EternitysAuthor
Synopsis
Set in the distant future in a distant galaxy where political regimes called "Clans" reign over smaller and lesser system by utilizing huge mecha called "Motokin" to control with fear. Motokin are heavily armored and heavily weaponized mobile walking tanks. Thousands of years have passed and only five ruling Clans remain to control an entire galaxy and enslave its intelligent lifeforms. As the clans battle for supreme power a dead planet's resurrection goes unnoticed as well as the resurrection of its people.
Now Zanna, a resurrected Selaxion Motokin pilot leads her peoples into battle against the lager clans. Having been dead for 20,000 years she must find a people to take her place as she desperately searches the galaxy for a new leader and a way to keep her newly resurrected form alive. The resurrected Selaxion's have only a limited time before they must return to the dead as the disease that caused the original genocide also resurrected and re-infected them. Fighting for time, a cure and hope for her people Zanna revives the once powerful mercenaries that formed "Clan Black Tiger" in a last ditch effort to save her race.
Excerpt
“Are you sure?” The rough voice from her right questioned with sarcasm. “This kid doesn’t have what it takes.”
“Sure? No. Absolutely positive? Yes.” Her reply was soothing and in an instant Xionide knew that she had made up her mind. Once Zanna had made up her mind it was set and he knew it.
“C’mon Z , you know this kid doesn’t know squat. Heck he ain’t even out of school yet on his world.”
“If I recall correctly, you weren’t either the first time you crawled into a Motokin. In fact you were a failure at school.” She replied never loosing the natural sweetness in her voice as she stared at the view screen.
“Actually it wasn’t a Motokin it was a Btank with almost nothing to it. A stripped down, getting ready to recycle, machine with a pea shooter for a gun.” Xionide replied with a relaxed smile as he placed his hands behind his head and leaned back into his seat. “Those were the good days when all a man needed was a gun, a woman, and a good beer.”
He remembered the Btank. An ugly hunk of scrap no bigger than a compact car with a single machine gun attached to its hood. It was rusted badly with pieces of the body falling off and no glass to separate the outside winds. You had to turn the car to aim the gun. They were cheap battle vehicles that had been cheaply made with a very high rate of fatalities tied to them.
“Too bad all you had was a good beer” piped a smaller male from across the bridge.
