T-34's Rule and Boys Drool!

Alright,

so I'm supposed to be writing a space opera...

But I got distracted by a conversation with a fellow author on twitter and this is the result of my distractions. Let me know if this is something you wish to see continued, or I'll just throw random chapters at it here and there. Speaking of chapters, I'll probably be revisiting Kevin's Kitty Rescue and Beauty and the Beast in the near future. I'm pretty much sold on I'm Home being retired, I can't see myself continuing that story without some inspiration turning up, and it's just not happening. Part of learning to write, is learning to only hit publish on stories you can actually finish and I'm Home is just so far out of sight I have no idea what to do with it. Sorry about that...

Otherwise, don't forget to rate, comment and check my Bio for my details!

Enjoy!

Chapter One

This was bad. Very, very bad. In a long list of things that could have gone wrong, this was probably one of the worst. But nine-year-old Akira couldn't help but grin at the look on her Papa's face. He was a firm man on television. But in real life, he was a doting father. Reaching for the bowl of popcorn, Akira took yet another mouthful, ignoring her mother's sigh.

"Akira, it's getting late."

The small girl pouted, "But mama! Papa's still playing!"

The older woman sighed, "Father's daughter."

Akira giggled, before turning back to the television. Papa had gotten the turret repaired and the driver reversed back around the corner of the old house. As they pulled out of view, the enemy advanced. A British Cromwell rolled over the hill ahead. Papa saw it coming and started bringing the turret around. The Cromwell had seen them as well and was trying to get over the peak of the hill. Making a final adjustment, Papa checked the sight, right as the Cromwell lumbered to a stop.

BANG!

The old T-34, affectionately known as 'Henry' barked. The tank rocked back on it's suspension as the seventy-six millimeter cannon, spat it's payload at the Cromwell. The shell carried a trail of smoke part way as it arced across the battlefield. The round slammed into the Cromwell, sending out a shower of sparks.

"It's a direct hit!" The commentator yelled. "Ol Bruce is in trouble. That was a direct strike on the gunner. He's been disabled for thirty seconds!"

Akira cheered, knocking over her bowl of popcorn. Her mother sighed, grabbing the rest of the bowl. "Really daughter? This is not how a lady should behave!"

"Sorry Mama," Akira pouted cutely until her mother turned away.

She watched as Papa's team member reloaded the cannon with a second shot. As he did so, Papa readjusted his aim. Akira was already getting good. The camera changed to the aiming reticle, to see exactly where her Papa was aiming.

"Right side, lower ammo rack," Akira guessed.

BANG!

The second round went off with a cloud of smoke, slamming into the Cromwell. This time, as the shower of sparks went off, a second lit up, blowing red and green sparks high into the sky.

"HE'S DONE IT!" The commentator cried.

Akira jumped up and did a quick dance. Her mother watched on with a small scowl. Her mother really did love her father. But she didn't approve of their daughter taking after his hobbies. In the age of advancement, someone came up with a great idea. Convert old World War Two era tanks, into a sport. The aim was simple. They were fitted with sensors to determine impacts, with account of both direction and penetration. This was calculated by a computer installed in the free space where the old gas engine used to be. The tanks were all converted to electric and ran on batteries. With all the free space inside, they could have things like air-conditioning and proper food storage for longer games and proper seats with safety-harnesses. Sometimes they did marathons, where dozens or even hundreds of tanks would do battle and the comforts made it easier.

This is where Akira's father had gotten into the sport. He was a historian at the local university. As such, he had contacts and found himself an old blown out shell of a 1942 T-34. With his friend and now tank driver, they towed the shell back to the university. With the help of the engineering department, they did a special course on mechanical components for the students. Twelve months later, Akira's Papa entered his first competition. Akira's mother was unsure about the sport at first, fearing injuries or death. But the rounds they fired were mostly a rubber block with a graphite tip. The rounds were lighter than real shells, but the charge was modified to ensure they fired at the same approximate speed of the regular shells. The benefit being, perfect safety for the crew inside the tank, and a bright flash of sparks if a shell hit.

