45. Learning to Walk

Through the camera display, I saw Alhannah rub her eyes and growl as I fell flat on my face for the seventh time.

When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell. 

Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may. 

After all...I can't fix stupid.

Previously: After barely managing to walk in the Gnolaum, Wendell’s training takes a turn for the worse—and leaves the team questioning whether he can compete at all. Alhannah drags him deep into Clockworks to lock in a slot for Trench Wars…and runs into old friends with big plans and even bigger warnings.

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Some people learn the moment they’re exposed to new information or experiences. Others may take hours, days, weeks, even years to grasp the same thing. The point is, when you’ve got…you got it.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes, so long as you keep trying until you make that knowledge your own.

“No, no, no!” Alhannah yelled.

I could hear her through the external speakers, frustration thick in her voice. My S.L.A.G. floundered again, landing hard on its back. The impact shook the cockpit, and my head smacked against the padded headrest. Outside, crates exploded into splinters as my flailing steel arms smashed against the concrete.

“Use your left foot with your right index finger, Wendell!” she hollered.

“I—I’m trying!” My voice crackled over the Gnolaum’s speakers. “Sorry.”

Through the exterior camera feed, I saw both Dax and Nat slap their hands over their faces. Lili, staying near the hangar door, cringed with every impact.

“Is he alright in there?” she asked.

“Yes,” Alhannah snapped, though she didn’t sound very convinced.

The team had stopped working altogether. The loud ringing of metal made it impossible to concentrate on anything else. One by one, Freak and the TNT crew drifted closer, watching me struggle to get up for the sixth time.

“Hasn’t he driven one of these before?” Freak asked.

“No,” Alhannah grumbled.

“And you entered him in the games, anyway?”

A sigh. “Yes.”

Freak folded his arms. “Doesn’t look like that was such a bright idea, now, does it?”

Alhannah sighed louder. “Not at the moment.”

“You know,” Socket chimed in, “all the other pilots have to do at this rate is trip him. He won’t be able to get back up.”

I winced. They weren’t wrong.

Through the camera display, I saw Alhannah rub her eyes and growl as I fell flat on my face for the seventh time.

Her voice came through my speakers sharp and clear. “LEFT foot, RIGHT index finger!”

My breathing was heavy.

I was sweating, stressed, and frustrated.

“I’m… sorry.”

“Didn’t he learn the basics of assisted mechanics in school?” Telly asked, somewhere offscreen.

“No,” Alhannah grunted.

“Because he totally sucks,” Nibbles piped in.

“ALRIGHT!” Alhannah snapped. I could hear the shift in her tone—sharp, edged. She was losing her patience.

Through the external cameras, I saw her spin on her heels so fast that the crew instinctively stepped back.

“I get that he doesn’t have much skill…”

Tumbler snorted. “Well, that’s bein’ kind—the skill bucket’s bone dry with this one, dearie.”

“AND I have a lot of work to do,” she shot back, “so if you don’t mind—I need the other two S.L.A.G.s completed ASAP.”

Her frustration shifted to exhaustion as she leaned on Nat’s chair.

“Wheels,” she muttered, “would you make sure the automated systems are disabled in Banshee?”

“Disabled? I can, but…”

“Stop.” She raised her hand. “Don’t argue. Just do it. Please. Just trust me, okay?”

Nat pressed his lips together and simply nodded.

Through my external mic, I could hear him wheeling away, escorting the RAT team back to work.

Dax’s voice filtered through. “You know this isn’t any of their fault.”

Alhannah groaned. “I know. I know.”

“Besides,” Dax added, “Wendell isn’t a gnome. What’s normal to you, Hannah, is completely alien to him.”

“But this is so simple!” she protested. “Basic mechanical knowledge every…” She hesitated, then sighed. “Every gnome should know.”

I couldn’t see Dax, but I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Maybe this was too crazy of an idea,” Alhannah said.

Dax patted her shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know about that. He’s surprised us this far, hasn’t he? Out in the wild, helpless, without us…” he chuckled, “smart ones to aid him. He did alright. Things have a way of working out. Don’t give up so easily.”

With another thud, my S.L.A.G. collapsed again.

This time, I didn’t even try to get up.

The heavy engines rumbled.

Dax’s voice floated through the external mic. “Not yet, anyway.”

A sharp clang rang through my cockpit as Alhannah climbed onto my shoulder and rapped her knuckles against the metal plating.

“Wendell?”

I hesitated, feeling my stomach churn. I knew I’d let them down. “I’m sorry, Hannah. Really… I am so sorry. I don’t know why this is so hard for me.”

