Resist the Red Battlenaut (2 page)

And then to 10.

Scott hooted and howled and kept pouring on the punishment. The timer changed to nine, then eight, then seven, then six...

And that was when the Red Battlenaut abruptly charged away from him.

"
Scudge
!" With the timer at four seconds, Scott put the self-destruct on hold. He threw all camera feeds on the visor at once, looking for the Red that had gotten away.

But it was already gone, vanished into the dense mist.

Suddenly, the voice of Captain Rollins burst out of the speaker. "Echo Charlie Bravo! This is Kilo Papa Zulu, responding to your Mayday!"

"About time," said Scott, and then he flipped on the mic. "Watch your six, Kilo! There's some kind of souped-up Red Battlenaut on the loose!"

"I've got eyes on you, Scott." As Rollins said it, Scott spotted him on his leftside camera. "Looks like you've taken a beating."

No kidding.
"Recommend you call additional backup, Kilo Papa." Scott's eyes roamed the feeds, watching for signs of his red-hulled foe. "I threw everything I had at that thing, and it didn't even chip the paint."

"I didn't see it on radar or telemetry," said Rollins as he walked his sand brown Battlenaut toward Scott. "How long ago was it here?"

"Thirty seconds before you arrived," said Scott. "At the most."

"Well, it's gone now," said Rollins. "And no reports of a Red Battlenaut elsewhere, either."

"Trust me, it's out there," said Scott. "And I'm telling you, the damn thing's a
colossus
."

Searchlights flared to life on Rollins' armor, combing the mist around him on all sides. "Must be fast, too, if it ran out of sensor range just before I got here."

"Must be." Even as Scott said it, he didn't think it rang true. If the Red had been a speedster, wouldn't it have beaten him a lot faster? Wouldn't it have crushed him before he could get in any shots?

"Wish I could get my hands on this thing." Rollins kept combing the mist with his searchlights. "Sounds like the kind of tech we could put to good use."

Just then, Scott glimpsed a flicker of movement on his frontside feed, in the mist behind Rollins. "Bogie on your six!"

Rollins spun and focused his forward light on the mist. "You sure about that? Sensors read all clear."

There it was again. "Bogie confirmed!"

Rollins aimed his guns at the area in question. "I don't see it, Corporal."

Suddenly, there it was--the same Red Battlenaut, stalking out of the mist...heading straight for Rollins.

"Incoming!" Playing the stick, Scott rocked his armor back and forth, trying to get it unstuck. "Repeat, incoming!"

"What are you talking about? There's nothing out there." As Rollins said it, his forward light shone directly on the red behemoth marching toward him.

"Can't you
see
it?" Scott's heart hammered. Servos whined, then whirred as he regained control of his Battlenaut's right leg. He straightened it, then pulled the left foot up from where it was wedged and flexed it forward, planting it solidly on the ground. Finally, he was back on his feet.

But he was too late to help his C.O. "All I see is fog," said Rollins, even though the Red Battlenaut was storming toward him in the beam of his own searchlight. "Nothing's there."

It was that exact moment when the Red came to a stop, standing fewer than two meters away. Its forward cannons glowed with roiling energy about to be unleashed.

And then it was unleashed. Twin beams of concentrated golden energy blasted point blank at Rollins' armor.

"No!" Scott couldn't shoot from where he stood for fear of hitting Rollins. He rushed his Battlenaut forward and around until he had an open line of sight.

Rollins' screams over the comm filled his ears...but not for long. Just as Scott started firing, Rollins' Battlenaut exploded. There were no more screams after that.

Then, the Red charged toward Scott with cannons blazing.

The same beams of golden energy that had obliterated Rollins crashed into Scott's armor, stopping him dead in his tracks. The lights in the cockpit flickered, and he knew what he had to do next.

Eject or die.

His armor shrieked as the Red's energy beams blasted it. Sucking in a deep breath, Scott swung his left hand out and smacked the big red button on the cockpit wall.

For a second, nothing happened. The lights dipped, the control systems shut down, and the ejection sequence was interrupted.

Then, everything flashed back to life. The top of the Mark VI blew off, and the cockpit couch launched upward.

As the couch gained altitude, Scott saw his Battlenaut blow to pieces under the Red's assault far below. If the colossus knew the armor's occupant had escaped, it gave no sign--just stormed through the flames and debris and disappeared into the mist.

Then, Scott went higher and lost sight of the whole scene. As the couch leveled off, following its programmed autopilot coordinates to get him to safety, he found himself staring up at the pale gray sky.

