Battlenaut Crucible E-Book

Robert Jeschonek

• Herausgeber: Pie Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

The Red Battlenauts show no mercy. Roaring out of the darkness of deep space, these ultra-high tech war machines pound the hell out of both sides in a bloody interstellar civil war. No one can even SEE the Reds--no one except Marine Corporal Solomon Scott. Recruited by the hardcore SEAL-like Diamondbacks, Scott becomes a secret weapon in the ultimate struggle for survival. In battle after battle on perilous alien worlds, Scott and the Diamondbacks fight back against the ruthless Reds, desperately holding the line in furious clashes of muscle and metal. But when a face from the past exposes the secrets behind the carnage, a quest for answers becomes a race against time. Because the masters of the Red Battlenauts have more on their minds than a thirst for conquest...and only Solomon Scott can hope to stand against them. In the galaxy's darkest hour, the highest stakes imaginable drive this hero in Battlenaut armor to seize his destiny. But can he overcome a soul-searing betrayal that strikes out of nowhere like the Reds themselves? Only by crushing the monsters of his own dark past can Scott vanquish the forces blasting humanity to the brink of annihilation. Don't miss this exciting sequel to BEWARE THE BLACK BATTLENAUT by award-winning storyteller Robert Jeschonek, a master of hard-hitting science fiction that really packs a punch. Strap yourself into the cockpit for OVER 100,000 WORDS OF BLISTERING ALL-NEW MILITARY SF ACTION!

Leseprobe

BATTLENAUT CRUCIBLE

A MILITARY SCIFI NOVEL

ROBERT JESCHONEK

CONTENTS

Also by Robert Jeschonek

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

About the Author

Special Preview: Six Scifi Stories Volume Four

BATTLENAUT CRUCIBLE

Copyright © 2023 by Robert Jeschonek

http://bobscribe.com/

Cover Art Copyright © 2023 by Ben Baldwin

www.benbaldwin.co.uk

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Blastoff Books

An Imprint of Pie Press

411 Chancellor Street

Johnstown, Pennsylvania 15904

www.piepresspublishing.com

Subscribe to the Blastoff Books Newsletter: http://newsletter.blastoffbooks.net/

ALSO BY ROBERT JESCHONEK

100th Power Book 1

100th Power Book 2

100th Power Book 3

Blastoff!

Cosmic Conflicts

Gray Lady Rising (with Annie Reed)

In a Green Dress, Surrounded by Exploding Clowns and Other Stories

In the Empire of Underpants and Other Stories

Scifi Motherlode

Sticks and Stones: A Trek Novel

CHAPTER1

Corporal Solomon Scott held his gray-plated Mark VI Battlenaut armor perfectly still in the thick white mist. Around him lay the broken armor of two opponents, dead pilots who'd fought to the last for the cause of the Rightful rebels. Scott had killed them both just moments ago in a firefight that had left his own armor damaged.

Unfortunately, the larger battle going on around him was nowhere near finished. According to comm traffic and the telemetry displayed on the visor of his helmet, dozens of Battlenauts were still smashing the hell out of each other in all directions. The battle for the Commonwealth outpost on planetoid Chelong III was still raging, the outcome up in the air.

But the big picture wasn't the main thing on Scott's mind at the moment. He was more concerned about where the next attack on his own armor would come from and how he'd survive it with a breach in his belly plating.

Tapping buttons on the left armrest keypad, he switched views on the visor, superimposing the telemetry data over feeds from the onboard cameras. As far as he could tell, there was nothing nearby...but the mists of Chelong swirled with crystalline particles that played tricks on sensors as well as eyes.

As he stared at the feed from his aft cameras, the smell of sweat and metal in the cockpit grew sharper, and the hairs on his neck stood up straight. He thought he glimpsed a flicker of movement and gripped the stick tight, ready to fire his rear-mounted guns.

But nothing bounded out of the mist back there, and he didn't shoot. No problem; he was good at keeping a cool head.

Not that anything else in the cockpit of his Mark VI was cool at that point. One of the topside cooling vents had taken a hit, and the whole rig was overheating like crazy. Sweat ran down his sides and soaked every part of him. At least the padded halo mount inside his helmet kept the sweat from running into his eyes and burning the crap out of them.

He was flipping between camera views again when Captain Rollins got on the horn. "Echo Charlie Bravo!" The man's gravelly voice burst from the comm speaker. "Stop standing around, Scott! Dewar and Shen need backup! I just flashed you the stats!"

