Resist the Red Battlenaut Read online

  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?

  *****

  Chapter 2

  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 te
ll. 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."

  *****

  Chapter 3

  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."

  *****

  Chapter 4

  Scott didn't say a word as Perseid led him out of the lab building. He was too busy trying to wrap his head around what was happening.

  Not to mention, he was irritated. After all the interrogation, all the worrying, and all the crap he'd taken since Rollins' death, CORE had had hard evidence that proved his story all along. Not only had they held it back during the investigation so far, but they had no intention of releasing it anytime soon.

  As far as the Marines were concerned, there was still a cloud over him. He might even be found guilty of an infraction or worse. And now, he was being pulled into some other cluster-flux all together.

  Things felt like they were flying out of control fast.

  "This way, Corporal." Perseid marched over the gray, dusty ground toward the next building over, another half-cylindrical metal structure, completely nondescript. How many times had Scott been past here since Chelong III without realizing what lay inside?