Resist the Red Battlenaut (26 page)

 

*****

 

 

By the time the
Sun Bin
landed, Scott and Cairn were suited up and ready to go--Scott in the Mark VI Battlenaut, Cairn in the CORE civilian armor. They stood side by side in the middle of the cargo bay, waiting for the hatch to open at the far end so they could venture outside.

As they stood there, Scott wondered if Cairn's heart was pounding as fast as his--and if so, was it for the same reason? Scott was nervous about the mission because he wanted it to succeed; would Cairn be nervous because he wanted the opposite result?

Whatever his intentions, Cairn didn't
sound
nervous...just cranky. "You're sure I can't shut off this damn A.I.? If I needed another
brain
in my armor, I would've
brought
one."

"It'll grow on you." Scott left out the part about Frank going rogue back on Oberon. Why add fuel to Cairn's griping? "Isn't the voice activation nice, though?"

"If you don't mind delays every time you give a command," said Cairn. "Are you sure this armor's
cutting edge
?"

"You're in a civilian unit with a defensive profile only," said Scott. "The fully loaded combat model's another story."

"Better than that antique you're wearing now?"

"Are you kidding?" said Scott, though he preferred the antique hands-down to the CORE models. He was glad he'd brought it for this critical mission, where everything was on the line. He felt at home in its tried-and-true cockpit, unencumbered by supposed improvements that had gotten in the way of instinctive combat...and ultimately almost killed him.

"So what the hell happened to it?" asked Cairn. "Your new model, that is. Why did you bring the antique?"

"I had my reasons." Just as Scott said it, red lights started flashing in the cargo bay, signaling that the hatch was about to open.

"You're sure this armor's spaceworthy?" said Cairn.

"Absolutely." Scott double-checked to be on the safe side, then nodded. The Mark VI was perfectly airtight, pressurized, and shielded from head to toe. Fong had taken great care of his baby; she was pristine all around.

"
Red
Battlenauts are
all
spaceworthy," said Cairn. "They're the greatest fighting machines ever
built
."

"That's what
you
say." Scott grabbed his interface helmet from a hook on the cockpit wall and lowered it onto his head. As soon as the padded halo fit down around his skull, the visor display lit up in front of him. The frontside camera feed appeared automatically, showing the cargo hold's rear hatch sliding open in the flashing red light. "But they're not so
tough
when people can actually
see
them, are they?"

"I bet you'll have another chance to find out," said Cairn. "Or do you think they're going to just let us waltz in there on our own?"

"I thought you'd have more pull than that," said Scott, using the keypad on the left armrest to set up his weapons. Without the CORE Battlenaut's morphing capabilities, he was stuck with the standard complement of projectile weapons, lasers, sonics, and missiles--but that was enough for him. It was all he'd ever needed to win on the battlefield as a Commonwealth Marine, before the Diamondbacks had come along.

"Maybe they're wondering if--oh, I don't know--I'm being forced to do this against my
will
?" snapped Cairn. "There
is
that
possibility
."

Scott could see that the hatch was almost all the way open now. "You did a great job talking our way down here," he said. "Just do more of the same, and we'll be fine."

"No, we won't," said Cairn. "You don't
know
these people like I do."

"Good thing you're here, then." Scott worked the keypad on the right armrest of his couch, bringing up Cairn's telemetry on the far left side of his visor. Then, he locked it there so he could quickly refer to it at any time, instantly assessing Cairn's status. "I couldn't do this
without
you."

"What the hell can
I
do? I'm in armor without any
weapons
." Cairn made a snorting sound over the comm. "Not that I'd use them to
help
you if I
had
any."

"You'll do the right thing when the time comes," said Scott. "I believe in you."

"Then you're in for a rude awakening," Cairn said darkly.

 

*****

 

The two Battlenauts stomped out of the cargo hold of the
Sun Bin
and onto the landing pad pavement. Scott put Cairn in front to keep him visible and let him take the lead in dealing with the Reds.
How
he planned to deal with them, what exactly he would do when the time came, was impossible to know.

