Heavy Metal Thunder Page 22

  “And then you’re going to escape the station and leave me here to die!”

  “Well, sure, I’m going to try to. However, you’ll still have the option of sneaking up on me and killing me - and getting my suit so that you can take the supplies and fly out of here. If that’s what you want to do.”

  There is silence for a long time on the other end of the line. Suddenly the robot backs away and seems to relax, then says, “THIS LABOR ROBOT UNIT SET TO COMPLY TO NEW USER’S VERBAL COMMANDS. STANDING BY.”

  You let out a great sigh, hardly believing that the manager bought that line. “Alright, robot,” you say. “Pick up all those food stuffs there and set them down outside the docks, near the dock command station. And gather all the water supplies out of that side room and set them down in the same area. Got it?”

  “YES, SIR,” says the robot. It rolls forward and you move out of its way as it bends to organize and lift several of the food boxes. You turn your thoughts to the fuel lines. You jog down the hall while the robot continues its work.

  You gain 1 XP for use of your Stat and a further 1 XP for overcoming the robot.

  Turn to section 475.

  307

  As you remove the heavy canisters from the dead fuel lines, you stop suddenly. You can almost hear something in the hallway - or at least, you think you hear something. You quickly kick away from the canisters and hide behind a desk. You wait for a moment, feeling a little foolish. But your evasion pays off; you hear the door to the hall being manually forced open. A light shines into the room, passing about slowly like some hunter. You hear a radio sputter and the panicky voice of the guard says something before the radio clicks off. The stalker - most likely the manager - kicks away from the door and the light disappears. When you are sure he is gone, you breathe a sigh of relief and silently float from your hiding spot and remove the rest of the fuel canisters.

  You realize you have no reason to trust the manager.

  You gain 1 XP for successful use of your Skill. Turn to section 431.

  308

  You stare down the barrel of your gun. The man and girl’s heads shuffle back and forth.

  “Drop the gun,” you hiss. “And maybe I’ll let you live.”

  “Shoot him!” the girl shrieks at you, struggling wildly. “Shoot him in the face!”

  “Don’t do it! You’ll hit the girl!” says the priest. “We can use her to rebuild the species once the Invaders leave! She’s everything... everything!”

  “Get out of here, both of you!” bellows the laborer. “So my wife and I can die in peace!”

  If you want to stare down the laborer and psych him out, turn to section 146.

  If you have a bullet and want to try to shoot the laborer, turn to section 135.

  309

  You are wearing a padded black outfit and a lean black helmet that look undeniably militant in nature. A yellow patch is fixed to your left breast, and this is the only marking of rank that you can see. Multiple jets arc outward from the machine strapped to your back. You wear a thick utility belt, and an empty holster rests at your hip. You know that you wear the garb of a killer. Far away, the malevolent machines outside the window seem to flutter about your shadow.

  You stare closer at yourself. Though you cannot remove your mask, you can make out some of the features of your face through your dark visor: a vicious hawk nose, dark skin, deep-set eyes lost in shadow.

  Through the dark fog of your memory some aspects of your nature come back to you.

  Underneath your protective armor lies a human being, unique from all others. But you live in a cold universe, and it is often the simplest traits that help you survive the war that is life. The person that is you can be reduced to five statistics: Strength, Intelligence, Dexterity, Charisma, and Will. You begin the game of life with a score of 1 in each stat. As you have grown and developed, you have gained 3 additional points which you may now distribute among your statistics any way that you see fit. How you distribute your bonus points will help determine the nature of your character and how you interact with the universe.

  Strength - Physical musculature, endurance, athletic prowess. A high score in this stat will make you a more powerful warrior. A low score will make you a tired weakling.

  Intelligence - Mental computing ability, creativity, cleverness, wisdom, and understanding of the nature of things. A high score in this stat will help you outwit the enemy and keep ahead of the competition. A low score will make it difficult for you to grasp some concepts.

  Dexterity - Your flexibility, agility, reflexes, sense of kinesthetics, and ability to fire a gun accurately. A high score in this stat will help you pull off tricky maneuvers. A low score will make you a clumsy person.

  Charisma - Force of character, social grace, good looks, aura of charm, ability to lead. A high score in this stat will make others trust you. A low score will cause others to shun and distrust you.

  Will - Beneath the thin veneer of your personality, behind everything you learn and all the choices you make, there is the raw force that drives you. A high score in this stat will help you to keep going where others have failed. A low score will make you a weak, spineless person. One can even have a battle of Wills with others.

