Resist the Red Battlenaut (20 page)

 

*****

 

 

In a matter of moments, Scott would be dead. The fast-spreading biofilm would expand to fill the cockpit, locking him in place and choking the life out of him.

The Red arrows must have injected a computer virus into his Battlenaut. Frank the A.I. had become corrupted and was trying to murder his own pilot.

Scott had only one recourse. Reaching down, he slapped the red button installed on the right edge of his couch, the only manual override control in the whole Battlenaut.

Instantly, he heard the magnetic clamps release with four simultaneous
bang
s
. Then, an overhead hatch sprang open, and the cockpit leaped up out of the Battlenaut's body.

It didn't fly far, though. The biofilm must have damaged its thrusters or guidance system or both, because the cockpit pod flipped over after emergence and dove into the sand thirty yards from Scott's Battlenaut.

That left Scott upside-down in the ejected pod--but the biofilm had stopped pumping. At least he wasn't going to smother in a tin can filled with quick-drying green death-slime.

Unbuckling his straps, Scott rolled his legs over and down, turning himself upright in the tight space. Then, bracing his back against the couch, he drew up his legs and unleashed a double kick at the cockpit cowling. When he saw it give a little, he hauled back his legs for another try.

It took five kicks to break open the cowling. As sunlight and the noise of battle poured into the cockpit, Scott clambered out headfirst.

Emerging into the heat and smoke and clamor, he quickly took a look around, assessing the scene. From what he could see, the Diamondbacks had taken some of the pressure off the Commonwealth Marines, but the protective ring was buckling. Though the Reds were no longer invisible to everyone on the battlefield, they were still dominant thanks to their greater numbers.

As for Scott, he was completely unarmed and unprotected in the midst of heavily armed Battlenauts, and his own armor was coming after him. It was a deadly gauntlet, a seemingly unsurvivable situation--but Scott was highly motivated and had been through nightmare scenarios before. Taking advantage of his smaller size and greater agility, plus the fact that most of the Battlenauts would be shooting at each other instead of him, he might just have a shot at eluding Frank and reaching Bern. But he would have to be fast and alert, at the absolute top of his game.

When a flicker of motion caught his eye, he whipped around to see his Battlenaut charging toward him, bristling with weapons. In case there was any doubt about Frank's intentions, the Battlenaut cranked off a series of rounds in Scott's direction, chewing up the cockpit pod and kicking up tufts of sand.

Propelled by a burst of adrenaline, Scott spun and ran like lightning toward the ring of Commonwealth Battlenauts at the heart of the fight. He might just have a better chance of survival there--and a chance of finding Bern.

Slugs from Frank's guns poured past Scott as he charged across the sand. Agility was his biggest advantage over the less maneuverable metal-clad giant, and he made the most of it. Running in a serpentine pattern, he nimbly dodged laser beams and sonic blasts as Frank kept up the onslaught.

As Scott darted between Red Battlenauts, the wisdom of his chosen route was obvious. Like a mouse among giants, he was able to scamper between the feet of the towering Reds to avoid Frank, who couldn't fit through the same gaps. As Frank kept firing his weapons, he hit the Reds instead of Scott, who zipped right out of range.

Tagged by Frank's stray shots, the Reds spun and turned their guns on him, stopping him in his tracks. That gave Scott a chance to bolt toward the inner circle of the Commonwealth's defenses.

Unfortunately, when Scott ran into the open ground between the Reds and the Commonwealth forces, he found himself in range of other guns. Friendly fire pelted the sand around him, laid down by Commonwealth Battlenauts shooting at the Reds. Scott had to weave more erratically than ever to avoid it--and then a missile hit and exploded ten meters away, knocking him off his feet.

His ears were ringing as he rolled over on his side and looked up, squinting at a Commonwealth Battlenaut with the blazing sun behind its head. The Battlenaut kept its missile launcher pointed in his direction and its optics trained on him, no doubt assessing his threat level. Scott wondered if this was how he would die, without armor, at the hands of friendly forces.

Suddenly, a blast of golden energy struck the Commonwealth Battlenaut in the chest, and it swung its missile launcher around to point in a different direction. Scott saw his chance and took it, scrambling to his feet and sprinting away.

Explosions erupted behind him as he ran hard for the inner circle. He was aiming for a gap in the line when the ground shuddered under his feet, and one of the Commonwealth defenders crashed down in front of him. Scott barely missed getting pinned under it and dashed in a new direction, running along the fallen giant's smoldering length.

