Resist the Red Battlenaut (5 page)

"Cool," said Scott as he backed his Battlenaut away from the carnage. "I wonder what else this baby can do."

"Beanstalk demo is available upon request," Frank said instantly. "Would you like to activate the demo?"

"Do it," said Scott.

Suddenly, the cockpit filled with a high-pitched electrical whine mixed with a loud clacking sound. The Battlenaut shuddered; then, its legs started to grow, lifting the armored torso into the air and Scott's couch along with it.

As Scott's armor grew taller, Perseid's drone-besieged Battlenaut fell away from the frontside camera. The other feeds showed the floor of the Training Deck getting farther away on all sides.

Then, the armor stopped expanding. "Maximum safe height for current clearance achieved," said Frank. "Beanstalk demo completed."

Scott grinned.
I can't believe how great this armor is.
"Right kick to chest," he said. "Maximum force."

Just as Scott's Battlenaut hauled back its right leg, Perseid's armor started Beanstalking, too. But the kick still landed before Perseid reached maximum height, sending his half-grown Battlenaut toppling backward, hitting the floor with a loud crunch.

"
Yes
!" cheered Scott. "He is
down
!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than an alarm klaxon whooped in the cockpit. "Alert!" said Frank. "Catastrophic strike imminent!"

"What are you talking about?" Scott watched the viewer and saw no sign of danger--just Perseid's Battlenaut lying on its back on the floor of the Training Deck.

"Incoming!" said Frank.

"
What
incoming?" said Scott. "Where are you
seeing
this?"

"It has not yet occurred," said Frank. "My prognostication software predicts, based on current conditions, that incoming fire will arrive in 35 seconds...34...33..."

Prognostication
software?
"If you know it's coming,
neutralize
it!" Scott's eyes flashed over the viewer and holo readouts, looking for a clue to the source of the predicted fire--finding nothing.

Meanwhile, Frank continued the countdown. "Twenty seconds...19...18...17..."

"Damnit!" said Scott.

Just then, there was movement on the viewer. The chest and abdomen of Perseid's armor expanded, swelling upward. It looked like a balloon inflating, stretching as air pressure pushed out in all directions from inside it.

"Ten," said Frank. "Seven...six...five..."

"Back away!" Whatever Perseid's armor was doing, Scott knew he needed to move fast to escape it. "Best possible speed!"

"Three," said Frank. "Two...one..."

Scott's Battlenaut had only taken half a step back when the front of Perseid's Battlenaut exploded. Shrapnel from the blast pounded Scott's armor, blowing it off its feet and punching a multitude of dents in the once-smooth hull.

"Mother-fluxer!" shouted Scott as his Battlenaut slammed to the floor. The couch protected him from most of the shock of impact, but the fall still jarred him. Going down in defeat while sparring with Perseid was the last thing he'd wanted to do.

But it was a done deal now. After the crash, Scott's frontside video feed showed only the ceiling of the Training Deck. His Battlenaut was on its back, looking up.

"End of exercise," Perseid said over the comm. "Consider that the kill shot."

At the sound of that voice, Scott came to a boil. "Frank! Use the same weapon
he
just did!"

Frank didn't answer. After that, the holos disappeared, and Scott's Battlenaut slumped. When the lights in the cockpit went out, Scott was left in darkness again.

"Don't bother trying to fight back," said Perseid. "I've implemented remote power override. Like I said, the exercise is over."

With that, the chest and abdomen of Scott's Battlenaut flowed open, and the couch released its grip. For a moment, he lay there, grinding his teeth, wanting only to have another shot at Perseid's Battlenaut to prove what he could do.

Then, he sighed deeply and climbed up out of the unit.

Perseid was just hopping out of his own armor at that moment. "What do you think, Corporal?"

Scott sat on the edge of the chest cavity and glared. "I think I'd like to spar another round, Major. Power me up."

Perseid laughed. "Some other time. What I want to know is, what did you think of the CORE Battlenaut? Did it measure up to your old Marine model?"

Scott was in a bad mood but could see no advantage in lying. "It far exceeded it across the board," he said. "It's an amazing piece of equipment."

"You haven't even maxed the specs yet," said Perseid. "You didn't come close to fully exploiting its capabilities."

Scott nodded. "We sure could've used these on the front lines. Why doesn't
everybody
have them?"

