalyptic. How many times can you honestly kill a planet that is chock full of survivors?

But she's here, because God wants her here. To motivate my cold-blooded self to do the right thing.

"Arrrgh!" I roar and fly as fast as possible to the atmosphere, leaving my foot attached. "Disengage all weaponry and transfer power to speed and hull integrity. Prepare for atmospheric reentry!" I'm hoping the bugbots will come of in the impact of initial reentry.

The bugbots mostly come loose in the atmosphere, and when you engage your rockets which come out of your feet, you lose the last two.

Shots are fired at you as you dive, but they miss.

There are three in front of you.

It seems Earth's atmosphere is hazardous to them as well....perhaps its tghe speed they are travelling as they try to get ahead of you.

You have two behind you in orbit.

PT

This is the time to use swords. I probably can't shoot straight due to the fire blocking my vision and the shaking feel of reentry. So I attempt to paste the three below me.

I feel a strange sense of deja vu...

You dive down on one, and smash it.  It falls out of the sky like a crumpled ball of paper, and then the heat of re-entry vapes it so its just dust.  The other two hesitate, and then they split.

One goes to the right, and the other toward the left.

A green flash of light splits the sky, missing you by several hundred yards.

There are two way above you who are trying to get into the fight as well.

Reentry is a double edged sword. On the one hand, it means that if I damage their hulls, the damage is aggrevated. On the other hand, that holds true for me as well.

Time to use two weapons at once. I fire the Hypercannon at one while he is moving away, and the Vulcan at the others above me.

I really wish I had swarm missiles. There are no problems I can't solve by firing a dozen homing missiles divided between them all.

The Hypercannon bullseyes one, and the Vulcan makes a great gout of flame from the end of your barrel that goes up several hundred feet, and not nearly the distance to the ones above you.

* Gatling not suited for use inside atmosphere.* Your Mech tells you a second late.

The last one in the atmosphere suddenly darts downward, and you can see its heading for Denver in a terminal dive.  It doesn't intend to pull out.

PT

Well, external weaponry is only one method of dealing with a foe. And not all weapons are separate from the body.

I go into a terminal dive myself, and I'm going to grapple the enemy and try to redirect his collision course. That's after I try and tear him into pieces with my hands of course.

You go into a terminal dive as you said, and smash into the creature.

You hear over the comlink...

"Pull up, pull up!"  Its the old man.

You try, but a Mecha is not a jet fighter.  They don't pull up very well.

"Ah well, see you in some other world."

Its the old man again.

You hit....

=======================

Continued in McCallister's Mob