Resist the Red Battlenaut (10 page)

 

"Scott!" Abby was hollering over the comm. "I said
get moving
. Lead us to the Reds!"

Scott was still in a daze, still staring at Donna's zeroed-out vital signs. She'd been his best friend since he'd joined up with the Diamondbacks; he still couldn't believe she was gone.

"Come on, Scott!" said Abby. "We still can't
see
these damn things, and we need to extricate the pilots and salvage what we can!"

Scott shook his head to try to clear it. He'd lost friends in battle many times before; he damn well knew he needed to shrug it off and act like a professional.

Still, the thought of Donna's lifeless body wedged in the cockpit of her crumpled Battlenaut kept him frozen in place. "What about..." Back on the
Sun Tzu
, he hadn't wanted to get involved with her, but now... "What about Donna?"

Just as he said it, he heard a soft beeping sound. His eyes flew back to the holo readouts, and he saw something he'd thought he might never see again.

Donna's vitals were back on the board and slowly rising.

"Scratch that!" he said. "She's still alive!"

"I've already called for an evac," said Abby. "Now let's stay on task! Where are the Reds we took down? Are they still armed and mobile?"

Switching back to all-business mode, Scott peered at the feeds. Both Reds were still down and smoking. "No movement at all, but I can't tell if their weapons are still active."

"What about the pilots?" said Abby.

"Unknown," said Scott. "I see no one emerging from the wreckage."

"Then let's get going," said Abby. "Quit pissing around here."

"Yes, sir." Scott headed for the nearest Red, the one at two o'clock. Meanwhile, he kept one eye on Donna's vitals, watching as they slowly crept upward.

When he got close to the Red, he moved more cautiously. He knew the armor could still be deadly; even if the pilot were incapacitated, booby traps and self-destructs could still lurk within...especially given the high level of secrecy demonstrated by the Reds' creators so far.

As Scott prowled alongside the toppled armor, Abby and Trane stayed close, with the rest of the squad not far behind. Everyone seemed subdued, though they'd just defeated two Red Battlenauts, as if Donna's takedown had knocked the wind out of their sails.

"So it's right here?" said Abby.

"Yes," said Scott.

"Can we retrieve the pilot?" said Abby.

"I don't know." Scott made his way to the Red's upper body, trying to get a look at the cockpit, but his Battlenaut wasn't tall enough. Fortunately, he had a way to change that. "Frank. Activate beanstalk function."

"Beanstalk function is available in armor's current configuration," said Frank. "Height?"

"Keep going until I say stop," said Scott.

With that, his Battlenaut's legs started growing, lifting the torso into the air. Within seconds, Scott was high enough to look down at the Red's cockpit with his cameras. "Stop," he said, at which point Frank made the legs stop growing. "Cockpit's still sealed. The cowling's damaged, but unbroken." In other words, the pilot was still inside.

"Pilot must be unconscious," said Trane. "Otherwise, he'd have ejected by now."

"You'll have to cut him out of there, Scott," said Abby.

Just as she said it, Scott heard the muffled pops of explosive bolts blowing, and the cockpit zoomed up out of its socket in the Red Battlenaut's head. It flew skyward before he could do a thing to stop it, disappearing into the clouds far above.

"Mother-fluxer!" shouted Scott. "He just ejected! The cockpit's already gone sub-orbital."

"Damnit," said Abby.

"Should we contact the
Sun Tzu
?" said Balko. "Tell them to intercept?"

"Negative," said Scott. "They won't be able to see it any better than you can."

"All right then." Abby drew and released a deep breath. "We'd better get the other one before
he
gets away, too!"

Scott was disappointed at losing the pilot, but not for long. Watching the feeds at over twice his normal height, he spotted something in the distance--something that demanded his attention.

He saw light glinting off metal...the manufactured metal of something not native to Shard. And it was moving toward them fast, storming across the silver floor of the valley.

"I see the third Red Battlenaut," he said. "The one that didn't land with the others. It's on its feet and coming this way."

"Right," said Abby. "Then you need to
move
. Get your ass over to the other wreckage and cut out the pilot before he ejects."

"But what about the incoming Red?" said Scott.

"Call coordinates as soon as you can!" said Abby. "Now
go
!"

"Deactivate beanstalk!" Scott ordered Frank.

