From: megazone@wpi.WPI.EDU (MegaZone23)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.anime,wpi.students.story,alt.prose
Subject: OIC (23)
Date: 14 Sep 1992 11:47:32 GMT
Organization: Worcester Polytechnic Institute
NNTP-Posting-Host: wpi.wpi.edu

-------------------------------------------------TWENTY-THREE

     "I thought I could live in your world/As years all went
by/With all the voices I've heard/Something has died."
                         --Guns N' Roses

     Of course, once the battles had ended the planet's
survivors extended their invitation to the Wayward Son's crew
to have their R&R down on the surface.  The crew accepted
graciously.  And there was much rejoicing.  (yaaaaay)
 
        ReRob and Deedlit just seemed to hit it off after the
launch of Kilroy.  She finally learned to fly a Raptor with a
sixteen ton Thundergod linked to it, and was the only one who
learned to do so.  Of course, that was because there was only
one Thundergod, since very few people had the exact type of
insanity required to fly one of those mecha.
        Of course, Kilroy wasn't the Kludge from Hell
anymore.  Customized armor panels were fitted on the
superstructure, the avionics were optimized for the new
weapons systems, and the "battroid" option on the mode
selector was removed.  Due to the geometries of the weapons,
there was no way in Hell the machine could assume battroid
configuration.  But that mode was almost useless in the
original Beta anyways.
        A modified Salusian force shield was placed on the
mecha, an air shield which gave the Thundergod a spherical
aerodynamic profile.  Due to the size of the sphere, the
thing had even more drag than the ship itself, but at least
the supersonic wind resistance didn't rip off the various
weapons systems.  Since the shield had to be up for any
serious atmospheric flight, the now-useless wings were
removed.  Sure, the thing had the aerodynamics of a thirty-
foot bowling ball, but who cares when you have enough thrust
to reach Mach 8?
        But, back to R&D.  ReRob wasn't a big believer in
relationships with co-workers (it tends to complicate things
somewhat), but there was no real way around it.  As pilots,
they were totally different.  She was a precision flyer,
working on the "one shot, one hit" philosophy.  He, the
designer of the VR-065 Obliviator and the VF-1B10 Thundergod,
was mister area denial, working on the premise of quantity
over quality.  His primary mecha was something that could
only be described as a pig, but it got the job done.
        In this way, Deedlit and ReRob complemented each
other.  She was able to deal with small, fleeting opponents
and cover ReRob's six when he went after the big targets with
AntiChrists and drum bombs.  ReRob returned the favor by
hosing the larger targets covering Deedlit when her weapons
couldn't penetrate.  In short, this duo was an incredible
team.  In shorter, you didn't fuck with them.
        The two became inseparable out of the cockpits as
well, and Kevin and Cheryl knew enough not to tag along.
Their personalities fit their fighting styles.  Deedlit, the
artiste, was an artist as well, an incredible singer.  ReRob
took up bass, already knowing a bit of keyboard, to back her
up.  ReRob was more brute-force than artistic, but had a
certain style which could not be denied.  His creativity went
not into song, but into his design work.  Jokes were often
made about Deedlit going into "Minmei mode" in her studio
while ReRob went into "Frankenstein mode" in his holodeck
virtual shop.  They were married within ten years of Kilroy's
maiden voyage.  After all, considering the life-spans of
Detians and Salusians, there was absolutely no need to rush
anything.
        As stated before, Kilroy was the only Thundergod ever
made.  Normally, this fact would serve to prove the model a
"failure." Deedlit and ReRob considered it rather successful.
And above that, the mecha was still being used for its
initial purpose: ship-to-ship assault.  The only difference
was the name: it had been re-dubbed the Rick Allen, the
original Rick Allen designated as Thundergod Prime
 
     The Wayward Son continued on in this way for many, many
years.  Two hundred ninety-seven years to be exact.  The
WDF's reputation as a force of justice spread to span this
universe, and a few others too.
     Despite all this the Wayward Son had a relatively
uneventful existence.  There really isn't much for a Super
Dimensional Fortress to do most of the time.  After a while
just the threat of intervention by the SDF-17 stopped most
disputes.  Besides, during this time the WDF's branch, the
3WA, grew into an intergalactic investigative-police force.
The 3WA handled most of the troubles now that they had their
own para-military division, and of course, Trouble Consultant
Team #216 (Lovely Angel) became the most successful TC team
space had ever seen.  With their new Predator-class assault
scout, Yuri and Kei carved a swath of infamy across known
space, solving, true to form, every single case.  (Not unlike
a Claymore mine...messy...but effective.)  Between missions,
however, the two remained integral parts of the SDF-17's
crew.

