Vandread Fan Fiction ❯ The Biggest Dreamer: Vandread the Alternate Stage ❯ Genesis ( Chapter 1 )

"Gate open! Teksetter!"

So he relies on his Gate instead of a TekkaCrystal to Tekset himself, the boy mused as he continued to observe the computer screen, watching the replay of the video clip for the third time so far. It was an interesting amalgamation of both the GateKeepers and Tekkaman Blade series, one that eliminated a Tekkaman's dependence on his TekkaCrystal. Perhaps the interchange of quantum signatures between Author and Avatar possessed several unique properties that had yet to be discovered... or perhaps it was a mere coincidence, one of astronomical proportions at that. At any rate, he made a mental note to himself to take a closer look at the equations governing that particular section of the Fourth Wall. And if his suspicions held true, he had quite a number of creative ideas on how to exploit them.

Even more puzzling was how the Avatar had suddenly developed Gate powers, and without any Author intervention whatsoever. The boy frowned at the thought, quickly dismissing it as not possible. He had simply missed registering the data stream, and that was all.

Still, it was another thing worth looking into.

Both TekkaFighters continued their combat as he watched, the battleground set in 1970 Tokyo of the GateKeepers dimension. Two giant robots raged against each other in the background that was the city, one white and the other black, but he paid no attention to them, for they were only going to tell him what he already knew. His mind was, instead, focused on the smaller-scale, yet no less desperate skirmish waged between two human-sized warriors clad in Radam power suits. And until now the contest had been proceeding in pretty much the one-sided manner he had expected, with the crimson Tekkaman hewing away at his adversary, tearing apart his silver armor bit by bit with a serrated energy lance, and finally, having grown bored by the lack of challenge, prepared to deliver the finishing blow.

Then it happened.

"Open the Gate! Teknoshift to... Dominion form!"

This was an enigma all by itself. Tekkaman Rave's physical appearance had been, as far as Tekkamen went, odder than usual. And while it had been feeble cause for concern, the fact that Rave had Tekset himself to any secondary form other than Blastor was not. The rogue GateKeeper Tekkaman had, in one single stroke, completely defied the rules of the Tekkaman Blade dimension, and whilst Authors were empowered to do so by inserting the abominable creations known as Mary Sues into stories, Avatars were not. Again, not without Author intervention, anyway. Failing to register the data stream once was somewhat acceptable, but twice? Caught between two equally improbable options -- his baffling ineptitude as of late, or the Avatar exhibiting powers which was theoretically off-limits -- he wasn't sure what to decide.

Not to mention the term 'Teknoshift' was highly unfamiliar to him, if it even existed.

"Kaiser Voltekker!"

"Shin Voltekker!"

Ultimate Voltekker, he translated mentally to himself. A blinding silver aura erupted around Tekkaman Rave, clashing with Razor's Kaiser Voltekker, and the video clip file ended in a flash of white. It was all the data he had managed to save before Rave's Shin Voltekker had fried everything around the Tekkaman, including the recording camera he had implanted beforehand.

A pity. Learning more about the Shin Voltekker could prove useful later. While he was tempted to produce a set of generalized assumptions regarding the Shin Voltekker, garnered from how the Voltekker armaments of TekkaFighters Blade, Saber and Hiver operated, the events thus far told him enough for him to realize the very unpredictability of the Avatar's powers. Half-truths made the most dangerous lies; a set of incorrect theories could prove even bigger a mistake than no theories whatsoever when the next encounter with the Avatar took place.

All the same, the Incarnate of Nature had been successfully captured, and that was all that mattered. Tekkaman Razor was a pawn at best. A pawn that had served him well thus far, but nonetheless an expendable one. There were numerous others who were more than willing to take his place, and this time he would need to select one who was truly worthy of receiving the full powers of Project Insurgence when it was completed.

He checked his PET's status display. The Avatar had already warp jumped, his quantum signature disappearing from the GateKeepers timeline, only to reappear in Vandread the First Stage. He paused for a while, sorting out and rearranging his thoughts as he saved them into a text file, then clicked on the 'Play' button once more.