Cairn carried a lot of hate around with him, much of it aimed at Scott for what had happened at Iridess Chasm. Scott had tried to get him to switch it off, to understand that Scott had never meant to let him be hurt and would have saved him if he'd known he'd survived. But was any of that enough, after so many years, to earn them a second chance? Would Scott himself have been quick to forgive under the same circumstances, if he'd been the one spirited away by Larvis Vore and subjected to untold tortures for decades? He couldn't say.

But Cairn's redemption was his only hope. It seemed like a pathetically fragile frame on which to hang the survival of Bern and the Commonwealth...but it was all he had. Here at the end of the road, he couldn't depend on the Diamondbacks or the Marines or anyone else--just Donna Perihelion and Cairn Barrie. The woman who loved him and the man who despised him.

"Which way do we go?" Cairn stood and looked around at the black domes surrounding the landing pad.

"Beats me," said Scott. "Let's ask for directions."

After a pause, he heard Cairn's voice over the comm. "Come in, Bellerophon Station." Before leaving the
Sun Bin
, Scott had tweaked Cairn's armor so he could hear every call he made over the comm. Secretly contacting the Reds just wasn't going to happen. "This is Captain Cairn Barrie. Please direct us to the spacecraft repair facility."

No answer. The incoming comm channel remained silent.

"Give it another try," said Scott.

"Right," said Cairn. "Because maybe they forgot we're
out
here." He took three steps forward and opened the channel again. "Come in, Bellerophon Station. Please direct us to the repair facility."

Still, there was no response.

"Maybe they stepped away," suggested Scott. "Or their radio equipment's malfunctioning."

Cairn tried again without being asked. "Bellerophon Station!" This time, he raised his voice. "Where's the damn repair facility?"

Again, no one answered.

After a long moment, Scott nudged the joystick and brought the Mark VI lumbering up to stand beside the CORE civilian armor. "Let's just pick a direction. I guess they don't want to be bothered with us."

"Wrong." Cairn raised his Battlenaut's arm and pointed at a gap between two of the black domes about half a kilometer distant. "They sent out a
welcoming committee
."

Scott looked where he was pointing, and there they were: two Red Battlenauts, striding out from between the domes in close formation. "An escort?" At first, he thought it was possible. After all, Cairn had established his Red credentials and requested assistance.

But no. While they were still half a klick out, the Reds started shooting. Both of them cut loose their golden energy beams at once, merging them into a single colossal stream rushing straight toward Scott and Cairn.

"Move!" Scott jammed the stick right, and his Battlenaut bolted that way, getting out of the line of fire just in time. The searing beam of energy blazed past without touching him; it struck one of the domes instead, splashing harmlessly off its protective surface.

Cairn, who'd darted left instead of right, was also in the clear. His black CORE armor wobbled a little from the sudden start and stop, then stabilized. "Hey!" He was shouting over the comm at Bellerophon Station. "You guys're shooting at one of your
own
!"

No answer came back over the comm channel. So much for being on the same side.

"I said
stand down
!" said Cairn. "I'm as Red as
you
are!"

The Reds' only reply was to fire another merged beam of golden energy. This time, it was heading straight for Cairn.

He dodged out of the way in time but stumbled and went down on his belly on the pavement. Scott heard him cry out when he hit, but according to telemetry, he wasn't hurt badly.

In which case, Scott realized, that was the best place for him--out of the action, out of the way. Instead of having to worry about the guy in the civilian armor, Scott could focus his attention on fighting the Reds.

Without a word to Cairn, Scott wrenched the stick forward and ran away from him.

The Reds were waiting. As the footfalls of the Mark VI pounded across the landing pad, the Reds opened fire with their energy beams again. This time, instead of mingling the beams, they kept them separate, catching Scott between them--then scissored them together.