     However, during this time one of the other members of
the crew took his leave.  Vaughn left to search for Iczer-1
and explore the universe.
     "So, you really think you'll be able to find her out
there?  The universe is a pretty big place you know," Zoner
observed.
     "Well, I need to find out exactly what she meant when
she left," Vaughn replied.
     "You seem to really have something for her don't you?"
     "Just trying to get rid of confusion.  After all, I
don't like dealing with it."
     "Why?  Rob's a nice enough guy."
     Vaughn motioned as if to bap Zoner in the head, but
stayed his blow.
     "Ok, sorry.  I understand why you're doing this.  At
least take a fighter or something to get around in."
     "Why?  What purpose would it serve me?"
     "Carry food perhaps?"
     "Well, there's planets.  I mean, bacteria can live on an
asteroid."
     "I don't know.  A change of clothes.  It makes it
easier on re-entry.  It still seems silly to me for you to be
walking around in vacuum unprotected."
     "Look at it this way, a vacuum is nothing.  Why do you
need to protect yourself from nothing?  And air isn't all
that dense, you can just kind o' meander on through."
     "Only you Vaughn, only you.  You ever going to come back
and visit us?  You never did take Omega-2 did you?"
     "Nope.  Never been into the drug scene.  And, well, I'll
either be back eventually, or I'll have picked the time and
place that I wish to die."
     "You're not going to die until you're good and ready
huh?"
     "Nah.  My decision.  I'll make it when I want to.  And
nobody else can force me."
     "You're not human are you....  Forget I said that,
didn't mean to insult you."
     "I can forgive you this time."  Grin.
     "Yeah, right.  Anyway, where do you think you'll head to
start with?"
     "Well, she went thatwayish.  So, off I go..."
     "You got everything you need in that backpack?"
     "Ah, let's see.  Two pair underwear, three pair socks,
one pair pants, two T-shirts, and saline stuff for my eyes."
     "What about toothbrush and such?"
     "Oh yeah, I need a toothbrush.  Gotta keep my breath
fresh.  I'll be right back."
     "Ok, I'll be here," Zoner called out, then he mumbled,
"This is one of the weirdest conversations I've ever had."

     "I'm back.  And this time I've got everything."
     "Yes, so you are.  Are you absolutely sure this time?"
     "I think I'm sure, 'cause only fools are positive."
     "Well then, take care.  Somehow I think we'll be seeing
you again sometime.  Best of luck finding her.  Drop us a
line sometime.  Have fun stormin' the castle."
     "Think it'll work.  It'd take a miracle."
     "Right.  So go out there in the name of true love and
find Iczer-buttercup."
     "I'm leaving now before this gets any worse."
     "Ok.  You already say farewell to the rest of the gang?"
     "Well, I'm not one for tearful goodbyes.  So, I figured
I'd just slip out and let people think that I just went out
to play with the rocks.  You're lucky you caught me or I
would have forgotten my toothbrush."
     "It's just my luck acting up again.  Just call me
Longshot."
     Shrug.  "Such is..."
     "Take it easy man.  I'm going to miss you."
     Vaughn entered the airlock, sealed the inner door, and
vented it to space.  He popped the outer hatch and walked off
into the cosmos.
     "I always knew he was a little odd," Zoner mumbled as he
watched him walk away.