As promised, Dewar and Shen's telemetry appeared on the visor. They were thirty meters to the right, both taking heavy hits...but from what? It didn't look like there was anyone else in their immediate vicinity. Was the mist screwing with their sensors?

"Damnit, Scott," snapped Rollins. "Get your ass moving!"

Suddenly, something caught his eye on the feed from the rightside camera. He played the armrest keypad, clearing the telemetry data from the visor screen and punching the rightside feed to maximum magnification. "Stand by, sir." He saw nothing...nothing...

Then something. A glint, a spark, a flicker in the fog.

"The hell with stand by!" Rollins' voice became a roar. "Shen just went down!"

Scott brought the telemetry back up and saw Shen's specs crashing hard. She was alive, but her armor was fried.

And whatever had fried it was out there somewhere in a rightside direction, exactly where Scott had seen the glint.

Rollins was still roaring over the comm, but Scott blocked him out. His neck hairs were still up, his gut was twisting; telemetry said nothing was out there, but his instincts told him otherwise.

Jaws clenched, he ran spectral overlays on the feed, scanning the full range of infrared and ultraviolet frequencies. Still nothing.

He cut his audio mic so he could talk to himself. "Come on, you piece of oosh. I know you're out there."

Scott threw all five feeds on-visor at once--rightside, leftside, frontside, backside, topside--and hit them all with the spectral overlays. Still, he saw no telltale signs of an enemy Battlenaut in any direction.

His instincts were usually good, but maybe they were off this one time. He'd been in battle before; even without actual fog, things could get confusing in the thick of it.

Just then, something Rollins was shouting broke through. "Dewar is down! Get over there now, you son of a..."

Grabbing the stick, Scott brought his Battlenaut back to life. He was just about to turn it toward Shen and Dewar when he spotted a blip on the radar. It only lasted a split-second, but it was enough to jolt him into action.

The monitors tracking his vital signs pinged faster across the board. The radar blip had appeared not to the right of him, but the left.

Whatever was coming, whatever had taken out Shen and Dewar, it had managed to circle around him.

Instead of turning right, Scott swung his Battlenaut left. At the same time, he played the armrest keypad, jumping all weapons out of standby mode.

That was when he saw the Red Battlenaut for the first time.

It burst out of the mist with guns blazing, marching straight toward him. It was bigger than his own Battlenaut armor--twelve meters tall compared to ten for the Mark VI--with skin that gleamed bright red from tip to toe. And there wasn't a mark on it that Scott could see.

Without thought or hesitation, Scott opened fire with his main guns. At the same time, he threw a half-dozen missiles at the Red. He needed to hit it hard and fast, not give it a chance to get at his damaged belly plating.

Slugs from the Red's guns peppered the Mark VI, pocking the shielding over the cockpit. His own missiles hit the Red's chest in a cluster, exploding with shuddering force.

But they didn't slow it down or leave a scratch.

"What the flux?" Scott opened up with his lasers and sonics at the same time, focusing on what he hoped was a weak spot--the backward-flexing knee joint of one leg. The armor narrowed there and lacked any visible shield plating.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean it was any weaker. The searing crimson beam from Scott's laser tagged the joint, accompanied by waves of oscillating vibratory force...but the Red didn't slow down a bit.

Scott clenched his teeth and stepped his Battlenaut back, then leaped forward, propelling his armor's shoulder toward the Red.

He was met by a shower of heavy slugs thudding into his plating, but they didn't stop him. His Mark VI covered the distance in seconds and slammed into the Red with its full weight and momentum.

Collision alarms wailed, and damage reports flashed on his visor. His vital signs spiked, and his head swam from the powerful impact. It had been a hell of a hit.

And apparently, it hadn't done any damage. The Red stood firmly in place; according to Scott's sensors, its armor hadn't buckled or ruptured in the slightest.

But that wasn't the worst of it. As Scott tried to push his Battlenaut back, he quickly realized it was stuck. He couldn't break away from the Red.

Cursing, he summoned new sensor data on the Red Battlenaut. According to the numbers, the Red's skin had become highly magnetized; its grip was more than strong enough to resist the full torque of Scott's armor's fusion-powered servos.

Seconds after he realized this, two panels popped open on the Red's chest, and twin circular blades mounted on extensible arms spun toward him. A heartbeat later, they were biting into the armor plating over Scott's cockpit, sending up showers of sparks.

