The Wyverns had increased in height, being now over fourteen feet tall instead of nine. They also had more angularity to them, looking something like glittering silver medieval Japanese warriors. Where the black sensor pod had once rested was now a demon face with red-glowing eyes. Besides their standard weapons, which were now “blasters” instead of heavy machine guns, all of them were wearing dual swords on leather belts.
The last two Wyverns, though, were different. The second to the last was a gigantic mechanical spider. Thin trails of webbing could be seen connecting its feet to all the other Wyverns and when it stopped and jerked on one, a Wyvern broke away from the pack to take up a stationary guard position.
The last Wyvern was shorter than even a standard one, small enough it was a wonder anyone could fit in it, had no face but did have a round “helmet” with multiple horns coming out of it and for some reason a long beard jutting out from under it. On its back was a leather rucksack that was nearly the size of the whole Wyvern. It was armed with two large axes and a massive hammer with a head half the size of the entire suit.
“Arrh!” the Wyvern growled. “When I find out who’s done this to me, I’m going to pound them into a red gooey pulp, by Moradin’s Beard!”
“Portana?” Red asked, suddenly dwindling to Tonka-Toy size, his voice coming out in a squeak. “Is that you?”
“Aye, by Gigli’s Silver Pick!” Portana growled. “What’s it to yah, Tin-Man?”
“I was simply inquiring,” Red replied, back to normal size.
“Even my space suit is a school-girl outfit,” Miriam said, giggling again. “Oh, God.”
The space suit was skin-tight but had a modest skirt, a button-down shirt and tie and the boots were saddle-loafers. Through the clear visor it was apparent that her eyes were back to filling most of her head.
“It’ll be fine when the ship leaves,” Gants said, knuckle-walking over to her and patting her on the fanny. “Whoot! I touched her butt! I touched her butt!”
“Hands off!” Miriam snapped, backhanding the orang.
The strike should have barely been a love-tap. Instead, the machinist was knocked head-over-heels and rolled at least ten feet. At the end of the roll, he sat up and shook his head comically.
“Whoa! She’s got a slap like being kicked by a Wyvern!”
“Get back to work,” Chief Gestner snarled. The chief had transformed into a lumpy troglodytic humanoid with three eyes and a mouth full of sharp triangular teeth. He also was carrying a whip but had so far refrained from using it. He snapped the bullwhip through the air, though, making a nasty swish-crack! “Back to work, monkey!”
“I’m an ape,” Gants protested, scurrying to his pile of rations and knuckle-dragging them off the ship. “Not a monkey.”
“If I want to hear any lip from you, monkey, I’ll squeeze your head until it pops,” the chief snapped. “Move it! Move it! Schnell!”
“Oh, thank God,” Weaver muttered, looking around at the assembled away team. It was apparent when the ship cleared the field; everyone was back to normal instantaneously. “Condition of the people whose suits modified?”
A temporary shelter had been erected and the four sailors, including Red, who had suits that were either nonexistent or sufficiently modified as to be dangerous had been sealed inside.
“All back to normal, sir,” Captain Zanella said via the external speaker on his suit.
“Okay,” Weaver boomed, turning up the gain on his suit. “In that case, I’m leaning in the direction of induced hallucination. I’ve got a question for everyone. When we were in the effect, did anyone change to a guy with winged hair, a chin you could use as a metal punch and probably wearing a sword?”
Virtually every Wyvern sensor-pod tracked around until they were looking at Lieutenant Bergstresser.
“What?” Berg asked. “So I was in a race against time to find the Great Umbrella of Light with which to defeat my Great Enemy who had killed my father, married my mother against her will and was bent on universal domination? Sue me. You guys all were with me then!”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Bill muttered. “Damn, I hate being a secondary character…”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Away Station Anime, so named by universal acclaim, had been set up on the edge of the landing platform between two of the entrances to the interior of the station. It was as good a place as any, given that the entrances had no more protection against potential depressurization than the space dock. As far as anyone had detemined, there were no interior air-tight hatches. Of course, with the way that the thing was constructed they might be everywhere.
The station was fourteen sealed bubble tents, each with its own airlock and internal “safe pods,” essentially air-tight bags that could be used in an emergency. The bags partially inflated so that they were personal tents inside the bubble tents and were standard sleeping quarters.
The Wyverns, however, could not enter the tents, so the Marines were forced to don respirators for the short walk to their Wyverns. O2 toxicity was variable and based on genetics and body chemistry. Some people could handle O2 at very high partial pressures, the equivalent of sixty feet underwater or three times Earth’s atmosphere. Most people, however, reacted negatively at just double pressure or the equivalent of thirty feet. The station’s atmosphere was at the equivalent of forty feet, so in an emergency some of the station personnel might find it survivable.
So far, nobody had tested it out.
“Captain Zanella, we’re established,” Bill said. “What is your plan on surveying?”
“I’m going to start slow, sir,” the Marine replied. “I’m going to put the platoons on shift. One platoon exploring, one platoon on standby in case of emergency and one platoon down. The exploring platoon will break up into teams and be given quadrants of the station to explore. We have no real feel for how the interior is set up, so I’m going to have them start with short penetrations and then return to report. If we find that going is easy, we’ll expand.”
“Works for me,” Bill said. “Tell them to keep an eye out for anything odd… well, odder than normal for here, and if they find anything report back. I’ll be down the platform a ways.”
Bill opened up the camp-chair, then laid his guitar case across his knees. Given the immensity of the cavernous space dock, he was far enough away to mute the effects of his playing while still being close enough that he was available in an emergency.
With the CO gone there was nobody who could tell him to stop playing! Ah, the heady air of independent command…
Opening up the case he removed the guitar and the four speakers, then set everything down and laid the speakers out for maximum spread.
Last he sat down in the camp-chair, again, slung the guitar strap around his neck and turned on the instrument. There was a faint “thump” as the speakers came on-line.
He twanged the E string and then slid his finger down the string, listening to the effect. Damn, for all its immensity, the place had AWESOME acoustics. Even this muted, he could hear a perfect echo of the sound.
He ran through a short riff, noodling along and tuning, getting the feedback just right. He tested the mike system… “Mee, mee, mee, mee, meeeeee…” then removed a set of receiver plugs, put them in his ears, set the volume to “Ridiculous” and let ’er rip…
“Holy grapp!” Red shouted. “All that’s coming out of those little speakers? I’ve been in heavy metal concerts that weren’t this loud!”
“We gotta do something!” Gants shouted back.
“You’re darned right we do!” Miriam said, holding her own ears. “If I have to listen to this Seventies chither much longer I’m going to jump off the edge of the platform!”