The Mini-burger

FanFic in the Birmoverse

Deluxe Royale by Kevin Savage

 

Kevin Savage2nd FanFic Festival entry posted December 6, 2006 at 7:17 PM

Major Chuck Bukowski had done his share and more during the war and had gone as far as he wanted to in this man’s Marine Corps.  He neither wanted nor sought any further promotion.  He was happy man, chiefly because:

a)      no one was shooting at him

b)      he was still alive after being in combat with that mad man Jones for so long

c)      his job, weapons research, was like being in a cheesy sci fi comic book every day

d)     he got out and about to mix with his old uptime comrade in arms

and lastly:

e)      no one was shooting at him.

But, he was in England and had been for the last 9 months.  The food was crap, his bed was short and the beer was warm.  It always rained, but the natives were friendly.

He had been ordered to attend remote aerodrome for a full work up of an entire new war fighting system, MONARCHIE, under development by the British Army.  A do all, be all, arms and armour, communications and surveillance suite.  The phone call had hinted that it was a 1950’s version of a NASA space suit exoskeleton.  “Right up my alley” thought Bukowski.

 

His job was to pre-assess any weapons research, to work out quickly, if it was worthwhile for the US Armed Services to invest in a full discovery.  He had seen some really bizarre pieces of ‘kit’ as the Brits put it.  Certainly the local armaments manufacturers had tried to create analogues of such things as the uptimers frangible bullets but their hearts weren’t really in those, “Why do you want the bullets to break?”  There were other items such as X-Ray night vision Combat Goggles which blew X-Rays out of the front helmet, enough to cause burns and radiation poisoning.  Then there was the “smart” mine that could tell – by smell – friend or foe, and even a tank that was supposed to detect land mines in front of it- by sensing the nitrogen in the explosive, or the cow pat.  There was even a 1950’s chain gun but not like 21C chain gun, this was twin barrelled canon firing shot joined together by a chain.

 

They also created some very disturbing things that required a closer look.  BZ, an hallucinogenic chemical, was weaponized by the British.  It was easy to distribute, it’s effective dose, unlike LSD or Heroin, was a 1000 times smaller than a fatal dose, it created confusion and frightening physical characteristics, as well as extreme paranoia.  In a combat environment, an advancing unit protected from BZ – Agent Busy, would only meet resistance from the last man standing.

 

But MONARCHIE – Multi Operational (Nuclear) Armoured Reconnaissance/Combat Human Integrated Exoskeleton, held the promise of something different.

 

 

Professor Farnsworth was introduced as the head boffin of the project to Bukowski, Ah the British and their funny words, he thought. Over a cup of tea, the rest of the research team was introduced and Bukowski learned that Farnsworth was in fact from Utah and, among other things, had invented television and was the father of modern, (as in 21st century), fusion reactors.   The group finished and left to unveil King George, the name given to the first of the MONARCHIE exoskeletons.

 

The major was given a very up close and personal tour of the exoskeleton.  Unpainted, the bipedal machine had a dark grey ceramic finish.  The torso had an airliner style pressure door for the pilot and its interior was packed with readouts and flatscreens.  On top of the torso was the sensor package and multi barrel MetalStorm grenade launcher.  The senor package allowed the operator to designate a target and then utilise his weapon of choice to destroy it.  In its current configuration, with only the head mounted guns, it weighed as much as a family car but could run across country at a steady 35 miles an hour with bursts up to 60. It sat there crouched, quiet and menacing.

 

The pilot mounted the machine and the door hissed shut.  Immediately, the crouched form sprang to life.  King George raised itself up on its reversed knee legs in one smooth silent motion.  Its head swivelled around and Bukowski found himself staring at the four barrels of the grenade launcher loaded with practice rounds and the blank, glassy stare of the sensor package.  It turned and leapt though the gap in the hanger doors.  Both men ran for the chase car.

