Heavy Metal Thunder

  Heavy Metal Thunder

  Book One

  By Stiff

  For news and info about the Heavy Metal Thunder series, visit the web site at www.heavymetalthunderseries.wordpress.com. To contact the author, Kyle B. Stiff, send a letter to [email protected].

  This book is dedicated to the fighters. It is copyrighted and belongs to the author.

  Table of Contents

  What Is Heavy Metal Thunder?

  Chapter 1: The Ghost Station

  Chapter 2: The Master’s Garden

  Chapter 3: Ship of Fools

  Chapter 4: Penelope’s Vengeance

  Chapter 5: The Battle

  Index: Rules

  Index: Short History of the Invasion

  Index: How Battles are Fought Between Capital Ships

  What Is Heavy Metal Thunder?

  Heavy Metal Thunder is not a novel. It is a game, the first in a series in which you play the role of the protagonist. You begin reading at section 1 and then, depending on the choices you make, turn to the numbered section you are directed to read. The game ends when you reach the end of the journey... or when you die.

  The rules of the game are given as the story unfolds, plus there is a handy index in the back. Eventually you will have to keep track of your inventory, stats, skills, experience points, and so on. The journey will be brutal. Because the universe is cold and uncaring, you will need to be cunning and ruthless in order to survive. As you progress through the game, your character will grow in strength and experience. In future installments of the Heavy Metal Thunder series you will rise up through the ranks of the Black Lance Legion, so be sure to keep your character data so that you can transfer it to Heavy Metal Thunder Book Two: Sol Invictus.

  Variant rules for non-nerds: If you loved Choose Your Own Adventure books back in the day, but the idea of keeping track of skills and equipment sounds altogether too complicated and nerdy, then feel free to simply follow the branches of the story and make choices as you see fit. No one will fault you for enjoying the story in a non-nerd fashion.

  1

  A field of stars stretches out before you. You float weightless in empty space. It is difficult to breathe, and your body feels constricted, as though it were encased in padding. You move to rub your aching head, and your gloved hand smacks into a hard helmet. You blink painfully, then wave your limbs to shake off an overwhelming sense of grogginess.

  You try to remember who you are, what you are doing here. Nothing comes to mind.

  You realize that there is a hissing sound in your helm. Each breath seems more labored than the last. It feels as if you are drowning in nothingness. The cold stars watch you without mercy.

  Suddenly, something floats into your field of vision, and you recoil in horror: A dead man’s body, spinning in space, floats past you. His face is purple and cracked, his eyes are popped out of their sockets, and his bloated tongue hangs out like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. He wears torn green coveralls, and a logo on the back reads, “STELLAR Corporation. Bringing Life to the Stars!” The body spins away.

  You try to calm yourself. Unconsciously, you click your teeth together. A display screen buzzes to life on the visor of your helmet. Though surprised, something seems familiar about the display. One section reads

  OXYGEN: EXT LOW (DAMAGED)

  JETPACK FUEL: EXT LOW

  HELM BATTERY: NEAR FULL

  You reach backwards and feel a large, bulky device strapped to your back. You are clothed in some kind of black, padded bodysuit, with all kinds of straps that hold the “jetpack” in place, and a belt full of pouches.

  What the hell am I doing with all this crazy gear? you wonder.

  Your left hand twitches, and you see a series of buttons on the palm of your glove. You are sure that these somehow control your jetpack. Your hand shakes, eager to feel the freedom of movement.

  You push a series of buttons, not fully knowing what you are doing. You feel a surge at your back and the field of stars shifts around you. The push of the jetpack behind you feels familiar. You do an about-face. What you see makes you question your decision to wake up.

  Turn to section 78.

  2

  Your knees tremble and black goblin-spots dance around in your eyes. You realize that the lights and the sound are part of a psy-op weapon designed to disorient the human nervous system. Your stomach kicks and a meal that you don’t remember eating rockets out from you and sprays onto the floor: Lose 1 Blood. You stumble backwards on loose spaghetti-legs, leave the chamber, and shut the door behind you.