I could hear her let out a long breath. Then, softer, she tapped against my chest cavity. “Come on out, Wendell. It’s alright. Training lessons are over for the morning.”

I let out a slow breath myself and shut down the system. The S.L.A.G. beeped, blooped, and—for some reason—honked before the pressure seal released and the cockpit slowly opened. The thick steel doors whined and creaked as the gears twisted and pulled apart.

Sweating between folds of leather and cushion, I wiggled in my seat, trying to free my strapped-in arms. My gloves, still attached to long cables and levers, flailed around wildly, making the S.L.A.G. spasm as I fought to get loose.

I avoided making eye contact with Alhannah.

“Hit the power button, Wendell…” she reminded me.

I slapped the big blue button on the console.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Alhannah. I’m trying to follow your instructions, but I can’t…” I kicked the console in frustration. “Make this thing GO!”

The S.L.A.G. beeped angrily in response.

“Well, you’ll have to do more than make it go if we hope to get through the first tier of combat. We need to step back and clear our minds.” She sighed. “When you’re ready to start again, we’ll fire Gnolaum back up. Alright?”

I let my head slump forward. “Sure.”

Without another word, I hopped out, shuffled across the hangar, and walked right past Lili.

“Wow,” Dax whispered. “He must be upset.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He didn’t even blink at that girl.” Dax scratched his head. “Well, he’ll get it soon enough,” he murmured, watching me vanish through the doorway.

The last thing I heard was Alhannah chuckling weakly. “You don’t think Chuck might have a S.L.A.G. pilot charm, do you?”

Because both Alhannah and Dax were experienced fighters in real life, Freak worked to change the chest cavities in both of their S.L.A.G.s. He’d named Dax’s machine Turnpike, while Alhannah stuck with her trademark Banshee.

From where I stood, I could see Freak sliding off Turnpike’s chest, wiping grease from his hands. His grin was so wide it nearly touched his ears.

“So,” he huffed, adjusting his goggles, “we gutted the dashboards and ancillary doo-dads you’re not likely to need. Y’know, life support, air conditioning… oh, and the seat.”

Dax frowned.

I blinked. “You took out his seat?”

Freak smirked. “Yeah, yeah. Instead, we re-welded the pieces to install it as a standing platform.” He patted Turnpike’s chest cavity. “Go on, take a look.”

Dax climbed up and peered inside. Even from my angle, I could see a crazy maze of exposed wires and rough spot-welding. But at the center, where a pilot’s chair should’ve been, was a vertical slab bolted with a safety harness.

“I know it don’t look like much yet,” Freak admitted, “but the straps’ll hold you in place—so you won’t actually have to stand. Think of it more like…” he waggled his fingers, “floatin’ with style.”

Dax grinned. “Now you’re talkin’ my language. I wasn’t too keen on being strapped in a chair.”

“The controls,” Freak continued, “have been rerouted to a pair of boots and gloves.”

Nibbles hopped up onto Turnpike’s shoulder plate and swung her legs over the side, chewing on a half-eaten candy bar that had been jutting out of her pocket.

“I’ve got ‘em wired to follow your motions,” she explained, mouth half-full. “Movements get sent through a relay to the main CPU. It’s not perfect, but we’ll work out the kinks once you try it.”

Dax grinned even wider. “So I can actually grapple in this thing?”

Nibbles nodded, biting off another piece of candy. “Should be able to. We’ll have to test it, but I think you could roll, punch, kick. Don’t know how natural it’ll feel, though. Wouldn’t count on doing what you can in your own skin.”

Dax jabbed Alhannah playfully. “Why can’t we do this for Wendell? If we make it less complicated, he could—”

“He could what?” Alhannah cut him off, folding her arms. “Use his in-depth knowledge of combat to compensate? He doesn’t have any fighting skills to fall back on.” She looked at me and scowled in frustration. “Why don’t you just…take a break, Wendell. Maybe we’re pushing too hard.”

I just nodded and walked away.

By the time dinner was ready, no one had seen me all afternoon.

Chuck was talking to himself—and losing the argument by the sound of it—while Lili was busy helping him in Morty’s kitchen. They were both cooking up a storm, while the tinkerer and Deloris set the table.

Lili set a large salad bowl on the table. She paused and noticed me sitting with my hands in my lap, waiting. “Why were you in the storage room all day?”

I looked up, suddenly aware that everyone’s attention had shifted to me. Truth was, I hadn’t even realized how long I’d been in there. “I was playing a video game,” I admitted, picking up a spoon in one hand, a fork in the other. Alhannah and Dax were so experienced in fighting, they could probably use these utensils as weapons. I set the spoon down and pulled my plate closer. “I guess I got a little lost in it.”

