Deviation Actions
Description
"I'm not so sure about this" Kamilya, as she sat in the cockpic of the Queadluun-Rau. She had never been behind the controls of one of these power armors, even if she always wanted... and now that she was in front of it, she didn't know what to do.
"I doubt it's much different that an Esbeliben Regult Battlepod" said the corporal. They had savaged the Queadlunn-Rau battlepod from the ruins of a downed meltrandi ship in the Amazons jungle that was only partially vaporized during the attack of Dolza's fleet to earth. The Zentraedi malcontents where of an unit largelly compossed of Zentrans, and Kamilya was the only Meltran... and therefore, according to the Zentraedi thought, the only one capable of piloting the Queadluun-Rau.
"I don't recognice what do half the controls" said Kamilya, nervous.
She was randomly pocking the controls, trying to guess what did what... when the alarm sounded.
"what's going on?!" yelled the corporal to some infantry zentraedi around.
"THE MICRONIANS ARE ATTACKING!"
"EVERYBODY TO BATTLE STATIONS!"
Said and done, the Zentraedi hurried to their positions with smiles on their faces: they where precisely made for this: for war!
"What do you think you are doing?!" yelled the corporal to Kamilya, who was leaving the Power Armor.
"I'm going to my battlepost" she replied. After lossing her third and last battlepod, she was assigned as infantry.
"We need you with that Queadluun-Rau in the air! DO IT NOW!"
She would have wanted to complain, but she was a Meltran. And all the Zentraedi followed orders, so she returned to the power armor unknown for her...
"How I do get this to work, anyway" she wondered.
"...
crap.
Crap.
CRAP!!" she thought, as the power armor gained speed in the launch tube.
"GET OUT OF THE WAY! OUT! OUT!" she yelled, but no one heard her do so -luckily thought, the infantry zentrans DID saw the speeding Queadluun-Rau and jumped out of it's way, as it began to cartwheel and crash, before even leaving the launch tube....
"Kamilya!" yelled somebody at her intercom. "Are you there? Still alive?!"
Inside the Female Power Armor, Kamilya groaned. She was lucky, to be using a helmet, she thought.
"I... I think I will get the hand of this... eventually"
Quite happy with the results here... I think it looks more or less like a screenshot of the serie, if it wasn't for the pixeled black lines XO
Kamilya was a character of a fan-fiction I once wanted to write/make a comic for Robotech / Macross.
Version without the soldiers:
Kamilya, a zentraedi female warrior -or "meltrandi"- of a long, lost and abandoned fan-fiction of robotech/macross. She was supposed to be a pilot of a Esbeliben Regult Tactical Battlepod, but allways she wanted to be a ace pilot in a Queadlunn-Rau.
Unfortunately for her, the little "incident" of the earth destroyed, along with almost all Dolza's fleet, stranded her on planet earth, where other "loyalist" zentraedi keep fighting with almost any equipment they get... and will be years until some scavengers will find a working Queadlunn-Rau in the ruins of a Meltran destroyed cruicer on the earths surface. Being the only meltran pilot in a zentraedi unit -against the zentraedi gender segregation, but due the limitations of being stranded in post-apocaliptical earth fighting micronians-, she was to pilot it... despise her poor record of having lost three battlepods before.
Wiki-attacks:
"Macross is a series of science fiction mecha anime, created by Shōji Kawamori of Studio Nue in 1982. The franchise features a fictional history of Earth/Humanity after the year 1999. It consists of three TV series, four movies, six OVAs, one light novel and five manga series, all sponsored by Big West Advertising."
however, most of the western world first get to know it as an independent and diferent serie:
"Robotech is an 85-episode science fiction anime adaptation produced by Harmony Gold USA in association with Tatsunoko Production Co., Ltd. and first released in the United States. It was adapted from three original Japanese television series: Macross, Super Dimension Cavalry Southern Cross and Genesis Climber MOSPEADA"
both Robotech and Macross become sucsseful TV series, and up to today, they are running around the world, have extended universes and derivative movies, ovas and series:
Much of the fans or love Robotech and hate Macross or vice-versa, but I love both! X3
"The Zentradi (ゼントラーディ人 Zentorādi-jin?) are a fictional, militastic race of alien, humanoid giants and often the main antagonist in The Super Dimension Fortress Macross anime series and its Robotech adaptation.