On impact, the computer's sensors would determine if the round had enough mass and velocity at the angle of impact to pierce the armour. It would quickly calculate the damage it would do to the internals of the tank and determine if components would have been damaged or entirely destroyed. To make things more interesting, each crewmember wore special suits that would cause their joints to lock up if they were 'hit.' Altogether, Akira's mother was placated she wasn't about to lose her husband and she watched with no small level of discomfort as their tank was peppered with dozens of shells in their abysmal first attempt.

Ten years later, Akira was her Papa's number one fan, as they pushed through the finals. With the Cromwell down, it was one less threat. But Papa's team members weren't in position. Their digital map showed the two team members that followed him into that section of the town were both down. To make matters worse, he was surrounded on both sides.

"Come on Papa," Akira chanted.

Her Papa seemed to have the same awful realisation that everyone else knew. He was in trouble. Giving a few quick orders, the T-34 lurched forward, pressing onward alone. Akira bit her lip, knowing that any advance was fraught with danger. There was simply no way to know what was around the nearest corner, unless an enemy had been tagged by a friendly. Of course, Akira could see from the television that if he continued to follow that road, he was going to come face to face with an M5A1. The lighter M5A1 was moving at top speed, closing in on where it had seen the Cromwell take a hit. But it wasn't expecting to round the bend, face to face with a T-34. The M5A1 slammed the breaks, skidding sideways as it desperately tried to keep the turret pointed at the T-34. Papa grinned as he fired the main gun.

BANG!

The shell sparked as it slammed into the broadside of the enemy tank. The shower of sparks was a good indicator for the solid hit. Akira could see that the shell had taken out the driver and co-driver, while severely damaging the transmission. Or, at least that's what the computer calculated. Reality, the driver and co-driver were both locked and unable to move for thirty seconds. The transmission needed a reset switch to be hit manually by one of the drivers, to initiate a 'repair' that would take a further thirty seconds. Until then, the tank was stuck stationery and sideways in the middle of the road.

BANG!

The M5A1 fired it's main gun at the T-34. Akira gasped in horror as the round hurtled towards her Papa's tank. But she cheered as it deflected off the sharp angled armour of the Russian tank. It was a good thing about the low weight of those rubber rounds. They lost momentum shortly after exceeding their maximum recommended range and started to tumble. It was a design feature to prevent accidents. A tumbling round would quickly fall and hit the ground, without travelling well out of the battleground and possibly through someone's window at home. But Papa didn't flinch. He lined up the second shot with the ammo racks conveniently exposed on the sides. As the loader pushed in a second shell...

BANG!

Akira cheered as the second set of green and red sparks went up. The pyrotechnics were used to ensure that when a tank had been 'destroyed' it was clearly seen. Secondarily to that, it now appeared on the electronic map in front of the tank commander. In this case, with a T-34, the commander WAS the gunner, and not a third position, like some larger tanks.

The television shut off at that point, making Akira jump up. Whirling around, there was her mother, holding the remote.

"Mama!"

"Enough," She sighed. "It's time for bed, go brush your teeth."

Akira pouted, "Please Mama?"

But it was useless and she was sent to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth, Akira imagined herself behind the controls of a T-34 Turret. She imagined herself in place of her Papa, lining up the killshot on a Panzer III. Rinsing her mouth, Akira got into her pyjamas and gave her mother a kiss goodnight, after being told in no uncertain terms she could see her father in the morning. So with a pout, Akira crawled into her bed, tucking her favourite teddy beside her.

***

The funeral was a week later. Kim Yu, aka, Akira's Papa, upon winning the finals, suffered a sudden heart attack. There was little anyone could do. It seemed he had a genetic defect that had gone unknown and untreated until it presented itself during the competition. Akira's mother forbade her from watching the recording of what had happened.

As the most famous family in their small town, the local council gave special permission to lead the hearse through town with a tank escort. When they put out the call for tank crews to attend, they expected two or three to respond. Akira was too sad to admire the eighty strong tank parade, led by a wreath covered T-34. Her eyes were on the hearse. Her Papa's friend, the driver came and said a few words she never properly heard. The rest of their team invited Akira and her mother to a celebration, but neither of them wanted to go. And at the end of the day, the T-34, still with its wreaths, was reversed into Akira's Papa's work shed, and the doors were closed, signalling the end of something wonderful.