Scott flipped on the mic and shouted over the grinding screech of the blades. "Mayday! Echo Charlie Bravo! Mayday!"

The blades cut fast, shearing their way through the super-hardened metal of Scott's armor like it was cardboard. Sensors showed the cockpit would be breached in less than a minute.

Scott jabbed the keypad, prepping all weapons to fire at once. It was a desperate move, but he couldn't think of anything else.

Not at first, anyway.

What would Bern do? The question flashed through his mind like a flame running down a trail of lit fuel. Bern was an inspiration to him, the reason he'd become a Commonwealth Marine in the first place. She was his grandmother, and she'd been a hero in an earlier war.

What would Bern do?

Suddenly, an idea flared to life. He would barely have time to try it; the blades were about to penetrate the shell of the cockpit.

Scott's fingers flew over both armrest keypads as he hastily shot commands into the armor's control network. Twice, he had to override fail-safes with pass codes and retinal scans.

"Yeah, I know," he said after jumping the last hurdle. "The armor wasn't built for this. Safety specs exceeded. Blah blah blah."

Just then, the Red's dual blades screamed through the armor, whirling mere inches away from his face. His flesh, skull, and brain were seconds from splattering all over the cockpit.

"Let's see how you like it." Scott sneered as he punched the last button. His heart was hammering, adrenaline searing through his bloodstream...and now he'd made his last play.

The lights and displays in the cockpit flickered and went out. The fusion power plant in the bowels of the Mark VI roared, and the armor rumbled violently. All around him, he heard a loud, sizzling crackle and hum.

Suddenly, the Red's blades stopped spinning and shot back toward the slits they'd cut. One popped right out, while the other twisted and caught on the edge of the slit. It pulled hard, working its way free--then snapped off the stem on which it was mounted and clattered down into the bowels of Scott's armor.

"Now we're talkin'." Scott braced himself against the cockpit couch and waited for what was coming. He'd fought fire with fire, charging his armor with streams of electrical current from the power plant, turning his Battlenaut into an electromagnet. An electromagnet with the same polarity as the Red Battlenaut.

Since two magnets with the same polarity repel each other, the two Battlenauts could no longer stay locked together. With a loud clang, Scott's armor shot away from the Red and crashed to the dusty ground.

"Yeah!" Scott scrambled in the cockpit, redirecting power from his Battlenaut's skin to the rest of its parts. The lights quickly came back up, and the control system rebooted. His helmet visor flickered back to life in a matter of seconds.

Just in time for him to see the Red stomping toward him.

Scott pounded the keypads and worked the stick, fighting to get his armor back on its feet. Servos hummed as he got the Mark VI to sit up, then roll to one side and brace itself with both gauntlets on the ground.

Meanwhile, the Red kept coming. Scott saw it march closer on his visor's video feed, even as he rolled his own armor onto its knees.

"Come on!" His Battlenaut lurched its upper body erect. Scott hammered buttons, and it drew up one knee, planting its right foot firmly under it.

He felt the ground shake as the Red stormed closer. Why it hadn't already opened fire, he couldn't guess.

Wrenching the stick, he focused the armor's power on the right leg, trying to push up and bring the other foot forward. Once he had both feet flat under him, he'd have the leverage to get the whole unit standing again.

But would he have time to finish the maneuver? The Red's footsteps were getting closer, its image growing larger in the visor video feed.

Scott smelled burning metal and plastic. Servos whined, the armor wobbled...and the legs locked up. The right leg got stuck halfway up, leaving the left foot jammed toe-first in the dirt, unable to flatten and fully extend the leg above it.

Cursing a blue streak, he fought the controls...and then it was too late. Proximity alarms squealed, and the Red Battlenaut suddenly towered over him.

Scott ground his teeth and scowled. Looking past the visor, he saw gleaming red metal fill the blast-tempered glass of the forward viewport.

It wasn't about getting on his feet anymore. The best he thought he could hope for was to take advantage of the Red's close range and unload everything he had.

Is that what Bern would do? Scott took a deep breath, then released it through his teeth. Hell, yes.

He counted to three, then played the keypads, quickly bringing every onboard weapon to bear on the Red looming over him. Without pausing, he keyed the system-wide fire command, letting everything loose at once.