Just as he was about to loop around its feet, Scott felt the heat of a laser beam searing past. Looking back as he threw himself behind the fallen Battlenaut's leg, he saw his rampaging Diamondback armor storming toward him, firing lasers and sonics.

Frank's voice boomed over the armor's P.A. system. "Solomon! It is safe to return. The damage to my circuitry has been repaired." Even as he said it, Frank unleashed a flurry of laser fire and slugs. "Come back, Solomon. We will defeat the Reds together."

Scott wasn't about to let himself get pinned down. Leaping up, he bolted away from the fallen Battlenaut and continued heading for the inner circle.

Slugs pounded the sand behind him, just missing his running feet. Lasers flashed past to the right and left, filling the air with the smell of cooked ozone.

Scott kept serpentining, but with all the fire he was drawing from Frank, he was surprised he hadn't been hit yet. Maybe the same malfunction that had turned Frank rogue had affected his targeting systems.

"You need help, Solomon," said Frank. "I am dispatching my drone pods to assist you."

Scott reached deep and found the strength to run faster. Drone pods could do some serious damage to an armor-plated Battlenaut; Scott hated to think what they could do to his unprotected human body.

"Here they come, Solomon," said Frank. "You won't have to wait long now."

Glancing back over his shoulder, Scott saw a cluster of drone pods hurtling toward him like a swarm of angry bees. Turning his gaze forward again, he continued his life-or-death charge toward the inner circle--though he really hadn't thought through what he'd do when he got there. The pods could weave between the Commonwealth Battlenauts with ease and follow him through, so he wasn't exactly heading for a safe haven. He'd just have to hope an opportunity for survival would present itself.

Arms and legs pumping, Scott raced between two Commonwealth defenders and into the inner circle they'd been protecting. Before he could take a look around, though, one of the pods slammed into his back, pitching him facedown on the sand.

As soon as he hit, another pod clipped his right shoulder, and a third punched his left calf hard enough to send a bolt of sheer agony flashing through his body.

As the fourth blow cracked against his tailbone, he knew he wouldn't be able to take much more. Without some kind of intervention, the black spheres would go on pounding him until his bones and guts liquefied inside his skin.

Another blow clocked his neck and the back of his skull, making him see stars. Forcing his head up, he searched for some kind of weapon--any piece of debris he could use to fend off the pods. But there was nothing in arm's reach.

Just then, he took two more hits in rapid sequence--one to his left side, the other to his right hip. The flare of pain that followed was so strong, he clenched his jaws and shut his eyes against it. When he opened them again, he saw the feet of a Battlenaut running toward him.

Looking up, he saw that the feet belonged to a Commonwealth model with green armor. He didn't get to see much more, though; the Battlenaut reached him in a heartbeat and swung its hand toward him, forcing him to duck.

Scott felt a rush of wind as the Battlenaut's hand swept over him. He heard a clashing, clattering noise, like a pile of scrap metal being dumped from a truck...and right away, he knew what it had to be.

Sure enough, when he lifted his head and looked back over his shoulder, the drone pods were gone. The Battlenaut had batted them away from him.

Whoever was at the controls of that unit, he was a hell of a pilot. A lesser Battlenaut jockey might not have been able to knock the pods away without hitting Scott...but this one had left him without a scratch.

Pushing himself to his knees, Scott stared up at the towering green Battlenaut, wondering who was in the cockpit. For a long moment, the Battlenaut stared back at him, giving no clue to its operator's identity...and then, it did.

A woman's voice called out over the unit's P.A. "Hello, Solly!" It was a voice that Scott recognized instantly, a nickname used by only one person.

"Bern!" He should have known.
No one
was a better Battlenaut pilot than his grandma. "Thank God you're all right!"

"I got your messages," Bern said from inside the armor. "I called and left one for you, too."

"I brought the Diamondbacks, Grandma," shouted Scott. "They're going to get you out of here."

"I hope they're
armored
, at least." Bern laughed loudly. "Unlike
you
. What happened to your
Battlenaut
, Solly?"

"Damn thing went rogue, Grandma." Scott shrugged. "That's where those
drone pods
came from."

"Your own armor turned on you?" Bern laughed again. "You do realize you'll never live that down, don't you?"

"
I
won't tell if
you
won't, Grandma."