***

Ten Years Later

"What do you mean you quit?!" Ceejay yelled into her phone, earning several reproachful looks from the other hopeful competitors. "We don't even have a tank!"

"I told you not to get your hopes up," Bellinda sighed, before giving a few of the creepier looking guys glares.

"You suck!" Ceejay snapped, hanging up and stuffing her phone in her pocket. "Apparently the tank she offered wasn't even her tank. When she went to ask her brother for it today, he laughed at her."

"All that training," Mel groaned.

"Ah!" Ceejay stamped her foot. "Not only do we need a new tank, but we'd need a new gunner as well!"

"And a commander," Mel nodded along. "Unless it's a smaller tank."

"A Stuart might work," Bellinda said softly. "It only takes four, but I'm not the best shot."

Ceejay patted the large woman on the shoulder. "It's alright girlfriend-"

"No," Bellinda shook her head. "It's not okay. Those guys always laugh at us when we want to join a team... This was our break."

The three ladies took a moment to hug it out. There were a few snide comments from the male teams around them. But they ignored them as they quietly left the sign-in area.

"What do we do now?" Ceejay grumbled, kicking a small rock.

"I don't know about you, but I could blow off some steam," Bellina said. "I'm going to the arcade, then I'm gonna get a beer."

The three ladies exchanged glances for a moment, "Deal!"

***

Akira lined up the shot. Aiming straight for the flat plate on the front of the Panzer III. It was a little narrow to target at over one-kilometer, but she had confidence in herself. The only issue she had was the damned autoloader. These simulations were designed for beginners. Without a gunner, the game just ran on a pre-programmed timer to activate the cannon. But, after the twelve second timer ran over, she got the green light.

BANG

The Panzer didn't know what hit it. The shell slammed into the center of the flat plate, punching through and detonating inside the enemy tank. The simulation showed the tank exploding from the inside, so violently the turret flew off.

"Got him!" Thomas cheered.

"Don't cheer yet," Akira grinned despite herself. "See that green house halfway up the hill on the right. Go park behind it facing to the left."

Akira activated the binoculars and checked out the immediate area. There was nothing out there as far as she could see. But that meant little. Going by the scores on each team, she was the last alive on her side. But there were two enemies remaining and she had no idea where they were. With her bff driving, Akira was happy he followed instructions, even if he wasn't the best driver. He was still better than the AI they had installed. The main issue they had was the loader. Sure, it made it easy to supplement a lack of crew, but it took so damned long. Twelve seconds per shot, where a trained loader could cut that down to three or four seconds in a pinch. Because of the advantages, those with full crews usually did better on the simulations. Akira's accurate and quick firing was the only reason they'd made it this far. She remembered all her lessons from her Papa. Priorities were; Kill shot, gunner, reloader, driver, co-driver in that order. But the situation changed on a dime. Sometimes a good broadside into the engine compartment was enough to stop a moving tank. But not enough to kill it outright. But not taking the shot, would let the tank escape.

Akira shook her head, getting herself back into the game. "Thomas, nose out around the corner, make sure it's far enough I can shoot. Then reverse back in."

Thomas nodded, before inching the tank out around the corner. This is where his skill level was out. He was good enough to drive, but not with the fine controls. It would have been better to quickly dart out, stop and reverse back in. But he'd be too jerky, and knew it. So that left them inching around the corner.

CRASH!

"That's the right track!" Thomas yelled.

Akira took a glance at the damage indicator. Sure enough, the right track was destroyed. It'd take time to repair it. "Thomas, left stick forward, swing us around the corner and get me on target!"

Thomas nodded quickly and complied. The tank lurched around with it's one good track, bringing the turret into view. Spotting a Japanese Ho-Ni I Akira's blood went cold. Being stuck in front of a tank killer was always a bad idea. Taking aim, she lined up the first shot with the gunner. If she could take them out, the Ho-Ni I would be forced to back off. Taking a deep breath...

BANG!

***

Bellinda led the way into the arcade. It was a popular hangout for the younger members of the tank core. There were simulators to help newbie crews hone their skills. This is where she and the others had decided against trying to play with the boys, and instead formed their own crew. Then Stephanie had bailed on signup day. Bellinda shook her head.They were better than half the guys in this place. All they needed was a decent gunner, commander and a tank.