Slugs poured up from his guns, bracketed by crimson streams of laser energy. Sonic blasts rippled out of his emitters, and the full complement of missiles leaped from their racks.

The Red took every bit of it without flinching. When the smoke cleared, it was still standing over him, shiny and unmarred as ever.

"Flux me." Scott's voice was soft in the cockpit. Sensor data scrolled on the visor before him, displaying the lack of damage in columns of figures that left him stunned.

It didn't seem possible. How could a Battlenaut take that much firepower at close range and not suffer the slightest damage?

No Battlenaut he'd ever seen or fought or heard of could do it, that was for sure. The Red was something new, something completely outside his experience. It was the kind of thing that could win the civil war between the Commonwealth and the Rightfuls.

It was also the kind of thing that could kill him with ease.

Switching to the image from his topside camera, he saw the Red lean down and aim its forward cannons at him. Yellow and red plasma danced in the heart of both barrels as the guns powered up and made ready to fire.

This is it. Even as the words burned in his mind, Scott recalibrated his own lasers, guns, and sonics, bringing them to bear on the Red. He also tripped the self-destruct and started the 60-second countdown; maybe his exploding fusion power plant would finally put a scratch in the Red Battlenaut's hide.

He felt zero fear as the glowing red digits on his visor ticked from 60 seconds to 50 to 40. He wasn't a fearless man, but death itself didn't scare him; it hadn't frightened him since the time he'd died at the age of thirteen. He'd come back a different person...a Marine in the making even then.

The digits read 30...then 20. Come and get me, he thought as he opened up hard with all weapons, frying circuits and emptying out his remaining ammo.

Nothing he did seemed to faze the Red Battlenaut at all. When the Red suddenly straightened, it did so with no sign of strain, as if the barrage had nothing to do with its choice of movement.

That's okay, thought Scott. "You'll notice this." He grinned wickedly as he watched the countdown on the visor tick from 20 to 15.

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?

CHAPTER2

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."

CHAPTER3

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."

CHAPTER4

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?

This time, when Perseid led him through the front door, Scott found himself in a sparsely-furnished conference room instead of a cluttered lab. A long green plastic table dominated the space, surrounded by a dozen folding metal chairs.

Only one of those chairs was occupied, and not for long. A woman in a black CORE uniform jumped to her feet instantly and saluted. Her appearance was striking: she had short red hair, a blazing bright smile, and emerald eyes that sparkled and flashed from all the way across the room.

Scott's heart beat faster as she walked toward them.

"Major Perseid." Her voice was high-pitched and strong, with a firm and friendly tone. "All ready for you, sir."

"Thank you, Captain." He nodded at Scott. "This is the guy."

When she looked at him, Scott was sure her smile got bigger. "Good to meet you, Corporal Scott. I'm Captain Cyan Rexis." She extended her hand.

Scott smiled and shook it. "Good to meet you, too, Captain." For the first time since Perseid had approached him in the canteen, he felt completely at ease...almost. The feel of her soft hand in his rattled him in other ways, all of them good.

"Shall we begin?" Rexis looked to Perseid, and he nodded. "Fantastic." Releasing Scott's hand, she crossed the room and grabbed a rectangular remote control from the table. When she pressed a spot on its control surface, the room lights dimmed and the far wall brightened, becoming a screen. "Please, take a seat."

Perseid sat near the middle of the table on one side, and Scott sat across from him. Rexis watched with a smile as they settled in, then turned to the screen.

"The Red Battlenaut." She worked the remote, and a computer-generated image of a Red Battlenaut appeared on the wall-screen. It didn't look much like the one Scott had fought, other than the fact that it was a Battlenaut and it was colored red. "You're the first to report having seen one, Corporal Scott. But we don't think you're the first to encounter one."

Intrigued, Scott leaned forward and folded his arms on the table.

"We think Red Battlenauts have been very active in the current conflict," said Rexis.

"Active but unseen," added Perseid. "An unknown third party intervening in the course of the war."

Rexis pressed a button, and the screen changed to show graphs and columns of data. "During the past month, reports of unexplained damage and loss of life among Commonwealth forces under battlefield conditions have increased significantly. Even accounting for inaccurate reporting and statistical error, our algorithmic analyses reveal a sharp upward trend." She pointed the remote at the screen, and a plotted line on a graph lit up yellow, highlighting a sudden rise. "In some cases, no one was left alive to testify about what happened. In other cases, surviving witnesses reported inexplicable assaults conducted by what could only have been an invisible opponent."

