"Who gives a scudge!" snapped Abby. "Tell us where to shoot!"
Scott double-checked the numbered grid overlaid on the image of the attacking Red on the feed. "Ten o'clock, thirty meters out, twelve meters high."
Abby didn't bother discussing it any further. "Everyone fire on those coordinates now!"
All six Diamondbacks--and Scott--swung their weapons around at once and took aim where he'd said. Without hesitation, they all cut loose, filling the air with a stream of projectiles, laser beams, sonics, and missiles.
Though six of them were shooting at what appeared to them to be thin air, plenty of ordnance connected with its target. Scott saw a high percentage of slugs, lasers, and missiles slam home, mostly in the Red's head and upper torso region.
The concentrated fire seemed to have an effect. The Red Battlenaut jerked back, and its energy weapons disengaged. Something sparked on its abdomen, then sparked again, brighter. A puff of smoke filtered from one of the cooling vents on its back, curling up toward the sky.
Scott felt a surge of hope. As blind as the rest of the squad had become, it was actually doing some damage. Maybe the Red bastards weren't unbeatable after all.
"How're we doing?" said Abby.
"Making a dent!" said Scott. "Recommend we keep pouring it on!"
"You heard the man!" said Abby. "Give it all you've got!"
As the besieged Red staggered, Scott stole a glance at the one he'd tagged with the biofilm. As expected, the green slime had enveloped the armor, coating it from tip to toe. The Battlenaut twitched underneath the film as it tried to break free--then emitted flashes of light from its chest cannons as it tried shooting its way out.
As Scott watched, there was another flash, and a patch of slime burst free. The hole it left was small, but it was a start; it would only be a matter of time until the Red worked itself all the way out of its cocoon. "Can we fire more biofilm, Frank?"
"Not recommended," said Frank. "The first shot consumed a high percentage of usable mass on hand."
"All right then." Scott would wait till the other Red was down, then shift the squad's fire to the one in the biofilm before it could break loose and join the fight. "Not a problem."
Scanning back over the feeds, he saw that the focused fire was continuing to have an impact. The Red taking the brunt of the squad's attack stumbled back and almost fell. The smoke coming out of its cooling vent had gone from a puff to a cloud, and it showed no sign of letting up. The sparks on its abdomen had turned into a constant, flickering blaze, which was spreading.
All it took was a missile to the chest, fired by Trane, to knock it down. The Red collapsed, its backward-bending knees folding up under its falling body. It hit hard, sending a tremor through the silver ground under Scott's armor's feet.
"He's down!" said Scott. "Hold your fire!" Time to turn to the other Battlenaut and let him have it with all barrels. "Redirect fire to target at two o'clock, thirty-two meters out, height twelve meters."
"Squad redirect!" said Abby, though she didn't have to. Everyone except Trane was already turning their weapons to the second target. "Fire at will!"
In a few short moments, the Red had cleared away a large section of biofilm, exposing its forward cannons. As Abby ordered the squad to fire, the Red charged its cannons with crackling golden energy, ready to let loose.
The squad opened up with a vengeance, hammering the Red with every kind of ordnance at hand. The latest bombardment was better focused than the first one had been, as most everything came to bear on a single area--but that area was the cockpit cowling, which Scott guessed would be the best-protected part of the Red's armor.
Better to drop the crosshairs, he thought. "Recommend aiming ten degrees lower!" he said.
"Aim ten degrees lower!" said Abby.
Everyone followed the order, and the stream of weapons fire shifted downward. Before it could strike the chest, though, the Red's forward cannons blew out twin blasts of golden energy.
This time, the blasts were much brighter than before. Instead of running parallel and picking out different targets, they coalesced, forming a single beam that was zeroed in on a single target.
"Incoming!" shouted Scott. It was all he could do as the blazing beam slashed toward the squad. It was moving too fast to avoid--too fast for him even to call out a more detailed warning. Whatever was going to happen when it hit, it was well beyond his control.
Not that that would make it any easier later, when he remembered this moment. When he remembered the sight of the beam colliding with the armor of one of his squadmates, sending it hurtling over the metal plain like a broken toy. When he remembered the sound of Donna's scream before her comm cut out.