Vandread: The Alternate Stage
Part of the "Biggest Dreamer" storyline
Chapter 1: Genesis

Hibiki's first instinct had been to panic.

It was hard not to. What was happening now was quite impossible... at least theoretically. He had checked and double-checked his plans beforehand, outlining and brainstorming every stage of his scheme, planning ahead for every possible scenario and designed back-up, failsafe stratagems in advance. While there wasn't much that Hibiki was good at, he had always prided himself on his skills as a master strategist, and not without good reason.

As it was, the Ikazuchi was already heading into orbit. The exhibition match was but mere hours away, and the first preemptive strike against the women would commence a few short days later. At any rate, it was anyone's guess as to which side would find and execute him first if things kept up, something which he had definitely not included in his plans.

It wasn't until his plans ran out and he was forced to think of what to do next did he realize how truly scared he was. The deadly thrill of the hunt filled him, and he didn't particularly relish the odds. But he was still alive; they had still to discover him thus far, and he was in a chamber filled with Vanguards.

The Vanguards.

He'd find a way out of this mess yet.

"K'sou... this can't really be happening... I mean, it's a joke, right? Argh! I'm going to kill the bastard who launched us when I find him!"

"Hibiki..."

"Nani?"

"Shut up."

The stranger was leaning against the leg of a Vanguard, curled up into sitting fetal position to make himself as small as possible. What little light afforded by the small lamps set in regular intervals against the wall of the docking bay allowed Hibiki to inspect the stranger. A bit of him, anyway. The stranger turned out to be a boy about his own age, a year older than he was at most. His eyes was closed, and his expression was one of slight pensiveness, as if the whole encounter was a mere irritation instead of a life-threatening situation, and it was with no small amount of astonishment that Hibiki realized that the boy was clad in the garb of a Taraak third-class citizen as well, dogtag and all.

"Oi," Hibiki demanded warily. "Who are you?"

Even in the dim light, Hibiki could read enough of the digits sewn onto the boy's left sleeve to tell that he didn't recognize the other third-class citizen's sector codes. The Taraak mechanic frowned. The only noise that filled the docking bays for the next few moments were the deafening hum of the Ikazuchi's engines as the ship gathered enough power and velocity to break free of Taraak's gravitational pull, and if the stranger heard Hibiki's request, he made no acknowledgement of it.

"Hey," Hibiki repeated, the slight growl in his voice betraying his growing nervous irritation. "I asked who you were."

The stranger sighed wearily. He had been a man of many names. "Who am I, huh?" he echoed softly, a preoccupied expression on his face. "Would you believe me if I told you I was Hayashi Ichiro, third-class citizen?"

-FLASHBACK-

"Do you know what this is?"

"... No."

"It's a Personal Terminal, or PET for short. With it you'll be able to breach the Fourth Wall, and into the anime dimensions. Here, take it... you'll be able to do much more with it than I will."

"Why me?"

"This is what you've always wanted, isn't it? A chance to find where you really belong?"

-END FLASHBACK-

Hibiki frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Sou ka," Ichiro pondered the words for a few seconds. "And as for your second question... do you believe in Kami-sama?"

Hibiki's frown deepened. "I believe in myself."

"That's good to hear."

A slight ticklish feeling ran up the side of his leg. The white snow ermine was on his shoulder again before he knew it, staring at him with an inquisitive expression. It was quite cute in a way, Hibiki realized, and though the mechanic still had no knowledge of the species of the creature, he had learnt enough by now to tell that the creature was harmless, judging by how it had nestled on the stranger's shoulder.

"I didn't know us third-class citizens were allowed to keep pets," Hibiki remarked, holding back a ticklish giggle as the ermine ran through his left sleeve, exiting from the other and perched itself back on the stranger's shoulder in a quick flash. "Is he yours?"

"No."

"No need to be so reserved," Hibiki retorted. "We're all in the same boat anyway; I was just trying to make conversation."

The boy looked up, as if briefly surprised at Hibiki's words. "I suppose I was a bit rude," he said with a somewhat detached mood. "No, I don't own him. He's a friend."