It is transliterated as Zentradi, Zjentohlauedy, Zentrady and Zentraedi for the Japanese Macross series, with the Zentraedi spelling being the one most used commonly in the Robotech adaptation. The Robotech novels and comics would add the occasional spelling T'sentrati. In both the Macross and Robotech universes, humans and Zentradi are capable of interbreeding due to being genetically equivalent. Physically, most of them also resemble humans, though some have unique skin and hair colors. Prior to their first encounter with the human race, all members of the Zentradi race were artificially created through cloning.
Male Zentradi are also called "Zentran", which means "male" in the Zentradi language. Also, Female Zentradi are called Meltrandi, the word "Meltran" meaning "female" as well. "
I had written a story once;
A pair of paramedics were scrambling to get an injured woman into the ambulance when a bolt of plasma destroyed the ambulance, one of the paramedics and the patient. The Queadluun-Rau pilot did not have a lot of time and didn't want to be eradicated with the rest of the micronians. The meltrandi pilot opened the canister mounted on the bottom of her mechas' left forearm. The gel gravity couch would protect her captain's prize. Her Queadluun-Rau's sensors determined that one human was still alive. Gingerly, she manipulated the claw to grab the unconscious micronian and was about to place the male into the gravity couch when a random shot ripped apart the specimen canister. The Queadluun-Rau whipped about and fired a spray of plasma as she leapt up into the sky. The veritech fighter lost a wing and an intake, the jet crashed unable to stay airborne and unable to transform.
The Queadluun-Rau pilot rolled and twisted through the air, dodging blisters of swarm missiles and laser blasts. The pilot cursed, "how do I get the micronian back to the captain without a gravity couch?" The gel canister would have served to hold the micronian specimen between two cushions, warmth and ample oxygen. Carrying the micronian in the Queadluun-Rau’s claw was more than dangerous, once she gotten too high the fragile micronian would certainly expire. She could not go back to the captain empty handed. She had to do something.
She had an idea. She suddenly stopped, opened her cockpit briefly and then jetted up to the stars with overloaded afterburners. The pilot didn’t like the arrangement but it was the only solution she came up with…
Another wave of planetary bombardment scoured the planet, The Queadluun-Rau had managed to return to her assigned hangar. Several Meltrandi gathered about to see if the veteran pilot had completed the mission. All of them despaired at the sight of the hole riddled armor, and the scorched shards of the gravity couch. They all wondered if they would ever see one of these mysterious micronians and their alien forms of protoculture weaponry. At last the pilot scrambled out of her Queadluun-Rau and stood at attention.
The meltrandi captain of the small frigate asked in her soft reverberating voice, “did you manage to retrieve a micronian or some of their mysterious protoculture battle armors.” She didn’t know why but the strange battle armors called, “Bikinis” made her feel odd. Something very strange indeed. The captain had been longing to see one up close, perhaps even don the alien bikini armor in an effort to evaluate its awesome protoculture weaponry. The situation did not look good. The pilot stood at attention awaiting the captain’s salute to begin with the debriefing. The Queadluun-Rau had added another dozen scars, and the bio-metals were struggling to regrow into the gaps. The canister was little more than shards and there was no sign any prize had been retrieved. The captain’s face turned stony as she barked, “Report!”
The pilot Lia’Lial’Xi was a battle hardened pilot, military in her bearing and every bit as stern as her captain, “The mission was successful, I have retrieved a micronian for interrogation and study.”
The captian, “jea’nue rae” looked the Queadluun-Rau over, “where is it?” She felt strange, she had no words for anxious and excited. None of the Zentradi or Meltrandi did, the emotions didn’t exist in their sterile martial organization.
The pilot Lia’Lial’Xi stated crisply, “Here, captain. She unzipped her tight compression suit all pilots wore down to the front edge of her bust. The human paramedic groaned and lolled side to side, firmly tucked in her cleavage.
All the assembled meltrandi crew; troopers, pilots, and gunners gasped in abject terror.
