Armored, German style

Usage examples of panzer.

Cowboy watches the insides of his skull blaze with incandescent light, the liquid-crystal data matrices of the panzer molding themselves to the configuration of his mind.

He can see around the panzer a full 360 degrees, and there are other boards in his strange mental space for engine displays and the panzer systems.

Robot harvesters sweep through the fields, standing like stately alien sentinels in pools of brilliant light, moving alone, unable to detect the panzer as it sweeps across the land.

In the deep violet shadow of some crumbling grain silos near Gridley the panzer sweeps out of the darkness and scares the bejesus out of the sleeping kid in the cab of the fuel truck.

He slows down the lunging panzer and dives over the banks of the South Grand.

The panzer is into Johnson County before Cowboy detects a radar boring toward him from the east, low enough to be attached to an aircraft.

As the indicators max out, Cowboy looses a radar decoy missile and kicks the panzer into a shuddering left turn, its starboard side scraping soil as the panzer mashes its cushion down.

The panzer emerges into a clearing, where a metal maintenance shack rusts on its slab of concrete, and in that brief moment Cowboy fires a chaff rocket straight up and dives among the alloy trees once more.

A snarl from his throat echoes the amplified roar of the combustion chambers, and the panzer gouges earth as it spins right, toward the oncoming southern radar source.

Cowboy turns his own radar off to discourage homing missiles and navigates on his visual sensors alone, his mind making lightning decisions, neurotransmitters clattering against his headswitches like hail, the interface encompassing the whole flashing universe, the panzer and its systems, the corn thundering under the armored skirts, the blithering chaff, the two hostile privateers burning out of the night.

The panzer is trying to turn on a reverse camber, skidding on a bed of corn silk as gravity and momentum try to turn it over.

The panzer hurls itself above the rise again and skates along the edge of the red glare cast by the scattered chopper, heading for the spire of a silo in the distance.

The smartest thing for the privateer to do is to keep the panzer in sight and guide others in without risking itself.

Carefully, with gentle precision, he shoulders aside the heavy double doors and guides the panzer into the concrete-walled barn.

The engines cycle from murmur to thunder to shriek, and Cowboy can see the techs stand for a moment of frozen horror as the panzer lunges from the trees, mashing down a fence like an armored cyclone, a piece of roaring mechanical vengeance straight from the Inferno, and then the men in coveralls scatter, crying warning.