Her reply was drowned out by the roar of enormous engines approaching from above. As Scott looked skyward, a massive shadow fell over the inner circle--the shadow of a giant spacecraft sliding into place to block out the sun.

The belly of the ship was red from stem to stern. A circular hatch irised open in the middle, and a cylindrical beam of glittering white energy shot downward.

It shot down into the heart of the inner circle and enveloped Bern's Battlenaut. Instantly, the armor left the ground, slowly rising within the beam as if it were riding an elevator.

They were taking her. She was right there in front of him, and the Reds were talking her.

"Bern!" Adrenaline surged through Scott, and he bolted toward the beam. Just as he was about to enter it, Bern's Battlenaut suddenly accelerated, shooting upward like a guided missile.

Scott never took his eyes off her as he ran into the beam. He rose slowly at first, as Bern had done, and steeled himself for the sudden acceleration he expected at any second.

Meanwhile, far above him, Bern's green Battlenaut passed through the circular hatch into the ship. As soon as the armor disappeared from view, the beam of glittering white energy switched off.

By then, Scott was about ten meters off the ground. When the beam cut off, he dropped like a stone, landing on his back on the hot sand.

He lay there a moment, helpless, glaring up at the Red leviathan. As the hatch on its belly irised shut, he knew there was nothing he could do to rescue his grandmother. They had her; it was that simple.

Scott was hundreds of meters below, without armor or a ship of his own. He didn't even have a comm device to call for help. He'd be lucky if he made it through the battle without getting stepped on, let alone saving the Commandant of the Commonwealth Marines single-handedly.

The ship's engines roared, and it slid away, exposing the battlefield to the blazing sun once more. Scott squinted against the influx of light, then raised a hand to shade his eyes.

It was up to the
Sun Tzu
now. Surely, the crew had spotted the Red ship on sensors, even if it seemed to phase in and out. Maybe, they'd even seen it snatch Bern's Battlenaut or had picked up a distress signal she'd sent. Rexis wouldn't hesitate to charge to the Commandant's rescue...if she could.

If the
Sun Tzu
didn't already have its hands full. If the Reds hadn't already blown it to bits, which Scott wouldn't even know about since he didn't have a radio.

If the
Sun Tzu
wasn't able to pursue, what then? How could Scott ever find Bern in the vastness of space? How could he stop the Reds from using her for whatever malevolent plans they had in mind?

He had no idea.

Closing his eyes, he let the sounds of raging battle wash over him. It was almost peaceful. Something exploded nearby, and he didn't even jump.

The battle, like Bern's fate, was out of his control. He could no nothing to change either one.

At least for now.

 

*****

 

 

Less than an hour later, the battle was over. The Commonwealth had won--if losing the Marine Corps Commandant to the Reds could be called "winning." Scott survived, though Frank had made another run at him in missile mode and been barely deflected by Trane and Khalil.

Two hours later, Scott was evacuated from the surface of Oberon aboard one of the drop ships. When the drop ship's gangway opened inside the landing bay of the
Sun Tzu
, he looked out--and found himself face to face with a line of rifles pointed in his direction.

The guns weren't aiming at him, though. When Scott walked down the gangway, the Diamondbacks holding them parted to let him through. They were much more interested in the cluster of twelve shackled Red prisoners debarking behind him.

The Diamondbacks and Commonwealth Marines had rounded them up after winning the battle. The Red leaders had left them behind in their rush to get away with Bern.

As Scott watched the Diamondbacks lead the prisoners off the drop ship at gunpoint, he wanted to beat the truth out of them. He wanted to do anything in his power to make them tell him where Bern had been taken.

Instead, he stood by as they shuffled past him with eyes glazed over and jaws set. He glared at them, sending each a silent message crackling with the raw power of his hatred:
Talk to
you soon
.

As the last prisoner moved past, Scott heard Perseid's voice nearby. "Corporal Scott!"

A bolt of pain shot through Scott's back and neck as he turned toward Perseid. Frank's drone pods had really given him a pounding. "Sir?"

"Get to the medicenter." Perseid pointed at the nearest exit. "Do it
now
."

"I'm fine." Scott forced himself not to wince at the latest jolt of pain as he pointed at the Red prisoners. "What about them? When do we start interrogations?"

Perseid ignored the question. "Your own armor went rogue and nearly killed you. I'd say that's reason enough to stop by the medicenter, wouldn't you?"