Playing the right keypad and yanking the stick back, Scott leaped clear before the twin beams could slice into him. While airborne, he brought up the coordinate grid over the frontside feed on his visor. When he came back down, he quickly calculated a bearing on one of the Reds and punched it into the left keypad, then thumbed the firing button on the stick. A missile shot out of his shoulder-mounted launcher, streaking straight at the Red he'd targeted.

The firing solution was sound, but the target swatted away the missile at the last instant. In retaliation, the Red unleashed a stream of slugs in Scott's direction, and his partner did the same.

This time, the fire didn't miss. Both torrents of slugs slammed into Scott's armor with shuddering force, knocking him back but not off his feet.

Tapping the keys madly, Scott cooked up a new solution and launched another missile. That one had barely left the launcher when he pumped out another.

The missiles rocketed toward the Reds, covering three hundred meters of airless moon in milliseconds. Each missile looked like it was going to strike one of the Reds head-on--but then they both veered suddenly downward and blew apart the pavement at the Reds' feet instead.

The streams of slugs stopped battering Scott's armor as the Red Battlenauts went down. Debris moving fast enough to escape the low gravity shot into space, and the rest of it showered around them.

Determined to press his advantage, Scott charged toward the Reds. He knew from experience how tough their armor was and didn't expect them to stay down for good.

He wasn't sure he could beat them at all, in fact. The last time he'd taken on a Red Battlenaut while piloting a Mark VI, the Red had wrecked his ride, forcing him to eject.

Not that he was going to give up. He knew the Reds and their fighting style better this time. He'd just have to hope he could win by being trickier and more relentless.

Plus more determined because of the stakes. Were the Reds fighting to save a beloved grandmother? Were they single-handedly trying to save a planetary Commonwealth? No fluxing way.

As Scott raced the Mark VI toward the Reds, he cut loose an unholy bombardment of slugs, missiles, and lasers. It was back to basics without the exotic weapons of the CORE Battlenaut--the drone pods, biofilm, Dragon's Breath, etc.--but he didn't mind a bit. He couldn't reconfigure his armor into Missile Mode or make it beanstalk or turn into a Red Battlenaut...but that was okay, too. It felt more hands-on this way, more personal...just right for handing out payback.

The two Reds kept trying to get up, but the barrage wouldn't let them. It was one thing deflecting incoming ammo when the Reds were upright with good leverage and their strongest shields facing forward--but quite another to be floundering on the ground under constant attack.

The Mark VI kept pouring it on, too, as if seeking vengeance for the destruction of Scott's first Mark VI back on Chelong III. Rivers of slugs flowed from its guns, interspersed with crimson laser bolts. Smoke and debris rose in a cloud around the Reds, obscuring the sight of them.

Then, Scott's guns stilled for the briefest of moments. One Red got halfway up, using the other Red to climb off the pavement.

Just as the rising Red made it the rest of the way to his feet, Scott fired another missile, followed by two more. All three shells struck the standing Red in the chest, just as the twin cannons mounted there were seething with golden energy.

The bearing and timing were perfect. The exploding warheads triggered a chain reaction with the golden energy, ripping the Red apart in a cataclysmic burst. The force of the blast crumpled the other Red on the ground, caving in the cowling over its cockpit and snapping both its legs like kindling for a campfire.

Scott cheered and eased up on the stick, which he'd been white-knuckling. Even with an outgunned Battlenaut, the same model he'd piloted to destruction against the same enemy on Chelong III, he'd managed to put down the two attackers. It was a brief rush of victory, a small step along the way to his final objectives, but he let himself savor it.

Then, he felt the ground shake through his armor and jumped back to the task at hand. Throwing all five camera feeds on the visor at once, he quickly spotted the source of the tremors on the leftside feed.

Three more Red Battlenauts were stomping across the landing pad toward him, all charging their energy cannons at once.

Scott clenched his jaw and swung the Mark VI around. The odds were worse this time, but so what? He'd just taken down two Reds, and he'd take down three more if he had to. He'd do whatever it took to save Bern and the Commonwealth. He wouldn't let anything stop him.