"You'll have to ask Command," said Perseid. "
If
you survive this mission. And after what I saw here just now, you're going to need lots more training hours to do that."

"Because you beat me?" said Scott. "Let's go best two out of three and see what happens."

"I'll have Captain Rexis schedule you for heavy drills for the rest of the trip to Shard," said Perseid. "In between classes and shipboard duties."

"Classes?" Scott couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"That's right," said Perseid. "Consider this an intensive training cruise. We need you
sharp
by the time we see action."

"Duties?" said Scott.

Perseid smirked. "For the duration, you're a member of this crew. As such, you will fulfill the shipboard duties of any Diamondback."

Scott stared at him. "What duties are those?"

"Report to Captain Rexis," said Perseid. "She'll lay it all out for you." With that, he turned on his heel and headed for the door, leaving Scott behind him wondering what the hell kind of mission he'd signed on for.

Since when did a seasoned Commonwealth Marine have to go through training and classes while detailed to a CORE unit? Since when did he have to perform shipboard duties? He was helping track down the Red Battlenauts; wasn't that duty enough?

Swinging his legs up out of the cockpit, he slid down the side of the Battlenaut and landed on the floor. He was sweated from the exercise, irritated with Perseid, and worn down by lack of sleep. His whole life had changed dramatically in just a few hours--not an uncommon thing for a Commonwealth Marine, but uncommonly dramatic this time around. Uncommonly crazy.

And he had a feeling things were only going to get crazier.

 

*****

 

 

Captain Rexis cut Scott a break. When he reported to her as ordered, she did indeed lay it all out for him--a busy duty and training schedule that wouldn't leave him much time for anything else. But she also gave him six hours' rack time commencing immediately, which was just what he needed. He could have kept going, he was trained to function under conditions of extreme sleep deprivation, but the rest would work wonders on his alertness and performance.

Back at his billet, he collapsed on the lower bunk he'd been assigned and finally let himself relax. Memories of the events of the day washed over him like a warm tide, lulling him ever closer to the brink of sleep.

At some point, he left it all behind and drifted off into a state of unconsciousness. This was part of his training, too--falling asleep quickly, grabbing rest when he got the chance. Often, in the field, he was lucky just to catch a couple winks between engagements.

As Scott slept, he had a lucid dream that mixed up elements of his life. First, he was back on Chelong III, riding his old gray Battlenaut through the mist. Then, he was in his CORE armor on the Training Deck of the
Sun Tzu
, looking for the Red Battlenaut. When he heard the sound of giant, stomping footsteps, he looked at the backside video feed--and saw two enormous human legs. Leaning back, he turned his gaze upward, only to see that the figure looming over him wasn't the Red Battlenaut after all, but his grandmother, Bern. He tried to run, but she scooped him off the floor and lifted him up, laughing wickedly.

Grandma Bern clenched her fist around him, cracking his armor like an eggshell. As Scott wailed and writhed within it, Bern hurled him across the Training Deck, which became the Iridess Chasm on Tack. He was thirteen years old and about to die all over again.

Suddenly, instead of flying through the air, he was running through the chasm under cover of darkness. Another boy--blond, half his age--ran alongside him, legs scrambling to keep up. The boy's name was Cairn, and he'd been a prisoner much longer than Scott, held captive by the man who was chasing them.

The heaving breath of that man drove Scott and Cairn to run as fast as they could. He was an evil man, a monster who'd haunted Scott's nightmares again and again since that night.

Scott felt the man's fingertips brush his sleeve, and he ran harder. He had to get away, no matter the cost, no matter what he knew was about to happen.

Then there was a sound like a roaring beast, like a monster, and something lifted him off the ground. His feet pedaled helplessly in the air, searching for purchase, searching for anything solid...finding nothing. He spun in circles, head over feet, picking up speed as he whipped through the chasm, leaving poor Cairn far behind him.

That was when he saw it--Penitent Peak, racing toward him with all the speed and purpose of inexorable destiny. He screamed as loud as he could, louder than he'd ever screamed before or since. With that, the towering crag became the Red Battlenaut, towering implacably in the moonlight. Spinning blades emerged from its chest, pushing toward him.

