From cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) Subject: [Oberon, Inc./Louis/Undertakers/Foxbat/Vedeemer/New Freedom] Grand Opening and Demonstration Date: Tue, 11 May 93 02:29:44 GMT List of Characters, and Who They Belong To (this post was also co-written by all of the below): chm173s@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) (me) Jerry Wycoff Kevin Wycoff st214@jetson.uh.edu (Happy Mammal Department) Louis skellogg@lonestar.utsa.edu (Scott S. Kellogg) fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com (Carl Fogelin) Kristoph Corrazone Mike Python Foxbat Vedeemer jmiguel@cco.caltech.edu (John Miguel Baker) Admiral Mok Admiral Dut Admiral Sif Captain Alan VanKrider Lieutenant Masato Toshiro Chief Warrant Officer Geep-Veep Seargent *Food* Spiritual Advisor Moondoggie metlay@netcom.com (Mike 'Stand' Metlay) Elly Morning on Serendipity. The chronometer read 1000, and the sun was just halfway up in the sky. The Oberon, Incorporated dealership showroom was just opening up, as the hovervan from BD Catering, Inc. pulled away. The sunlight reflected off of the showroom's glass sides, doing a pretty good job of obscuring what was inside. Kevin Wycoff sat behind a desk in the front of the large showroom, feet propped on the control console as they waited for the customers to come in. He'd put up fliers in the Haven's Rest the night before, and Jerry had taken care of putting the announcements out over SereNet earlier, so there had to be some people coming through. "Hey, Jer, where are all those customers you said we were going to get?" "Hey, it's early yet, they'll show up..." Jerry was standing at the front of their large showroom. It had previously belonged to a used hovercar dealership, or so he understood. Basically, it was a large room about two hundred feet or so in diameter, with glass panelling all the way around so passers-by outside could see their latest wares. There was a large adjoining lot, too, but it wasn't used; they weren't going to put their wares out in the open for people to steal, and they didn't plan to keep many on-site anyway. A shining black cadillac hearse rolled up in front of the showroom, on mag wheels. The length of the vehicle had some difficulty sliding into the parallel parking slots. It backed in twice before the driver snarled and gunned the engine. Suddenly, the hearse lifted off it's wheels, hovered five meters in the air and eased down in the slot like a feather. Two teenagers popped out, one human, one vargr. The pair seemed distracted by the presence of a sleek silver speeder that was already down in the lot resting on its extended skids. "Kro Gavala." snarled Corrazone. "Foxbat's here." "Wonderful." agreed Kristoph rolling his eyes. "Let's just steer clear of 'em." "F.A.B." "I'm really glad you were able to bring me down here for the opening, Michael," Elly said softly as she nibbled on a carrot stick from the buffet. "No proglem." shrugged Python, wolfing a hamburger, "Gulp. But we better watch out for the prison guards. They'll never take us alive!" "Oh, come on," Elly said, biting her lower lip in momentary fear. "You're not telling me that you're AFRAID of LITA, are you?" "Naaaaw." he sneered. "She's about as scary as Corrazone... Naw, less. She's probly a better *driver*." "Shhh!" Elly took Python's hand and led him to a spot at the corner of the showroom, where they could see without getting in anyone's way. Python frowned and pulled her back slightly, changing positions in the crowd; he didn't want to get too close to Foxbat. Not after Corrazone's latest stunt.... A close group of people(?) filed into the store. Instead of looking around, however, they filed up to the desk behind which Kevin was sitting. The blue potato wearing the bowl of fruit was the first to speak. "I am Admiral Mok--" "We don't need a diplomatic introduction, it's only a store," complained the lilypad next to Admiral Mok. "But should the vendors know the consumers?" "Well, . . . All right. You can do the entire introduction, then." "Thank you. I am Admiral Mok of the Zoq-Fot-Pik collect race, diplomats aboard the New Freedom, charge of the New Alliance of Free Stars. These are my colleagues and crewmates, Admiral Dut, Admiral Sif, Captain Alan VanKrider, Lieutenant Masato Toshiro, Chief Warrant Officer Geep-Veep, Sergeant *Food*, and