 

 

The armoured chase car accelerated from the hanger, closing the gap between the two.  Suddenly, the machine in front stopped dead.  The armoured car shot past, brakes screeching as the driver spun the wheel hard.  The sensor package and guns tracked the car as it came to a halt.  MONARCHIE jump high over the top of the car and kept running, disappearing around the side of the hanger.  The car turned and followed.   When they reached the corner they saw the machine slowly regaining its feet.  The scrapes in the asphalt concourse showed it had taken the corner too hard, slipped and fallen.

 

Farnsworth called the pilot over the wireless, but got no answer.  The channel was working but pilot wasn’t replying.  The machine rose to its full height, it’s hands flexing.  The sensor pack and guns swivelled around to point at the armoured car stopped behind it.

“Er, sir?” said the driver just as the Metal Storm cannon opened fire at the windscreen.  The impact of the projectiles starred the windscreen.  As the smoke drifted away they saw the MONARCHIE running off over the grassed fields.

 

“What the hell!” said Bukowski

Farnsworth said, “I’m afraid the pilot must been incapacitated.  King George is now running a pre-set extraction tape. When the main processors believe the operator is in capacitated they run an automatic extraction routine.  It broadcasts its’ condition and makes its’ way to a pick up point,” he explained

 

“Where’s the pick up point?”  asked the Major.

“We never set one, this was only a demonstration.  Driver, follow that machine but hang back a bit, it will still defend itself.”

 

And so over the rolling countryside of the Mendip Hills of Cheddar, they bounced and rattled after the MONARCHIE.

 

“All of this area used to be owned by the Earl of Sandwich you know,” piped up the driver.  This little homily was met by stony silence.

 

“Up ahead there, is St Neot’s cathedral.  There’s some lovely stone work of St Lawrence, the patron saint of cooks.  It’s maintained by an endowment from the Admiralty since 1792.” Even the driver’s running commentary was waning in the cars silence.

 

“Perhaps I could nudge King George into the wall of the cathedral?” offered the driver.

“What?” said Bukowsi

 

“Nothing,” said the driver.

 

“No, repeat what you said,” Bukowski was eagerly leaning forward.

 

“I said perhaps I could nudge King George into the side of the church, with the car.  At full tilt it would be just like Hulk Huling* body checking Can the McCann* into the turnbuckle on Wrestlemania,” the driver said.

 

At that the Major smiled to himself remembering.

 

So off charged the armoured car.  In retrospect it was quite easy.  The armour plating of the car readily withstood the practice ammunition shot at them and, as they approached the ruined cathedral, the just driver swerved sharply, clipping King George’s legs and sending it crashing into the thick buttressed wall, partly burying it in crumbling stone work. The trouble was, the turret was still active and firing, making it impossible for Bukowski and the others to rescue the pilot.  Eventually, the recoil from the guns loosened a piece of masonry from the statue of St Lawrence, which fell between the torso and head, firmly jamming the head pointing in one direction.

 

Bukowski clambered onto the machine with the Professor and driver, to release the pilot.  While there he examined the carving which had fallen and jammed the ‘head’.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Looks like a carving of a sandwich and the hand of St Lawrence.  Beef and cheese I’d imagine.  We are in Cheddar,” opined the driver.

“A Cheeseburger,” said Bukowski, “so the MONARCHIE was brought down by a Cheeseburger.”

“Looking at the cathedral,” said Professor Farnsworth, “I would say the MONARCHIE was brought down by a Cheeseburger Gothic.”

Return…

Score: 0 | Rate: +  ? |

From: Bangar
Date: 12/06/06
Oh the pun, the pun, someone give me something for the pun.

From: yankeedog
Date: 12/06/06
Good one, savo!

From: SFMurphy
Date: 12/06/06
That is so much better than the powered combat armor POS I was working on. Savo, you should go pro.

And you didn’t kill me this time. 🙂 Bonus!

Respects,
Murph
Lee’s Summit,Missouri

From: MickH
Date: 12/07/06
“It run amok, looking for its designated targets to kill with its weapon of choice till its sudden Impact with a tree!”

🙂

From: Birmo
Date: 12/20/06
LOL.

Advertisements

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: