As Trane snickered some more, the snoring got even louder. Wondering who was responsible, Scott stood up for a look above him--and saw Abby Catharsis sprawled over the mattress, head tipped back and mouth gaping.
"All that noise from one woman." Trane snickered again. "Doesn't seem humanly possible, does it?"
Scott sat back down on his own bunk. Sleep was looking farther and farther away with each honking blast from above.
"It's like this every night," said Trane. "She's as dependable at snoring as she is in a firefight."
"Huh." Scott shrugged. "So what do I have to do to get a different rack?" He knew the answer before he asked the question, but he asked it anyway.
"Not be the new guy." Trane laughed.
Scott pointed at the empty bunk under Trane's. "What about that one?"
"It's taken." With that, Trane rolled over on his side to face the wall. "But don't worry, you'll be okay. You'll get used to the noise sooner or later."
The snoring jumped up another notch, hitting its loudest level yet. Scott lay back and stared at the bottom of Abby's bunk for a while, wishing he had earplugs--and thinking about his dream.
He hadn't thought about Iridess Chasm in ages. The most traumatic events of his life had happened there, the dark struggles that had almost ended him forever. There had been days when those terrible times had dominated his mind like never-passing storm clouds...but he'd chosen long ago not to dwell on them. It was better, always better, to keep moving forward.
Why then had those memories come back to him now? Was it the stress of the new mission? The cloud hanging over him since Chelong III?
Or was there another reason altogether, something deeper? Some kind of warning that he didn't dare ignore?
"Sweet dreams, rookie," Trane said with a final snicker.
Without a word, Scott rolled over on his side and pulled the pillow over his head, trying to block out the noise from above.
*****
Chapter 9
By the time Scott rolled out of his rack, he'd slept maybe three hours--but the sleep had been broken, so it was hard to be sure. It had been impossible to sleep soundly with all the ruckus going on around him. Not only had Abby's snoring never let up, but Trane had joined in with snoring of his own, just as loud. The two had snored in counterpoint, each one letting out a loud blare whenever the other breathed in.
They were still going at it when Scott left the room to shave and shower. They weren't even done when he came back, got dressed, and left. Even through the closed door of the bunkroom, the sounds of their bullhorn duet carried into the corridor behind him.
Scott yawned and rubbed his eyes on his way down the hall. He actually felt more tired now than before he'd gone to bed. How the flux was he going to get through the day?
Yawning again as he rounded a corner, he walked right into someone who was charging toward him--Donna, who ended up stumbling into his arms.
She looked flustered at first, her face bright red, then broke into a bright smile. "Solomon!" She lingered for a moment in his embrace, holding on to his upper arms. "How's it going?"
"I need coffee, bad." Scott's voice was hoarse from lack of sleep. "Strong, strong coffee, with a side order of stims."
Donna frowned as she did the mental math. "Abby's snoring got to you?"
Scott nodded. "Trane's just as bad."
"That's the worst billet on the ship." Donna looked apologetic. "Nobody wants it, so the newbie gets it."
"No worries." Scott managed a smirk. "I just won't sleep for the rest of the trip."
"There's another option." Donna eased herself against him. "You could bunk with me. My billet's in another room, you know."
Scott's temperature rose a few degrees. It was a tempting offer--but he had a feeling he should steer clear for now. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks." He smiled and let go of her.
She stayed close, gazing up into his eyes. "The offer stands, Solomon." Popping forward on her toes, she kissed him on the cheek. "You're always welcome."
"Thanks." Scott felt himself blushing and looked away. "Now which way to the coffee?"
Donna hiked a thumb over her shoulder. "Straight, then left, then right, then right again." Next, she pointed an index finger down the hall behind Scott. "As for my billet, it's back that way, across from yours."
"Got it." Scott smiled and started to move away from her.
But Donna grabbed him by the wrist and held him there a moment more. "And in case you're wondering, no, I do not extend this invitation to just anyone."