Scott sighed. "Speaking of my armor, have you
found
it yet?"

"No." Perseid shook his head. "Our last sensor contact was fifty klicks from the battlefield...then nothing. Maybe it went underground or self-destructed. Who knows?"

"So it's down there running wild?" said Scott. "Not good."

"We'll hunt it down later," said Perseid. "If the quadrant's still here then." With that, he headed for the exit. "Now get your ass to the medicenter. I've got to call Command."

Scott watched him go, then left the landing bay himself...only he wasn't heading for the medicenter as ordered. Not this time.

 

*****

 

When Scott rushed onto the Command Deck, Rexis called out to him immediately. "Corporal!" Clearly, she was busy as hell--the whole place was--but she still spotted him right away. "Get to the medicenter!"

Scott stopped in his tracks. Perseid must have figured out where he was going and called ahead...not that Scott was going to let it distract him from the question he'd come to ask. "The Red ship. What happened to it?"

"Gone from the system," said Fong, who was floating in his antigrav harness nearby. His hands danced over the holo-controls fanned out around him as he spoke. "Course unknown."

Scott scowled. "What are you talking about? Didn't you
follow
it?"

Fong didn't say a word. Instead, he shook his head and slid his gaze toward Rexis.

Scott took the hint and turned his glare in her direction. "You mean you
didn't
? You let the Red ship get away with the
Commandant
?"

"We didn't know they had her," said Rexis. "
You
were the only
eyewitness
, and you were completely off the
comm
. Everyone else on the surface was in a state of chaos."

"Unbelievable." Scott rubbed his temples. "You didn't think there might be a good reason for going
after
them?"

Rexis stiffened. "For all we knew, they were trying to lead us into an ambush. Or they might have been trying to lure us away from our ground forces. I decided not to take the chance."

"Then you made the wrong call." Scott was on thin ice and he knew it--but he didn't care. Let her court martial him if she wanted; it wouldn't change the fact that she'd lost Bern to the Reds. "You let them
take
her."

Rexis narrowed her eyes. "You
saw
what they did to the
Sam Nicholas
and the
Augustus
. Do you really think the
Sun Tzu
would have done any better?"

"I guess we'll never know, will we?" said Scott.

Rexis stormed over and stopped in front of him, her face centimeters from his own. "There were other considerations, Corporal. All
hell
is breaking loose, in case you didn't notice.
Someone
has to get word back to HQ before the Reds make their next move." She lowered her voice. "Not that I have to
explain
myself to you."

Scott almost pushed it too far. Even with her icy gaze locked on him, and the force of her anger pressing against him like a weight, he opened his mouth to say something that he damn well knew would put him in the brig.

Then, he closed it again. He was deeply upset, so worried about Bern that he almost couldn't stand it--but pissing off his commanding officer wouldn't solve his problems. It wouldn't bring back Bern.

So, instead, he nodded. "Understood."

That seemed to take some of the fire out of Rexis' furnace. "I know how you're feeling." Her expression turned sympathetic. "But she's a tough woman. She'll get through this, and we'll get her back."

"Right." Scott nodded, but he wasn't sure he believed her. The Reds could have taken Bern anywhere. "But we definitely didn't get a bearing on their course out of the system?"

Fong spoke up again. "Sensors tracked them as far as the sixth planet, and then we lost them. The Reds used some kind of reality-distortion drive that turned local space inside-out, and then they were gone."

Scott took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So no trail, then?"

"Correct," said Fong. "No trail."

"Okay then." Scott nodded. "Thanks for the update." He wasn't being sarcastic. As disappointing as the news was, they'd told him what he needed to know. They'd made it clear what he'd have to do next.

Seek guidance elsewhere.

Turning, he headed for the door. No one said a word as he left.

 

*****

 

When Scott entered Lab Five, Trane was in the process of hugging Beauchamp and letting out a whoop of delight.

"You did it!" Spinning Beauchamp around, Trane caught sight of Scott in the doorway. "She did it!"

With a cool, feline smile, Beauchamp gently freed herself from Trane's hug. "The A.I. trackers did most of the work, actually. But yes, it is true. We have done it."

"Done what?" asked Scott.

"Traced the genomes of the Red viruses," said Beauchamp. "The catalyst virus and the pieces of the firewall virus that did not match the engineered virus from Project Lethe on Archibald."

Scott's heart beat faster. "You've found their source?"