Fighter craft zigged and zagged far above him, firing lasers and missiles at each other. A massive carrier ship hung in the distance, a Commonwealth vessel dispatching fresh fighters and Battlenaut reinforcements. A Rightful destroyer cruised toward it, unleashing a fusillade of missiles.

It would all be over soon. If the Rightfuls had an army of Red Battlenauts at their disposal, they would make short work of the Commonwealth forces on every front. They would tear down the Commonwealth government in nothing flat and institute their own form of domination.

Because nothing he knew could oppose the Red Battlenaut. His own Captain hadn't even been able to
see
it when it had been right in front of him.

Which left Solomon Scott with just one question to consider as the cockpit couch whisked him through the raging battle: why had
he
been able to see it when Rollins hadn't?

 

*****

 

 

A week later, Scott sat at a table in the canteen at the Commonwealth base on Ovid VI, sipping lousy coffee from a chipped black mug. The canteen--a no-frills shed with colorful flags of Commonwealth worlds slapped on the drab metal walls--was packed with Marines, all eating and drinking and talking and laughing.

But none of them were talking to Scott. None were anywhere near him.

Ever since the battle of Chelong III, people had kept their distance. There were too many questions about the deaths of Shen, Dewar, and Captain Rollins, and not enough concrete answers.

Scott had stood by his story, but there wasn't much proof to support it. Apparently, the Red Battlenaut had left behind zero trace of itself--no spent shells or debris or even tracks. As for telemetry, the only recorded trace was the unidentifiable split-second blip from Scott's radar. The rest of the sensor data and video, flashed to remote backup servers when Scott's armor exploded, showed nothing. The same video feeds on which he'd watched the Red Battlenaut in action now showed nothing but misty backdrops from the planet's surface...and, eventually, Captain Rollins' Battlenaut exploding.

In the end, the only traces of Battlenaut activity from the site belonged to Scott, Rollins, and the two Rightfuls whom Scott had taken down before the Red's arrival. The only spent ammo found at the scene belonged to Scott and the dead Rightfuls. So, naturally, there was a shadow over Scott regarding the death of Rollins. Naturally, people weren't going out of their way to get next to him.

That was why he was so surprised when someone finally tapped him on the shoulder.

Looking back, he saw a tall officer towering over him, gazing down with a stony stare. He had three visible scars: one on his left cheek; one stretching from his left temple along the right side of his nose to his jaw; and one winding around his throat, starting at his right earlobe and disappearing into his collar over his left clavicle.

But the scars weren't the most striking things about him. His uniform made the strongest impression; it was black as deep space from collar to boots, with the triple triangular emblem of a major on each sleeve and a single silver insignia pinned to the chest: the stylized gaping maw and fangs of a striking serpent.

The man belonged to CORE--the Covert Operations Response Elite. He was part of the most elite special forces unit in the Commonwealth military--or any military in the known galaxy, for that matter.

This couldn't be good.

Scott rose from his chair and snapped off a salute. "Sir." Even standing, he still found himself looking up. The CORE officer was a full head taller than he was.

The major returned his salute. "At ease, Corporal." He nodded once and pulled a chair out from the table. "Take a load off."

As Scott settled back into his seat, he scanned the room. Almost everyone in the canteen was looking his way or pretending not to. It wasn't every day that one of the gods from CORE deigned to grace them with his presence.

"I'm Major Perseid." The CORE man leaned forward and folded his hands on the dented steel surface of the table. "Major Jack Perseid." He didn't add that he was with CORE; he didn't have to. "I need a moment of your time."

Scott shrugged and tried not to show how nervous he was. "Yes, sir." Perseid didn't look much older than Scott was, but the fact that he was CORE--and seeking out Scott in spite of the cloud over his fate--instantly put Scott on the defensive.

It didn't help when Perseid locked a piercing stare on him. "Let's talk about what happened on Chelong III." His brown eyes were so dark, they were like two black holes. "Let's talk about the Red Battlenaut."

Scott's curiosity was piqued. "Okay." The Marine Investigative Service--the MIS--was already handling his case. Why the hell would a CORE officer have anything to do with it? As far as Scott knew, CORE hadn't even been deployed on Chelong III.

"I've read the report," said Perseid. "It's a pretty amazing story, if it's true."

Scott bristled. "It's true." He matched Perseid's stare with unblinking intensity. "Every word of it."

Perseid nodded slowly. "You're saying this thing was invisible to the naked eye of a seasoned Marine Captain equipped with the latest optical viewing technology."

"Yes, sir," said Scott.

"Yet
you
were able to see it."

Scott nodded. "Yes, sir."