"Right." Scott nodded seriously.
"There's just something about you I like." Donna squeezed his wrist. "Something special, you know?"
Scott nodded again. "Thanks, Donna. I appreciate that."
"Any time." She gave him a flirty look and let go of his wrist. "See you at the briefing, Solomon."
Scott frowned. "Briefing?"
"They just called one for nineteen hundred hours in the auditorium," said Donna. "CORE officers only, but you're invited, too. Be there or be square."
With that, she jabbed his chest with the tip of her finger and darted away from him, zipping down the hall.
Scott stood there for a long moment, staring after her, wondering if she'd told the truth about not inviting just anyone to her rack. Then, he yawned again and continued down the corridor, determined to gulp as much coffee as he could in the next fifteen minutes before the briefing.
*****
"We have confirmed our destination." Captain Rexis stood stiffly at a podium in the well of the auditorium, addressing the two dozen personnel gazing down at her. "There is no longer any doubt that the mystery metal originated on the planet Shard."
Scott listened and sipped coffee from his vantage point in the top row of seats. From where he sat, he had a great view of the backs of the CORE officers' heads. They were fanned out below him along a curved bowl-like slope, some spread out, some clustered together. No one was sitting near him, but that was by design; Scott had slipped through the doors at the last possible second to avoid having company. He wasn't in the mood and didn't want any distractions that might make him miss something.
Down in the well, Rexis clapped her hands, and a holographic control panel rippled into view. Her fingers played over rows of glowing buttons and dials, making them change color from red to blue, green to yellow, purple to pink. Then, the lights in the room dimmed, and a gigantic holo projection flared to life in midair behind her, filling the space from floor to ceiling with a familiar image expanded to towering size.
It was the circular blade from the Red Battlenaut, the one that had broken off in Scott's armor. Seeing it again, blown up to such an enormous scale, brought back memories of the way it had almost killed him on Chelong III.
"Our science team confirms that this artifact is composed of a biometallic substance found only on Shard," said Rexis. "Specifically, its makeup is identical to that of the titanium alloy claws and teeth of certain metal-based lifeforms native to the Shard biosphere."
The holo behind her changed to an image of a creature with gleaming bluish-silver skin. It reminded Scott of a big jungle cat from Earth, but with two heads, six triple-jointed legs, and spiny armor plating.
Rexis looked up at the image, then turned back to the audience. "What is not clear to us at this time is how the fabricators of the blade managed to subdue the unstable nature of the alloy." She played the holo controls again, and the image changed to what looked like a blob of molten, silvery metal. "Until now, all reported attempts to process Shard biometals into usable components have resulted in the breakdown of the biometals' molecular structure.
"Once separated from the body of a living creature, these materials lose cohesion and cannot be molded into other forms. The special properties that make them unique--extraordinary tensile strength, impenetrability, and superconductivity--cease to exist upon separation from a viable metallic-organic host.
"At least until now." Rexis ran her finge
rs over the controls, changing the image to another view of the mysterious blade. "Somehow, whoever built and deployed the Red Battlenaut has figured out a way to work with Shard biometal--to reshape it without causing it to shed its desirable properties and lose cohesion." She changed the image to a computer-generated interpretation of the Red Battlenaut from Chelong III.
Just then, a hand shot up in one of the lower tiers. "This biometal." It was Trane, sounding rested and refreshed though he'd helped deprive Scott of needed sleep. "Could it be responsible for the Red Battlenaut's stealth capabilities?"
Instead of Rexis, someone in the next row down from Scott answered the question. "Unlikely," he said in a clipped British accent. "The biometal's recorded properties do not lend themselves to such capabilities."
"As far as we know," said Trane. "But we've never even been able to isolate the metal from its host organism and work with it in a lab, have we, Khalil?"
"True." Khalil sounded irritated. "But we have studied it while it was still attached to organic systems."
"Which could mean nothing," said Trane. "The material's properties while part of a living system could vary dramatically from those that manifest after separation from that system."