Which was when he heard the terrible rumbling noise booming across the landscape. It exploded like thunder or a chain of cluster bombs bursting in rapid succession, throwing off blasts that echoed from the walls of the chasm. With each echo, the crashing booms grew louder instead of fading, until they filled his head with an unbearable torrent. Then, the loudest boom of all struck with deafening force, throwing him right out of his sleep.

Heart hammering, Scott sat up suddenly on his bunk. It was only then he realized the noise had not originated in his dream.

It was coming from the bunk above him. Someone up there was snoring like a buzz saw blaring through a megaphone on maximum amplification.

Cursing, Scott swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the cold metal deck. Just then, between the trumpeting snores from above, he heard the sound of nearby snickering laughter.

Looking around the dark room, he saw Trane lying on his belly on an upper bunk, grinning down at him. His white crewcut and teeth stood out in the darkness. "Welcome to your new billet, rookie." He didn't bother lowering his voice. "Looks like you landed the best spot in the place."

As Trane snickered some more, the snoring got even louder. Wondering who was responsible, Scott stood up for a look above him--and saw Abby Catharsis sprawled over the mattress, head tipped back and mouth gaping.

"All that noise from one woman." Trane snickered again. "Doesn't seem humanly possible, does it?"

Scott sat back down on his own bunk. Sleep was looking farther and farther away with each honking blast from above.

"It's like this every night," said Trane. "She's as dependable at snoring as she is in a firefight."

"Huh." Scott shrugged. "So what do I have to do to get a different rack?" He knew the answer before he asked the question, but he asked it anyway.

"Not be the new guy." Trane laughed.

Scott pointed at the empty bunk under Trane's. "What about that one?"

"It's taken." With that, Trane rolled over on his side to face the wall. "But don't worry, you'll be okay. You'll get used to the noise sooner or later."

The snoring jumped up another notch, hitting its loudest level yet. Scott lay back and stared at the bottom of Abby's bunk for a while, wishing he had earplugs--and thinking about his dream.

He hadn't thought about Iridess Chasm in ages. The most traumatic events of his life had happened there, the dark struggles that had almost ended him forever. There had been days when those terrible times had dominated his mind like never-passing storm clouds...but he'd chosen long ago not to dwell on them. It was better, always better, to keep moving forward.

Why then had those memories come back to him now? Was it the stress of the new mission? The cloud hanging over him since Chelong III?

Or was there another reason altogether, something deeper? Some kind of warning that he didn't dare ignore?

"Sweet dreams, rookie," Trane said with a final snicker.

Without a word, Scott rolled over on his side and pulled the pillow over his head, trying to block out the noise from above.

 

*****

 

 

By the time Scott rolled out of his rack, he'd slept maybe three hours--but the sleep had been broken, so it was hard to be sure. It had been impossible to sleep soundly with all the ruckus going on around him. Not only had Abby's snoring never let up, but Trane had joined in with snoring of his own, just as loud. The two had snored in counterpoint, each one letting out a loud blare whenever the other breathed in.

They were still going at it when Scott left the room to shave and shower. They weren't even done when he came back, got dressed, and left. Even through the closed door of the bunkroom, the sounds of their bullhorn duet carried into the corridor behind him.

Scott yawned and rubbed his eyes on his way down the hall. He actually felt more tired now than before he'd gone to bed. How the flux was he going to get through the day?

Yawning again as he rounded a corner, he walked right into someone who was charging toward him--Donna, who ended up stumbling into his arms.

She looked flustered at first, her face bright red, then broke into a bright smile. "Solomon!" She lingered for a moment in his embrace, holding on to his upper arms. "How's it going?"

"I need coffee, bad." Scott's voice was hoarse from lack of sleep. "Strong, strong coffee, with a side order of stims."

Donna frowned as she did the mental math. "Abby's snoring got to you?"

Scott nodded. "Trane's just as bad."

"That's the worst billet on the ship." Donna looked apologetic. "Nobody wants it, so the newbie gets it."

"No worries." Scott managed a smirk. "I just won't sleep for the rest of the trip."

"There's another option." Donna eased herself against him. "You could bunk with me. My billet's in another room, you know."

Scott's temperature rose a few degrees. It was a tempting offer--but he had a feeling he should steer clear for now. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks." He smiled and let go of her.

She stayed close, gazing up into his eyes. "The offer stands, Solomon." Popping forward on her toes, she kissed him on the cheek. "You're always welcome."

