Tuesday, January 10, 2012

The Tower of Trials Chapter 2 Page 2

Once the megalift arrived at its destination, George unbuckled himself, grabbed his bag and joined the queue of exiting passengers.

The queue was not going fast enough for him.

As he walked, he contacted the tower's network with his wrist communicator and called up the local map on the tiny screen. Once he inputted the Vixen's garage within the industrial levels as his destination, the network plotted for him the quickest path through travelator shafts and other smaller lifts.

Yet the travelators and the lifts were not going fast enough for him.

As George rode along, he had a good chance to see the surroundings of the industrial levels of Covenant. The industrial levels had a lack of organic greenery. Everything was in various shades of gray. In addition to that, it was much dimmer, with the lighting supplied by artificial lights. It was unlike the upper levels where light was provided by the sun via complex arrays of mirrors and lenses - during the daytime at least.

At the end of it all, at the last travelator stop closest to the garage, George ran all the way to his destination.

Yes, yes, his feet were not going fast enough for him. He was reminded again that he was out of shape. When he finally made it to the open entrance of the garage, he was panting and soaking wet in sweat.

"There you are!" Tricia said with an amplified voice that came out of the loudspeaker of her power armor. She grabbed him by his coat collar and carried him inside.

It was an easy feat for the tall woman since George was a small person. Also, the Vixen had her strength augmented by the gray power armor she wore. Her humanoid-shaped armor was a hulking piece of equipment with thick armor plates hiding internal machinery that aided her movements. And George assumed that weapons could also be mounted, though he noticed only the gun under the Vixen's left arm.

As he was carried along, George had a look around as his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. There were vehicles stored at the back: a pair of dune buggies, a one-man racer, a light helijet, and a few others hidden in the darkness and/or under canvas covers. An armored transport van was sitting in the middle of the work area.

George was taken into a room at the back, which appeared to be an armory. Mabel was there, already in personal armor but without the helmet. She was rummaging through one of the piles of armor pieces. There were also various weapons from low-tech swords and maces to the more modern firearms and explosives in racks or mounted on the walls.

Tricia set George on his feet.

Mabel came over and slapped a simple bowl-shaped helmet on George's head.

"Too dorky," Tricia judged.

"I think he looks cute," Mabel disagreed.

Nevertheless, Mabel removed the helmet, much to George's relief. He had agreed with Tricia's assessment.

"Do I need all this?" George asked as the Vixen put another helmet on him, an ordinary orange one.

"Yes." Mabel strapped the helmet securely. "To keep your head safe from sniper bullets."

"Snipers?" George blurted.

"Oh, don't worry, we may not even meet any," Tricia said optimistically from where she stood at the entrance, "But it's kind of lawless out there and who's to say if someone wants to take a shot at you just because."

Mabel snapped on a purple mask onto George's helmet. After a brief look, she removed that and tried another one.

"Can't you decide on a mask?" George complained after a while, "The last three looked okay." Were they not in a hurry or something!?

"No, they weren't," Mabel disagreed.

"Why not?"

"Didn't match the helmet's color," was the given explanation.

George groaned inwardly.

Mabel finally settled on mask with a suitable shade of pale orange. It appeared that George would not need his breathing gear since that mask had the required equipment built in. The Vixen then got George out of his coat so she could fit a ceramic breastplate on him.

George pointed at the piece of ceramic that Mabel held over his chest. "Umm, this?"

"Yeah, in case someone decides to take a shot at you." Mabel put away the breastplate and tried another.

"I know but... don't you have anything flat?" He indicated the swells on the armor.

"No, we only have ladies' armor here." Mabel reached for yet another breastplate.

"But I can't go about in girl's armor!" George protested.

"If you think so." Mabel shrugged as she took away the armor. "Just make sure you don't get hit in the chest, okay? Even shrapnel from a nearby explosion can cut through regular clothing."

Having to choose between looking-silly-but-alive or being-dead, George grudgingly opted for the former. "I think I'd like some armor."

"Yes!" Mabel smiled teasingly as she selected another breastplate. "Besides, if you hide it under your coat, no one'll ever see it."

Oh, George was so going to button the coat up tight and never take it off.


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