"Invisible to telemetry as well as the naked eye," said Perseid.

Rexis pressed another button, and the screen showed a photo of metallic debris on a background of red dirt. "Examination of remains in all cases was inconclusive. Investigators found evidence of scoring by ultra-high energy lasers...and nothing more." She flashed a look in Scott's direction. "Just like in your case."

Scott nodded. "So I'm not the first."

A map of the space sector appeared on-screen, with the systems of the Commonwealth on the right side, colored bright blue, and the Rightful systems--far fewer in number--in yellow on the left. Between them ran a jagged red border, the front line of the civil war. Blinking red dots were scattered along the length of the line, and in some cases well over the line in Commonwealth or Rightful space.

"All these are the locations of suspect incidents." Rexis waved the remote at the screen, and the red dots blinked brighter. There were dozens of them. "As you can see, we have identified quite a few."

"Wow." Scott stared at the screen and shook his head. "All that in one month?"

"There have to be more than one of them," said Rexis. "There's no other possible way they could make this much activity happen over these distances in this time frame."

"Though, until now, we had no idea what 'they' were," said Perseid. "You're the first to provide an actual description of the weapon."

"And survive an attack by one," said Rexis.

"And bring back a piece of one," added Perseid. "You've given us a description and physical evidence in one fell swoop. Now if we could just figure out how the hell you did it when no one else could."

Scott shrugged. "You haven't figured it out?"

Rexis changed the image on the screen to a set of graphs and tables and medical data. "We've gone over the results of the physical exam you were given after the battle, compared them to your baseline, and compared all that to the data from other personnel involved in Red Battlenaut non-sightings. We've gone over it all a hundred times, from every conceivable approach, and we've got nothing." She spread her arms wide. "Whatever it is that lets you see the Red Battlenaut, we haven't found it yet."

"And that's our priority," said Perseid. "Finding your secret and putting it to use so we can fight these things." He cleared his throat and looked at Rexis. "Though we have another priority, too."

"Tracking the source of the evidence you've obtained." Rexis pressed a button on the remote, and the screen switched back to the map of the sector with the blinking red dots along the front line. "We want to locate the source of the Red Battlenauts."

"And destroy them before they fulfill their agenda," said Perseid. "Whatever that might be."

Scott looked at Perseid, then Rexis, then Perseid again. "Isn't it obvious? The Reds are the Rightfuls' secret weapon. They want to defeat the Commonwealth, right?"

"Negative." Perseid got up and walked to the screen. "According to intelligence, the Reds may be attacking Rightful troops as well as Commonwealth forces. At least seventy percent of these incidents involve unexplained losses on both sides." He ran his finger down along the jagged front line on the map. "Whoever's controlling the Red Battlenauts, it isn't the Commonwealth or the Rightfuls."

Scott sat back in his chair, stunned by what he'd heard. If the Red Battlenauts weren't working for either side in the civil war, who were they working for? And what did their controllers want?

"So now you're seeing the big picture, aren't you?" Perseid stepped away from the screen and sat on the corner of the table. "You understand why we kept the evidence under wraps, even though it could have cleared your name."

Scott nodded. "You didn't want the word to get out that you have a piece of a Red Battlenaut."

"Whoever's behind this, we don't want to tip them off that we're coming," said Perseid. "Though we assume they're more than ready for us. Who knows how many invisible and undetectable Reds they have at their disposal?" He shook his head at Rexis. "It's a suicide mission, isn't it, Captain?"

Rexis smiled at Scott. "Not if we have someone along who can see the bastards."

"So now you know why you've been detailed to our CORE unit," said Perseid. "Because you're indispensable to the success of this mission. Because we need to figure out why you're able to see the Red Battlenauts, and we need you to see them for us when we fight them."

"We can't do it without you," said Rexis.

"Welcome to the team." Perseid walked over and extended a hand.

Scott stared at it for a moment. He'd been given his orders; he was going on the mission. The handshake was only a friendly gesture.

But he still hesitated. He'd never minded taking difficult roads in his life, but this one had so many unknowns, he wondered if he could survive it.

The odds seemed to be against him. He'd had a hard enough time fighting one Red Battlenaut; how could he handle more?

But the fact remained: he seemed to be the only one who could make a difference in this fight.

Even with the odds as steep as they were, he knew one thing with absolute confidence in his heart: if he hadn't been ordered to join the mission, he would have volunteered.

