The Track of the Pocket Miner
Page 6
With a grace that belies his balding, pot bellied appearance, Turel Bevlik fires his jet pack and flies, nap of the earth, swiftly up to the crest of the hill. Here he lays as flat as he can make himself on the open forward slope of the ridge at P19. He is just over the crest of the ridge, and has a very good view of the miner's track and camp below him... A very good view of the turret swiveling toward him and that HUGE MOTHER of a HCMG! The 20mm bore looks like the greased gate to the Eli version of Valhalla .
"Gods owf Space! Wot iss anna ole Eli Raider like me doin heeyar? Lookit dat damned fing sittin down dere, sniffin fer poe ole Turel Bevlik! Holy Xhit! Dat fing awlmos got da kid wiv a laser!"
"Gods owf Space! who dat doin awl dat screamin in da com-net! " Seconds later, his helmet vid shows him a vivid close up of a huge set of plant jaws snapping shut on an Eli raider, taken completely by surprise, and unable to even fight back! "Gods owf Space! Dat issa BARJHEL! Anna sumbeech beeg damn plant dun gots him anna issa atin da poor debble!" Looking around nervously for any similar type of plants, and giving some serious thought to crawling over the ridge crest to a safer position, Turel Bevlik suddenly remembers the questing HCMG turret and decides to freeze in place, wishing he was 20 years smaller.
As he lays there, examining the track and camp with the enhanced optics of his Eli helmet, he hears via the enhanced audio of his Eli helmet, a strange sound coming from the camp. It sounds like drunken singing coming from the tent! Turel Bevlik has had some experience with being drunk and singing, and wonders about the terrie down there. Turel Bevlik keys his tac-com and says, "AHHHH, BOSS, anna BOYS, listen to wot my audio issa pickin op down at da camp! Sounds ike a druk issa habbin a potty down deres! Da helmet issa translating wot Ayes heers inta Middle Eli foe youse dumassed gits...." "MUSHA RINGM, DOOM DA, WHACK FOL THE DADDY-O, THERE IS WHISKEY IN THE JAR!" and this is what they heard from Turel's helmet translator unit in Middle Eli, "musha...more than or probably not.......ringm ....circle the wagons....whack fol the daddy-o.....obscure euphemism possibly relating to self abuse... there is whisky in the jar.... the water of life is to be found in the glass fruit preservation receptacle..... babble... babble... babble.... babble.."
"BOSS? Whacha tinks? Anna wot effen wees blows da crap outta dis track anna da aahmeekis stuff blows up tew? Or boins up? IF YA ISSA GETTIN DIS, RELAY DIS SIGMAL TA AWL DA GUYS!"
Hell comes to breakfast
"Barjhel! Can you hear me boy? Don' take dat from da oversized pecan! Wimdit screams into his comunicator. He readies his enourmous flare lancher.
"Awright boys, here we goes! Asbeef, you goes ahead an takes da shot when you gets it. Drich, I guess you is gonna hafta burn da bassard's tent now; you chooses you own method. Zuvabee, you is spotted! Pull your ass back and fry dat plant an see how Barjhel is doin; even if hesa done for, no damn PLANT is a eaten any o my boys!"
Honbead Nik screams "BARJHEL! FIRE-UP THAT JET PACK!! BET HE WON"T SWALLOW YOU LIKE THAT!!! FRY THAT PETUNIA FROM HELL!!!!"
Struggling against the soft and flexible sides of the giant plant, Barjhel says "Deef and hell! Mehbee da jet pack fry da bofe of us. We be stuffed bell peppers!" Closing his eyes and grimacing, the trapped Eli fires his jet pack. The plant swells like a balloon then bursts with a bang. The Eli is thrown out and lands in a heap. He lies there a few seconds then sits up, "Sombitchin' damn ting!" he swears pulling away huge handfulls of tiny white tendrils.
(Find out more about the Disco Nightmare) (Read the stats for the Eli warriors) (See the map for the game.)
For questions concerning this webgame contact John McEwan at john@tin-soldier.com
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