0,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Pie Press
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
All-out war engulfs a distant quadrant of space. Hardcore warriors clash in high tech Battlenaut armor, pitting the ultimate fighting machines in epic struggles on a planetary scale. In the heart of this raging hell, the sleep-deprived Redeye squad fights harder than anyone. Pumped up on drugs, wired to the max, the Redeyes tear through enemy forces like berserk Vikings. But fatigue takes a toll, as the Redeyes start to see things that don't exist. And something that might exist after all--a terrible harbinger of doom, a legendary herald of the end of all things. Does the Black Battlenaut truly tower over the blood-soaked war zone? Is it a nightmare brought on by exhaustion, or an omen of infinite devastation? Either way, the Redeyes set out to stop it by any means necessary...even if their private war requires the ultimate sacrifice and more. Don't miss this exciting tale by award-winning storyteller Robert Jeschonek, a master of hard-hitting science fiction that really packs a punch.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
Ähnliche
BEWARE THE BLACK BATTLENAUT
A MILITARY SCIFI STORY
ROBERT JESCHONEK
CONTENTS
Also by Robert Jeschonek
Beware the Black Battlenaut
About the Author
Special Preview: Six Scifi Stories Volume Four
Beware the Black Battlenaut
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
Battlenaut Crucible
Scifi Motherlode
Sticks and Stones: A Trek Novel
BEWARE THE BLACK BATTLENAUT
"Looky there," said Swindle, the leperchaun on Grist Halcyon's shoulder. He pointed with a crumbling green finger at one of the Battlenaut's cockpit video screens, and Grist looked in that direction.
On the screen, Grist saw the barren, storm-swept surface of the rebel-held moon, Sangre. The latest flare of lightning revealed a towering black figure on the crest of the hill. At that instant, the very first instant he glimpsed it, Grist knew in his heart what it was even as he knew in his head it just wasn't possible.
The flare of light faded, and the black figure faded with it back into the night. When the next lightning struck a moment later, the hilltop was deserted.
"Begorra." One rotting nostril fell away from Swindle's leprous face. "It's him, ain't it, boyo?"
Grist blinked hard and shook his head. "Can't say." Just then, his arm burned as the automated hypodermic cuff strapped to his bicep shot a fresh jolt of go-juice into his system. A ring of lights around the forward viewport flashed in a pattern designed to reset his body's circadian rhythms.
Must've been about to nod off. Can't have that, can we? As the go-juice pumped through his arteries, Grist felt himself return to full alertness. The Battlenaut's sensors and computers had done their job again, intervening at just the right moment with just the right dose of meds to keep Grist awake and alert for yet another hour.
Grist licked his dry lips and checked the video monitor again. Lightning spiked nearby, revealing six soldiers in Battlenaut armor facing off on a rocky battlefield...but no sign of the dark figure from the hilltop.
Grist stabbed the comm button and spoke into his mic. "Hey, Freak. Ever hear of the Black Battlenaut?"
When he didn't get a reply, Grist looked at the button he'd just hit and realized it wasn't the comm at all. He was just about to punch the real comm button when the cockpit rocked from a powerful impact. It was enough to crack his helmeted skull against the headrest and snap him back to the reality from which he'd taken a brief vacation.
Fight. That's right. His hands flew back to the steering and weapons controls. I'm in a firefight.
I'm fighting a war here.
* * *
Sharon "Freak" Freemare laughed like a maniac as she cut loose her Battlenaut's main guns against the oncoming enemy. One slug hit home in a big way, punching through the enemy's armor and leaving a jagged, smoking hole at the top of one leg.
Still shrieking with laughter, Freak swung a laser around and opened up on the damage. Metal and plastic melted before the onslaught, and the enemy Battlenaut's leg gave way within seconds.
The damaged Battlenaut went down hard, flat on its face. The enemy soldier in its cockpit tried in vain to force the smashed war machine to get up and fight, but it was still lying in the mud when Freak marched her own Battlenaut over to meet it.
"Hey, traitor!" shouted Freak, though she knew the downed pilot couldn't hear her. "Special delivery from the Redeyes for ya!"
Freak used her lasers to disable the enemy Battlenaut's weapons systems. The whole time, the smell of baking bread was so strong in the cockpit that it made her stomach growl.