Spiritual Advisor Moondoggie." "Uh, pleased to meet you," Kevin said. "Uh...nice hat." Hadn't he seen these guys at the crash site last night? The one with all the coffee?" "Ah, he has been rendered speechless by my apparel," Mok said in a satisfied tone, before turning his attention to the contents of the showroom. "I TOLD you that the right hat was essential to diplomatic contact." Captain VanKrider simply muttered something unintelligible and wandered off to inspect a car on the other side of the showroom. Inside the showroom were a couple of dozen assorted vehicles, some with wheels, some with hoverjets. They were all different colors, too--yellow, red, blue, green, black, white--and all different styles. There were mostly motorcycles, but also a few sports cars, even one or two luxury sedans. And they all had dealer tags on them. It made one wonder. The main sun was just beginning to paint the tiles of the showroom yellow as the first few people started coming in. At first they looked around, nonplussed, comparing the place with the fliers some of them held in their hands. Some of them began murmuring, and overheard were snatches like: "...a used car dealership?" "...advanced machines? Give me a break..." "...didn't come here to buy a car..." Some choice expletives came from a teenager in a ripped up leather jacket. His blonde hair side-kick nudged him in the ribs and pointed at one of the more shapely customers. "Lot of potential in that babe, huh Foxbat?" "Captain," *Food* started, "I *smell* a *game*. If we get a *fat playground* ship I might be able to *break* it into the *sliding* ship we *like* to get us to *party*." "Let's wait to see what they offer. . ." One of the showroom's main doors started to open slowly, the little rodent-girl who called herself Louis putting her shoulder to it and shoving as hard as she could. Someone else took hold of the door and pulled it all the way open, and she almost fell in onto the polished floor. She looked around, rubbing at her coat of dusty-brown fur as if it weren't supposed to be on her arms. "Wheels," she said, taking in the sleek-looking vehicles half-interestedly. The assorted people in the showroom included three of the guys from one of the 'Rest's bands, she noticed, before she spied the freshly-catered food table. Jerry waited until the mutterings were about to reach their climax, then stepped in. Clad in black slacks and a brown leather jacket with mirror shades hanging out of one pocket, he seemed a far cry from the typical car dealer. "Hey, now, this may not seem like what you expected, right, am I right?" There were mutterings of assent. "You probably expected something like a clinical laboratory, or some kind of high-tech factory with lots of pretty lights and machines and stuff, eh?" There were nods. Jerry continued. "Well, hey, I would show you clinical laboratories, or factories, or whatever, if I thought that would highlight the product, but hey, we don't need that fancy stuff to show it off, it should speak for itself, right? Right." Jerry paused, took his sunglasses out of his pocket, toyed with them. "And another thing. I'm NOT a used hovercar salesman. These are not USED, these are not HOVERCARS--well, not ONLY hovercars, anyway--and my name doesn't start with 'Honest' or 'Crazy'." There was a slight chuckle at this. "I'm just here to show you the vehicles. If you like them, they ought to sell themselves. So let's get to it, eh?" He slipped the sunglasses on and led the prospective customers further back into the showroom. While Jerry was doing the sales pitch, Kevin was doing his job, running the autocameras from his desk to get pictures of all the customers. Later on, he'd run background checks on the ones who expressed interest in purchasing; they wanted to keep records of those who purchased or won their products so they could turn the records over to the police if that became necessary. Also, the computer randomizer would select the winners from among the pictures. "All right, here we have our first little number. The Excalibur." Jerry stepped up next to a large, sleek, three-wheeled motorcycle, a groundbike similar to the one Kevin rode. This one, however, was finished in bright yellow and grey plastic panels instead of the black and red painted metal that Kevin's bike boasted. "Take a look at it...it's