Thursday, July 8, 2010


Prangap Jurdan gently turned the ratchet, slowly working the spark plug out of the socket. The swamp-doo had arrived yesterday, and the entire engine was fouled up with grime. He would have to soak these plugs for at least a day before trying to clean them. Prangap had managed to clean the chrome-plated engine housing decently enough. But it had tired out his hands.

With a satisfying heave, he pulled the plug out of the socket, but it slipped from his grimy fingers and rolled across the concrete floor and towards the door leading to the front of the shop.

The door opened, spilling light into the workshop. All sorts of engines and water jets were hanging on chains, ready for work. Business at Rustbuckets was good.

"Oh, hi Marco," Prangap nodded at his employee, the mechanic, "you mind picking up that plug and bringing it here? These old hands," Prangap smiled apologetically, and turned back to working on the engine.

Silently, Marco bent over, picked up the spark plug and walked towards his boss.

Prangap saw Marco's face bend into a murderous rage in the chrome. He spun, raising his arms just in time to partially deflect the heavy wrench away from his skull. The blow hurt badly.

"Arrgh! Marco!" Prangap tried as best he could to back away, but he was blocked by the swamp-doo. Another blow came down hard, smashing his collarbone with a sickening crack.

"You traitor! The Emir rules by divine right! How dare you try to usurp him! Your rebellion is over!" Marco bellowed, smashing Prangap with the heavy wrench, each blow making a heavy, thick thud.

"Marco!" The word was mangled and slurred. Prangap saw red, and knew that he was doomed. But his hand gripped the cutting torch trigger, and in a final act of defiance, he lifted the implement high and turned it on in Marco's face.

"Aaaaaaaaah!" Marco stumbled backwards blinded, and fell into a jumble of chains and machinery. He flailed, hit a lever, and was crushed as a swamp-doo engine toppled onto him.

Prangap groaned. It had all fallen apart. His cell was compromised. Marco had seen them all in the shop at one point or another. How stupid he had been, thinking that the simple mechanic had no interest in politics. So many sajhalin were content to be sheep. He fumbled for the emergency transponder in his pocket, and activated it. At least the others might have a chance.


Hermes 72 - Heavy Gear RPG - Most artwork Copyright 2002 Dream Pod 9, Inc.