Junior was fast beginning to lose faith in Scooter's piloting. Was he just going to stand there and get hit? What kind of show would that be?
He knew he had to make this look impressive. His future as a Beater pilot depended on it.
He stopped and raised Firebird's mitts in the air, inviting an attack from Scooter's Beater.
The black painted Beater was blindingly fast. It lunged in, knocked Firebird in both wrist motivators and danced out of the way of a potential counter attack. Sadly, it was a counter attack that Junior hadn't even had time to consider making before the other Beater was well out of his range.
He glanced down to check the responsiveness of the wrist joints. They worked, but he wouldn't trust them in the next match without having Dank look over them.
Where was Dank? Junior glanced towards the observers box and noticed that both Dank and Trixie May were crouched down behind the metal sheet, cowering convincingly. Apparently, they were also intent on making this look good.
Junior did not intend to let them down. He stepped towards the other Beater and swung his right arm for the canopy cover. He ended up overbalanced as the other Beater stepped almost calmly out of the way.
Firebird stumbled and almost fell. It didn't help that Scooter jumped in behind him and battered the engine cover that made up the back plate. Junior turned, ponderously slowly, to raise a mitt between he and his adversary.
This time, the other Beater came in low, under Junior's guard, to strike with an armored foot right in the center of Firebird's chest.
Junior staggered back, but managed to stop Firebird before she fell. He'd never seen a Beater move this this one. It wasn't natural.
Now, Junior knew the difference between putting on a good show and looking like a fool in front of the crowd. It was time to end this.
He carried his stagger out longer than was strictly accurate and channelled power into his already weakend wrist connections. He tried to establish an economy of movement, both to conserve power and to appear more damaged than he was for the benefit of the crowd and to invite another attack from Scooter.
As much as he needed the attack for his own counter to work, he knew he could not afford another prolonged beating. He allowed Firebird to visibly sag, and when the attack came (a slashing blow intended to sever his shoulder connections) he spun, bashing the chest and head of the black Beater with both mitts.
As the Beater stumbled backwards, Junior continued to pivot the upper body of Firebird, landing blow after blow, never giving the other pilot the chance to launch a retaliatory attack.
The black Beater stepped badly into a soft spot of the crater floor and fell, but as it did, Junior saw the weapon tube on the shoulder begin to glow again. This time it was a much more threatening glow.
Chapter Twenty Three Interlude
File: Datanet Core Server Gamma Beta Sixty Three, Galactic Military Protocol, Era: Modern -0, Systems Tests, Index Earth Prime Protection Force, Data source EPPF Press Corps
The armor plating of the mechanized defense suits employed by our Earth Prime Protection Force is composed of a dense, non-conductive, environmentally-friendly material that is both light weight and extremely protective.
The material is undamaged by projectile weapons and will turn all but a direct laser blast. It does not become brittle in cold weather and is not damaged by the high temperatures of an atmospheric entry. The armor plating is engineered to withstand over 3,000 kilograms per square millimeter of direct force without cracking or losing its shape.
In short, the Faithful troops of the Earth Prime Protection Force are prepared to defend the citzens of the Benevolent States United in all situations.
For a moment, Fleet Colonel Martin Stevens actually felt bad for the primitive who was piloting the pieced together suit in front of him.
His moves were jerky, undisciplined, amateurish, predictable.
Stevens could practically stroll through his meager defenses and hit him wherever and however he wanted. And he did.
He knocked both weapon mounts, but they turned out to be more solid than they looked.
After a clumsy lunge on the part of the barbarian, Stevens hammered him across the back just as he did when new trainees over extended themselves during drills. Pathetic.
It made Stevens angry. This was no glorious victory. This looked like a set up.
In a rage, he kicked the enemy hard in the center of the chest and stomped off to drag the fight out for a few moments. The Faithful deserved as much.
He glared across at his would-be attacker and saw that no matter how much time and space he gave him, the fight was as good as over. The other machine was staggering and hardly able to stand.
Annoyed, he moved in to end the fight quickly.
Suddenly, the other machine spun and began to pound against his armor casing with those very unsubtle metal blocks at the end of the arms.
Stevens knew his armor casing could take it, but he needed space to fight back with kicks and punches of his own. However, the other machine continued to press forward.
In his mind's eye, Stevens could imagine how inglorious this would appear to anyone viewing from Earth Prime. His feelings of shame were short lived, and he began to channel them into anger and determination.
This Un-Faithful bastard would pay dearly for this.
Stevens stepped back quickly and a soft spot in the ground betrayed him, as well, sending him crashing to the crater floor on his back.
This simply would not do.
Fleet Colonel Martin Stevens took only a second to make his decision. He powered on his energy field launcher, took aim, and fired point blank into the enemy robot's chest.
The heap of mobile metal flashed white, electricity coursing along its metal body as it grounded against itself. Power arced between the joints and the robot fell still, the blue glow from its joints having gone dark.