"For one who's caught on board an Omega-class warship, you sure are relaxed, aren't you?" Hibiki said. Too relaxed, in fact. Almost like as if he had all this planned in advance. "What are you going to do anyway?"

The floor shook. Ichiro had to grab at the leg of a nearby Vanguard to steady himself as clicks and hisses echoed from beneath them, followed by a low, mechanical hum. "Hey!" Hibiki protested. "What's going on this time?"

"We're going up," Ichiro said. Hisame slinked quickly into his backpack, and the boy realized that must have been how the ermine had been inadvertently caught along with his warp jump. He filed the train of thought away for later; the entire hangar was moving, lifted by hydraulic engines below it, and his heart pounded in anticipation. "And one more thing, Hibiki..."

"What?"

"Never ask someone who knows everything what to do or what happens next," Ichiro replied pensively, "for the one thing he won't know is how to reply."

~*~

The cadet lounge aboard the old section of the Ikazuchi was currently in a hubbub-like state of social activity.

Several hours remained until the Ikazuchi would arrive at its specified target coordinates, and in the meantime the newest batch of military recruits mingled among themselves, making full use of the opportunity to exchange introductions and pieces of gossip. The lounge itself was bedecked as an exclusive dining hall, decorated with wall tapestries and plush carpets of no less than finest quality. Tables were placed through the lounge, supplied with exquisite chocolate, bowls of alcoholic beverages and various other snack tidbits. Waiters intermingled inconspicuously among the cadets, balancing trays in their hands, ready to refill empty glasses of wine at a moment's notice.

All in all, the scene resembled a social gathering more than it did a military function.

If any among the crowd felt at all agitated by the apparent lack of martial discipline, they kept it to themselves. And then, of course, there were those who were more than happy to enjoy the lack of stiff regulation while it lasted.

Bart Garsus, future heir to Garsus Food Corporation, was of the latter category.

Strictly speaking, he was more relieved at not having to cunningly scheme in order to shirk off the various duties and responsibilities that came with military camp, than at the actual lax of discipline. It was almost as much work as, well, work itself. Still, he reflected to himself, work was only work when one was forced to do it by someone or something else.

Which was why Bart was now looking forward to his next task with something akin to anticipation. While he had always felt his true calling in inheriting the family business, his father had been adamant about him spending at least a short stint in the Taraak Imperial Army -- to 'build character and learn the lessons of life,' or so the old man had claimed. The fact he had survived past one month in camp, let alone passed the final test with distinctions in every field, was truly one of his life's biggest mysteries, and he couldn't help but wonder if his father had used his political influence to this end.

He had thusly been offered a select spot as one of the Ikazuchi's new officers, one of the highest honors that a military graduate could receive, despite having learned absolutely zilch from boot camp.

He had rejected it.

His father balked.

And so, after much bawling, sobbing and protesting on Bart's part, father and son struck a grudging compromise with each other. Bart was now back on the Ikazuchi, but both as trainee Vanguard pilot and official representative for Garsus Food Corporation this time, and it was the second part of his duties that he was looking forward to now.

D-29 formula special nutrition pills, check.

Breath freshener, check.

Bart leaned towards a nearby punch bowl, inspecting his reflection. Immaculate hairstyle, check.

Winning smile, check.

Perfect. Giving his uniform one last pat to smooth out an imaginary wrinkle, Bart strode confidently towards his selected quarry -- a group of four cadets, currently exchanging light banter over glasses of vintage wine, provided courtesy of the Taraak Imperial Army. Or, rather, three of them were currently exchanging light banter over glasses of vintage wine, discussing among themselves about the fourth, whilst the said fourth remained calmly silent as he sipped at his drink.

"I assume that you'll be assigned to headquarters, right Duero?"

"With a record like yours, you can do whatever you want..."

"I hear that he submitted his assignment request form completely blank! Didn't you, Duero?"

"... He did what?"

