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East

The Garage Leader, Beale pointed up at the machine sluggishly as though his arms were too heavy to move quickly. “And this, Ms. East, is the Yin-2 model, the most basic type of suit on the base.” A deep French accent made it just difficult enough for East to need to pay attention to understand. But his chunky structure already proved enough of a distraction to make that statement true anyway. Beale looked to be in his mid fifties, much older than he really was. His he was balding; the hair that did remain was quickly thinning. He wore square glasses; he needed them to see things too far away because even in this day and age didn’t believe in surgery.

The two looked up at the giant robot. It was shaped for the most part, like a human, except of course in scale. The machine was at least 30 times Beale’s height and maybe 25 times his own width.

The machine was large and bulky; very heavy looking, obviously made to take hits and hold the front line. But despite its size the Yin-2 was made to be expendable, although heavily armor in front it was left nearly bear in its rear. This saved money on each unit.
The machine was covered by a think layer of mud and mechanical oil, the smell of both so strong you could taste it, this particular robot probably having recently come in from the battle outside and would have felt like rubbing your hand through sludge of you’d of decided to touch it . Its plating was severely cracked along the chest plate and dents and even a bullet or two was lodged in other areas throughout the machine.

“And these beauts we just got in.” Beale motioned for East to follow him, and he stopped in front of a Marcus model. This unit had obviously just come in it lacked the ‘dinginess’ of the Yin model and its smell as well, but that was about where the similarities ended. The Marcus sported a red paint job and was as smooth as glass. The Unit’s tag number “3” was marked on the left shoulder plate to make identification that much easier. This was mass produced model too. It was made to be expendable. The armor was focused in the front here as well, but was a bit heavier than the latter model. Large missile modules were bolted to this behemoth’s back and legs making the Marcus excellent in long range battle or great for support fire. This model also seemed to have what was some sort of energy rifle holstered on its waist. This meant that it wouldn’t be a joke up close either.

“But where’s mine?” Her tone was as cold and harsh as she looked. Her skin was very pale as though she was locked in away in deep space years. East’s face hadn’t changed at all since the moment she frist entered the base. Her black hair was short, just enough to grab. Her features were a splice of Martian and North Americans. Thin eyes a trait found on the red planet was very apparent and yet her face was much fuller than the people who settled there. East looked eighteen but carried her self like some war torn battle scared warrior. This was made even more paradoxical by her small frame. Despite her some what baggy clothing one could notice that though not malnourished she was a bit on the thin side.

Beale cleared his throat. It was an attempt to shake off that icy demeanor. “Come with me,” He managed as he motioned for East to follow him again.

The pair approached a set of doors located at the back of the garage just past a few more of the new Marcus model. “Just through here Ma’am.” Beale hit a few keys into the access panel and stepped back waiting for the doors to open.
The room they revealed was pitch black for a second then dangling spot lights flashed on revealing as completely empty, duplicate of the neighboring garage. Cement pillars shot up from the floors; energy plugs, water and fuel pipes for machines positioned in each; these pillars served as docks for the giant robots.
The garage’s walls seemed bleached perhaps from lack of sun or lack of dirt and grime caked upon them, maybe both. The floor was flawless with only the words ‘B Garage” painted in it; no oil spills, no cracks; the floor was so flat a marble wouldn’t dare roll.

“What are you guys saving this place for?” Her tone was exactly the same as before.

Trying to find the hope she was promised to bring, Beale looked at her, hard. He just couldn’t see it. He shook his head in frustration his rage building, “If you prove yourself we just might buy a bunch more of these--these,” He searched his head for the name of those damned things. The things that were supposed to make his effort in this war pointless, meaningless, “Alpha Type Models!” Beale spat as harshly as East had. “You know I really starting to wonder about you--“

“Yeah.” She paused for a second. East had never had this much power over another human being before, she savored it. “My machine?”

Beale pointed in its direction, “You know that thing better than I do, be ready in ten minutes!” Beale stormed back into garage A.

East didn't look back the fading foot steps confirmed he was indeed gone. She took a second and looked in awe at the machine. “Angel” She whispered. This was the first time she had seen it in person, and this would make the first time she’d actually piloted it.

The Angel was comparable to the Yin-2 and the Marcus only by shape and size; the Angel also was a humanoid machine. It too came just under 120 meters, but it held a much more feminine appearance and feel. The Angel lacked the heavy plating of most other ground units. It was lightly armored giving it a slender look, and proving it was meant for speed and maneuverability. Where the other models housed radar and camera equipment the Angel proudly showed the face of a young girl, forever immortalized in steel. The bulk of Angel was painted a glossy white. Some areas, like the shoulder panels and wrist guards, were decorated with elaborate vine or rose designs in gold, silver, or red. But, the obvious focus of the machine was a pair of enormous yet beautifully crafted wings; their paint job mirroring the rest of the machine. It was like Angel was a tribute to the ancient Romans and Greeks.
The Angel carried very little weaponry, only adding to its beauty; it held simply a close range blade weapon and a set of gatling-guns built into the face plate. This machine was truly like no other, this machine was art.

***

Beale stormed into the hanger A’s watch tower, suspended conveniently in the center of the garage.

“I just can’t do it!” Beale yelled as he through his arms into the air, “I can’t trust the out come of this war to one person and a girl half our age no less!”

“It’s not our choice.” Lukacs, Beale’s old friend, responded. If the Base’s garage was a ship Beale would have been captain and Lukacs would have been second in command. Lukacs was tall and thin the exact opposite of Beale. His skin was dark a direct result from years working out in the desert sun longer than he should have. He was an older man late 50’

“F*ck that! Remember that big speech about the might of our troops the heart of the Rebellion? Now we’re crawling to some big name company to save us?!”