Perseid stared silently for a moment. "You're also saying it left absolutely no trace of itself. No spent ammo, no tracks, no video or data record."

"Except for a blip on the radar, yes, sir."

Perseid nodded and looked around as if to make sure no one was listening. When he turned his head left, Scott realized a fourth scar was visible--a bare strip amid the dark stubble on the back of his scalp, a semicircle running from the crown of his skull to the nape of his neck.

"Well, guess what?" Perseid leaned closer and dropped his voice. "You're wrong."

Scott couldn't help glaring. "Negative, sir." He was sick and tired of people acting like he was somehow to blame for what had happened to Rollins. "I have never been more
right
about anything in my
life
. My memory is
crystal
clear."

"I'm not questioning your memory, Corporal," said Perseid. "I'm talking about the
evidence
."

"The evidence supports my story," snapped Scott. "The wreckage of Captain Rollins' Battlenaut shows scoring from lasers with significantly higher power than those mounted in my armor. I may have been firing weapons when the Captain died, but nothing in my arsenal could have blown apart a Battlenaut like that."

Suddenly, Perseid slapped his hand down hard on the table. Scott had been about to say something else, but he clamped his mouth shut instead.

"You might have
been
there, Corporal," said Perseid, "but you don't know everything about the
evidence
." He raised his eyebrows, and then he got up from his chair. "Would you like me to
show
you what you don't know?"

Scott stared at Perseid but couldn't get a good read on him. If Perseid meant to do him harm--if he was trying to entrap him somehow--Scott couldn't tell. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to play along. He couldn't say no to a CORE officer...and even if that was an option, he wouldn't do it. He couldn't walk away without finding out what Perseid knew about evidence related to his case. If there was more to the story of what had happened on Chelong III, he had to know what it was.

"All right." Scott downed the last of his cold coffee, plunked the mug on the table, and got up from his chair. "If you've got something to show me, then show me."

For the first time, Perseid managed a slight smile. It looked like it took an effort. "As long as you don't have anywhere better to be right now."

"No, sir," said Scott. "Not at the moment."

Perseid started for the door. "Then let's get this show on the road, Corporal."

 

*****

 

 

Perseid led Scott to a wheeled transport in front of the canteen--a sleek black car, low to the ground, with tinted windows. It looked more like it belonged on a race track than a military base at the edge of a war zone.

Perseid hopped in without a word, and Scott followed. He thought briefly about saying how cool the car was, then decided not to. Why stroke the god's ego? It was probably big enough already.

Perseid started the engine and pulled out of his parking spot. "So you're from Tack." It wasn't a question. "In my experience, Tackers are the biggest pains in the ass in the galaxy."

Scott kept staring straight ahead and shrugged.

"That's been my experience," said Perseid, "as a native-born Tacker myself." Then, he jammed the accelerator pedal to the floor, and the car took off at a high rate of speed.

For a long moment, Scott remained silent. "What part of Tack are you from?" He thought he should watch what he said, but he also didn't think it would help to keep his mouth shut and say nothing at all.

"Gratus." Perseid swerved left, nearly hitting an oncoming truck head-on. "I was raised on a farm near Yole, in the Scadlands. And you?"

Scott figured Perseid already knew everything about him, but what the heck. "Tisserie, near Vast."

"So you're a Vastie." Perseid spun the steering wheel, and the car shot right, barreling between sheds down a passage that looked too narrow to let it through. "Plus, all that Marine blood in your family. That explains a few things."

"What things does it explain, exactly?" Scott wasn't sure what Perseid was getting at, but he thought he might be on bumpy ground. Grandma Bern's heroic reputation and rank as Commandant of the entire Marine Corps had stirred up a lot of resentment toward him over the years.

"Your outstanding record," said Perseid. "Your extensive commendations. Your clear commitment to excellence." He bolted the car out of the narrow passage and whipped down a wider road lined with Battlenaut armor undergoing repair and maintenance. "You've had to work harder to prove yourself. You've had to fight harder every step of the way, because of who you are--because you're
her
grandson." He said it like a simple fact, like he'd known Scott all his life and was just stating the obvious.

Scott blinked. Perseid's insight had probably come from a psych profile--but still. It had been right on the money.

"That's a
good
thing," said Perseid. "It gives you credibility. It gives you strength of character." Even as he raced around a super-tight left turn, he looked at Scott and smirked. "It makes you exactly what we're looking for."

Scott frowned. What was Perseid talking about? And what did it have to do with the evidence he was supposedly going to show him?

"Almost there." Perseid went even faster, heading for a row of half-cylindrical buildings up ahead. "Better buckle up."

Scott looked at his seat belt. "I'm already buckled up."

