Read Resist the Red Battlenaut Online
Authors: Robert T. Jeschonek
Resist the Red Battlenaut (15 page)
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*****
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Scott lay in bed--his own, assigned bunk, not Donna's--and tried to force himself to sleep. The bunkroom was quiet for once, no Trane or Abby present to snore up a storm...but he still couldn't manage to doze off.
He couldn't stop thinking about Cairn Barrie and the conversation they'd had. It seemed unreal, like something out of a dream--something he couldn't seem to wrap his head around.
The dead boy had returned...just as Scott himself had come back to life so many years ago. The two of them had a deep connection, forged in Iridess Chasm and strengthened by sacrifice on Penitent Peak. But now they were working against each other in a time of war, battling for the highest stakes imaginable.
How exactly had it come to this? How had Cairn ended up with the Reds? What did he know that he wasn't telling? Scott wished he knew.
Cairn seemed committed to the Red cause, whatever that was. So why had he given up Oberon? What was his plan?
Even as Scott lay in his bunk, the
Sun Tzu
was racing toward Oberon at top speed. What would the Diamondbacks find when they arrived? What were their odds of success when they still hadn't managed to penetrate the Reds' cloaking technology?
There were too many questions. They whirled through his mind like spinning plates, keeping him awake even though he was physically exhausted.
The only comforting thoughts he had were about Donna and the way she'd squeezed his hand. Finally, he had genuine hope for her recovery; though her condition hadn't changed since the squeeze, he believed in his heart that it was only a matter of time until she awoke.
What would happen after that, he couldn't say. He'd had some doubts earlier about where they might be headed, but none of that would matter unless Donna recovered.
Meanwhile, he had to help the team get ready for Oberon. There was so much work to do, he felt guilty about being in his rack at all.
So what the flux? Why keep wasting time if the chances of falling asleep were next to nil?
Rolling over, Scott swung his feet off the bunk and dropped them to the cold floor. Rising from his rack, he yawned and stretched, then gathered his razor and towel and headed off to the showers. Perseid had said the debrief was set for oh-seven-hundred hours, which was two and a half hours away. Plenty of time to get ready and get coffee.
At least he wouldn't be late.
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"You appear to be one of a kind, Corporal Scott," said Doctor Beauchamp, kicking off the debriefing. "Among the crew of this ship, that is."
Scott, who was seated at the long table in the conference room, lowered the coffee cup from which he'd been about to drink. All seven people in the room were staring at him with keen interest at that moment.
"When faced with a Red Battlenaut or Red personnel, you exhibit a unique response." Beauchamp touched the edge of the table, and holographic images sprang to life--a chart on either side of her, each with a jagged line plotted from left to right. "This is one example. Here we see the response of a member of the squad to the appearance of a Red Battlenaut on the surface of Shard." She gestured at the chart to the left of her. "The response is mapped as a combination of EEG, EKG, galvanic skin response, microbiome fluctuations, and other measurements." She gestured at the chart on the right. "And
this
is Corporal Scott's response."
Scott stared. The jagged line on his chart was clearly elevated, running much higher than the line on the chart of the other squad member.
"Holy plang," said Abby. "Big difference."
Beauchamp turned and traced the line on the anonymous squad member's chart. "As you can see, the response remains depressed throughout the encounter. All indicators are low, suggesting diminished stress to the subject's systems." Turning to Scott's chart, she traced the line there, lingering at the apex. "Meanwhile, Corporal Scott underwent considerable stress, reaching a peak far above the high point of the other subject."
"Which tells us what, exactly?" said Khalil.
"I'm getting to that." Beauchamp touched the table's edge, and the charts were replaced. "Here we have Corporal Scott's response at a different moment." She gestured at the chart on her right. "And this is the aggregate response of the rest of the squad." She traced the plotted line on the chart on her left. "Again, the squad's response suggests a lack of sensory stimulation. Corporal Scott's response, however, is consistently elevated." She ran her finger along the line on Scott's chart and nodded. "This definitively shows that there is a difference in how sensory information is received and processed between Corporal Scott and the others."