beautiful, isn't it?" Jerry signalled to Kevin, who hit the switch to start the turntable it was on rotating. Most of the crowd was not impressed, and some of them started heading for the door. "But wait...WAIT! Don't you dare walk out that door before I show you one last thing!" Most of those who were heading out the door stopped, turned. Jerry pulled on a helmet. "Okay, I was going to build suspense to its peak, but hey, you asked for it." He sat down on the bike, turned on the motor. It came to life with a soft thrumming sound. "Now, all you unbelievers, watch THIS!" Jerry punched a switch on the control panel, and--it was astounding! The bike started changing, started SHIFTING, right before their very eyes! The front hubs split apart, the engine retracted, wheels swung around, the bike tipped backward, split apart, moved around, and in the space of ten seconds, a twelve-foot-tall robot was standing before them, with Jerry inside it! There was a collective gasp from the audience, and those who had gotten all the way to the door came rushing back. There were more murmurs, but this time of the "What the hell--?!" and "Mommy, I WANT one!" variety. Elly's eyes were wide with wonder. "Ohhhh, ever NEAT," she whispered. Python (for once) didn't say anything. The entire crew of the New Freedom gasped simultaneously. Masato had stopped walking around bored randomly snacking at the bar and wondering where he had seen that rat-girl before, and started staring at the Excalibur. Even Geep-Veep let out a series of squawks. Louis, industriously trying to finish a small triangular bit of sandwich, almost fumbled it. The head on the robot slid forward, and Jerry rose out of it. He pulled off the helmet, and his mirrorshades. "Hey, so what do you think now, huh?" Toshiro had walked all the way in front of the robot to closely examine its finish while the diplomats and Moondoggie discussed the ethics of such a machine. *Food* muttered something about *table scraps*. One guy in the crowd asked, "Hey, how fast will they go?" "Well, the Excalibur is rated at 320 km/hour," Jerry said, leaning against the forward-tilted head. "Transformation takes ten seconds stationary and five seconds at speed. Oh, and they fly pretty fast, too." "Fly?" someone in the crowd asked. "That's right..." Jerry retracted back into the body of the robot, and said over internal loudspeakers, "I'd like to ask you all to clear back behind the yellow lines..." Kevin punched a key on his console and a yellow circle lit up around the Excalibur-robot, about twenty feet back from the platform. As all the onlookers fell back, Toshiro rather reluctantly, Jerry grinned, stomping a pedal to fire the jumpjets mounted on the 'bot's back. It blasted free, then up through the now-open trapdoors in the roof. The observers looked up at it, seemingly all saying, "Whoa!" at the same time. The 'bot touched down in the parking lot outside, turned, and walked forward. Kevin hit a key to make one of the glass panels slide aside so it could stomp back in, then reconvert to motorcycle mode back on its pedestal. Jerry stepped off the bike. "So what do you say to that, huh? Is it not amazing or what?" He stepped over toward another vehicle before the audience had a chance to say anything. "Now here we have the SkyMaster 7 hoverbike. It's smaller than the Excalibur, and you have to wear a special interlock suit to interface with it. Oh, and scope this." He pulled a fiber-optic cable out of a compartment on the dashboard. "Fully cyberjack compatible. All our models are cyberjack compatible." The short vargr with the loud tie asked, "What's your thrust to weight ratio airborne? And what's your ground pressure?" "F*ck that techie sh*t!" shouted Foxbat, "What's yer top speed, and what time to get 'dere?" The two glared at each other. Foxbat's lip curled back in a snarl, Corrazone's own toothy grin showing his long canines angrily. The blonde hair kid with the _Puking Vargr_ shirt and high-top Nikes just laughed. "Keep the dead meat wagon, doggie. This stuff is for those who live on the edge!" and he continued to laugh. Kristoph's arm clamped down on Corrazone's shoulder as he took a step toward the pair. Corrazone stopped and growled, "Tsaka, how many times have we blown the doors off of you guys?" Python stepped in front of Elly, arms crossed. His eyes