"Thanks." Scott felt himself blushing and looked away. "Now which way to the coffee?"

Donna hiked a thumb over her shoulder. "Straight, then left, then right, then right again." Next, she pointed an index finger down the hall behind Scott. "As for my billet, it's back that way, across from yours."

"Got it." Scott smiled and started to move away from her.

But Donna grabbed him by the wrist and held him there a moment more. "And in case you're wondering, no, I do not extend this invitation to just anyone."

"Right." Scott nodded seriously.

"There's just something about you I like." Donna squeezed his wrist. "Something special, you know?"

Scott nodded again. "Thanks, Donna. I appreciate that."

"Any time." She gave him a flirty look and let go of his wrist. "See you at the briefing, Solomon."

Scott frowned. "Briefing?"

"They just called one for nineteen hundred hours in the auditorium," said Donna. "CORE officers only, but you're invited, too. Be there or be square."

With that, she jabbed his chest with the tip of her finger and darted away from him, zipping down the hall.

Scott stood there for a long moment, staring after her, wondering if she'd told the truth about not inviting just anyone to her rack. Then, he yawned again and continued down the corridor, determined to gulp as much coffee as he could in the next fifteen minutes before the briefing.

 

*****

 

"We have confirmed our destination." Captain Rexis stood stiffly at a podium in the well of the auditorium, addressing the two dozen personnel gazing down at her. "There is no longer any doubt that the mystery metal originated on the planet Shard."

Scott listened and sipped coffee from his vantage point in the top row of seats. From where he sat, he had a great view of the backs of the CORE officers' heads. They were fanned out below him along a curved bowl-like slope, some spread out, some clustered together. No one was sitting near him, but that was by design; Scott had slipped through the doors at the last possible second to avoid having company. He wasn't in the mood and didn't want any distractions that might make him miss something.

Down in the well, Rexis clapped her hands, and a holographic control panel rippled into view. Her fingers played over rows of glowing buttons and dials, making them change color from red to blue, green to yellow, purple to pink. Then, the lights in the room dimmed, and a gigantic holo projection flared to life in midair behind her, filling the space from floor to ceiling with a familiar image expanded to towering size.

It was the circular blade from the Red Battlenaut, the one that had broken off in Scott's armor. Seeing it again, blown up to such an enormous scale, brought back memories of the way it had almost killed him on Chelong III.

"Our science team confirms that this artifact is composed of a biometallic substance found only on Shard," said Rexis. "Specifically, its makeup is identical to that of the titanium alloy claws and teeth of certain metal-based lifeforms native to the Shard biosphere."

The holo behind her changed to an image of a creature with gleaming bluish-silver skin. It reminded Scott of a big jungle cat from Earth, but with two heads, six triple-jointed legs, and spiny armor plating.

Rexis looked up at the image, then turned back to the audience. "What is not clear to us at this time is how the fabricators of the blade managed to subdue the unstable nature of the alloy." She played the holo controls again, and the image changed to what looked like a blob of molten, silvery metal. "Until now, all reported attempts to process Shard biometals into usable components have resulted in the breakdown of the biometals' molecular structure.

"Once separated from the body of a living creature, these materials lose cohesion and cannot be molded into other forms. The special properties that make them unique--extraordinary tensile strength, impenetrability, and superconductivity--cease to exist upon separation from a viable metallic-organic host.

"At least until now." Rexis ran her fingers over the controls, changing the image to another view of the mysterious blade. "Somehow, whoever built and deployed the Red Battlenaut has figured out a way to work with Shard biometal--to reshape it without causing it to shed its desirable properties and lose cohesion." She changed the image to a computer-generated interpretation of the Red Battlenaut from Chelong III.

Just then, a hand shot up in one of the lower tiers. "This biometal." It was Trane, sounding rested and refreshed though he'd helped deprive Scott of needed sleep. "Could it be responsible for the Red Battlenaut's stealth capabilities?"

Instead of Rexis, someone in the next row down from Scott answered the question. "Unlikely," he said in a clipped British accent. "The biometal's recorded properties do not lend themselves to such capabilities."

"As far as we
know
," said Trane. "But we've never even been able to isolate the metal from its host organism and work with it in a
lab
, have we, Khalil?"