Reading the grid overlaid on the frontside feed, Scott figured out bearings and targeted his weapons. Maybe the same trick would work twice: choke them with ordnance, then send in warheads to kick off a chain reaction.

"Here we go, plang-holes." He marched three steps toward them, planted his feet, and thumbed the firing button atop the stick.

At that exact moment, a heavy weight slammed into him from behind, blowing his focus. Glancing at the backside feed, he glimpsed a gleaming black figure pulling back and plowing forward--and then he felt another impact. This one pitched his Battlenaut forward, knocking it off balance.

It didn't take Scott more than an instant to realize what was hitting him--
who
was hitting him--back there. But that still didn't give him enough time to stop the next impact.

This time, the gleaming figure--the CORE civilian Battlenaut--slammed into him harder than ever. Scott's armor lunged forward and stumbled, barely staying on its feet.

Instead of pulling back to ram him again, the civilian unit stayed on top of him, driving the Mark VI down with all its weight. Meanwhile, the three Reds kept storming toward him, ready to unleash bolts of searing golden energy from their chest cannons.

"Cairn!" Scott tugged the stick back, fighting to hold the Mark VI upright. "Stop it! Get off me!"

Cairn's only answer was to keep pressing against him...and then he suddenly pulled away.

With the weight of Cairn's armor gone, the Mark VI stopped tipping forward and shot to an erect position. Scott wasted no time swinging around to open fire, hoping he could disable the CORE Battlenaut and move on to face the oncoming Reds.

But he never even squeezed off a shot. Cairn crashed into him with the greatest force yet, catching the Mark VI at a bad angle and sending it toppling toward the pavement.

Scott's armor crashed down hard on its right side, setting off an alarm klaxon in the cockpit. He shut it down fast, then worked the stick and keypads to try to roll forward and get back on his feet.

Not that Cairn was going to let that happen. Before Scott could start his roll, Cairn darted up and kicked him the other way. Instead of rolling onto his front, Scott found himself rolling onto his back.

He wrenched the stick around, but it was too late. His Battlenaut landed heavily on the pavement, facing up.

Determined to bounce back fast, Scott keyed commands and jimmied the stick, telling the Mark VI to sit up. The armor started to comply, but didn't get far before Cairn threw it back down with a kick to the head.

"
Stay
down!" Cairn said over the comm. "Don't make this any
harder
!"

At the sound of the double-crosser's voice, Scott glared and clenched his teeth. Adrenaline blazed through his bloodstream, giving him the burst of energy he needed to keep fighting.

Scott started to lurch up off the pavement, but it was a feint. He only came up far enough to draw Cairn in, then flung up a gauntlet to grab his ankle.

With a mighty swing, he hurled Cairn's Battlenaut down on the ground. Then, with the armored ankle still in his grip, he jolted up to a sitting position, ready to press the attack.

And came face to face with the three Reds who'd been charging across the landing pad. They stood at his feet, side by side, with their energy cannons aimed down at him. With all the crash-bang action going on between him and Cairn, he hadn't noticed their approach.

Scott let go of Cairn and wondered what to do next. His weapons were charged and ready to fire; he thought about blasting away and going down in flames...but what would that accomplish? He'd be signing not only his own death warrant, but those of Bern and the Commonwealth, too.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was responsible for them...and therefore had just one move left to make in the face of irresistible Red force.

Slowly, he tugged the stick back, lowering his Battlenaut's upper body to the pavement. Then, he powered down his weapons and waited, watching the glittering stars in the sky on the frontside feed.

A moment later, his Battlenaut's lower body lifted--each leg in the grip of a Red. Scott's view of the sky changed as they dragged his across the pavement on his back, carrying him off as their prisoner.

And the whole time, on his leftside camera, he saw the gleaming black feet of Cairn's CORE Battlenaut marching alongside him.