FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

~ Gerald squirmed down into the seat as the helmet slid into place, keeping his hand firmly pressed against the authorization pad. The entire assembly of power armor felt like it was trying to rouse itself from its decades long slumber. In the still darkness under the barn's floor, the woodpecker's vision was suddenly that of six darknesses overlaid as the neural linking system started to establish its connections. His body felt cold in the regions of the armor that were not yet charged from the meekly operating engine. He let out a strained sigh.

~ A pale blue budgie appeared off to the side of Gerald's field of view, perking up. "Ah, Pilot Gerald. I thought that was you; you've... changed."

~ The woodpecker nodded, "Yeah, age does that. I'm still approved to operate you, right?", the budgie nodding. "Good. Link up to the weather satellites; we've got company in orbit and I need to know what they're planning."

~ ~~~

~ The woodpecker's forward field of view was consumed entirely with stalks of corn being knocked down as the armor rocketed through the cornfield, crouched low to the ground for some degree of stealth on approach. The power armor's avatar of a pale blue budgie reported, "Two drop ships have laid out a strike force as expected; a personnel carrier looks to be coming down directly to town on a four hour delay. There appear to be three more ships in orbit; a command, and two drop ships held in reserve.", prompting a string of profanities from Gerald. "That personnel carrier means they want us either dead or as slaves." His posture shifted to prepare for the leap, "Let's express our disagreement, shall we?", his beak opening slightly to mimic a grin.

~ ~~~

~ The raider's first indication that they'd be meeting more resistance than simply farmers with small arms was when the power armor lept out of a cornfield; their first indication of the magnitude of their ill fortune settled into clarity when the armor landed fist-first into one of their drop-tanks. In the opening moments of the fight, the impacted drop tank was pivoted up on end and haphazardly tossed into the nearest vehicle, Gerald in a rush to resume his mobility and keep out from in front of the other four tanks' turrets. He could feel the patter of small arms fire prickling against the outer armor as the budgie directed her focus to the ferret on the other end of the communications link.

~ The budgie leaned closer to the woodpecker's field of view, "Who was this guy, again? I don't know him."

~ "Steven's son; smart kid. He's the one who thought to install that cannon in the old observatory, when we found that capital ship adrift. Named Kevin."

~ The budgie nodded vigorously, "Adding him as authorized user, on your recommendation.", her voice becoming flat and muted as she started barking orders to the ferret. Gerald could make out that she was worried about the two additional drop ships adjusting to bring in more hardware planet-side.

~ ~~~

~ In a glistening moment, it looked to the raiders like someone had pulled the horizon up into a pillar from ground to sky and squeezed until it buckled, as Kevin fired the bismuth cannon at the co-ordinates that the budgie had provided. Beyond the range of naked sight, a drop-ship was cut into pieces, tanks scattering out into de-orbiting fireballs.

~ For the same moment, Gerald passingly noticed a tall pillar of black, where the budgie kindly omitted the beam from his field of view. His focus was on the remaining tank and several infantry who had taken up cover around it. Whoever was operating the tank was skilled, and he didn't seem to be able to get into a proper firing position for long enough before having to scramble out from the tank's firing solution. Off to the left he recognized a purple highlighted crosshatch, about a dozen of the raiders on the knees with a white flag in the air.

~ They had decided to surrender, a number of yards away from the fighting and had been flagged with non-combatant purple by the budgie's reckoning. Staring intently at the tank, Gerald thought of the Judge Prickle's laughter when she'd declared Marget's corn pie to be the mascot of the harvest fare. "I won't let her be forced to order a gallows built.", the armor's left arm swinging wide with a beam of anti-personnel plasma that cut horizontally across surrendered raiders. "She's no killer yet, and no need to start."

~ ~~~

~ The glare of the bismuth cannon's second blast, sinking the remaining drop-ship reserve, dazzled the tank's pilot long enough for Gerald's leap and approach on the remaining tank. Once perched atop its turret, he laid down fire into those raiders who'd sought its cover, before sinking anti-personnel plasma into the top of the drop-tank's armor for the seconds it took to breach the upper plates. Soon perched atop the glowing tangle of armor and smoulder, Gerald collapsed in place from the exhaustion of the neural link. "Wake me when there's another...", Gerald commanded of the budgie who was delicately piloting the armor back towards the barn.