"And you've figured out what caused this difference?" said Major Perseid.
Beauchamp touched the table, and the charts went away. "We performed a multiphasic analysis of Corporal Scott, mapping all levels of his physiology from anatomical to subatomic to quantum." She touched the table, and a 3-D wireframe figure of a man appeared on her right, surrounded by text and data. "We did the same for all other members of the expedition to Shard." This time, six wireframe figures appeared on her left--four male, two female.
"But you did a full workup on Corporal Scott before the mission," said Rexis. "And you compared it to the rest of the crew at that time."
"Correct." Beauchamp smiled. "But we did not have the same data at our disposal. We did not have hard numbers on physiological states during Red encounters." Beauchamp nodded. "This time, we did. Charted responses suggested directions for deeper analysis--specifically, the nervous and immune systems. Eventually, we found a concrete difference that manifested only during Red intervention--an immune reaction blocking chemical receptors in neurons associated with sensory input. Essentially, whenever the subject sees Red artifacts or personnel, a firewall in his or her brain blocks the image, effectively rendering it invisible."
"That's a pretty damn sophisticated immune response," said Feinberg.
"But what mechanism triggers it?" said Khalil. "The sight of a Red is the cue, but what reacts to that cue and switches on the firewall?"
"This." Beauchamp touched the table, and the image of a bumpy, thorny sphere appeared in front of her, big as a fist, tinted red. "A virus."
"That's impossible," said Feinberg. "Are you trying to tell us that a
virus
detects and blocks all sensory input related to the Reds?"
"Viruses
plural
." Beauchamp gestured at Trane, who sat just around the corner of the table from her. "And that is where
he
comes in."
"
Merci
, Doctor." Trane got to his feet and straightened his uniform. "Indeed, there is more than one virus at work here. The Red Battlenaut armor retrieved from Shard is coated with matrices of viral particles. After intense study, we realized that this virus becomes active in proximity to the firewall virus. It serves as a catalyst, signaling the firewall virus to trigger the immune response that blocks Red sensory input."
"Wait a minute." Khalil frowned. "That's impossible, isn't it? One virus can't signal another over a distance."
Trane thumped his fist on the table and grinned. "It can if they're
quantum entangled
."
"Seriously?" said Feinberg. "Quantum entangled viruses?"
"It works for molecules." Trane shrugged. "Why not viruses?"
Rexis narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to stare at the image of the virus. "So what you're saying is, thanks to quantum entanglement, the catalyst virus can affect the firewall virus over great distances."
"Causing the firewall virus to reconfigure itself and initiate an immune response," said Trane. "Until then, the firewall virus disguises itself as a dormant rhinovirus variant within the host."
"Rhinovirus," said Rexis. "The common cold, you mean."
Trane nodded. "Which is why it went undetected until we were able to observe its reconfigured state during Red exposure."
"So this firewall virus," said Scott. "I don't have it?"
"Correct," said Beauchamp. "But you're the only one in the squad who doesn't. Perhaps you have a natural immunity."
Scott frowned. "Then how did everyone else get it? How did the Reds manage to spread it?"
"We don't know." Beauchamp sighed. "We've just started to understand it."
"We don't know how to stop it yet, either," said Trane. "We're working to engineer a viral or nanotech-based countermeasure, but that research is still in its early stages."
Perseid got up from his chair and paced along the length of the table to where Beauchamp and Trane were standing. "I guess I don't have to tell you how soon we need a solution. We're due to arrive at Oberon in two days."
"We're aware the clock is ticking," said Beauchamp.
"God only knows what situation we're flying into," said Perseid. "Having more than one person able to see the Reds would vastly improve our odds."
"We're also continuing to work another angle that could enhance our intel," said Trane. "The DNA and RNA of the Red viral forms aren't native to Shard. We've been comparing the virus' genomes to available genetic databases to determine a likely planet of origin."
"Which could also be the Reds' planet of origin," added Beauchamp. "Or at least a scientific research hub."