"Deactivating," said Frank, as the Battlenaut's legs shortened and its torso dropped.

"Now I want you to
run
," said Scott. "Maximum speed. Bearing one three niner--the location of the other cloaked target we were shooting at."

"If you say so," said Frank.

Scott stole a glance at Donna's vital signs and smiled tightly. They were low as hell but steady; she was hanging on. Now if she could just make it a little longer.

Scott's Battlenaut broke into a run, charging toward the other smoking wreckage. Its long strides carried it quickly across the valley, even as the third Red continued its approach.

If the Red kept going at its current speed, Scott guessed it would arrive in two or three minutes, max...so time was of the essence. Before the Red got within shooting range, Scott needed to extract and lock down the crashed pilot, then turn his full attention to the rest of the squad. Since none of the others could see the Red, he was their only chance at fighting it effectively.

"Status!" said Abby.

"Coming up on the wreckage." At the most, Scott was three strides from the downed Battlenaut--close enough to see that the cockpit was still sealed and in place. "Incoming Red is half a klick out, coming in at bearing..." He checked the grid overlay on the rightside feed. "...one seven six." He checked readouts and did some quick mental math. "ETA two point five minutes."

"You heard the man," Abby told the squad. "Form on me and take aim at bearing one seven six."

"Roger that," said Trane. "Proceeding to aim at thin air, as usual."

As the squad moved into formation, Scott reached the downed Red. Fortunately, it lay on its side, with the cockpit wedged against the ground so the pilot wouldn't be able to eject if he tried. That was good news, unless he had orders to self-destruct to avoid capture...in which case, Scott would lose his prisoner and maybe get blown to smithereens himself.

In other words, he still needed to move fast. "I need a cutter," he said. "Form a power saw, Frank."

"Already in process." Frank's prognostication software was amazing. The A.I. had anticipated Scott's need and moved to fulfill it before he could even voice a request.

The wireframe figure showed one of his Battlenaut's arms turning into a huge chain saw. On the frontside feed, Scott could see the saw spin into action.

"Frank, I need you to cut the cockpit free," said Scott, "and disable any explosive bolts."

"Further guidance will be necessary," said Frank. "I am unable to see the cockpit you are referring to...or anything else, for that matter."

"Understood." Scott stared at the frontside feed, judging the position of the cockpit. "Extend chain saw at a 320 degree angle. Maximum extension 1.5 meters from torso."

"Affirmative," said Frank.

Watching the frontside feed, Scott saw the chainsaw align just as he'd instructed at the corner of the cockpit cowling. "Move the saw forward approximately 30 centimeters and begin cutting."

"Yes, Solomon."

The feed showed the chainsaw pushing forward and biting into the socket around the cockpit. "Move the saw forward another 30 centimeters. Cut from right to left, moving along a 45-degree inclination."

The saw chewed through the metal linkages holding the cockpit in place on one side, spitting out showers of sparks.

"Solomon," said Frank. "I am still functionally blind, and I have no access to my sensors...but I seem to have a rudimentary awareness of touch. I can feel the metal as I cut it--just barely."

"That's great, Frank!" said Scott. "Use it to guide you! Make sure you cut the explosive bolts before they can blow."

"Yes, Solomon." Frank's cutting speeded up. At the rate he was going, it would only take another moment to free the enclosed pod.

Meanwhile, the third Red continued its approach, stomping toward the squad with its forward cannons charged and ready. It was maybe a minute and a half away.

Scott ground his teeth as he looked from one feed to the other, dividing his attention between the cockpit cutting and the approaching Red. It was going to be damn close.

"Scott!" said Abby. "Status!"

"Cockpit's almost out," said Scott. "Red's almost here. About a minute away."

"Same bearing?"

He double-checked. "Affirmative. Bearing one seven six."

"Stand by, people!" said Abby. "Prepare to fire on Scott's mark!"

Sweat trickled down Scott's back as Frank finished cutting, freeing most of the cockpit and severing the explosive bolts. The cockpit tipped toward him out of the socket--but the lower edge, which was partly wedged against the ground, remained attached. It would have to be pried the rest of the way out.

"Frank," said Scott. "Reconfigure chainsaw into a standard arm. Use both arms to break the cockpit out of its socket."

"Describe the cockpit's location, Solomon," said Frank.