"Donna!" he howled, even as he knew it was too late. "Donna!"
"Scott!" said Abby. "What the hell's our status?"
Scott hesitated. One of the holo readouts fanned out in front of him listed vital signs for the rest of the squad. Donna's were blinking red, the numbers dropping as he watched. "Our status is, that thing's firing some kind of high-powered beam merging the output of two cannons. We need to...we need to..." The numbers were still falling. "We need to take out those cannons. Fire right into them."
"Then call it!" said Abby. "We need firing solutions."
Again, Scott hesitated. Donna's numbers paused in their free-fall, holding steady, giving him hope. "Okay." His eyes swung back to the camera feeds. Staring at the image of the Red and the numbered grid superimposed over it, he thought fast, calculating possible solutions. "Bearing one-six-three, angle forty-eight degrees!"
"Balko, Khalil, García," said Abby. "Fire on those coordinates!"
Scott worked another instant, then rattled off a second solution. "Bearing one-six-eight, angle forty-eight degrees."
"That's us, Trane," said Abby. "You, too, Scott!"
Everyone locked on the coordinates he'd given and blasted away. On the feed, Scott saw the squad's slugs and lasers pump into both big forward cannons on the Red's chest, zooming dead-on into the gun's broad muzzles.
Suddenly, there were two thunderous booms as the cannons exploded. The Red Battlenaut collapsed to the ground, chest blown apart and pouring out billows of black smoke.
Scott didn't pause to celebrate. His eyes shot to the holo readouts, going straight to Donna's vitals. When he saw them, his spirit sank like a stone.
Most of them were dark. Heart rate, pulse ox, respiratory rate, blood pressure...none were registering. As for body temp, it was dropping fast.
Scott swallowed hard. He couldn't take his eyes off the readouts. He couldn't stop thinking about what they meant.
Her body had shut down. None of the signs of life were showing up at nominal levels on the sensors installed in her cockpit.
According to the readouts, Donna Perihelion was dead.
*****
Chapter 18
"Scott!" Abby was hollering over the comm. "I said get moving. Lead us to the Reds!"
Scott was still in a daze, still staring at Donna's zeroed-out vital signs. She'd been his best friend since he'd joined up with the Diamondbacks; he still couldn't believe she was gone.
"Come on, Scott!" said Abby. "We still can't see these damn things, and we need to extricate the pilots and salvage what we can!"
Scott shook his head to try to clear it. He'd lost friends in battle many times before; he damn well knew he needed to shrug it off and act like a professional.
Still, the thought of Donna's lifeless body wedged in the cockpit of her crumpled Battlenaut kept him frozen in place. "What about..." Back on the Sun Tzu, he hadn't wanted to get involved with her, but now... "What about Donna?"
Just as he said it, he heard a soft beeping sound. His eyes flew back to the holo readouts, and he saw something he'd thought he might never see again.
Donna's vitals were back on the board and slowly rising.
"Scratch that!" he said. "She's still alive!"
"I've already called for an evac," said Abby. "No
w let's stay on task! Where are the Reds we took down? Are they still armed and mobile?"
Switching back to all-business mode, Scott peered at the feeds. Both Reds were still down and smoking. "No movement at all, but I can't tell if their weapons are still active."
"What about the pilots?" said Abby.
"Unknown," said Scott. "I see no one emerging from the wreckage."
"Then let's get going," said Abby. "Quit pissing around here."
"Yes, sir." Scott headed for the nearest Red, the one at two o'clock. Meanwhile, he kept one eye on Donna's vitals, watching as they slowly crept upward.
When he got close to the Red, he moved more cautiously. He knew the armor could still be deadly; even if the pilot were incapacitated, booby traps and self-destructs could still lurk within...especially given the high level of secrecy demonstrated by the Reds' creators so far.
As Scott prowled alongside the toppled armor, Abby and Trane stayed close, with the rest of the squad not far behind. Everyone seemed subdued, though they'd just defeated two Red Battlenauts, as if Donna's takedown had knocked the wind out of their sails.
"So it's right here?" said Abby.
"Yes," said Scott.
"Can we retrieve the pilot?" said Abby.