  During the course of your life you will gain experience and advance in character levels. When this happens, you will earn more points that you may distribute among your statistics. In some rare instances your statistics may be temporarily lowered. For instance, great injury can lower your Strength or Dexterity, confusion can lower your Intelligence or Charisma, and a great ordeal can lower your Will.

  (Hint: While a 2 in any score is better than a 1, having a 3 in one score may give you an edge in some situations. Still, it is a risky gamble, as you do not have many skill points that you can distribute at your current level.)

  The hissing in your ears sputters out. You suck in half a breath, then there is nothing. You are out of air. You turn and see a door that leads deeper into the station. With no guarantee that the entire station is not open to the vacuum, you open the door and enter.

  Turn to section 133.

  310

  You rush the Captain as he levels his revolver at your chest and tries to whip you in the eyes with his belt.

  You must now compute a number that will determine the outcome of the battle. This number is your 1 G Combat stat added to your Strength stat. If you are skilled in Weapon Proficiency: Hand-to-Hand, and it is with a weapon you are using, add 3 to this number. If you are using a Spear, add 3 to this number; if you are using any other weapon, add 1.

  In the wild flurry of limbs you lose 11 Blood, but you may subtract the number above from this amount. (You may also subtract your Defense stat from this amount if you happen to be wearing any armor.)

  If you lose more than 2 Blood during the fight, then a wild shot from the Captain’s revolver catches you near your shin, puncturing your suit: Lose 1 SD.

  If you die, you may Regenerate by turning back to section 312, or, if you want go further back, turn to section 179.

  If you survive, then once the red fury dims from your eyes you see the dead Captain lying at your feet: Gain 1 XP. You may take his Old School Revolver (Handgun, bulk 2) and 3 Handgun bullets (bulk 1) if you wish.

  You turn toward the ship. While the laborers stare at you in terror, the guards laugh. “Ahoy, Cap’n!” one of them shouts, high-fiving the other.

  Guess he wasn’t too popular around here, you think. “Back to work!” you shout.

  Turn to section 379.

  311

  Soon, your food runs out. You climb into your Wilderness Void Tent and look over the strange meat flowers you picked off the Invaders’ pet. The thought of eating the stuff fills you with disgust; the flowers are attached to Invader culture and are thus worthy of being smashed. But you do not have a choice. Survival dictates that you commit acts that are morally repugnant.

  You warm up the meat, gagging the whole time. You take a bite…


  “This crap isn’t half bad!” you mumble.

  With careful rationing, the meat flowers sustain you for several days.

  Erase the Pork Chop Flowers from your inventory, then turn to section 469.

  312

  You blast ahead. Red flashes stab into your vision; on all sides, Stellar ships turn into burnt out hulls spilling ice crystals and chunks of molten slag. Ahead, you see large guns all along the space station blaze to life, firing solid rounds at the Invader ship. The invisible shield of the Invader ship flashes as the bullets kiss its side, making it look like a giant flashing egg blinking in and out of existence. There is another brilliant flash of red laser fire and many of the Stellar guns are blasted from the side of the station.

  They’re not going to last long, you think. Have to hurry.

  Just as you wonder how you will get into the station, another blast from the Invader ship rakes along the side of a ship docking bay. Layers of steel plating are pulled away like torn cloth, glowing hot at the edges, air and mist spray out like a rain of blood, then several ships come crashing through the opening as well. In the panicky blur of your tired, adrenaline-addled mind, you wonder, Is this the safest way to get into the station, or just the only way? as the Invader fires again and again, blasting ships and port into a glowing-slag ruin that fills your vision as you fly straight for it.

  Your jet dies behind you. The ruined hulk of a ship hovers by you, covering you in shadow as you enter the graveyard port. Another red flash, then the lights within the port disappear, blinding you. You put your feet in front of you moments before you slam into a wall. Your net of supplies crashes into you silently, pushing you against the wall. You fight your way out of the net, then let the gear and empty containers float away with the rest of the garbage. You spend many minutes feeling about for a door, clinging desperately to the cracks in the wall, unwilling to turn your helm light on for fear of the Invader ship.

  The ship moves on, firing at other parts of the large space station. Finally you find a door, then a manual switch to open it. You glide into a small foyer, hit a switch that turns on the lights, and see grey walls. Gravity and air come into the chamber slowly. The weight of your jetpack becomes unbearable. You struggle to your knees and throw your helmet off. Then the inner door to the station opens.

  The sight that greets you is pure madness incarnate.

  Turn to section 444.

  313

  “Whatever,” says the laborer. “We don’t want no part in your world.” Horrified, you hear the gun blast and see the girl’s head jerk. Blood splatters onto the laborer’s chest and he drops the girl’s limp body. Before you can react, he puts the gun to his own head.