"What's that crowd watching?" Mel asked.

Bellinda glanced up, seeing the crowd around one of the simulators. It was just two people, and by the looks of things, they were doing pretty well. Only two in a crew and in the final four.

"Come on, let's watch for a bit," Bellinda said.

The others nodded and they moved as one to watch. Now, you'd think that Bellinda's six-foot four-inch frame would have been enough to get people out of the way. But you'd be wrong.

"Excuse me!" Ceejay sung, firmly shoving people aside for her larger companion to make her way through. Mel just hung behind and slipped through at the rear. She was smart enough not to get in the way.

Once up close, they ignored the grumbles and complaints as they got a look at the pair in the simulator. The driver was a young man, blonde and... Clearly he wasn't particularly good. A decent driver could get a crew out of trouble, so it was important to have a good one. Even if Ceejay was a little nuts, she'd scraped them through the simulators without too much trouble. She also had a good feel for how hard to push things, to keep the turret steady when they needed to fire on the move.

Speaking of, Bellinda let out a loud cheer as the gunner took out the Panzer as it came over the hill. She looked small, like a child, but there was an edge to her voice, that made her sound like a woman. Bellinda couldn't help but take an immediate interest in the smaller woman. She watched as the driver made his way over to a house and moved into a cat and mouse position. She knew immediately what the play was. Dart out, take a shot and reverse back into cover. It was a decent strategy, especially when on the defensive. Unfortunately, the driver was moving too slowly and Bellinda grit her teeth at the sound of the first hit. As the track fell, she watched as the young woman started calling orders. With the damage, they should have been dead in the water, but with the one working track, they forced the crippled tank around for a firing solution.

"No way," Ceejay gasped.

Bellinda just stared as the small woman took the shot, only to groan as the round bounced off the turret of the tank killer.

***

"Come on! Come ON!" Akira snapped, waiting for the reload to finish.

What she wasn't expecting was the sudden appearance of a dark skinned amazon to jump into the loader's seat. In a flash, the large woman grabbed one of the simulated shells out of the floor storage and slid it into the breach. Slapped the level closed, what should have been a twelve second wait, was only six.

"Akira?" Thomas called.

She glanced down at her driver as her heart beat a million miles and hour.

"Hey, you're loaded," the dark skinned beauty said in a voice that made Akira shiver.

But she still had a job to do. Blinking away her emotions, she took a deep breath and aimed for the lower ammo rack on the Ho-Ni I.

BANG!

The second round punched straight through, hitting the rack and detonating the tank in a single shot.

"Good shot, girly!" The amazon called, slapping Akira's shoulder.

Akira grimaced at the contact. Not that it was too hard for her liking, but because she honestly had no description for how she felt at this moment.

"Excuse me," a firm but sweet voice called.

Akira glanced down to see a curvy- red-headed woman with huge tits gesturing for Thomas to vacate his seat. Beside him, a skinny blonde woman had already occupied the co-drivers position and was in the process of speeding up the repairs on the tracks.

"You got this," the dark skinned amazon said with a smile.

Akira looked at her. She was tall, far taller than the others. Well built in ways that seemed to oddly intrigue her. The woman's hair was dark, but seemed to have different colours dyed in different layers, so they shone through as her hair swayed from side to side.

"LET'S GO!" The red-head called.

Akira gripped her seat as the Tank lurched into action. This was nothing like having Thomas as driver. Thomas was shy and cautious. This woman was... Crazy... Akira flipped back to the binoculars, trying desperately to find the last enemy tank. The red-head headed straight to the enemy starting location. It was the most likely place for them to be holding out. Akira couldn't help the grin on her face as the tank crested the very hill with a burning Panzer at the top. Flying down the other side was amazing.

"This things quick, what is it?" The driver called.

"Russian 1942 T-34, just like my Papa's," Akira called, before spotting what she was looking for. "Hard right, just behind the treeline is an M4, don't let him get a broadside on us!" Akira snapped.

The driver slammed the right stick back, yanking the tank around to face the direction indicated. Just as a shell flew past on their left, whistling as it went.