"Thank you, sir." Scott rose from his seat and shook Perseid's hand firmly. "Thanks for having me."

"Good." Perseid smiled and nodded. "Round up your gear and report to Hangar C-17 by oh-three hundred hours tonight. We leave promptly at oh-six hundred."

CHAPTER5

Scott arrived at Hangar C-17 fifteen minutes early and flashed his I.D. badge at the side door. He toted everything he owned behind him, packed in an olive drab duffel bag on wheels.

Two Marines manned the door, faces stony until they viewed his badge. Then, when they realized who he was, their eyes instantly changed, filling with disapproval. He'd seen it happen dozens of times since Chelong III; as far as they were concerned, he was under suspicion, his reliability and even his loyalty suspect.

The difference was, this time, their disapproval didn't give Scott the slightest twinge of doubt or worry. He knew there was evidence that backed him up, and people believed him. The hell with everyone else.

When the guards stepped aside, Scott threw the door open and marched into the hangar with his duffel. As soon as he stepped inside, he saw his next ride--a black transport shuttle squatting in the center of the huge space. It looked like a big crab with an ebony shell, its disklike body perched between four spindly struts. The shuttle's body bristled with weapons and instruments, and dual engine pods jutted from the rear, their flared cylinders ending in open silver cones.

Engineering personnel in red jumpsuits hurried around the ship, disconnecting hoses and conduits and running status checks with tablet computers. Other personnel in navy blue security uniforms stood close watch, rifles at the ready.

As Scott approached, a black-uniformed man with a tablet computer in one hand rushed out of the hatch in the belly of the shuttle and down the steps leading to the hangar floor. He spotted Scott immediately and jogged right over to him.

"Corporal Scott?" The man looked to be of Chinese descent, with broad, flat features and a thick black crew cut. He was muscular, like all CORE personnel, and tall--a few centimeters taller than Scott. "I'm Sergeant Vic Fong. Good to meet you." He reached for a handshake.

Scott liked him right away. "Likewise." He returned the handshake. "Reporting as ordered by Major Perseid."

Fong took a look at Scott's ID badge and nodded. "Roger that. Welcome to the Diamondbacks, Corporal."

It was the CORE unit's nickname. "Thanks." Scott glanced at the stylized snake jaws on the chest of Fong's uniform, the symbol that matched the nickname and called to mind a striking serpent. "I understand we're leaving at oh-six hundred?"

"From orbit, yes." Fong hiked a thumb toward the shuttle. "But we're launching from here to the mothership any minute now. Just waiting on a few more people." Suddenly, his eyes flicked away from Scott, looking over his shoulder. "There they are now."

As Fong jogged past, Scott spun to see who had gotten his attention. Seven people in black uniforms had just entered the hangar, loaded down with packs and ruggedized black plastic cases.

Scott knew four of them: Perseid and Rexis were up front, followed by Trane and Abby. The other three were strangers: a short, dark-haired man bulging with muscles; a woman with brown hair pulled back in a tight bun; and a tall woman with a long black ponytail and a lithe, swaying walk.

Fong met the group and accompanied them across the hangar, talking fast to Perseid, who listened and nodded. When Fong showed him something on the tablet screen, Perseid frowned and made a comment; Fong's fingers darted over the touch-screen, changing something, and Perseid nodded with satisfaction.

When the group reached Scott, Perseid stopped. "Glad you could make it."

Scott snapped off a crisp salute. "Corporal Scott reporting for duty, sir."

Perseid nodded. "You've already met Captain Rexis and Lieutenants Trane and Catharsis." He turned and gestured at the three newcomers bringing up the rear. "This is Gunnery Sergeant Joe Balko..."

The man with the bulging muscles nodded at Scott.

"...Lieutenant Masada Feinberg...," continued Perseid.

The woman with brown hair in a tight bun looked at Scott and blinked.

"...and Doctor Monique Beauchamp," finished Perseid.

The tall woman with the ponytail solemnly inclined her head.

Perseid ran his finger along the scar on his left cheek. "All present and accounted for?"

Fong nodded. "Everyone else is shipside, Major." He tapped the tablet screen three times, and the shuttle's engines whined to life, activated remotely. "Ready for departure, sir."

"Then let's get the hell rolling." Perseid stormed past him. "We've got work to do."