"No." Perseid smirked and pointed at his forehead. "I mean
in here
."

 

*****

 

On the outside, the building looked nondescript, one of many identical prefab metal structures on base. Guards stood on either side of the front door; otherwise, there were no signs of life.

But the inside of the place was another matter. It was sheer chaos in there.

As Scott followed Perseid through the front door, he heard the sound of breaking glass and shouting. Looking past Perseid, he saw a brawny woman with spiky blonde hair haul off and shove a short dark-skinned man with a white crew cut. Both of them wore all-black CORE uniforms like Perseid.

"What the
hell
, Abby!" the man shouted. "So I dropped a damn
beaker
."

"And corrupted the
sample
, Trane!" Abby's feet crunched broken glass as she shoved him again. "We don't have much to
work
with, remember?"

Trane stumbled back a step and bumped into some kind of multi-pronged silver instrument mounted on a black tripod, nearly knocking it over. The whole place was jammed with high tech scientific gear of every conceivable type, piled on the floor, hanging from the ceiling, overflowing from benches and cases and crates.

In the middle of it all, floating in midair over a glowing neon blue dais, Scott saw something familiar. Its image appeared on computer screens all over the room, altered one way or another by different analytical techniques, superimposed with charts and graphs and streams of data...but instantly recognizable.

After all, he could never forget something that had almost killed him a week ago.

He couldn't take his eyes off it. "Where did you get that?" he asked Perseid.

"We found it in what was left of your armor." Perseid smirked and elbowed him in the side. "I
told
you you didn't know everything about the evidence."

"But they said..." Scott scowled and shook his head. "They told me there was
nothing
. They said there was no
trace
of the Red Battlenaut."

"Do the words 'top secret' ring a bell?" said Perseid.

Just then, Abby finally seemed to notice they were there. "Hey!" She stomped a step toward them and planted her fists on her hips. "Who the
scudge
is
this
? What's the big
idea
, Major?"

"Whoa." Trane stepped up beside her and grinned a lopsided grin at Scott. "Is this
him
? Is this the
guy
?"

"Roger that." Perseid nodded and smacked Scott on the back. "This is the guy."

"Corporal Solomon Scott." Abby narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to one side. "The man who sees Red Battlenauts."

"Red Battlenaut
singular
," said Scott. "I only saw the one."

Trane chuckled. "That's one more than
most
people have ever seen."

"He's also the only person to bring back a piece of one." Perseid walked over to gaze down at the object floating in the glow of the neon blue dais. "It was jammed in a chunk of housing among the debris from his exploded Battlenaut armor."

Scott stared at the object's image on one of the screens. It was a small silver disk with a gleaming, sharpened edge, a circular blade mounted on a broken stem of polished red metal. The last time he'd seen it, it had cut a slit through his armor and almost sliced its way through his face.

"It broke off when I magnetized the armor plating," he said. "Fell down into the guts somewhere."

"So your after action report wasn't complete hoozehock." Perseid tapped the floating blade with a fingertip, making it spin in the levitational field. "This proves the existence of the Red Battlenaut and exonerates you of all possible charges."

"Yes, sir." Scott suppressed the urge to smile. "I guess it does."

"Guess again." Perseid spun the blade once more. "'Top secret,' remember?"

Scott frowned. "Excuse me?"

"This is top secret." Perseid pointed at the blade. "MIS doesn't know it exists. Therefore, your case remains open. You are still a person of interest in the death of Captain Rollins."

Scott gaped at the blade floating over the dais. It was right there in the open, within reach. "But the evidence..."

Perseid stood in front of the floating blade and folded his arms over his chest. "The evidence has more important things to do than get you off the hook, Corporal."

Scott stood for a moment, glaring at Perseid. "Why did you bring me here? Why did you show me this..." He gestured in the direction of the blade. "...if you aren't going to use it to clear my name?"

Abby leaned forward and sneered at him. "Just to
screw
with you, flux-head."

"To savor your
anguish
when we snatch away your last
hope
," said Trane, bugging his eyes wide and unleashing a burst of demented laughter that Abby quickly joined in on.

Scott was about to storm out when Perseid raised his hands, and the laughter stopped. "Because we need you, Solomon." He looked dead serious as he met Scott's gaze. "We need you to help us stop the Red Battlenaut."

"Do I have a choice?" said Scott.

"Do you even
need
one?" said Perseid. "This is the outcome of the
war
we're talking about here."

Scott shook his head. "I've already been reassigned, haven't I?"

Perseid straightened and headed for the door. "Come with me, Corporal. Your briefing awaits."

 

*****