Perseid nodded. "Status of that effort?"
"We've covered about 75 percent of the databases," said Trane, "with no success so far. But the A.I. is continuing to cross-check as we speak. I estimate completion in a day and a half."
"All right then," said Perseid, "but devising Red virus countermeasures is still top priority. That and extracting more intel from Cairn Barrie." He turned his gaze on Scott. "You're going back in soon, right?"
For what it's worth
, Scott wanted to say, but he just nodded. "I'll keep talking to him."
"Great," said Perseid. "Keep milking your history together, and keep him guessing. He's been throwing you off balance; now it's your turn."
"Any information could be vital," said Rexis. "Even the smallest throwaway line could turn the tide in our favor."
"Understood," said Scott.
"Okay then." Perseid clapped his hands together. "Everybody get back to work. Dismissed."
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*****
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Scott spent an hour with Donna in the medicenter, then put his CORE Battlenaut through its paces on the Training Deck to let off some steam. By the time he was done, he'd gone through five hundred rounds of dummy ammo and racked up perfect scores against every solid and holographic target generated for the exercise.
Unfortunately, he didn't feel much better when it was all over. Having memories of Iridess Chasm and Penitent Peak brought so strongly to the surface made him feel lousy. Knowing Cairn Barrie was back from the dead and holed up in a cell a few decks away stuck a black hole dead center in his belly. It was one thing to have nightmares about his experience; it was something else altogether to have the past brought to life and shoved in his face in the middle of a crisis.
He just wanted to stop thinking about it for a while, but the Training Deck exercise didn't clear his mind for long. As he climbed out of the cockpit and down the hull of his Battlenaut, the full force of memory surged back to him, rushing into every chink in the mental armor he'd tried to construct. He remembered the screams of his mother and father, the terror he'd felt as black-lipped Vore killed them with knives and dragged him away. He remembered the pain and shock of being murdered himself, beaten to death by Vore on that ledge on Penitent Peak. The sight of little Cairn tumbling off the cliff blazed in front of his inner eye as if it were happening all over again at that very moment.
He'd spent years dealing with what had happened, breaking it into manageable pieces and pushing them into boxes in his brain. Now that every box had been thrown wide open, he felt like he was teetering on the cliff again, facing a drop of epic proportions.
With a sigh, he headed for the exit, bound for another session in the lab with Trane and the others. He'd be busy enough to distract himself a little, at least until his next visit to Cairn. He just wished there'd be more to take his mind off Iridess Chasm.
As if on cue, one of the big gates leading out of the Battlenaut bays shot open in front of him, revealing a towering mass of metal.
At first, Scott thought it was one of the CORE Battlenauts...but as the armored giant stomped out of the shadows of the bay, he saw that wasn't the case at all. It was a Battlenaut, all right, but not a CORE model.
In fact, it was almost identical to his Marine Corps Mark VI Battlenaut, the one he'd lost to the Reds on Chelong III. The only major difference he could see was the color; instead of gray plating, this Battlenaut was armored in blue and silver.
Scott couldn't help smiling. The CORE Battlenauts were more advanced across the board and handled like a dream in combat--but he still had a soft spot for his Marine Corps armor. It was comparatively primitive, but it had saved his skin too many times to count and helped him dispatch a legion of enemies.
Not to mention, there was something about the lines of it. The CORE units looked sleeker and more humanoid, but this one--it was somehow more exciting. More of a classic, like a boxy old automobile compared to a modern-day no-frills personal transport.
"I'll be damned." Scott walked up to the Mark VI and ran his fingers over the side of its left ankle. "Now that's a sight for sore eyes."
The Mark VI raised the gun on its right arm and cranked off three rounds, firing slugs at a floor-mounted solid target clear across the Training Deck. All three slugs punched through the bull's eye in close formation.
"Nice shooting!" Scott raised his voice so the pilot inside the Battlenaut could hear him. "Who
needs
A.I. guided targeting with
those
guns!"