Their chitchat was interrupted as Bart approached. The blonde-haired cadet cleared his throat, raising his carton of specially produced food pills as he did so. "Hi there, is everyone having a good time?" he greeted. "This is a sample of our company's new product. It's our own unique formula special nutrition tablet!" He leaned closer, whispering quietly. "I'd probably sound like a huckster, but the truth is, the quality of the ingredients is far superior to anything else that is available on the market right now."

While it didn't show, that caught Duero's attention.

Bart thrust the open carton forward, which contained what mildly resembled multi-colored candy corn. "But seeing as how our product is still in promotional stage, you can have a free taste if you want! So how about it, gentlemen?"

The cadets appeared somewhat nervously taken aback by Bart's approach. "Er... thanks, but no thanks... I'll pass."

"Ah, sorry, but I'm pretty full right now..."

"Oh, really?" Bart shrugged patronizingly, closing the carton. "That's quite a shame. Who knows, chances are you'll never get a second chance to eat this good again." A minor setback. Still, there were many other people in the lounge for him to approach, and if there was one thing he had learned through his years, it was persistence. Out of the corner of his eye he spied a second group of cadets, and made his way towards them. "Hey there. You two look like gentlemen of fine distinction. How would you like to try out our new, special..."

The former group of cadets watched his leave. "Who was that guy?" one of them asked, frowning as he shook his glass.

"His name is Bart, I think. Bart Garsus. His father's the owner of Garsus Foods, and let's just say that it's his family that's keeping all of us fed."

Bart could've sworn he heard someone retch slightly behind him in response to those words.

The lights dimmed suddenly. Bart looked up, surprised by the sudden occurrence, failing to notice his two potential samplers slipping away from him under the cover of the darkness until it was too late. A voice spoke out from hidden speakerphones in the lounge. "Gentlemen, please direct your attention towards the main screen in front of you."

The blonde Garsus heir sighed, putting away his carton. But then again, perhaps he could spare aside some time for the much-hyped about 'secret weapon' of the Taraak Imperial Army and just get it all over with -- talk had been of nothing but these Vanguards lately, and truth be told, he was beginning to get tired of it all.

"TSUKUMO VERSION VAN-TYPE FIGHTER"

The words appeared in bold at the top of the screen as the image of a white Vanguard unit appeared, embracing a crouching position and holding a sized-up sword with its tip pointing forward.

"Pierce. Stab. And slash. With all these purpose accessories, the Tsukumo is a weapon in and of itself," the unseen announcer began his narration. The Vanguard stood erect, stepping backwards into the background where it was joined by a handful more of its twins, flanking it on both sides as each unit unsheathed a different close-combat weapon, including katanas, nodachis, spears, axes and daggers, striking varying combat poses with their armaments.

"It is the frontline weapon of our military! Be it the sea, the air, the mountains, the plains! There is no terrain our great weapon cannot traverse!" The scene faded, replaced by cutscenes of a squadron of Vanguards, armed with torpedo launchers waging an underwater battle against a fleet of submarine-like ships, their ion thrusters replaced with underwater turbines, followed by another squadron jetting in deep space, the leading Vanguard carrying a flag with the insignia of the Taraak Empire emblazoned upon it.

"The ultimate weapon created by the Empire -- in other words, 99-type Bangata Bokugeki-ki! A new age for Taraak will be dawning before our very eyes!" A lone Vanguard appeared on the screen, grasping at a katana and nodachi in both it hands, replacing its weapons into the sheaths mounted on its back. The dark background faded away, replaced by a fleet of Vanguards, each embracing a victorious pose in combat over the enemy.

A wave of frenzied applause roared from the cadets as the screen slowly faded away to black, followed by exclamations of approval from some. Bart frowned, running an index finger idly at across cheek, ignoring his wildly cheering companions that surrounded him on all sides. "That's so... tacky..."

"How about a round of applause for our fleet of Tsukumo Version Van-Type Fighters!"