Why she smelled baking bread in the cockpit instead of the usual sweat and stink, she had no idea, but she didn't let it trouble her. Better just to soak it in like the smell of roses that had rushed over her moments earlier, or the incredible smooth feeling of silk that had rippled over her skin moments before that.
Better just to enjoy the ride.
Eyeballing the display on her visor, she located the other members of her squad. Lieutenants Grist and Pellucid formed two points of a triangle enclosing the battlefield, with Freak as the third point. Four enemy Battlenauts were trapped inside the triangle, three still standing plus the one she'd just brought down.
Freak cackled as she swung her Battlenaut toward a fresh target. These bums are no match for the Redeyes.
That was what Freak's squad called themselves: Redeyes, because they fought without rest. Computers monitored the alertness of this experimental squad and administered countermeasures, chemical and otherwise, to keep them awake and fighting. Such sleep deprivation techniques promised to limit downtime for deployed Commonwealth troops, giving them an edge in the ongoing civil war against the Rightfuls.
From Freak's point of view, the experiment was the biggest success of all time. She and the others had been awake for days on end, so long she'd lost count, and still they suffered no ill effects.
If anything, Freak felt better than ever. She'd never fought more fiercely or thought more clearly in her life.
Who knew insomnia could be so much fun?
* * *
Lieutenant Robert "Raw" Pellucid was convinced that the chronometer in the cockpit of his Battlenaut was broken, but he didn't have time to try to fix it.
Even as Raw pounded two enemy Battlenauts with laser fire, he stole another look at the chronometer's readout. He growled like a dog and grimaced at the blinking red numbers.
1805. 1805. 1805.
Seems like it was just 1805 fifteen minutes ago.
Unless the extreme sleep deprivation was affecting his time perception, the chronometer was running ten times slower than reality. What that meant was, the chronometer was definitely running slow, because Raw was running fine, sleep dep and all. He'd been awake for what felt like forever and hadn't needed even a single shot of wake-up juice.
His fellow Redeyes might be running on fumes, but Raw was burning rich. He was just that kind of guy. Even before the program, he'd always kept a lid on, no matter how high the heat.
Nothing but nothing could shake the S.O.B. He was fearless, poisonous, dirty, and smart. Smart enough to wonder if someone was screwing with him.
He went over it again as he raced his Battlenaut, guns blazing, toward his closest opponent. If the clocks are out, we don't know how long we've been fighting on Sangre. We're on the dark side of this God-forsaken moon, so we can't even count the days by sunrises and sunsets.
His opponent's Battlenaut stood its ground and sprayed defensive fire that splashed harmlessly off Raw's armor. At the last instant, the enemy leaped out of his path.
But why would someone want us to lose track of time? Why keep us in the field beyond the three-day limit?
Raw growled again, low in his throat. Because they want to see how far we can go. Because they want to push the redeye tech to the limit.
Even as he spun the Battlenaut around and threw a missile at the enemy's belly, Raw ran a little mental self-diagnostic to make sure he wasn't being paranoid.
Nope. Don't know the meaning of the word, folks.
He checked the chronometer again.
1805. 1805. 1805.
How long would the researchers leave the Redeyes on Sangre? What had to happen before they pulled the plug?
The answer came to him with a surprising lack of surprise, as if he'd always known it on some level.
The Redeyes had to die. Only then would Command pull the plug.
* * *
Just as Grist was running his Battlenaut headlong toward a downed rebel, another blast of lightning flared nearby. A burst of static crackled from his comm.
It was followed by music.
The signal was weak, but Grist recognized the music immediately: "Tried and True," an old battle anthem from his homeworld, Tack. At the academy on Ryot, so far from home, he'd sung it to keep up his spirits. He'd sung it during many a night of drinking with fellow cadets who had also come from Tack and missed its jewel-capped mountains and fields of coppery glow-grain.
Cadets like his best friend, Mallet Cray.
Even as the rush of music and memories rocked him, Grist plowed his Battlenaut forward on pure momentum. He slammed it hard against the rebel, which seemed to be undergoing some kind of systems malfunction. As soon as he made contact, Grist wrenched back on the stick, keeping his Battlenaut on its feet while the rebel crashed to the ground.