Just then, a rack of hexagonal plates in the Battlenaut's chest and abdomen folded downward, exposing the cockpit and the pilot within--none other than the ship's helmsman, Vic Fong. "That's one of the things I love about this model. It's totally hands-on."
Scott stepped back to take in the full height of the Mark VI. "There's something to be said for hands-on. You don't have to worry about your A.I. going rogue, for one thing."
"And it leaves more room for you to act on instinct, doesn't it?" said Fong. "Your reactions aren't muffled by layers of verbal commands and A.I. subroutines."
"Plus you only have to worry about trusting yourself, not a computer." Scott nodded and folded his arms over his chest. "I'd ride one into battle again in a heartbeat."
"Me, too." Fong played the armrest keypads, and the upper body of the Mark VI swiveled from side to side. "But this one's just for show, I'm afraid."
"That's too bad," said Scott.
"I'm a hobbyist." Fong played the keypads again, making the guns tilt up and down while the torso kept swiveling. "Instead of restoring antique furniture or classic automobiles, I restore classic Battlenauts."
"Great hobby." Scott grinned. "How many do you have?"
"This is the only one aboard ship," said Fong. "But I've got three more back home, including a Mark I in mint condition."
"How'd you manage that?" said Scott. "The Mark I was decommissioned twelve years ago."
"I won it." Fong's grin widened. "In a poker game."
"You're kidding!" said Scott. "A poker game with
who
? The Commonwealth Secretary of Defense?"
Fong shook his head. "Just a factory foreman from the plant where they manufactured the Mark I. He ran one last unit through the line before they retooled. Socked it away for a rainy day."
"And then he
lost
it playing
poker
?"
"What can I say? Drinking made him stupid." Fong shrugged. "And I'm a hell of a poker player. Care for a game sometime?"
"Only if you bet the Mark VI," said Scott.
"Not going to happen," said Fong.
"Can I at least take her for a spin?"
Fong thought it over. "Sure. What the hell? Just remember, you break it, you bought it." His fingers played the keypads, and the Battlenaut shifted to its knees so he could get out of the cockpit.
Before Fong could turn over the Mark VI to Scott, though, Trane's voice blared over the Training Deck PA system. "Corporal Scott, report to Lab Five. Corporal Scott, report to Lab Five immediately."
Scott clenched his jaws as the stress he'd briefly forgotten rushed back in on him. "Damnit." Seeing the Mark VI and talking to Fong had chased it away, but Trane had brought it all right back. "I have to go."
"No worries," said Fong. "I'm giving you a rain check. You'll get plenty of time behind the wheel of the Mark VI."
"Thanks." Scott smiled and headed for the door. "I just hope we won't have to wait for the end of the war to
find
that time."
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*****
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"Call your grandma!" shouted Trane as soon as Scott walked into Lab Five. "You need to
call her
right now!"
Scott frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?" Looking around the lab, he saw Abby, Khalil, and Feinberg staring back at him. They were all sitting around a holographic projection of a red letter "X" in a red circle, spinning on its Y-axis like a penny on edge.
"We've just been
data-blocked
." Trane stalked back and forth like a tiger in its cage, eyes wide and wild. "Just as we were finally making
progress
tracking the viral DNA, someone threw a
data-block
on us. Now we can't go any further down that trail!"
"Wait," said Scott. "What trail, exactly?"
"The Red firewall virus," said Khalil. "We couldn't match its full genome to anything on file, so we tried
pieces
of it. Ultimately, we matched a piece of its DNA to an engineered virus from an old military medical R&D project."
"What kind of R&D project?" said Scott.
"Something to do with post-traumatic stress disorder," said Feinberg. "
Prevention
of PTSD, not
treatment
."
"It was called Project Lethe," said Khalil. "It started 25 years ago on the Commonwealth capitol world, Archibald. Part of the firewall virus matches part of a virus created for Lethe, though other parts don't match at all."
"And that's all we know," said Feinberg. "Because just as we reached deeper, somebody data-blocked us. We were locked out of the channel. No matter where we search, Project Lethe never shows up."