Lights flooded across the lounge again as the muffled sound of machinery at work somewhere below the hall reached Bart's ears. The massive screen before them slid aside, revealing behind it the Vanguard hangar that had been elevated by hydraulic mechanisms. The Vanguards, operated by some autoprogram, released themselves from their respective docking bays, turning a quarter-circle forward in perfect unison to face the military cadets. The fresh cadets prepared to cheer once more, until they noticed two figures, shrunk by the distance and dressed in the attire of third-class citizens, dangling precariously from the torso of a Vanguard.

Ichiro looked up, blinking at the light as his eyes adjusted. "Well, this is where the fun starts."

"Don't tell me," Hibiki gulped nervously, not daring to turn around and look. "We're being exhibited in front of the cadet lounge, aren't we?"

Complete silence reigned for a full second. Then...

"Aren't those third-class citizens?"

"What're they doing here?! Guards!! Get them!"

A few short minutes of pandemonium ensued. Armed security guards ran up to seize the two third-class citizens. Hibiki ran. The guards gave chase. Hibiki scrambled up a nearby platinum bust of Grand Pa. The guards climbed up after him. Hibiki lashed out, kicking two guards off the pedestal. Another guard rushed up to Ichiro, doubling the boy over with a vicious punch to his gut.

"Ooof..."

"Leave me alone! Get off me!" Hibiki yelled.

"Yeah!" Bart cheered. "Go for it, shorty!"

"It sure was thoughtful of them to provide entertainment."

"Hmph," Duero snorted. "Pointless."

"Who the hell was it who just called me shorty?! Damn it! Let go of me, you bastards!"

"Hisame!" Ichiro yelled. "Come back here!"

A shriek of pain rang out from one of the guards gripping at Ichiro's shoulder. The said guard tumbled backwards, swinging his arm frantically as he tried to shake off the white, rodent-like creature which had fastened its jaw securely around his thumb. Ichiro struggled against his remaining captors, but a sweeping kick that hit him behind the knee quickly restrained him. With a final, mighty swing, the guard flung Hisame off his now bleeding thumb, almost bitten off by the creature's sharp teeth, then, yelling in blind fury, unslung a sub-machine gun as he began firing at the ermine that was now running across the floor.

"What do you think you're doing?! You'll kill him, dammit!" Ichiro shouted.

"Shut up, you third-class reject! It won't be as bad as what I'm gonna do to you!"

That does it, buddy.

Ichiro grabbed hold of a wine bottle from a nearby table, lobbing it like a Molotov cocktail towards the guard in an attempt to throw off his aim. The bottle shattered against his skull, knocking him senseless. Interestingly enough, this caused the unforeseen side-effect of droplets of the alcoholic, flammable beverage spattering over the muzzle of the guard's firearm. The liquid was instantly ignited by the sparks from the weapon, bursting into flames that spread quickly through the lounge. Carpets, tapestries and tablecloths burned merrily, fueling the conflagration, and Hibiki, quickly catching the general gist of it, gleefully sprayed the contents of two champagne bottles over the blaze.

Utter chaos descended upon the scene.

Hisame swiftly vanished amidst the crowd of cadets. In the end, the two rowdy third-class citizens were eventually silenced by guards bonking them on the heads with high-voltage electric prods. All in all, owing to Hibiki's vigorous efforts and one lively snow ermine, it had took an entire team of security guards to subdue the two unarmed intruders, with half the cadet lounge left in charred ruins at that.

~*~

"I-Type 06, watch them, understood?" the guard snarled angrily.

The I-Type android floated into place in front of the cell, beeping in response. "Roger."

Glimmering bars snapped into place horizontally as both Avatar and anime character were dumped unceremoniously into the jail brig, Ichiro coming to crash face-first against a stack of cardboard boxes. Hibiki sprang up instantly, clutching at his shoulder where the guards had twisted it. "Bastards!" he shouted. "Don't just dump us in some storage room! You could at least put us in a real prison!"

"Oh, you mean the boxes," one of the guards uttered a harsh laugh. "This cell may be used for storage, but it's a real brig. So just simmer down, your Highness."

"They've decided to give you a public execution, and it won't be too quick and painless," the second guard said maliciously. "The generals must be in a good mood today for going so lenient on you two."