  “Stop!” you shout. “Don’t do it! You’re wasting bullets!” But it’s too late - the man fires, blowing his brains out like a rainbow that comes in only one color. His body falls in a twitching heap beside the woman he loved. You may take his Bloody Chrome-Plated 9mm (Handgun, bulk 2) and 3 Handgun bullets (bulk 1) if you wish.

  Turn to section 529.

  314

  While you have no idea what the creature is, you are sure, despite the limits of your memory, that no such things were ever discovered in your solar system before the Invader came. You reason that the creature must have been brought with them for some purpose. You have some memory that many savage creatures were brought by them and dumped on Earth, mostly to sniff out and harass rebellious human beings. This creature has made no aggressive movements toward you. If it is not here to trouble humans, then it must be here to benefit the Invader. Perhaps they harness or develop such creatures for food? You know that most ships, both human and Invader, are made in space and are bound to space; ships that can land on and take off from planets are expensive to make.

  If this is a farm, you think, then I might as well eat some alien produce.

  But you wonder if, perhaps, the thing is harvested for more than just food. You gain 1 XP for the use of your Intelligence.

  If you wish to land on the surface of the creature, turn to section 181.

  If you wish to avoid touching the surface, you can fly around the thing close enough to get a good look by turning to section 356.

  315

  The hall seems industrial, imposing, as if built in a different time or by a different mind than the one that designed the former hallway. You stalk to the end of the hall and turn a corner. You see a strange sight: A long, metallic coil of tubing hangs from the ceiling, jumping about wildly. Its end burns hot; burn marks line the wall and floor where the thing makes contact. You have no idea if the device is a trap or some kind of welding tool. Another coil of tubing lies in wait near the end of the hall.

  You walk down the hall. Another hallway connects from your left. You see more of the pink mist that way. It is heavy and clings to the floor. Just then a large cleaning machine turns a far corner and races toward you. It shifts erratically from left to right and you wonder just how you will dodge it. It speeds into the pink mist and spreads it about, vacuuming it up. Then you hear an eerie sizzling noise. The rubber tires of the cleaning machine melt into goo. The steel hull of the thing bubbles and darkens. The thing lurches forward unevenly, then collapses into the mist, cooking like some robot’s meal.

  I’ll be sure not to go that way, you think.

  You hear powerful vents click to life. The mist shifts wildly, then expands as more of the stuff is pumped into the area. The stuff spreads in all directions - including your own.

  You haul ass down the hall toward the writhing metal coils.

  Turn to section 451.

  316

  “How so?” Reika says. Something brightens in her eyes.

  “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?”

  “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 ships will fly around 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.

  “That’s pretty amazing,” she admits, “if it’s true. Are you sure it’s true, though? You say yourself that you’ve got some kind of amnesia.”

  You pause, unsure how to answer.

  “Anyway,” she says, “do you remember any of the day-to-day stuff from your time in the Legion? Like, what it’s really like?”

  You say...

  “Listen, I’m pretty sure I’m not crazy.” Turn to section 122.

  “I vaguely remember living under a system of complete tyranny.” Turn to section 79.

  317

  Everyone settles down for a
meal. You must subtract 1 Food for every person on the Narrenschiff, including yourself.

  Toward the end of the meal, Buford makes fun of Cletus for pecking at his food like a scrawny bird. “Hell,” spits Cletus, reacting violently to the accusation, “I could eat you under the table. And then eat the table, too!”

  “Lyin’ sumbitch!” says Buford, galled at the wild boast. “You got a li’l stomach cause yer a li’l man. Always have been.”

  “You think I can’t eat more’n you? Well let’s settle it, right here, right now.”

  “You’re on,” sneers the beefy mercenary. He turns to you suddenly, says, “You in, boah?”

  Only an eating contest will decide who is the better man. Your first instinct is to say no to such a contest, since your food is limited. However, you realize that these two brutes will have to be cowed eventually. This could be a good way to assert your dominance, or even get some XP out of the situation. Both of the men are physically imposing, so there’s no telling what would happen if you tried to stop them from getting their way.

  If you want to bow out of the Food eating contest, turn to section 168.

  If you want to show them who’s the better eater, turn to section 8.

  If you want to tell them nobody’s going to use the Narrenschiff’s limited supplies for something that idiotic, turn to section 322.

  318

  “Tired o’ this shit!” Buford declares loudly. “This here’s bullshit! Ya’ll hear that? This here’s a buncha bull... shit!”

  Not to be outdone, Cletus stomps around with his chest puffed out, shouting, “Man, if they’s aliens out there, I’m ready for’m to take me ’way! Tired o’ this shit!”