  Turn to section 430.

  3

  The Captain laughs at you, then says, “Why don’t you just move along and -”

  One of the guards loudly primes his rifle, then shouts, “Hey dipshit... why don’t you move along?”

  The Captain turns and the blood drains from his face when he realizes the guards are talking to him. While he fumbles with his revolver, trying to decide what to do, the other guard stands near the first and giggles menacingly.

  “Fine!” shouts the Captain. “F-f-f-fine! I... I hope you all die!”

  With that, the Captain leaves, disappearing into the teeming crowd. He’s got a gun and a belt that he can use as a whip, you think. He’ll do fine.

  You turn toward the ship. While the laborers seem confused, the guards only laugh. “Ahoy, Cap’n!” one of them shouts, high-fiving the other.

  Guess he wasn’t too popular around here, you think. “Gentlemen!” you shout. “Back to work, if you please!”

  You gain 1 XP for commandeering a ship. Turn to section 379.

  4

  Skull shaking from the motion of the powerful deconstructor, you manage to destroy the panel on its flank, then you rip open some inner protective cover. You see something like a row of circuit boards. You reach inside and pull the array loose from its moorings. You look up just in time to see the north hallway wall looming before you; before you have a chance to destroy the circuit boards, you release your grip and slide toward the darkened hall from which the machines emerged.

  You grab the grappling mechanism hooked to your belt and turn it on. The device slowly hoists you away from the vacuum and the deconstructor. You glance at the circuit boards, hanging loose from the machine; as it grinds through the northern hallway, the boards are smashed against the rubble. The machine grinds to a halt and you whoop loudly.

  You hear a series of explosions in the distance, as the guard must have thrown or dropped his grenades into the other deconstructor. There is a terrible crash as the two slam into one another. The ruined hulks slide into the hole from which they emerged, spouting steam and sparks and, as the hole is nearly sealed, the raging wind becomes still and you drop to the ground. You rise slowly, disconnect your line from the wall, and stumble over the dead machines. You see the guard rising also, unarmed, shaking his head wearily. The two of you stumble to another hallway and collapse, exhausted.

  You gain 3 XP for successfully destroying the deconstructors. If you used any bullets in your attack, be sure to erase them from your inventory before you turn to section 126.

  5

  “Uh...” you say.

  “Shut up!” the manager screams on the other end. The robot rumbles forward, steel appendages rotating, fork-lift mechanism grinding.

  If you are trained in Stealth, and have a Motion-Sensitive Bomb, you can try to trap the robot and destroy it by turning to section 288.

  If you have a High-Power Implosion Grenade, you can use it by turning to section 263.

  If you have a gun and at least 1 bullet, you can try to shoot its dome off by turning to section 331.

  Otherwise, you will have to get close enough to smash its sensor-dome. Brace yoursel
f, then turn to section 228.

  6

  “Ho-o-o-old on now, boy,” says the guard. “Ain’t no rush about this killin’ business, way I see it. I mean, we’re all gonna die anyway, right?”

  “What d’you mean?” you say, gun wavering for a moment.

  “Well, them robots is all over the place, right? And all our ships are wasted, and no help comin’. What’s it look like’s gonna happen, man?” The man laughs. “Anyway, the hell you come from?”

  “None of your business,” you say. “Is it true that you have no ships here?”

  “Hell no, not a one,” he drawls. “Invader made sure to hit our docks pretty hard. Nothin’ but scrap metal, now.”

  “Might there be a ship in another station?”

  “S’far as I know, this little heap took about the least o’ the damage. Besides, it’s not like we got any suits or ships to go check the others out, right?”