Ichiro placed a hand restrainingly on Hibiki's shoulder as the latter prepared to let fly at their captors. "Not... worth it... Hibiki..." Ichiro coughed.

Hibiki's fists clenched themselves tightly enough for his fingernails to pierce through his skin. The two guards gave one final, derisive laugh as they turned to leave. "No use putting on hot airs, you third-class trash, you're going to die in a few hours anyway."

With a yell Hibiki leapt towards the bars, a heavy monkey wrench in his hand as he aimed a blow through the bars at one of the guards. His adversary, however, was quicker than he was. He had barely gotten onto his feet before an electric prod hit him squarely on the shoulder, stunning him with a jolt of juice. Two claw-like appendages extended from the end of the prod, locking themselves around his left arm, and with a tug the guard dragged Hibiki into the energy bars, slamming a kick into his stomach for good measure as he was released from the grip of the electric prod. Hibiki was knocked back, his head colliding against the floor with a dull thud.

"Heh," The taller guard withdrew his prod, casting one final, scathing look on the downed third-class citizen. "Looks like he won't be acting all hot-headed for quite a while. Take a lesson from your friend there and just keep your mouth shut next time."

"If there's a next time," his companion chuckled mockingly.

Ichiro sighed wearily, watching as the guards left. He and Hibiki would break free from the prison cell in due time, but Hisame was missing, his PET and backpack confiscated, and he felt frighteningly vulnerable without them. He could never face Yukino again if anything happened to the ermine, his precious collection of Gym Badges was stuffed in his backpack, and failing to recover his PET would trap him in this dimension for the rest of his life -- a literal death sentence. "Oi, Hibiki," he said, nicking the mechanic with the toe of his boot. "You okay?"

"Ugh... I'm fine..." Hibiki replied quietly, grimaced as he pushed himself upwards into a sitting position next to Ichiro. He stared at his companion, and chuckled. "Looks like they beat you up pretty bad too, huh?"

"You don't look so good yourself," Ichiro retorted. A busted lip, caked blood and a wonderfully colorful array of bruises decorated Hibiki's face, and Ichiro cringed inwardly at the knowledge that he probably looked no better than Hibiki did. "Wish I had a mirror somewhere... how's my left eye?"

"Purple."

The Avatar winced. It was not how he wanted to look when the pretty girls showed up. "Aw, heck..."

Hibiki slumped against the wall, using the cardboard boxes as makeshift cushions. "K'sou... why do things always get messed up in my life?" he groaned. "Don't tell me this is the real meaning of life after all! I-- hey..."

The white I-Type 06 robot that had been left behind to guard them stood unmovingly at its post, and the only visible indication that it was even online was how it floated several inches off the floor, powered by anti-gravity generators. A good portion of the front of the oval-shaped robot was cut away, making place for a flat display screen, with a small touch-panel input console mounted at an obtuse angle to its monitor. Ichiro sweatdropped as he noticed Hibiki's newfound interest in the Navibot. "Um, Hibiki... I think we should just try to get some rest for now..."

Hibiki snorted. "We're going to be executed, and you want to rest? Gimme a break! Uh, hey, partner," he started, turning towards the Navibot. "Why don't you be a pal and let us out of here? We were both born in a factory, right? So that means we're kind of like brothers, huh?"

"Ah, screw it," Ichiro closed his eyes, returning to his nap. "Suit yourself."

The I-Type beeped. "Request does not compute. *brpzzh* Identity scan of subject commencing... complete. Subject is classified as a human organic life structure. We are composed of completely different materials, logical input 'brothers' rejected."

"I've got this big generator back home!" Hibiki continued frantically. "I could install it in you, and you could let me out of here!"

DENIED. The Navibot buzzed as words in bold red lettering flashed across its display screen. "The subject is making an unauthorized request. Instigation of attempted escape and bribery are crimes. Therefore..."

Hibiki raised an eyebrow. "... Therefore?"

*ZAP* *CRACKLE*

"Yaaaargh!"

*THUD*

Ichiro sighed, his gaze straying from the Navibot to the inert, nicely baked and electrocuted form of the third-class citizen lying dazed on the floor. "Yare yare desu ne..."