shot between the vargr and the gangers. He began to wonder about Oberon's security. Foxbat looked like he was carrying. But even if he wasn't, Corrazone and Kristoph could never handle the two gangers...He took a step forward and then the two groups backed off. He breathed easier. Jerry noticed the bulge in Foxbat's jacket, and hit the key to have security send a couple of guys down to keep an eye on the ganger, and he made sure that the pistol holstered on the back of his belt was ready. But he didn't make any overt moves...didn't want to scare away a potential customer. Kevin grinned, and sat back from the console. The special demonstration part was over; now the audience was eating out of Jerry's hands. Except for the little rat-girl, Louis, from last night, who was eating out of one of the bowls at the free food table. He wouldn't be called upon to do anything else for Jerry for a while, not until the free drawing anyway. He got up, walked over toward her. "Enjoying the demonstration?" he asked. Louis looked up. (She'd been learning that even if she was hungry, it wasn't very easy to eat very much at all, which wasn't any fun, especially if the food in question was free.) "Sure," she said. "What do they run on?" Having given up on finishing a piece of ham, she gestured vaguely with it instead. "Do they have any machine guns? Looks like some of the, whatsit, little storage things on the bike could fit some rockets.... "Or is that against the law? Is it? I suppose it is." Kevin grinned some more. "Yes, it is." He chuckled. "PW's probably going to pitch a fit anyway. But these bikes are definitely NOT designed for combat. They don't even have any armor--just plastic plating." He looked around, lowered his voice. "Of course, they COULD be converted for combat very easily. Strip off the plastic, slap on metal plates, mount machine guns or energy cannons in the arms, add on some electronic gear..." Louis nodded sagely, though she was actually rather confused. "But why?" she asked. "What's the use of a robot if you can't fight? With it. Or anything." Her tail moved up toward her left elbow. Kevin shrugged. "What's the use of a regular motorbike?" he asked. "Go fast. Look neat," Louis replied, apparently unaware that it was a rhetorical question. Her tail started wrapping itself around her left forearm. She glared at it and started pulling at it with her right hand. "Uh, right," Kevin said. "Exactly. That's just what these mecha are...just another kind of vehicle. A neat, expensive little toy for all the rich kids and gangers to play with." He chuckled. "They'll find out soon enough if they try anything that they won't get very far." Louis didn't say anything, too absorbed in trying to get her tail off of her arm, where it seemed to want to stay for the moment. Kevin shook his head. "Jerry seems to have other ideas, though. He thinks they're some kind of amazing new advance that will revolutionize the vehicle industry. I just don't see it. Hovercars get better maneuverability, aircars fly faster, and tanks fight better. Of course, Jerry's the mechanical genius. He may know something I don't. I just race bikes for a living. Or I did." Louis finally got her tail to behave. "What do they run on?" she asked again, since Kevin hadn't answered her the first time. "Huh? Oh...um, standard power cells, basically. Generally two to six for the bikes, eight or more for the cars. They can be retrofitted with reactor cores, too--they last longer. Heck, you can put all sorts of engines in them if you want. Jerry's even been talking about making a warpdrive-equipped transformable fighter...but I think that's beyond even him." The desk console beeped. "Oops," Kevin said. "Jerry's paging me. Guess he wants me to start the drawings." Kevin ran back over to the desk. Louis shrugged, and started to walk over to examine the Excalibur more closely. However, she was rather rudely pulled up short. When Louis looked back indignantly, she noticed that her tail had wrapped itself around one leg of the buffet table. -- Chris Meadows | Robotech/RIFTS/Palladium fanfic author/editor CHM173S@SMSVMA | They Might Be Giants about Star Trek aliens: CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU | "Everybody wants prosthetic foreheads CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU | on their real heads!"