The Track of the Pocket Miner
Page 8
The Fabian, surrounded by questing tendrils of the Audry II, suddenly realizes that although the plant is blind, it is sensitive to vibrations. He fires into the dirt nearby. The pop caused by the vaporizing of a little earth is enough to make the tendrils in that area move. Hitsead moans and tries to sit up, but one of the nasty spine covered tendrils snakes around his ankle and pulls him toward the jaws of the giant pecan. Valad fires his laser pistol at the tendril and burns a neat hole through it; but the crawly thing seems to feel nothing as it drags the fumbling Eli even faster, bumping his head and body over the rocks and fallen branches. The motion and the crack of the pistol is enough that one of the tendrils wraps around the Fabian's ankle. "Arrgh!" He screams in pain as the spines penetrate his boot.
The Xrit and Witbip blast over the ridge line and down toward the Miner's camp. The ground near the tent is littered with broken glass and empty whisky bottles. The drunken sounds of singing eminates from the tent.
"Holy xhit!!!!!!" Turel bevlik's big blue, blood - shot, eyes bulge and his mouth sags open as the eli helmet vid unit relays views from the different Eli raiders, and his tac-com and audio system is overloaded with Eli raiders babbling or screaming for help, mysterious voices coming from the tent, or blasting song and music from the Sykotrakfing!!!!!
"Gods owf Space! Haus ayes effer ties up wiff youse guys?"" Everywhere the ole Eli Raider looks there is a disaster, a nasty surprise, a near disaster, an ugly shock, an Eli Raider in trouble, an Eli Raider recovering from being in trouble, an Eli Raider down, an Eli Raider streaking into the sky to avoid being killed or maimed, PML rounds sailing off to kill the grass or trees, laser bolts doing nothing, GL rounds banging into the screens of the SYKOTRAKFING, a DAMNED HCMG ARMED ROBOT, a damned HUNGRY PLANT FING, and there is no doubt in his ole Eli Raider Mind that the woods are full of fire-breathing eight legged lizard fings too!
"Holy xhit!!!!! Fabio, wat youse doink awl by youse seff wiff a flashlight!!!!! Run tew da diso, anna gets ah survival aks tew fite wiff!!!! Grabs dat slaber dis gun anna shoots da roots owf dat fing!!!" "Fabio!!!! Look owt far dem ten - tah-drils fings!!! Deyse issa poppin up awl aroun youse!!!!!"
Turel Bevlik, realizing that this situation is rapidly approaching a full blown XHIT STORM, and seeing Hitshead down and in big trouble, and that BRONSTIK fast stepping into a deep and hungry xhitty encounter, that there is only one thing for an old Eli Raider to do!!! In one smooth motion , Turel Bevlik goes from prone to standing, turns to face T-14 and fires his jetpack! WHOOMPFFF!!!!!!! blasted grass, dirt and gravel fly every where as the potbellied Eli blastsoff, planning to fly to the rescue of both Hitshead and Fabio Bronstik!!!!!!!!!!!
Barjhel Gip throws off the last handful of the plant guts, stands up and screams. "I've suffered through lousy piloting, gas attacks, being eaten by some hyperactive pecan, and covered in plant guts. NOW I'M GOOD AN' PISSED OFF!" I am going to use my jet pack to fly behind the APC and land behind its rear door, then let fly with the laser pistols! Maybe I'll become a track snack, maybe I'll flare its screen. It is time for action! "FORTUNE MAY FAVOR THE BOLD, BUT IT REALLY LOVES THE CRAZY BASTICHES!" Taking his two pistols in hand he jumps blindly into the dust cloud raised by the track. He lands in G-6 just in time to see the track retreating. He fires both pistols full auto and gets seven hits The first two flare screen the other five make nice black marks on the rear ramp. The Track roars on and disappears into the dust.
Wimdit and Wutbipe land next to the
Pocket Miner's inflatable tent. Watching through his helmet com,
the Eli leader sees his boys efforts to kill the awful track
thing. "Way to goes, boys! Youse will gets it next time fer
sure!
Barjhel, if you is gonna do stuffs like dat, you might as well lands ON da ting and kick da xhit outta da laser emitter; it'll bake youse good iffen you land dat close, and da disintegrator canna shoot you iffen you is on tops."
Switching quickly to the situation in T-14 Wimdit calls out to the Fabian, "Fabo! How is you not seein dat damn Buckethead! How many MORE Bucketheads is dere?"
Realizing that he has just ordered Asbeef to fire his portable missile launcher at the very tent which he is standing next to -- he shouts, "Asbeef, iffen you blows me up, I is gonna be REEL PISSED; maybes youse could blow up dat forest fulla Bucketheads inna C-10?"
"Honebead, if dat screen is shot, dat robot gonna be no fool; he gonna be nosin' for you, boy. I is rapidly losin' my patience wit dis xhit. You boys blasts all da trees, all da lizards, all da Tracks, all da bots, all da eveyting; all we needs is some rocks. Wutbipe! You lands at da udder entrance to da tent, and watches out fer my shootin!"