~*~

"What," the Taraak Prime Minister spoke into the intercom, his voice dangerously quiet, "was the ruckus about?"

"We have two unidentified third-class citizen intruders at the Vanguard docking bays, sir! We've detained the intruders, and security teams 44 and 46 are scouting the ship for any more of their accomplices!"

"What are you talking about?!" the Prime Minister roared. "I thought the Ikazuchi had already been triple-checked prior to takeoff!! How did the intruders get onto the ship, and when?"

"Fleet is now approaching, proceeding into half-moon formation," one of the bridge crew reported from his console. "The escort ship Maboroshi is hailing us with questions concerning the exhibition match, sir! Should I establish a communications channel?"

The Prime Minister paused, taking a deep breath as if to contain his apoplectic fury. "Tell them that the exhibition match is cancelled!" he barked. "Order all ships to move into formation! And as for you..." he growled into the intercom. "I want all the intruders dead! Execute them all for the crime of daring to challenge our Grand Pa's pride! No, wait, on second thought, interrogate them first. I want to know how they sneaked aboard the ship."

"Yes sir! Commencing transmissions n--"

The bridge crew's words were interrupted abruptly as a violent shudder ran across the Ikazuchi, toppling over the stack of documents arranged neatly on the Prime Minister's desk. He looked up, his purple face appearing almost ready to burst with rage as klaxons alarms began to blare, filling the ship with their screeching noise. "What's going on?!" he roared. "I already gave the order to stop the exhibition match!!"

"This isn't part of the exhibition match, sir!" a bridge officer yelled back in return. "It's the women; they're launching a surprise attack at us!!"

~*~

Mind and body had a brief debate with each other. Body was tired and hurt. Mind told body that bigger hurt was coming its way if it didn't move. Mind won. And so Ichiro yawned, stretching himself as he sat up. Half an hour's nap was hardly enough, but it was all he could get, and as of such it would have to do. "C'mon, Hibiki. Time to get going."

Hibiki raised an eyebrow. "Where to, smartass? We're in a prison cell, if you haven't noticed."

Ichiro stuffed the hems of his tunic into his ears in response.

As if on cue, an ear-jarring blast of noise shot through the cell as a massive explosion sent violent quakes through the entire sector of the ship, drowning out Hibiki's yelp of shocked surprise. The I-Type 06 Navibot was thrown off its balance, falling straight into the path of the energy grids that secured the prison cell's contents. Several loud crackles ensued, and when the shaking eased sufficiently for both third-class citizens to scramble back onto their feet, the Navibot was lying on its side, its systems short-circuited by contact with the energy grid.

A grin spread across Hibiki's face at the sight of the out-of-commission I-Type, his hand closing around the handle of a screwdriver as he reached carefully for the Navibot through the power grids. "Just sit tight," he said, working feverishly as he pried a section of the wall near the grids loose, revealing a jumble of color-coded wires, all of which meant nothing to Ichiro. "I'll have us out of here in no time!"

~*~

"The escort ship Kojiri has been destroyed!"

"The Maboroshi's down too!"

The battle continued to rage outside the Ikazuchi as both its escort vessels quickly engaged emergency protocols, plummeting back into Taraak atmosphere, leaving the Ikazuchi alone to face the onslaught of the ambush. The small, dynamic high-speed fighter crafts of the females quickly proved more than a match for the unwieldy artillery cannons mounted on the Taraak flagships, and the confusion had further escalated when the Ikazuchi's escort ships, caught in the crossfire of their own weapons, began shooting among themselves, succeeding in blasting each other's engines out of commission in the process. In a matter of minutes the women had managed to obliterate whatever clumsy counter-attack the Ikazuchi had been able to mount, and the battle was going to be a short one if the situation persisted.

In other words, things weren't going too well for the Taraak expeditionary space force.

"Port-side wing section's been hit! Gyroscopic control down to 44 percent!"

"Divert all power to the remaining port engines! Keep the Ikazuchi level!"