Lukacs placed his hand one Beale’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him, “The only reason our leaders would of done this is if they believed in it. That machine, the Angel, you said yourself it was an amazing piece of work.

Beale pouted his lip and looked to the side a bit more calmed, “Yeah…” He sighed as he removed his friend’s hand, “This base, this garage was the most prestigious in the army, the best rank in the rebellion. The missions we serviced all went out without plan, we haven’t lost a machine yet. And the line has yet to be breached since it was brought up here. Our service has been--” he paused, daring himself to say it. “The best in the rebellions history, and now they decide to throw this in our laps like we aren’t good enough, when we need the most drive and the most support.”

“Yes, yes that’s it. We need support. The line is faltering were taking in more machines then we can put out and though the line hasn’t broken yet it’s only a matter of time before it does. Yes we are the best but even the best now when they need assistance, if that help comes in the form of a little girl so be it.”

Beale cleared his throat, “Lukacs we work as a team as does any true effort. One person no matter how strong can succeed at a goal no matter how strong alone, not even that girl and her Angel.”

“I believe you and I think that’s all the more reason we should accept this girl with open arms. It’s up to us at least until the war is over to make sure that the Angel is kept well stocked and fully supplied and if repairs need to be made that also falls on our shoulders.”

“I refuse to touch that thing…”

“You sure are a stubborn old man.” An old joke between friends

Beale sat back down and rested his head on his hand as if deep in thought, “Have you met the girl yet?”

Lukacs shook his head no.

“She is a pain, she only cares about herself and…” he paused for a second then continued, “You know what forget it, I give up.”

Lukacs cocked and eyebrow.

“I may be old but I’m no dinosaur. I know when I’m beat. Let that girl and her oh so high attitude save us, I’ll complain if she fails. I won’t let my attitude cause conflict on this base and especially not in this garage.”

“What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

“I don’t know,” Beale stood yet again from his chair and brushed his pants off, “Got work to do.”

“Oh… that’s the first time I won a fight with you, and so easily.” Lukacs said so quietly it was barely audible.

“What was that Lukacs?”

“Nothing old man, nothing.”

***

“This is the Angel, ready for deployment.”

“Copy that Angel, follow the lights, over.”

“Okay, I mean ‘roger’.”

East pulled her machine out and did as she was instructed, following the lighted path on the floor out of hanger B and into the deserted city surrounding the base. It was night out making visibility harder. The standing building probably would have blocked out the sun if it were day though, they were certainly tall enough.

The base was held up in the remains of the once great city of Bangkok. It was one of the first cities caught in the cross fire when the war began. Bangkok Base was held up right at the border line and was a very important place in the rebellion movement. It supplied most of the units to the front lines and serviced nearly all of them. The city itself was protected by many gun and missile turrets making the base pretty much impossible for ground units to conquer. The only true threat long at this point was nuclear devices or some other powerful long range weapon, but with the universe watching this war chances of that were low especially from the world government.

“What do I do now?” East asked, her briefing hadn’t been too clear, but then again she hadn’t really been paying attention.

“We are sending you behind the line,” A small map popped up on West screen, a map of the area, a red ‘x’ appeared, “Here.”

“Okay. Now what does this mean to me?”

The blah cleared his throat obviously agravaited and began to explain, “The yellow blip is you.”

East quickly cut him off. “Yeah, yeah. I know that stuff I don’t understand these landmarks.”

The blah cleared his throat again, “That think red line represents the ‘front line’ the blue squares are buildings, the pale-ish green are rivers and other water systems.”

She nodded as if the blah could see her, “Okay.” She took a closer look at the map, on the left side of the front line was her yellow dot, the left side was the red ‘x’ a few buildings speckled the blocked a direct route but besides that not much else, “Any special way you guys want me to get there or…”

“No the route is totally up to you. Just get there we will give you directions from there.”

“Alright,” She said nodding to her self again, “I’ll turn the radio back on then.”

“No, Wait we--.”

East clicked a switch turn off communications, and then hit another removing the map from her view as not to impair her sight.

“This should be fun.” East sighed to her self as she began towards her goal.



-End-
Okay well thanks for reading!

I've posted this hear before, this would be a tweaked version. This is the first chapter in a novel I'm working on. (A novel I don't plan on attempting publishing mind you but one none the less) That said understand my aim isn't complete closure in this first section.
Any suggestions about character development, dialogue, and description in particular would be very helpful. Do my characters seem real? Do the react to the situation they are in realistically? Things like that...
Critiques are more than welcome Advice is greatly appreciated. Thanks for you time.

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Raging_Hopeful

I think you write the descriptions of the machines very well. You have a good grasp of military termonology (such as ground units, etc) but your character descriptions sound forced and don't flow.

"A deep French accent made it just difficult enough for East to need to pay attention to understand."

There are also some sentences that are awkward such as the one above. Pay careful attention to extra words that aren't needed such as "that" and "just."

I would suggest reworking East's description a bit, combining some of the sentences for better flow. It's a little jarring to read.

I LOVE your description of "Angel." You give a great visual of design and purpose to the machine and it peaked my interest.

Oh, and there are lots of spelling errors and grammatical errors. Thorough proofreading and editing is needed to make this a sharp, streamlined piece. Let me know if you need more help, but I look forward to reading more!!

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Thanks alot for the advice. The character descriptions were added after as an after thought. (I literally had nothing about any of them) it's probablly the main reason why the feel out of place. They do need to be there though. So that's something I need to work on.

My grammar and Spelling are still horrible... My brain ignores those type of errors for some reason, but I'll try reworking that as well.

Thanks a lot for the Comments, they helped alot.

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