Obediently Wutbipe lands behind the tent, on the North side and nearly falls into the mine shaft which was concealed by the Miner's track. He stares down into the darkness and sees a ladder just below the lip of the hole. The Xrit runs over and rips the tent door open. Inside is a table with a recorder on it, playing the drunken singing of old Jack Deeth. There is also a camp stove, an inflatable bed, a 1/2 case of Old Blaster Blitz, a coffee pot 1/2 full of old, cold, thick black coffee, and three supply chests. On the back wall of the tent is painted a big Kilroy with the words "Howdy All" painted underneath.
After a quick survey of the tent interior, The Eli leader rips off a quick series of orders, "You wuz right, Tuibb! Dat miner is absconded from da tent!
Drich, watch you right, we is got movement in da J-19; iffen issa Magrab or some sech, you fall back; issa to slow ta gets us, anna not worth nothin after we blows it up. Turel, iffen dis is da amcrys, you hop outa da Disco anna grab da udder case; iffen we is all still standin by den, we hightails it wit da loot; iffen dey gets one of us, we stays until we wastes dem all.
Asbeef, when da Disco takes off, we is all gonna be nort of youse; ya might wants ta move up; iffen dere is NO amcrys in da tent, maybe youse could try a shot from da Disco at about [36"].
Zuvabee, you keeps outa da way of dose slabers, hear? We all goes ta da track if da loot ain't in here."
With screaming jets, Turel Bevlik drops out of the nameless sky, waving his trusty Eli laser rifle in one and a Terrie combat knife in the other, all psyched up to fight that puh-cahn (Turel is an Eli Raider from the south of the Eli world called TAXES) from hell, just in time to see Fabio Bronstik blast the thing into its component atoms with Hitshead's slaver disintegrator.
"WOTDAFUGG!!!!!! Dats da wayes wees Elis duz it Fabio Bronstik!!!!!! Wees maykes ah reel man owta youse scrawny leetle Fabo ass yets!"
Looking around for any other nasty plants of flame throwing lizards, robotts, miner dudes, birds from hell, syko trak fings, big bugs, snakes, etc and etc, Turel sees that Hitshead is a little wawrse for wear, and waddles over to him like an armored, potbellied, hump backed bear. Looking down at the battered Eli Raider he spits backblast debris from his mouth, and says brightly, "Wacha doink Hitshaidd? Haus dat ole pegker hanging, buddy? Youse finkin' bout layin down onna da job far da rest ob da dayse? Whar duz ett harts ayet?" Turel reaches down and starts to pull Hitshead to his feet, realizes at the last second that he still has Bangedventole - Betsy in his right hand, and that huge Terrie monochrome combat knife in his left, and figgers that is why Hitshead is trying to feebly crawl away while laying flat on his back and making gibbering noises. "Hayes dere, Hitshaid! Ayes wuz not gonna harts yah, buddy! Ayes fergots Ayes had boat muh hans full owf dis heeyar daidlees stoffs!!! "
Sheathing the big knife, he helps Hitshead to stand, saying, "Duz yah needs ta haff sum owf dats foist aides , buddie? Can youse wok tew da ole Disco on yer own? Oars duz poe ole Turel Bevlik gots ta carry youse laks a baibbees?" "Fabio! lets see if dis guyse needs sum owf dat foist aides stoff from da Disco! Ayes will helps him onna counts youse such a scrawny leetle dude! But youse keeps a good look owr anna keeps dat big gun at da reddy juss inna cayse sumpink ells show da fugg up afore we gets Hishaid to da Disco!"
Between the two of them, they manage to drag the stunned Eli into the Disco Nightmare. The Fabian slams the door neatly cutting off the tip of a questing tendril. Turel removes Hitsead's helmet.
Vlad holds the babbling Eli's head in his hands and looks into his eyes. "By Stalin's holy mustache, his pupils are different sizes. Hell, his eyes are different colors. One's blue -- one's brown."
"Gowds of Space, what you expec?? Dat due to mixed genetics. Him old Dad, Eli raider too. Pork anythin that walk, crawl or swim. Ol' Hitsead, he got lottsa jeans all mixed up."
"But what about the different size pupils? That could indicate a brain concussion."
"Gotta have brain -- no problem here." As if to illustrate, the old Eli grabbed Histead by the neck and shook him violently.
"Guggglerg." Mumbled Histead as his head flopped back and forth.
"He is babbling," The Fabian patently pointed out. "He can't even talk."
"Zo --?" The big Eli dropped Histead who fell over backwards, hitting the deck with a thump. "Yo evea hear ol' babble mouth here say anyting intelligible?"
"You have a point there!" Perceiving a sudden dimness in the cabin, the Fabian looked up and saw one of the portholes obscured by a large leafy tendril. "Let's get out here!" He jumped up and ran to the pilot's compartment. Looking out of the front windows he was appalled to see the Disco wrapped in questing tendrils. Great green probing tendrils wrapped around the ship, dozens of them with more coming out of the ground.