The Vice Prime Minister sighed. "Things are getting critical, Minister. Perhaps we should order a retreat; the women'll never dare to follow us back to the T2 minefields."

"And admit defeat?" the Prime Minister asked harshly. "Do you want to go back in shame before we've even set our sight on the women's planet?"

His aide was somewhat taken aback. "That... that wasn't what I meant, sir..."

"Of course not," the Prime Minister retorted. "I want the Vanguards dispatched! Now!"

The Vice Prime Minister caught a sharp intake of breath at his commander's words. "But sir... the cadets... they're only trainees, all of them!"

"True," the supreme commander of the Taraak armed forces seethed coldly. "But there's one thing you'll need to learn to take my seat. Do everything in your power if you don't want any regrets! There's no way we can go back to face Grand Pa if we lose without even using the newest weapon! Do you understand?"

Some distance away, a second, smaller command ship observed the fight. "Well, Okashira, it looks like we've netted a large one."

The person being addressed was an elderly woman, dressed in long, flowing robes and a hood that concealed much of her form. She nodded slightly in reply, continuing to watch as the battle unfolded. "Today must be our lucky day, then."

~*~

Bart was confused, irate and upset. For the most part, however, he was piss-scared.

Situations like these were exactly why he had decided to leave the military. But instead, Dad decided that Bart needed go out and experience life for himself for once. Of course, Bart reflected onto himself, the dim-witted elder Garsus had foolishly failed to take into account the factor that his son might be dead before Bart got around to accomplishing his more noble goals in the Taraak Imperial Army. A bit far-fetched under normal circumstances, perhaps, and knowing his father, being sent into the thick of war against the demonic women probably counted as one.

The blonde cadet had, of course, anticipated such scenarios in advance, and planned ahead for them. What he didn't expect, however, was to be ambushed by the women barely hours before they left the Taraak orbit. And so he had made a few improvisations to his plans; hiding under a cloth-draped table in the cadet hall to prevent himself from being seen would suffice for the time being. After all, the Garsus heir theorized, at times like these, who the heck was the fool who would spare the time to check beneath tables?

"ATTENTION, CADETS! IT IS NOW TIME FOR YOU TO RECLAIM YOUR HERITAGE AND REPAY OUR ANCESTORS! TAKE YOUR POSITIONS AND DESTROY OUR ENEMIES!"

Bart grimaced as, across the Ikazuchi, the order to deploy the Vanguards and move out was given. The poor saps, going out to die for a cause they didn't even understand. Not that he did himself, which was why he was doubly glad he was under the table at that point.

Five seconds later, Bart found himself wondering what the complete silence outside was about -- there weren't enough tables in the lounge for all the cadets to hide under, last he checked. Had he screwed enough courage to peek out from below the tablecloth, the blonde trainee would probably have wet his pants. Twisted into shadows of their former selves, the mannequin-like humanoids that had been Taraak cadets less than a minute ago now straightened themselves as their pounding headaches vanished, replaced by an empty nothingness save a base instinct programmed directly into their psyches. Quickly the Invaders assembled, gathering in the middle of the hall in a sea of black and gray.

"Begin the operation."

End Chapter 1

Author's Notes
Well, so I've finally acknowledged my inability to fix the chapter and decided to post it anyway. Which is something I might regret later, but what the heck. Writer's block sux0rs.

I've come to realize that I'm simply not good enough to hold the reader's attention with long chapters, so I've decided to break what was originally the first chapter into two parts. For those of you who watch AXN, yes, the name Tekkaman Rave was inspired by the anime. I originally had another name for that guy, only to realize that it'd clash with another anime character that I'm planning to cross this story at another point. Besides, Rave sounded cool. Don't sue me... *sweatdrops*

A big thanks to all my pre-readers *glares at Rift :P*, though sadly my own inadequacies tend to get into the way of your advice. @_@ Still, this chapter won't be the final draft yet; I'll edit it when... or if.... that blasted writer's block decides to take a vacation (how long has it been now, three weeks? Argh!). And with a little luck, you, my reader, won't find the Invader references too corny in there. :D