"Same as before, but the top edge is leaning sixty centimeters out of the socket."

Frank reached out with both hands but missed the cockpit rim. His fingers closed--but Scott saw they had closed around nothing.

"Five centimeters lower," said Scott. "Hurry!"

This time, Frank's hands clamped around the edge of the cockpit. "Did I get it?"

"Yes!" said Scott. "Pull it out of there!"

The cockpit was wedged against the ground, stuck in place by the weight of the Red Battlenaut pressing down on it.

"Status!" said Abby.

Scott checked the feed. "Thirty seconds!" It was a guess, but not far off. The incoming Red was almost upon them.

Meanwhile, Frank gave the cockpit a hard tug, and it came free in his hands. "I have succeeded, haven't I, Solomon?"

"You got it!" said Scott. "Now just don't let go! And get back to the rest of the squad
right now
."

His Battlenaut started running, clutching the cockpit pod against its chest with both hands. "Are we heading for another firefight? If so, which weapons would you like me to prep?"

"Surprise me! Aim at bearing one seven six!" said Scott, and then he shouted over the comm at the squad. "Diamondbacks, fire! It's right on top of you!"

The squad opened fire on the bearing he'd called, filling the air with a wave of slugs, lasers, drone pods, and sonics. It was enough to make the Red stop forty meters out and return fire. Blasts of golden energy leaped from its forward cannons, blazing toward the squad.

"Incoming!" shouted Scott as his Battlenaut quickly closed the distance. "Energy beams at eleven and one o'clock!"

As he said it, the Red's twin blasts flashed down and made contact--one with the ground, barely missing Khalil as he took a step forward, and the other with Balko. If it had been a combined beam, Balko might have suffered the same fate as Donna--but the single stream of power wasn't enough to blow him off the battlefield. Catching the force of the strike on his chest, he staggered back two steps but didn't go down. If anything, he fought harder, growing new guns on his shoulders and doubling the volume of ordnance he put in the air.

It looked like the Diamondbacks were holding their own. They still couldn't see a visible trace of the Red, but they were standing their ground against it.

At that point, Scott reached the action. His Battlenaut roared up, carrying the captured cockpit against its chest, and opened fire with the latest weapon grown by Frank--a belly-mounted flamethrower.

"Dragon's Breath." That's what Frank called it when Scott asked what the hell it was. "A stream of nuclear fire produced by the armor's fusion power plant. In effect, a miniature solar flare."

Scott watched the forward feed as tongues of tightly focused nuclear flame lashed out at the Red. They didn't interrupt the flow of golden beams from its forward energy cannons--but they did leave scorch marks that Scott could see between blasts. Maybe, if he kept up the bombardment, the Dragon's Breath would do more than scorch the Red's paint job.

"Are we having an impact?" said Frank. "Is the Dragon's Breath meeting your expectations?"

"Just keep it up," said Scott. "Keep firing at those exact coordinates."

"I will do so," said Frank, "but keep in mind, prolonged use of this weapon will affect power consumption required for other functions."

More fiery tongues lashed from the flamethrower, further singeing the Red's hull. At the same time, the Diamondbacks kept up their barrage, blasting away with slugs, lasers, missiles, and sonics. The Red responded by continuing to comb its energy beams through the squad, jarring the CORE Battlenauts without knocking any down.

"Dragon's Breath is scorching the Red's armor," Scott reported over the comm. "Suggest everyone switch from current ordnance."

"What the hell," said Abby. "Let's do it."

The Diamondbacks stopped shooting as they reconfigured their Battlenauts to fire Dragon's Breath instead of conventional ammo, missiles, lasers, or sonics. It was then, during that brief letup when Scott's flamethrower was the only CORE weapon still firing, that the Red suddenly stopped shooting and turned away from the squad. Instead of facing the Diamondbacks, it seemed to zero in on Scott's Battlenaut.

Which didn't make a damn bit of difference to Scott. He kept pouring on the Dragon's Breath, pumping superheated nuclear fire against the Red's chest--and he started seeing results. A patch of the enemy's armor began to melt under the bombardment, oozing down slowly in bright crimson globs.

Just then, the rest of the squad finished reconfiguring and unleashed their own Dragon's Breath onslaught. Five new streams of blistering flame exploded against the Red, washing over its upper body in a blinding torrent.