"That's why we need you to call your
granny
!" shouted Scott. "We need Commandant Chalice to get us past the block!"
"From what we can gather, it was put there by Military Intelligence," said Khalil. "One of their A.I. drones, anyway. Project Lethe must be on a watch list of some kind."
"And you can't get past the block on your own?" said Scott.
Suddenly, Trane shot forward and snapped out his words in Scott's face. "If we could do that, we wouldn't be begging
you
to call
Grandma
, would we?"
Scott wanted to force Trane to back away from him, but he didn't. Instead, he squared his shoulders and matched his gaze with an icy stare. "I've already got a call in to her," he said stiffly.
"Perfect!" said Trane. "Then you'll ask her about removing the block?"
"I'll see what I can do," said Scott. "No promises."
"She
has
to help us." Trane lurched away from Scott and paced across the lab. "This is a bona fide
lead
on the Reds. I can
feel
it."
"The fact that we've been data-blocked just confirms it," said Abby. "We were getting close to something important. Otherwise, our search wouldn't have been shut down."
"The block also suggests high-level involvement," said Feinberg. "It takes someone with serious pull to order an A.I. drone that throws blocks like that."
Trane stopped pacing. "All I know is, this could be the key to everything. This could lead us straight to the Reds, reveal their plans, and end their stealth tactics. It could literally save the Commonwealth."
"I understand." Scott nodded. "I'll try to reach the Commandant again and let you know what happens."
"When?" said Trane. "Right after you leave here?"
"Yes," said Scott. "Right after that."
"I'll go with you." Trane marched over and stopped in front of him. "I can explain the technical fine points."
"That's all right." Scott turned and headed for the door. "I think I can manage."
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*****
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As promised, Scott tried again to contact Grandma Bern...but the result was the same. According to Bern's assistant, Lori, the Commandant was not available.
"Can you tell me when Commandant Chalice might return my call?" asked Scott.
"I'm so sorry, but no." Lori, whose holographic form was seated across the round black table from Scott, smiled sadly and shook her head. "That information is classified, actually."
Scott frowned, wondering what his grandmother was up to this time. The fact that she'd been unreachable for days, and her whereabouts were classified, told him she was involved in something far from routine.
Even so, his own business was pretty important. "Is there any way you can get a message to her? It regards an urgent security matter."
Lori winced. "Unlikely, Solomon." Her expression changed to a smile. "But for you, I can try."
Scott grinned. "I can't thank you enough. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't critically important."
"I know that," Lori said brightly. "So what's the message?"
"Actually," said Scott, "I'd prefer to send it to you under encryption."
"You do realize this entire communication is encrypted, don't you?" said Lori.
"Trust me," said Scott. "It's not enough."
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There in the comm booth, he recorded his message for Bern, telling her what they'd found out about the firewall virus and Project Lethe. He told her about the data-block and the need to dig deeper as only she could. He begged her to do anything she could to help get to the bottom of the Reds' secrets and give the Diamondbacks the edge they needed to save the Commonwealth from whatever the Reds had in store.
He also told her about the theory that a conspiracy in the upper echelons of the Commonwealth might be the driving force behind the Reds. He asked her to investigate as best she could and let him know what she found.
And then he told her about Cairn Barrie. If anyone could fully appreciate the significance of reconnecting with Cairn, it was Bern. Back during Scott's recovery from the events in Iridess Chasm, not a day had gone by without Bern at his side, helping him through the struggle to regain the future he'd almost lost. Without hesitation, she had stepped into the role of his murdered parents, getting him through the crisis and going on to raise him in the years that followed.
Though she wasn't at his side now, he still felt like he was unburdening himself to her. It felt good to get things off his chest; he was tempted to tell her much more--about Donna, about the battle on Shard, about how tough it was being the only one who could see and sense everything related to the Reds. But he knew his time on the comm channel was limited, so he wrapped up his message.
"Call me as soon as you can," he said. "And remember, I love you."
With that, he closed the channel. He left the booth just in time, as it turned out; Dr. Beauchamp paged him over the P.A. just as he walked out into the hall.
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