Trane nodded and brushed orange sand from his black uniform. He'd beaten Scott back to the
Sun Tzu
but hadn't cleaned himself up from the battle yet. "Absolutely, unequivocally, yes."

Scott raised his eyebrows. "That's pretty definite." He knew Trane wasn't prone to undue optimism.

"The Project Lethe trail led nowhere, thanks to the data block," said Trane. "But Monique kept the A.I. trackers searching the genetic databases while we were on Oberon. By the time I got back, they'd finally made a positive match."

"The viruses clearly belong to a species found only on Dornick VII," said Beauchamp. "They represent unique strains of a pair of symbiotic, quantum-entangled viruses that attack the parts of the brain that control the senses."

"Dornick VII." Trane laughed and slammed the palm of his hand down on one of the metal counters. "Now we know where the Red bastards are hiding."

Scott frowned. "Or maybe they just manufacture the viruses there."

Trane grinned and shook his head. "But it's the perfect
hiding place
. It's probably
swarming
with the Red-blindness viruses. To anyone infected with the firewall virus, the planet would be practically
invisible
."

"But the strains that cause Red-blindness aren't native, are they?" said Scott. "They had to be engineered to perform that specific task, right?"

"I think it's safe to say that the Reds would let the engineered strains loose," said Trane. "Especially if it meant hiding the whole damn
planet
."

It made sense. Scott looked at Beauchamp, and she nodded in agreement.

As for Trane, he flew over and slapped Scott on the back. "Now we know where to go to get your grandma back. Now we know where to go to smash the damn Reds once and for all!"

"Sounds good to me." Even as Scott said it, his stomach clenched. What if Dornick VII
wasn't
the Reds' center of operations? The evidence was persuasive, and the logic was sound, but something about it still gave him a bad feeling in his gut. Maybe it was intuition, warning him of a possible mistake.

Or maybe he was just worrying too much. The stress kept getting stronger as the clock kept ticking, and Bern--wherever she was headed--was getting farther away.

"Don't worry," said Trane as if he'd been reading Scott's mind. "We'll get her back before you know it." He winked at Scott and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Thanks." Scott managed a smile in spite of the bad feeling in his gut. "I hope you're right."

 

*****

 

When Scott left Trane and Beauchamp in Lab Five, he headed for the medicenter--then changed his mind when he got halfway there. Swinging around a corner, he aimed for the brig instead. He would just have to wait to check on Donna and get the once-over ordered by Perseid. At the moment, with Bern's time ticking away fast, the twelve Red prisoners were much more important.

As Scott whipped around the last turn before the brig, he saw that the place was under heavy guard. Four Diamondback men in full body armor, complete with helmets, stood outside the door...two on either side, all carrying big rifles.

The two guards closest to the door stepped forward when Scott approached. "Hold it," said the younger of the two. "We're on lockdown here, sir. Nobody gets in or out."

"I'm cleared for that." Scott tried to push past, but the guard and his partner blocked him.

"Like I said, sir." The younger guard shook his head. "It's a lockdown situation."

"Are they interrogating the prisoners?" Scott tried to push through again and failed. "I'm telling you, I've got ultra-top secret clearance."

"Actually," said the younger guard, "we were ordered specifically not to let
you
through."

Scott stared at him in disbelief. "Ordered by who?"

"Major Perseid, sir," said the guard.

Scott backed away. "Perseid? Where the hell is he?"

The guard bobbed his head toward the door of the brig. "Inside, sir."

"Then tell him to get out here. I want to talk to him." Scott felt a wave of anger rising in his chest. The Reds on the other side of the door knew where Bern was, they
had
to...but he couldn't get to them.

At that point, the older of the two guards spoke up. "Major Perseid left orders not to be interrupted. You'll just have to wait to talk to him, sir."

"Also," said the younger guard, "he left orders for you to go the medicenter."

"Right." Scott glared at the two guards for a moment, then turned and marched off down the corridor. The brig was a dead end, at least for the time being.

The question was, why? Was Perseid afraid Scott would come on too strong in an interrogation? That he'd take it too far because of Bern?

Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe Perseid was the one going too far, and he wanted to keep the Commandant's grandson out of it.

Whatever the reason, Scott didn't like it. He wanted to confirm Trane and Beauchamp's findings and beat the drum to race to Dornick VII as soon as possible. He wanted to make the bad feeling in his gut go away.

Or, maybe, find out the reason it was there in the first place.

 

*****