Hi all you TA fans. This is my first TA fic and yes it probably wont be a long one but who knows. I have had this game from version 1. I am a true vet of the game, but only in LAN or single. I haven't ever played across the web. I like the arm personally, people running around inside big robotic suits sound so cool. The core is stronger but I always wondered what would happen to war units after the war ends?( yes I will be doing that next as a one shot or maybe a short story line) email me at
Authors notes: (check this every chapter for new stuff I think of)
I use the moo3 planet scale. Tiny-1-2-3-4-5-avrage-6-7-8-9-huge.
Arm units have a first name and maybe a nickname but their last name is a number. The first 3 numbers are what modal. The next 3 are what genetic cloning group they come from. If they have a letter in the first 3 they ran an altered or custom battle suit. If a letter is in the second 3, they are from a test or tailored genome set. If 2 units have identical numbers they are 'related'.
Names are given by the Commander or the structure that built the unit.
Commanders chose their own names.
Charlie 'the Chip' 793.12G, was out of his battle suit trying to fix his broken nano-lathe. He made plant fall on a ancient roket-shutle he found on the dust ball of a planet where the galactic gate for this system was located.
This system was out of the way of everything. Inelegance couldn't discover why the Core would be here. The mineral ratting was low sunlight was unreliable for power. Wind Generators got shredded in the frequent supper storms, and the winds made planes useless. The three seas that covered over 60 of this size four planet are highly corrosive making ships dissolve as fast as they could be built.
He was sent here to find out why they wanted this planet and to destroy it if necessary. They picked him, a vet, instead of one of a dozen brand new commanders just of the assembly and training lines. They also had the better 'newer' suits while he was stuck with the one he was first issued over 24 years ago. His suit had been fixed and rebuilt dozens of times. He wasn't even using an Arm D-gun, he was using one salvaged from a Core commander. The newest thing on his battle suit was his antimatter backpack, and that was almost ready for a refit.
He knew why he was picked. He was picked not for his experience but because High Command doesn't like how he runs his campaigns. he would bet good credits that after he gained control of the system he would be put in permanent command of the area.
High Command hated him. They had good reason to, on his first mission he got the nickname 'The Chip'. He had been put on a border planet so the commander there could advance to the next system. He was putting the finishing touches on a shipyard when a fleet of ships came around a peninsula. Four large rockets from some Hydras fell down on the shipyard, destroying it instantly. He was pushed down into the mud and covered with sand and silt in moments.
Instead of climbing to his feet and entering the fight immediately, and probably being killed by the three Warlords he saw on his radar screen, he dimmed his power levels and shut down almost all his systems. The beach was lost to the Core after a long grueling battle. He issued his commands from where he laid in the mud, not wanting to give away his position. By the time his last Zeus was destroyed the fleet of Core ships was much thinner, but the three Warlords were still there.
He waited almost five days as the Core built their own base and reclaimed the slag metal that was his troops. He was awoke by his computer, he had told it to wake him if the Warlords moved their positions. Two of them had began moving off of where they had been patrolling, he awoke just in time to see them disappear from his radar.
He looked for the last one but it wasn't on his screens. He waited for an half an hour before he took a risk and increased power to his radar. His computer found the last Warlord, it had hit a sand bar and was being reclaimed instead of being pulled free.
His luck couldn't be better. The Core didn't have a commander here and they had only light defenses. The Patterns in charge of the base had been relying on the Warlords for defense. His base, before it was destroyed, was reliant on metal makers and fusion plants. The Patterns hadn't gotten any advanced construction units built yet.
His computers told him that these Patterns where the old 'clash and crash' modal fours. A relic system almost as old as Patterning was but just as deadly as the new modals. He knew he could wait until the construction ship fished reclaiming the Warlord but he would still have to deal with the light defenses.
He checked his systems, laying under ten feet of mud and sand had jammed his Dgun. Even if it wasn't clogged he didn't have enough power to fire it more than one. his Antimatter pack had been off for days and his reserve power was almost gone. he checked his computer again looking for something that would help him. his eyes stopped on the description of this modals program kernel. He found his help.
He began to get to his feet moving slow and keeping his power levels low. He moved slowly crossing the sea floor so slowly that the sandy bottom was barely disturbed. He synchronized his computers database with his nano-lathe and began got ready to do one of the craziest stunts ever.
His head broke the surface of the water, one of his visor guards had a large triangular notch in it. His arm came up with a screech, the instant it cleared the water he fired. A stream of green racing through the air and disappearing as it struck the Warlord.