"I don't know." Scott made his way to the Red's upper body, trying to get a look at the cockpit, but his Battlenaut wasn't tall enough. Fortunately, he had a way to change that. "Frank. Activate beanstalk function."
"Beanstalk function is available in armor's current configuration," said Frank. "Height?"
"Keep going until I say stop," said Scott.
With that, his Battlenaut's legs started growing, lifting the torso into the air. Within seconds, Scott was high enough to look down at the Red's cockpit with his cameras. "Stop," he said, at which point Frank made the legs stop growing. "Cockpit's still sealed. The cowling's damaged, but unbroken." In other words, the pilot was still inside.
"Pilot must be unconscious," said Trane. "Otherwise, he'd have ejected by now."
"You'll have to cut him out of there, Scott," said Abby.
Just as she said it, Scott heard the muffled pops of explosive bolts blowing, and the cockpit zoomed up out of its socket in the Red Battlenaut's head. It flew skyward before he could do a thing to stop it, disappearing into the clouds far above.
"Mother-fluxer!" shouted Scott. "He just ejected! The cockpit's already gone sub-orbital."
"Damnit," said Abby.
"Should we contact the Sun Tzu?" said Balko. "Tell them to intercept?"
"Negative," said Scott. "They won't be able to see it any better than you can."
"All right then." Abby drew and released a deep breath. "We'd better get the other one before he gets away, too!"
Scott was disappointed at losing the pilot, but not for long. Watching the feeds at over twice his normal height, he spotted something in the distance--something that demanded his attention.
He saw light glinting off metal...the manufactured metal of something not native to Shard. And it was moving toward them fast, storming across the silver floor of the valley.
"I see the third Red Battlenaut," he said. "The one that didn't land with the others. It's on its feet and coming this way."
"Right," said Abby. "Then you need to move. Get your ass over to the other wreckage and cut out the pilot before he ejects."
"But what about the incoming Red?" said Scott.
"Call coordinates as soon as you can!" said Abby. "Now go!"
"Deactivate beanstalk!" Scott ordered Frank.
"Deactivating," said Frank, as the Battlenaut's legs shortened and its torso dropped.
"Now I want you to run," said Scott. "Maximum speed. Bearing one three niner--the location of the other cloaked target we were shooting at."
"If you say so," said Frank.
Scott stole a glance at Donna's vital signs and smiled tightly. They were low as hell but steady; she was hanging on. Now if she could just make it a little longer.
Scott's Battlenaut broke into a run, charging toward the other smoking wreckage. Its long strides carried it quickly across the valley, even as the third Red continued its approach.
If the Red kept going at its current speed, Scott guessed it would arrive in two or three minutes, max...so time was of the essence. Before the Red got within shooting range, Scott needed to extract and lock down the crashed pilot, then turn his full attention to the rest of the squad. Since none of the others could see the Red, he was their only chance at fighting it effectively.
"Status!" said Abby.
"Coming up on the wreckage." At the most, Scott was three strides from the downed Battlenaut--close enough to see that the cockpit was still sealed and in place. "Incoming Red is half a klick out, coming in at bearing..." He checked the grid overlay on the rightside feed. "...one seven six." He checked readouts and did some quick mental math. "ETA two point five minutes."
"You heard the man," Abby told the squad. "Form on me and take aim at bearing one seven six."
"Roger that," said Trane. "Proceeding to aim at thin air, as usual."
As the squad moved into formation, Scott reached the downed Red. Fortunately, it lay on its side, with the cockpit wedged against the ground so the pilot wouldn't be able to eject if he tried. That was good news, unless he had orders to self-destruct to avoid capture...in which case, Scott would lose his prisoner and maybe get blown to smithereens himself.
In other words, he still needed to move fast. "I need a cutter," he said. "Form a power saw, Frank."
"Already in process." Frank's prognostication software was amazing. The A.I. had anticipated Scott's need and moved to fulfill it before he could even voice a request.
The wireframe figure showed one of his Battlenaut's arms turning into a huge chain saw. On the frontside feed, Scott could see the saw spin into action.
"Frank, I need you to cut the cockpit free," said Scott, "and disable any explosive bolts."