In map sector D-6 Tuibb Nrdle, cowers, hugging the ground as the beam from a disintigrator chops through the bushes around him. Trees fall around and over him as massive clouds of dust blind him. He knows he must do something. The questing beam of the disintigrator will find him soon.
Turel Bevlik, too notices the sudden darkening in the DISCO HORROR's passenger compartment and glances at a port hole. Seeing the waving green fronds of a puh- cahn from hell looking back at him, Turel smacks an armored fist into the hull and bellows, ''FABIO! LOOKA DERES - DAT PLANT FING ISSA TRYAN TA CHOW DOWN ON DA DISCO!!!!" "XHIT!!!!! "
Keying the tac-comm, Bevlik informs the Eli Raiders, "BOSS anna awl da guyses owt deres! Wees gots pah - cahn trubbles at da Disco! Dem fings issa tryan ta ates usses!" Then remembering the worse for wear Hitshead, Bevlik secures him to a pull down bunk, rummages through the first aide locker for the best treatment, reads the label on the hemorroid ointment then discards it as usleless, along with such useful items as nasal spray ("Juss might blow Hitshaid's branes owt eff Ayes uses dis stoff!"), Bactine, Bandaides, headache pills, sore throat spray, earwax remover, acne remover ("Wotdafugg, dew dat Fabio Bronstik dew wiff dis crap? "), hairgrower ("HMMMMM! Dis juss might cum inna han - ny ! Muh ole haidhars issa getting kinna tin dese yars!"), which he sticks in an equipment pouch for future use, and finally finds a plastic sealed container of DOKTOR FUKYEW'S PATENTED PAIN KILLERS, STIMULANTS AND TESTOS -TERONE STORM STIM CONES, about 1000 CC per cone. 24 cones total.
"Gods owf Space! Nao heeyars sumpin dat mite hep poe ole Hitshaid owt!!!! Maybes brang him roun ta hissa own natchurly dim sensitives seffs !!!" Reading the directions slowly ("Tanks dose Gods owf Space dat tee-tee dancer onna Lees' Woild dun taut Ole Turel ta reed da Terrie reedin anna a ritin inna reetoin far da screwin owf her lifes!!!"), tongue hung out for leverage and noble brow wrinkled and covered with sweat under his Eli helmet, Bevlik absorbs the instructions. "Hokay! ett says ta place da flat ens owf da coins fing again da large mus-kle and den squeeze da pointy end hod, ta mayke it shutes wunner stoff enta Ole Hitshaid anna ah maykes him awl bettuh!!"
Studying the prone Hitshaid, Bevlik finally decides the biggest muscle on the big Eli is the one on his broad shoulders, turns the lolling head to face him and jams the cone into Hisheads left temple. The cone gives off an audible "PHEWT" noise, and Hitshaid does not respond. Bevlik, a firm believer in MORE IS ALWAYS BETTER, empties the second cone into Hitshaids temple. Still no joy....... It is at this point, Bevlik remembers the piece of pah-cahn that got into the DISCO HORROR and starts to look for it with a monochrome knife in each hand, leaving Hitshaid lashed to his bunk and hoping that FUKYEW stoffs will help out his ole buddy.....
Bevlik Bellows at the top of his lungs to Fabio in the control room: "FABIO!!! FARS UP DAT GRA-REEN BAY -RAYS MUSIKS!!!! AYE LAKS DA WAYES ETT SOUNS!" Then looking through a porthole again, Bevlik bellows at Fabio Bronstik as if he was a parsec away: "AHHH, FABIO!!! DEMS PAH-CAHNS FINGS ISSA GETTIN AWL OFFER DA OWTSIDES OWF DA DISCO!!! DEW SUMPIN!!!!!!!!"
The pistol crack sound of the Super Micro Woven (Guaranteed not to break) Polyester tie down straps breaking, startles the old Eli and he turns around to find Hitsead standing next to the folding bunk, the ends of the tie down straps trailing from his flailing arms. Every muscle in his magnificent Eli body is pulsating with energy.
His face is a grimace; his eyes rolled back
into his head. "To be or not to be? That is the question! --
E = mc squared! Ask not what you can do for your
country...." He waives his arms oratoricaly as great
thoughts collide in the dusty ill-used corridors of his mind.
"Never attribute to malice what can be adequately explained
by stupidity. History is the witness that testifies to the
passing of time; it illumines reality, vitalizes memory, provides
guidance in daily life, and brings us tidings of antiquity."
Every pore is squirting sweat, every muscle pulsing ; even the hairs on his head are vibrating like a tuning fork. Hitsead's voice rises in pitch as the great thoughts and quotes spill in an ever growing torrent from his quivering lips. "Hegel was right when he said that we learn from history that man can never learn anything from history. I know the answer! The answer lies within the heart of all mankind! The answer is twelve? I think I'm in the wrong building."
In the cockpit, the Fabian fires up the Disco's engine and pulls back on the stick. The old bus strains against the ever growing number of plant tendrils tying to hold it down. For several seconds the ship sways back and forth trying to lift off. Vlad opens the throttle to full power but the tendrils still hold.
(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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