"True." Khalil sounded irritated. "But we
have
studied it while it was still attached to organic systems."

"Which could mean nothing," said Trane. "The material's properties while part of a living system could vary dramatically from those that manifest after separation from that system."

"But we have the current
artifact
to study, don't we?" snapped Khalil. "What story has it told us so far?"

"A
short
one," said Rexis. "No clue to the stealth capabilities. But maybe they're only evident in other components or the Red Battlenaut armor as a whole. We just don't know."

"We don't know
much
, do we?" said Joe Balko, the heavily muscled guy who'd been aboard Scott's shuttle to the
Sun Tzu
. "Nothin' like goin' in
blind
."

"Since when does that matter to the Diamondbacks?" spoke up Perseid from the front row. Jumping to his feet, he pumped his fist against the serpent insignia on his chest. "Boo-rah!"

Everyone in the room did the same thing, except Scott. Then, they all sat back down.

Rexis cleared her throat in the well. She touched a holo control, and the big projection changed to an image of a rotating planet striated with gradations of silver and gray. "Balko's right," she said. "In many ways, we
are
going in blind. We can read sensor scans of pieces like the circular blade, but scans of operational Red Battlenaut units are invisible to all but one of us...the same person who was able to see a Red Battlenaut when no one else could."

When she said it, most of the people in the room turned and looked at Scott, who was in the middle of sipping his coffee. He returned their gazes impassively and slowly lowered his cup.

"Which is why we've called this meeting," continued Rexis. "We need to develop strategies for the Shard task force. We need to figure out ways of fighting an enemy who is invisible to sensors and all but one of our personnel."

"And we need to do it behind enemy lines," added Perseid. "On a world with a
very
hostile biometallic-based ecosystem. Even in the best of times, it's a nasty little hellhole."

"Imagine a planet inhabited by living knives of every shape and size," said Rexis. "Without armor, you'd be slashed to pieces within seconds. Even
with
armor, you'll be in danger every step of the way. There are creatures on Shard that can hack right through carbon nanotube plating."

"Sounds like a real day at the beach," said Balko.

"What exactly is our objective, anyway?" said Masada Feinberg, the brown-haired woman who'd also shared Scott's shuttle to the
Sun Tzu
.

"Our primary objective is to locate and shut down any biometal processing facility that might be present on Shard," said Rexis. "Our secondary objective is to gather intel on the Red Battlenauts and their controllers."

Perseid stood and faced the audience. "We plan to conduct a thorough reconnaissance from orbit, including automated A.I. probes of the surface. We'll gather as much data as we can and refine our objectives prior to insertion of the task force."

Trane blew his breath out loudly. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

"When
don't
we?" Balko laughed, and so did everyone else.

"As always, preparation is critical," said Perseid. "Which is why we're putting together working groups to plan strategies. Each group will focus on a different aspect of the mission and hone solutions via gaming and simulations."

"Then we'll pull everything together in one global simulation," said Rexis. "See how it all works when the moving pieces bang up against each other."

"When do we start?" asked Feinberg.

"We're going into breakout sessions immediately," said Rexis. "Except Corporal Scott."

Scott sat straighter and clenched his jaw as everyone turned to stare at him.

"You'll be reporting to Engineering for your daily work detail," said Rexis. "Then the Training Deck for Battlenaut drills. After that, at eleven hundred hours, you'll join the Surface Warfare Group headed by Lieutenant Trane."

Scott didn't like being singled out and treated like a rookie, but he nodded and got to his feet. "Yes, sir." As usual, he didn't have any choice in the matter.

"See you later, Corporal." Trane said it with a wiseass edge to his voice. "And bring your A-game."

Scott bristled but kept it to himself. "I will, sir." With that, he marched up the aisle and out of the auditorium, leaving the others to continue the meeting.

He thought it was ridiculous to be sent off for menial duty when he had more experience with the Red Battlenauts than anyone in the room, but he did as he was told. Not that he was afraid of challenging superior officers when the situation called for it...but clearly, this wasn't such a situation.

Better to go swab the deck or whatever he needed to do to get through the next few hours without pissing anyone off. He could have his say later at the Surface Warfare working group.

If that plang-hole Trane would
let
him, that is. Meanwhile, maybe Engineering duty wouldn't be all that bad after all.

 

*****