  You eye one another for a moment. Then the man says, “Anyway, I was just about to head to a supply room. Big Boss is still in charge, I guess... he wanted me to see if we got anythin’ useful.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Five.” Then he glances at his comrade and, laughing, says, “Well, four, I reckon!” After his laughing fit passes, he says, “I thought about killin’ the Boss myself... hated him a pretty good bit all these years. Might feel good to do it, too. Then again, it’s not like I’m gonna remember how good it felt wasting him after I’m dead. Anyway, you wanna come on down to the supply room?”

  “Lead the way,” you say, gun extended.

  Turn to section 392.

  7

  Fully suited and ready to rock, you run down the red-flashing corridor. As you near the launching bay ship personnel and infantry run all about, shouting orders and chanting out war cries and complaining. As you see the units gather, part of your memory comes back. You remember that most infantry units are named after Earth cities from before the war, sentimental monikers that often hearken back to old sports teams. You see the Detroit Lions, the Kentucky Blood Hunters and the Dallas Blackbloods, the Constantinople Rangers, the elite Athens Panthers, the Vegas Krakens trading insults with the Jericho Horsemen. You are desperate to go out with any of them, just to face the Invader ship that started you on your horrible odyssey.

  “Attention all personnel!” says a voice on the intercom. “We have an Invader ship in sight! All infantry units prepare to launch! All bomber wing units, prep ships and wait further orders! Repeat, Invader ship in sight...”

  Got to get out there, you think, blood heating and turning your heart into a white-hot forge.

  You see the trainer, Major Faustulus, barking orders at a group of gangly youths shaking in their space suits. You wonder if you were ever so scared of the monsters that turned your homeworld into a slag heap. You push past them and shout, “Major Faustulus! What’s my unit, sir?”

  The Major glares at you, then says, “Mister Wig... uh, Serial Number Thirteen. Your unit’s been wiped out. All of them died in the Stellar station operation, along with that name which you earned.” The man seems to resent your presence.

  “Then put me on a new unit, sir!”

  “Can’t do it. Can’t. Your paperwork is being processed, but son, you won’t be placed for weeks yet. Officially you’re still on sick leave, which if I remember correctly, is all you ever want-”

  “Sir, I mean to fight, sir!”

  “The solar system’s crawling with Invaders. Once your paperwork goes through, you’ll have all the fighting you can handle, and then some.”

  “But I want -”

  “Legion doesn’t give a shit what you want, boy! Now stand down!”

  You curse the man and roughly push past one of the green infantry boys. You stomp down the hall, desperately thinking of a way to get out where the fight is. Another infantry unit jogs down the hall. Then you see a strange sight: One man with a yellow grunt’s patch and short black hair eyes you strangely.

  The man looks exactly like you.

  Turn to section 494.

  8

  “Alright,” you say, “and now shall you find out, once and for all, who is a man and who is a subhuman beast.”

  “Boah,” says Cletus, “whyn’t you put your Food where your mouth is?”

  The three of you sit across from one another with a buffet laid out, facing off in an arena of tasty treats. “Re-e-eady?” says Buford. “Set? All set? Three... two... ready?... two...”

  “Go!” says Cletus. Immediately you all fall on the food, glaring at one another and growling like animals. Buford grabs up hotdog after hotdog, sucking the things out of his wet, glistening fist, but you ignore the titillating sight and concentrate on jamming food into your face and ignoring your stomach, which is already full. Cletus puts his face down into a cake like a hog at the trough, then inhales in such a way that the cake seems to implode, then the entire thing slithers into his face. The contest is intense. Your opponents are both big men with big stomachs and, not having any real interests or hobbies of their own, they know that only their reputation can define who they are. Neither wants to give up, no matter how much it hurts. You vow to do the same.

  If your Strength is 3 or more, turn to section 138.

  If your Strength is 2 or less, turn to section 350.

  9

  It seems as if you can no longer move. All is darkness. You feel mouths, daggers, heat, and the fear that the monsters will eat you whole from the bottom up. These creatures have been drugged, they must have been, you think, for their howls are terrifying, unending.