The captain’s eyes widened, “Contamination!” She was furious, “Did you not know of the protoculture weapons the micronians use? What have you done?” The captain didn’t waste one second, “Pilot, report to the micronization chamber at once! Helm, take us out of the fighting. Communications, inform our commanders that we are having reactor issues and need to leave the planetary orbit.” Crew members broke from their horrified reverie and moved to do as commanded. The pilot gently removed the micronian from her bodice and placed him in the specimen container on the cart. Lia’Lial’Xi then stood sharply and marched out of the hangar bay to the lab. Lia’lial’Xi paused, “Why did the zentradi ships even have a micronization chamber?” Such thoughts were for command to know the answer to, and her to know only if she is told. “How can I fight in the war if I am contaminated? Will I ever fly again? How long do I left before”…
Lia did not know what happened to those zentradi/meltrandi who had become contaminated by exposure to the micronians. Rumors indicated that most go insane, or worse. Yet no one she had overheard seemed to know just what the “Worse” was…
Ian rolled to one side, the concussion was subsiding and he mechanically drew medical supplies from his right thigh cargo pouch. Without thinking Ian sprayed the abraded skin with anti-septic, and applied a correctly sized bandage over the wound. Ian was certain that most of his ribs were bruised, or cracked. His muscles ached, he continued to apply dressings and bandages to the other burns and cuts all over his body. Ian tried to think, to remember what had happened. There was a flash, then hot wind. Russel had vanished in the intensity, the patient also. Ian guessed that the blast had caused the oxygen tanks to explode. That was all he could remember.
Ian sat up slowly looking around. The area was huge, humid, dimly lit, and dull metal gray. Ian rapped his knuckles on the floor before trying to stand up. His left ankle was sprained. His head rang like a speaker at a heavy metal concert. Ian lost his balance and fell back down to the floor. He wondered if he was dead. Ian felt a vibration in the metal floor and strained to hear a distant sound, “air conditioning?” he wondered. The afterlife constantly rumbled with the background noise of pipes and vents? Nope. Ian muttered, “I am very much alive, but I don’t know if I should be thankful or worried yet.”
Ian drew his “camelback” hose and sucked up a few gulps of water, before capping the hose. Ian, spoke to himself, “I –I’m in shock.” His voice seemed very tiny, hollow, and weak. Ian couldn’t grieve for Russel, the woman they were struggling to rescue, whatever remained of the human race, nor the entire earth. Tears just would not come. Ian felt sick, but had nothing left in him to vomit. So he rolled to one side, curled up into a ball and fell asleep. For a few hours he could sense that he was being poked, prodded, stripped, lifted, floated, bathed in eriee green light, and eventually returned to his “cell”. His clothing lay in a pile some ten meters away. Ian moved to the pile and got dressed. Ian walked over to the wall and sat with his back against it. This time he could feel the quiet thrumming of the alien ship.
Ian said quietly to himself, “I’m on an alien ship. What do they want from me?” too many scenarios simultaneously ran through his mind. None of them good news. He might be dissected soon, kept in a zoo as the last of his kind, or saved for later to be a late night snack, who knows.Ian shrugged to roll his shoulders and turned his head this-a-way-an-that to pop the stiffness out of his neck. He sat against the metal wall, waiting and wondering what he could possibly do to survive this situation. Ian, cursed and rested his eyes. The decade of war had taken its toll and now this… the cherry on top of dead friends, family- human extinction.
The roof clanged and clacked mercilessly, the brighter light outside of this giant box had a huge shadowy form moving about. Ian Stood up and pressed his back against the wall, despite all of his injuries he was going to run from the zentradi monster faster than he'd ever run before. Then he heard the feminine cry, He saw her dropped out of the mammoth gauntleted hand at maybe a height of eight meters. Ian ran to catch her but was too late. In less than a second, She had hit the deck feet first- she bent at the knees and hip crumpling downward until her haunches hit the floor, before she flopped onto her side and extended away from him prone.
Ian ran his eyes over her searching for signs of any injury, From her feet up her crossed legs to the large burlap sack she wore as a shift with a cord belt tied about her waist. Ian knelt at her side, "Miss, miss, are you okay?" Ian considered checking A.V.P.U (Aware, responds to voice, responds only to pain, and Unconscious) He kneeled at her side and carefully rolled her over. Neon blue hair? the blurry memory returned to him, He had seen her before. only then she appeared a giant! She must have been the alien who had kidnapped him. He was certain of it. Regardless, he needed to make sure she was okay, "Miss?"
The fist connected with his face, two hands locked behind his neck and rolled. Ian was suddenly laying on his back, and she had straddled him. Knife hand high behind her head ready to thrust down like a spear. Ian's arms were pinned, his eyes wide, "Wait- whoa, whoa! don't!" Her stance softened and her arm seemed to flow down to his collar, Her hand at his throat. Ian, stammered, "Can we talk?"
She did not move from where she sat pinning Ian to the floor. her eyes were full of fire. Her other hand balled into a fist, "This is all your fault! You contaminated me! I'll never be a pilot again!"
Ian, was taken by her savage beauty, yet he needed to think fast if he was going to survive this...
Ian spoke softly, "what is your name?"