Dax snorted. “Lost is right. I had to search half the warehouse to find you.”

I shrugged, pushing my fork through the salad. “I was concentrating so hard I barely noticed your footsteps. Playing helped take my mind off things.”

Dax leaned forward. “Yeah? And what exactly were you playing?”

Setting my fork down, I leaned back into my chair and looked Dax straight in the face. “I thought learning how to pilot the S.L.A.G. would be easy. I mean, it’s just a machine, right? But the controls are… weird. Unnatural. At least to me, anyway. I can’t get it to work.”

Alhannah’s expression softened, but she didn’t say anything.

I ran a hand through my hair. “So I found this game that the TNT crew brought with them. They play it to wind down, and Freak said I could give it a go. ‘Dance of War’ I think it’s called. You play a warrior knight, fighting monsters. It’s not the same as a S.L.A.G., but… the way you have to move in the game, the way I react—it made sense to me.”

Dax smirked. “Oh yeah? What happens in the game?”

I hesitated.

“Wendell, I’m glad you got some time off and found a way to vent a little. I’m serious. What happens in the game? I’m interested.”

I nodded, keeping my attention on Dax. “I was deep in a grove at night, and these creatures came to my camp. They appear from all sides, in waves of six NPCs. They’re hunched, like wild men, all fur and claws. I had to block one, stab another under the ribs—then another would lunge at me, and I had to spin out of the way. When I noticed them closing in, I dropped to one knee and spun in the opposite direction, cutting through their legs. Took them out, one by one.”

Dax raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

I nodded. “Yeah. My timing had to be perfect. If I missed a block, I was dead. If I stepped too slow, they’d rip me apart. Not sure they’d approve of the violence level of graphics back home. But I wasn’t thinking about it—I was just moving. Reacting.”

Dax was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at Alhannah, then back at me.

Then he laughed.

“What?” I asked, confused.

He just shook his head, still grinning. “I think I got an idea.”

Nibbles flipped up the visor on her head. “Ok, I’ve completely redone the system. Socket reshaped the dash, and then I modeled the controllers after the game console you gave me. Ready to give it a go?”

Alhannah nudged me in the back.

“Uh…yeah—sure!” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Nibbles wiped the sugar drizzle on the side of her mouth with the back of her welding glove. “Well?”

I jumped forward. “Oh! Sorry…you mean now?”

“Duh.”

“Right,” I muttered and scrambled up onto Gnolaum’s chest. Lowering myself into the cockpit, I strapped into the new seat.

Hmmph.

It was surprisingly comfy.

The chair had more room, now that the main dashboard was smaller. It supported my weight rather than engulfing me. “And you say this works just like Dance of War?”

Nibbles nodded. “Nat and Cryo broke down the code and reworked it to mimic the knight character you enjoyed playing. So, if it works—you should be able to move this S.L.A.G. by matching the controls you used for the character on the screen.”

Cooool.

I pressed a button and sealed the latch.

Staring down at the power switch, I hesitated.

Ok, Wendell—you’ve been willing and eager to do something right, so let’s knock this one out of the park for a change, alright?

Right. Here goes… everything.

I pushed the starter.

Gnolaum came to life. The engine, set deep in the back of the torso, hummed—the light vibration resonating through the chair.

So far, so good.

“Righteo. Let’s take this baby for a spin.”

Gripping the joystick on the dashboard with one hand, I lightly rested my other fingers on the buttons. “Uh, Nibbles?” I spoke through the microphone.

“Yeah?” answered a crackly voice.

“What are these other buttons for? The ones above the joystick? Those weren’t in the game.”

“Oh, don’t worry about those—they’re not hooked up to anything yet. But we wanted to have room for some goodies if we decided to come up with something. Now get off your butt!”

“You got it.” Holding down the first button and pushing the stick forward, the S.L.A.G. slowly got to its feet.

“It’s working,” muttered Alhannah, stunned.

“It’s WORKING!” cheered Dax, and all the TNT crew cheered with him.

Gnolaum took a few steps, turned,…and sprinted at the bay doors.

“It’s a malfunction!” Dax yelled.

“HIT THE KILL SWITCH!” Alhannah screamed.

At less than a foot from the impact, Gnolaum skidded to a stop.

Slowly standing to its full height, I rotated the chest cavity around 180 degrees.

My laughter poured out of the speakers and echoed through the hangar.

“It’s clobbering time!”

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Want to start at the beginning? Grab yourself a copy of book one in the Chronicles of Hero series!

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