The rest of Perseid's group followed in his wake, leaving Fong and Scott standing alone. Fong tapped the screen a few more times, making the engines run louder, then leaned closer to Scott. "I've got a trivia question for you, Corporal."

"What is it?" said Scott.

"Do you know how many non-CORE personnel have returned in one piece from CORE Diamondback missions?"

Scott shook his head. "How many?"

"None." Fong raised his eyebrows and fixed Scott in a piercing gaze. "In other words, watch your back. This is some hardcore plang you've stepped in."

"Roger that," said Scott.

"The Diamondbacks are a family, and you're not one of them," said Fong. "Just something to keep in mind."

"Got it," said Scott, and then he turned and headed for the shuttle. He'd already understood what Fong had told him before Fong had said a damn word. He wasn't operating under any illusions when it came to the Diamondbacks.

As important as he was to the mission, he knew he'd still have to prove himself. And he knew he couldn't take anything for granted when the plang hit the fan.

* * *

When everyone was aboard and strapped in, Fong closed the gangway and jumped into the pilot seat. As his fingers danced over the control boards, thrusters on the shuttle's underside hummed. The transport rose, and the four struts that had cradled it folded in snug against the hull.

Through the forward viewport, Scott could see the hangar doors slide apart, opening onto a short, floodlit runway. Then, the engines roared, and the shuttle surged forward, bolting out of the hangar. It raced along the runway a few dozen meters, then suddenly swooped upward, charging into the starlit night sky.

As the shuttle climbed, the Diamondbacks talked quietly among themselves, but Scott wasn't paying attention. His eyes were locked on the viewport, literally staring into space, his mind swirling as he contemplated the adventure that lay ahead.

He'd seen a lot of action since the start of the war, had fought on battlefields from Yolanda to Antimony. He'd fought some formidable enemies, had some life-changing experiences. He wasn't even close to being a wet-behind-the-ears rookie anymore. But he was out of his element, and the weight on his shoulders was enormous. The stakes, if he should fail, were unimaginably high. In so many ways, he was heading off into the unknown, moving in a direction he would not have thought possible just a few days ago.

He wondered what Bern would think of all this--and the answer came to him instantly. She would tell him to quit obsessing and go do his damn job. She wouldn't even wish him luck because he wouldn't need it, because he was a Commonwealth Marine.

After a few minutes, Fong gestured at the viewport. "There it is." He glanced back at Scott and smiled. "What do you think?"

Scott didn't see a thing except stars and darkness. "Not sure." He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, but nothing changed. "Where is it?"

"You'll see." Fong chuckled and touched controls on the board in front of him. "Let me just switch the lights on."

Suddenly, the outline of a huge, streamlined vessel appeared in the viewport, traced in bright white lights. The hull showed nothing but space and stars, a perfect continuation of its surroundings--but the lights shone on its contours, making it stand out. Without them, Scott was sure it would have still blended in with the starscape around it, completely invisible to his eyes.

"Presenting the CSS Sun Tzu." Fong chuckled and looked back at him again. "How about now?"

"Not bad." Scott smiled and nodded. "Nice stealth mode, by the way."

"It's all done with mirrors." Fong winked and turned back to his controls.

Scott was more impressed than he let on. He'd heard of such ships before but had never seen one. "Ghost ship, huh? You guys really are the elite." According to the rumor mill, the technology was very new and its use highly restricted due to its extreme energy consumption curve.

"It's no Red Battlenaut," said Trane, "but it gets the job done."

"Wasn't there an energy consumption issue?" said Scott.

"Not anymore," said Rexis. "Thanks to our new negative mass drive."

"Our ultra-top secret negative mass drive," added Perseid.

"Isn't everything ultra-top secret?" said Trane. "Including our bowel movements?"

As the Diamondbacks laughed, Scott took in the sleek lines of the Sun Tzu. It reminded him of an arrow, but with rounded, swooping curves instead of sharp angles and edges. Instead of a spiky arrowhead, it had a smoothly curving, conical tip dotted with windows. At the other end of its long shaft, it had a cluster of bulging engine pods instead of feathers. Each segment turned slowly--the nose, shaft, and engine block each rotating in opposite directions.

It looked graceful and delicate as it hung in the firmament ahead, though Scott didn't doubt its killing capabilities. It would have to be a lethal vessel to serve CORE's deadly purposes. It would have to live up to its namesake--the Old Earth author of The Art of War.

"She's a hell of a ship," said Fong.