  One beast squirms up to your knees, and though you try to push away from it, it bites down unmercifully: You lose 3 Blood, but you may subtract your Dexterity score from this amount of damage.

  You manage to move around enough and knee the beast in the throat hard enough to still its hunger. It goes limp. You push ahead, breathing in your own vaporized sweat. Finally you come to a dark, open space. You rise to your knees and feel ahead in the darkness and find a control panel. You pull a small emergency latch and an unseen door opens, flooding the chamber with light. You enter and shut the door behind you. The barking of the dogs disappears suddenly.

  You have survived your encounter with the dogs: Gain 2 XP.

  Turn to section 187.

  10

  You race down the hallway. The lights flicker, then the entire station shudders and you nearly lose your balance.

  “REMAIN CALM,” says the voice on the intercom. “THERE HAS BEEN A SLIGHT POWER SURGE IN DOCKING BAYS FOUR THROUGH NINE. EMERGENCY PERSONNEL HAVE CLOSED OFF THE AREAS. RUMORS THAT THESE DOCKING BAYS HAVE BEEN DESTROYED ARE COMPLETELY UNFOUN... OH GOD!”

  Ominous static fills the audio speakers, then crackling sounds. A new voice, shrill and manic, shouts, “Tools of the Stellar Slave Corporation, hear this! The People’s Underground Revolutionary Forces have commandeered this communications center! Your liberation is at hand! I repeat, your liberation is at hand!”

  I’m sure it is, you think, running harder. Have fun working with the Invader towards a better future, kids.

  Finally you come to a hallway filled with running people. They are a mixture of frightened laborers, lawmen, mercenaries, merchants, and corporate heads. You see the wide open doors of the docking bay just ahead, and the scene before you makes all the chaos beforehand pale in comparison.

  Turn to section 53.

  11

  You have a bad feeling about this stuff. You scramble backwards. You rise as the stuff lands where you were sitting. You note the loose papers lying about: When the mist covers them, they blacken and curl up into ash. You imagine what would happen if that mist got in your suit, your eyes, your lungs.

  You turn towards the other door and run. The mist expands to fill the hall behind you... and keeps coming.

  Turn to section 229.

  12

  You find the strange, quiet man sitting in the pilot’s chair. “Arturo,” you say. “Sup?”


  “Working my craft,” he says. He brings up a series of maps with moving points on them. “We could stay within the Asteroid Belt. It tends to be safer, as we might meet other humans if we need help, plus we could avoid getting lost as there are many known asteroids plotted within our maps. But I’ve chosen to swing us inwards slightly. There is that Invader ship to consider. And given what you know of your own ship, we could swing outwards at any time, later, and meet them down the line.”

  “I see,” you say. “Any chance we could get lost outside the Belt?”

  “Not really. There are two large asteroids called Scylla and Charybdis that lie on the inner path of the Belt. I’ve plotted a course to fly by them, just to reorient ourselves if we need to.”

  “I see,” you say. “Re-e-e-eal interesting, bud.”

  “Note this. These two asteroids were named after mythological monsters. They once gave a legendary hero a very hard time.”

  “Well for me they’ll be a good omen. It looks like they mark the three-quarters point between where I began and where I want to end up.”

  Arturo closes his eyes and lies still for a long time. At first you think, Maybe the chair is just that comfortable, then you think, Maybe he’s trying to rest so he can heal some Blood. Then the navigational poet says, slowly,

  We crawl through the darkness,

  Behold, a tree with leaves on it,

  A bunch of aliens are trying to kill us

  He opens his eyes, blinking, as he returns to your world.

  “Wow,” you say, floored. “That was amazing. Was that...?”

  “Poetry,” he says. “The gift of the gods.”

  You realize that the world - no, the universe - is a much larger, more multi-faceted, and altogether stranger place than you ever imagined. “If our species has this power,” you say, “then I will do all that I can to defend it.”