"Further guidance will be necessary," said Frank. "I am unable to see the cockpit you are referring to...or anything else, for that matter."
"Understood." Scott stared at the frontside feed, judging the position of the cockpit. "Extend chain saw at a 320 degree angle. Maximum extension 1.5 meters from torso."
"Affirmative," said Frank.
Watching the frontside feed, Scott saw the chainsaw align just as he'd instructed at the corner of the cockpit cowling. "Move the saw forward approximately 30 centimeters and begin cutting."
"Yes, Solomon."
The feed showed the chainsaw pushing forward and biting into the socket around the cockpit. "Move the saw forward another 30 centimeters. Cut from right to left, moving along a 45-degree inclination."
The saw chewed through the metal linkages holding the cockpit in place on one side, spitting out showers of sparks.
"Solomon," said Frank. "I am still functionally blind, and I have no access to my sensors...but I seem to have a rudimentary awareness of touch. I can feel the metal as I cut it--just barely."
"That's great, Frank!" said Scott. "Use it to guide you! Make sure you cut the explosive bolts before they can blow."
"Yes, Solomon." Frank's cutting speeded up. At the rate he was going, it would only take another moment to free the enclosed pod.
Meanwhile, the third Red continued its approach, stomping toward the squad with its forward cannons charged and ready. It was maybe a minute and a half away.
Scott ground his teeth as he looked from one feed to the other, dividing his attention between the cockpit cutting and the approaching Red. It was going to be damn close.
"Scott!" said Abby. "Status!"
"Cockpit's almost out," said Scott. "Red's almost here. About a minute away."
"Same bearing?"
He double-checked. "Affirmative. Bearing one seven six."
"Stand by, people!" said Abby. "Prepare to fire on Scott's mark!"
Sweat trickled down Scott's back as Frank finished cutting, freeing most of the cockpit an
d severing the explosive bolts. The cockpit tipped toward him out of the socket--but the lower edge, which was partly wedged against the ground, remained attached. It would have to be pried the rest of the way out.
"Frank," said Scott. "Reconfigure chainsaw into a standard arm. Use both arms to break the cockpit out of its socket."
"Describe the cockpit's location, Solomon," said Frank.
"Same as before, but the top edge is leaning sixty centimeters out of the socket."
Frank reached out with both hands but missed the cockpit rim. His fingers closed--but Scott saw they had closed around nothing.
"Five centimeters lower," said Scott. "Hurry!"
This time, Frank's hands clamped around the edge of the cockpit. "Did I get it?"
"Yes!" said Scott. "Pull it out of there!"
The cockpit was wedged against the ground, stuck in place by the weight of the Red Battlenaut pressing down on it.
"Status!" said Abby.
Scott checked the feed. "Thirty seconds!" It was a guess, but not far off. The incoming Red was almost upon them.
Meanwhile, Frank gave the cockpit a hard tug, and it came free in his hands. "I have succeeded, haven't I, Solomon?"
"You got it!" said Scott. "Now just don't let go! And get back to the rest of the squad right now."
His Battlenaut started running, clutching the cockpit pod against its chest with both hands. "Are we heading for another firefight? If so, which weapons would you like me to prep?"
"Surprise me! Aim at bearing one seven six!" said Scott, and then he shouted over the comm at the squad. "Diamondbacks, fire! It's right on top of you!"
The squad opened fire on the bearing he'd called, filling the air with a wave of slugs, lasers, drone pods, and sonics. It was enough to make the Red stop forty meters out and return fire. Blasts of golden energy leaped from its forward cannons, blazing toward the squad.
"Incoming!" shouted Scott as his Battlenaut quickly closed the distance. "Energy beams at eleven and one o'clock!"
As he said it, the Red's twin blasts flashed down and made contact--one with the ground, barely missing Khalil as he took a step forward, and the other with Balko. If it had been a combined beam, Balko might have suffered the same fate as Donna--but the single stream of power wasn't enough to blow him off the battlefield. Catching the force of the strike on his chest, he staggered back two steps but didn't go down. If anything, he fought harder, growing new guns on his shoulders and doubling the volume of ordnance he put in the air.
Resist the Red Battlenaut Page 11