     The Wayward Son became an ambassador of peace, visiting
planets throughout the universe supplying new technologies
for developing worlds, and occasionally squashing those
worlds which sought to overpower their neighbors.  This
earned the hatred of a number of violent races, but none of
them possessed the technology to confront the SDF-17.  At
least not yet.  The WDF wasn't the only group traveling about
depositing technology.
     The Wayward Son used the times between skirmishes to
explore the unknown and search for new worlds.  The WDF
became the chief exploratory force for the United Galactica
when the latter organization became reality in 2100.  They
had the capability to explore new areas, and to defend
themselves if they proved hostile.  The Wayward Son
discovered over a hundred inhabitable worlds and countless
planets useful for natural resources.  The WDF used their
authority to establish many of the inhabitable planets as
preserves, not to be disturbed by the encroaching races of
the universe.  Jenna lost all regrets she had about remaining
on board when she got the chance to examine her first new
world.  Even with all of the work the Wayward Son did, it
still only barely scratched the surface of the vast strata of
the unknown of which the universe was made.
     The human crew of the Wayward Son remained forever
young, while the Salusians aged and their normal slow rate.
After more than 200 major trials by fire and countless small
skirmishes the crew was a tight-knit, well oiled machine.
The crew implicitly trusted one another, drawn together by
the loss of so many of their comrades over the years to
various enemies.
     The crew changed slowly over time.  Many of the original
members left to take positions with other security agencies,
or as technical consultants.  Most left to form the initial
core of the 3WA.  The crew became very heterogeneous over the
years as other races joined the ranks.  Humans, Salusians,
Cybermen, Zardons, Garudans, Kilrathi, Zentraedi, Karbarrans,
Daleks, Gorig, Cybertronians, Predators, Praxians, Spherians,
Dralasites and Vrusk all worked together in a spirit of
cooperation.  The members all put aside their individual
differences to take part in keeping the peace and exploring
the vastness of space.  Many of the races led extended lives
and therefore turned down the offer of Omega-2.  However,
most of the Praxians and the Garudans did accept in order to
remain with the crew longer.
     Edison was never officially part of the crew, but the
Wayward Son became his new home.  He came and went as he
pleased and many times he returned with new destinations for
the ship and many tales of his adventures.  It was
disconcerting when he returned before he left.  However, he
only did this twice as he tried to avoid it at all cost.
Creating temporal loops was a Bad Thing(TM).
     One of the rules that Edison and the crew agreed on
early was in not supplying Omega-2 to any of the worlds.  Not
even to save a life.  Omega-2 was available only to the crew.
It seemed like a harsh rule, but, despite their disdain for
the Prime Directive, the crew didn't want to play at being
gods.
     The WDF became a thing of legend on many of the more
primitive worlds.  After a few initial mishaps Zoner decided
to visit only the worlds where the culture was advanced to
the point of excepting the possibilities of life on other
planets.  Their visit to Terra had been a huge blunder.  What
were archaeologists going to think when they found paintings
of the crew in CVR-3, the alien races, and their landing
craft?  And those huge drawings on the plains made from rocks
so that the 'gods' could see them.  Sheesh.  Sometimes it
seemed to be more trouble than it was worth.
     The fame of the SDF-17 also increased the prosperity of
the Utopia Planitia shipyards.  It became a symbol of status
to own a vessel created at the same shipyards which had
created the legendary Wayward Son.  The most repeated demand
was for another Super Dimensional Fortress.  However, Lord
Fahrvergnugen simply deferred, saying that the only remaining
copy of the plans were on board the SDF-17.  After all, the
Wayward Son was a custom order.
     Most of the planet's business came from the main 3WA
armory which was located there.  A new traffic control system
had to be developed to handle all the agents coming and
going.  Orders from 3WA Central HQ on Meizuri kept the agents
constantly busy.  It seemed ironic to most of the WDF members
that the 3WA, while being much larger than the crew of the
SDF-17, and certainly being more visible, had no where near
the mystique of the one lone vessel.

     These were the golden years for the Universe and the
WDF.  Technology surged forward and civilizations flourished.
Intergalactic trade reached an all time high and nearly
everyone seemed pleased with the situation.
     There was, however, one corporation, and one man in
particular, who was extremely displeased with the status quo.
The corporation was GENOM, and the man was Largo, and he had
a plan to ruin the WDF for all time.  Sure, he had been set
back a couple dozen years by that troublesomeness in
MegaTokyo, but that was all behind him now.  He had buried
that mess like the one in Neo-Worcester, and GENOM was firing
on all cylinders now.  No time like the present.  Those
troublesome Wedge Rats would finally pay for all the trouble
they had caused.

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