"But we have the current artifact to study, don't we?" snapped Khalil. "What story has it told us so far?"
"A short one," said Rexis. "No clue to the stealth capabilities. But maybe they're only evident in other components or the Red Battlenaut armor as a whole. We just don't know."
"We don't know much, do we?" said Joe Balko, the heavily muscled guy who'd been aboard Scott's shuttle to the Sun Tzu. "Nothin' like goin' in blind."
"Since when does that matter to the Diamondbacks?" spoke up Perseid from the front row. Jumping to his feet, he pumped his fist against the serpent insignia on his chest. "Boo-rah!"
Everyone in the room did the same thing, except Scott. Then, they all sat back down.
Rexis cleared her throat in the well. She touched a holo control, and the big projection changed to an image of a rotating planet striated with gradations of silver and gray. "Balko's right," she said. "In many ways, we are going in blind. We can read sensor scans of pieces like the circular blade, but scans of operational Red Battlenaut units are invisible to all but one of us...the same person who was able to see a Red Battlenaut when no one else could."
When she said it, most of the people in the room turned and looked at Scott, who was in the middle of sipping his coffee. He returned their gazes impassively and slowly lowered his cup.
"Which is why we've called this meeting," continued Rexis. "We need to develop strategies for the Shard task force. We need to figure out ways of fighting an enemy who is invisible to sensors and all but one of our personnel."
"And we need to do it behind enemy lines," added Perseid. "On a world with a very hostile biometallic-based ecosystem. Even in the best of times, it's a nasty little hellhole."
"Imagine a planet inhabited by living knives of every shape and size," said Rexis. "Without armor, you'd be slashed to pieces within seconds. Even with armor, you'll be in danger every step of the way. There are creatures on Shard that can hack right through carbon nanotube plating."
"Sounds like a real day at the beach," said Balko.
"What exactly is our objective, anyway?" said Masada Feinberg, the brown-haired woman who'd also shared Scott's shuttle to the Sun Tzu.
"Our primary objective is to locate and shut down any biometal processing facility that might be present on Shard," said Rexis. "Our secondary objective is to gather intel on the Red Battlenauts and their controllers."
Perseid stood and faced the audience. "We plan to conduct a thorough reconnaissance from orbit, including automated A.I. probes of the surface. We'll gather as much data as we can and refine our objectives prior to insertion of the task force."
Trane blew his breath out loudly. "Looks like we've got our work cut out for us."
"When don't we?" Balko laughed, and so did everyone else.
"As always, preparation is critical," said Perseid. "Which is why we're putting together working groups to plan strategies. Each group will focus on a different aspect of the mission and hone solutions via gaming and simulations."
"Then we'll pull everything together in one global simulation," said Rexis. "See how it all works when the moving pieces bang up against each other."
"When do we start?" asked Feinberg.
"We're going into breakout sessions immediately," said Rexis. "Except Corporal Scott."
Scott sat straighter and clenched his jaw as everyone turned to stare at him.
"You'll be reporting to Engineering for your daily work detail," said Rexis. "Then the Training Deck for Battlenaut drills. After that, at eleven hundred hours, you'll join the Surface Warfare Group headed by Lieutenant Trane."
Scott didn't like being singled out and treated like a rookie, but he nodded and got to his feet. "Yes, sir." As usual, he didn't have any choice in the matter.
"See you later, Corporal." Trane said it with a wiseass edge to his voice. "And bring your A-game."
Scott bristled but kept it to himself. "I will, sir." With that, he marched up the aisle and out of the auditorium, leaving the others to continue the meeting.
He thought it was ridiculous to be sent off for menial duty when he had more experience with the Red Battlenauts than anyone in the room, but he did as he was told. Not that he was afraid of challenging superior officers when the situation called for it...but clearly, this wasn't such a situation.
Better to go swab the deck or whatever he needed to do to get through the next few hours without pissing anyone off. He could have his say later at the Surface Warfare working group.
