By David C. Daoust
The desert skies were filled with not only the current wave of attacking battle-drones, but also the small crew’s spider-mechas, which, confusingly enough, were the exact same machines. They rocketed through the skies, charging each other, long lines of pulsar fire split the enemy lines, missiles were unloaded in quick succession. The fray was heavy. No matter how many drones the small team took down, the enemy seemed to have a full complement of reinforcements for the next wave…
Hugo grimaced as the other four spider-mechas suddenly darted out of range.
It was the third time in a row, he had tried to throw out a large enough energy-shield to cover them all, and they -all- suddenly had a different direction in mind. The first time he’d rolled with it, because, well, it was just ‘a thing he wanted to try’, wasn’t even sure how it worked. The second time he had explained what he was trying to do, and how it may benefit them. Even warned them again once he moved back into position. Apparently, he was talking to the walls around him, and not the other pilots over the comm. The third try, however, the silent grimace was all they were going to get. He was a bit too old to be the whiner trying to get people to play his way.
Moments later he caught a whole slew of pulsar-fire along his hind-quarter. He took it in stride– sure if they had listened to him, they would have all had a shield, including him. But no, red warning lights filled his visor, quickly accompanied by a repetitive message which warned him to extricate himself from the battle.
Hugo’s mecha was now headed back to the rover to either try and repair, or, possibly, swap to another mecha– as the case may be. With Hugo, pointedly, not grumbling about the long trail of black smoke gushing behind his machine.
Hugo was sure they could see it.
Hugo was also sure they had heard what he was trying to do… jerks.
For the most part the team was spread throughout the Rover, each flying their own Spider-mecha. Hugo was actually with the two ace mecha-pilots, Grace and Dicey, in the family room. He’d come here once Ratchet had explained to him what was going down… Olivia and Wilford, however, were elsewhere, respectively.
There was just the five of them controlling the machines in the air, but Ratchet (looking rather defeated) had rejoined them in the family room, gnawing on a rather large bar of granola, and watching Harper as she continued her grind. The small Bunny silent in Harpers’ lap, Margo seemed to be zonked out nearby.
When Hugo heard Harper suddenly awaken from her own stupor (One he increasingly worried over as the girl spent so many hours in front of that screen) his attention was pulled away from the sorry teamwork and obstinance to new strategies, and onto the fact that, Harper, had finally hit her goal!
Which, before Hugo’s mecha even reached the roof, turned into an argument about who exactly was going to ‘drive the rover’!
Ratchet argued that it was his account, and it was his plan, so he should get to do it!
But then Harper pointed out how long she had spent actually implementing the plan, and how he did not even take another turn! Which he surely could have once he had learned the little tricks Harper was using. It was clear Ratchet had just decided to play dumb and let her do it all. All the work. So why should she let him have his way now?
It was a pretty good argument, and clearly, she had won.
The problem? Once Ferguson got it all connected, it was pretty much just pushing the forward button.
She quickly relinquished the device over to Ratchet.
Who, in turn, found out it was not fun at all.
Hugo quickly found himself holding a forward button as he steered them north!
To the pole!
To the Ark Temple!
To rescue one Mari Haul!
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