The construction ship pulled away and a pair of Pulverizers began to shoot their missals. He took the damage, it was light and wouldn't hurt him in the long run. He hoped his computer was right about this. The beam of green ended and his computer turned to return fire with his light laser. From the corner of his vision he saw the color on the Warlord ripple, turning from red to blue.
His computer sent the commands he had prepared, another blue dot appeared on his screen. The triple heavy laser turret turned and shot the few units left to defend the structures. Charlie rested for a moment to recharge some energy, he was almost on empty. After his energy recovered some he marched up onto the beach, toward a Solar Collector.
Four hours later a pair of Thunder bombers passed over the base. They didn't drop any bombs because they couldn't find any targets. They radioed back to their base that they had no base on radar, not a single unit. They returned to base, not wanting to warn the Patterns about the coming attack with blind bombing.
Almost a full day passed before a fleet of arm ships moved toward the harbor. The day was gray and fog covered the beach and water. They moved forward slowly clustered close around four Hulks. In the Hulks rode a Commander and several Jammers and Erasers. The same commander who had just left this planet
The Hulks hulls scraped the sand and began to unload, starting with the Commander. He marched up the beach with a single nervous Eraser. Out of the fog the Commander saw dark shapes, Core Kbot labs. He moved forward to capture, "hello Commander. Welcome back." The Commander turned slowly expecting any instant to be hit by a Dgun blast.
Instead a bright light turned on, reviling Charlie's battered and muddy battle suit. The commander was shocked, his report said all units had been crushed. He strode forward actually expecting the Core to have finally found how to capture a Commander, or worse a traitor.
A panel on the chest of Charlie's suit opened, sending a shower of dyed mud to the ground as Charlie climbed out. He grinned at the Commander, knowing who it was by the vast scattering of assorted black unit outlines covering his suit showing his kills. The real distinguishing mark the two large outlines in the shape of Korgaths, one on each shoulder.
The next day was bright and the sky was clear. Charlie and the veteran Commander sat beside their units and had a debriefing. "... so sir I took a risk and decided to Capture the Warlord."
The Veteran shook his head as he glanced out at the captured destroyer, "that thing could have peeled you out of your suit. How did you know it wouldn't fire at you?"
Charlie grinned, "it was being reclaimed. The computer said it was the old 'clash and crash' modal. That modal shuts themselves down before they get reclaimed. Its tied into the program kernel, it cant be rebooted by anything but its commander. I had no sign of any commander. It was a gamble but I didn't have much time. they would have found me the moment they built a Sonar Station."
The Veteran grinned and looked up at Charlie's suit. The sun glinting off the chipped visor guard and mud covering most of the body, only a cleaned area showing green unit outlines. he knew black was for kills but he never saw green, he looked back to Charlie with a questioning look. Charlie grinned, knowing what the vet was thinking, "captures. I don't have kills yet but I checked the history logs. When capturing was first used Commanders used greens. Now everyone kills the big stuff and ignores their small captures."
The veteran grinned again, his eyes moving from Charlie's suit back to Charlie's face with its one chipped front tooth, "alright Commander Chip. Congrats on your first successful mission."
Since that day he took any crazy risk that had any chance of working. He also was stuck with the nickname 'Chip' and after so many successful campaigns he was now 'The Chip'. High Command hated his tactics because so many young Commanders tried to pull one of his famous stunts, only to be blown to bits. He told the Arms Open Press that his luck should have run out long ago. He also told them he didn't know how his stunts work they just did.
He was now ranked among the best Commanders alive. Every unit that meet him wanted to hear his stories but none wanted to join him for insertions. His unit death rate was high, acceptable but high.
So here he was working on his nano-lathe with his emergency tool kit surrounded by a field of shattered Core units. The rocket-shuttle was up the hill behind him, its nose stuck deep in the ground. he had no support units, he had no structures, and if he couldn't fix his suits nano-lathe he would probably get killed.
His mouth opened in his infamous chipped smile, matching the chip he keep in his visor guard. He pulled a chunk of shrapnel from the arm of his suit and tossed it aside, "I love my job but at times like this I wished I took basic training a little more seriously."
Well all you good readers its time to REVIEW!! Tell me what you think of what I got. Or tell me what could be made better. Flames are welcome but only ones that make sense, don't say 'it sucks' tell me WHY it sucks.
The next one will be up sooner or later.
Later the MAD-MAN
Email me at cockpitdude2002 I'm at yahoo (I write it like this in case cuts it out up top)