If that plang-hole Trane would let him, that is. Meanwhile, maybe Engineering duty wouldn't be all that bad after all.
*****
Chapter 10
"Look what the cat just puked up!" Chief Engineer Torus Azimuth roared the words from the upper catwalk of the vast Engineering Deck. "Some kind of rancid hoozehock, it looks like! I swear, I can smell it all the way up here!"
Scott stood on the floor below and looked up at him, thinking dark thoughts. "Corporal Solomon Scott reporting for duty, sir."
"I know who you are!" said Azimuth. "We all do, don't we?"
It seemed like every man and woman in Engineering was watching the scene unfold. Scott saw them leaning over the catwalks, standing on the floor, poking their heads out of nooks and accessways in between. They all wore red jumpsuits with black Diamondback emblems, and every one of them seemed to be grinning and nodding at the same time, agreeing with their Chief.
Azimuth spread his arms wide. "You're a celebrity!" Though he was a short, squat man--a full head shorter than the two men flanking him on the catwalk--he looked and sounded intimidating. His face, with its dark, arched eyebrows, crooked nose, and beady eyes, had a satanic quality that added to the impression. Even his hair looked devilish, the shaved black bristle drawing to a sharp point in the middle of his broad forehead. "You're a real four alarm big shot, aren't you? Your fame precedes you!"
Scott said nothing. In his years as a Marine, he'd been baited by the best. He wasn't about to let Azimuth get his goat.
"The only one to ever see a supposed Red Battlenaut! The only one to bring back a piece of one!" Azimuth pulled a big wrench out of his overloaded tool belt and thrust it overhead. "Let's give Corporal Scott the welcome he deserves!"
With that, Azimuth started whacking his wrench against the catwalk railing, and the rest of his crew followed suit, banging tools against the nearest metal structures or surfaces. The cavernous Engineering Deck filled with a cacophony of metal crashing against metal, clanging like an orchestra of out-of-tune broken bells.
Scott stood patiently and waited for it to die down. He'd expected some ball-breaking, it came with the territory when stepping into a tight-knit, ultra-elite group like CORE. But he had to admit, it was starting to get old.
When the clang
ing stopped, Azimuth tossed his wrench over the railing. It hit the floor less than three meters from Scott and bounced twice, landing just a few centimeters from his left boot.
Scott glanced down at it, then calmly returned his gaze to Azimuth. The less he reacted, the sooner Azimuth would get bored with riding him.
Probably. "So how's your grandma, Corporal?" Azimuth sneered when he said it. "Commandant grandma, I should say."
"Commandant Chalice is just fine, sir," said Scott. "I'll tell her you asked."
"You do that!" Azimuth raised his satanic eyebrows. "You tell her I won't give you any special treatment, too!"
"None expected, sir." Scott clenched his jaws and kept up eye contact with Azimuth. He might have to take the Chief Engineer's plang, but he didn't have to bow his head like a whipped dog when he did.
"What a woman, that granny of yours," said Azimuth. "A real hellcat in the sack."
Everyone howled with laughter except Scott, who was inwardly seething. Azimuth had just crossed the line.
"I'll be sure to tell her you said that, too," snapped Scott, though he knew it was the absolute worst thing he could have said.
"Ha! I knew it!" Azimuth pulled a screwdriver from his belt and chucked it down. It bounced once and hit Scott in the knee. "You're a rat! You're gonna report us to Grandma Hellcat every chance you get!"
Scott glared at him. "No, sir! As a Marine, I am required to observe the chain of command at all times." He paused, took a breath, then let it out slowly. "I'm here to do my duty and follow orders, plain and simple."
"Is that so?" Azimuth stroked his chin and widened his eyes in a fiendish expression. "Then I have an order for you, Corporal. Get your ass in the primary grid chamber and polish the contacts on the negative mass manipulators."
Resist the Red Battlenaut Page 6
