"But why?" said Scott. "How many people have you condemned to death? Millions? Billions? Why bother with one person like me?"
"Because I love you, of course." Bern shrugged. "You're my grandson. How could I not try to save you?"
"Save me?" Scott turned away from her. "This is saving?"
"We have resources here, Solly," said Bern. "A refuge from the madness. And no one will think to look for us here. You can survive."
"Who gives a flux?" Scott spun back around to glare at her. "Who cares about survival when everything else is ruined?"
Bern looked disappointed. "I know this is hard for you, Solly. But I promise, you'll feel better once you get used to the idea."
"You want me to feel better?" Scott stormed to the rim of the ledge and jabbed a finger at the giant array down below. "Then switch off that transmitter. The one you're using to signal all the virus-infected human minds out there. Switch it off now."
Bern sighed. "We can't do that."
"Can't?" said Scott. "Or won't?"
"It would disrupt the entire process," said Bern. "It would throw all our projections out the window."
"That's better than throwing billions of lives away, isn't it?" Scott stepped toward her. "Or don't you care about them?"
"It's not that simple. I'm only doing what I have to for the greater good."
"So all those billions of people out there." Scott raised his hands, palms up, toward the ceiling, toward space. "You think they'd thank you for this? You think they'd approve of what you're doing?"
"Once I explained the reason for it..."
"They still wouldn't thank you!" Scott took two more steps toward her, coming close enough that two Red guards got nervous and jumped between them. "I'll tell you exactly what they'd say if they were standing here right now, Grandma. They'd say, 'Switch it off!'"
Bern stared at him for a long moment, her eyes filled with sadness...and then they suddenly hardened. Whatever love and mercy she harbored for him, she pushed them down deep and brought out a steel he'd rarely seen there before.
"Take him." As soon as she said it, the guards slung their rifles over their backs and grabbed Scott's arms. "Put him away somewhere until this is all over."
"No!" Scott struggled against the guards, but their grips were iron. "You've got to stop this!"
Bern turned her back on him.
"Do you want to become the greatest mass murderer in history?" said Scott. "The biggest monster who ever lived?"
Without warning, Bern whipped around and charged at him. "How dare you!" Hauling back her hand, she slapped him hard across the face.
And in that moment, Scott's heart sank without a trace.
It had been bad enough seeing what she'd done, hearing her explain it--realizing how far over the edge she'd gone. But that blow had sealed the deal. She'd never hit him before, had rarely even raised her voice to him...and now, she'd let him have it with all the force of anger she could muster.
There was no coming back from something like that. The Bern he'd known and loved was gone forever.
So was the galaxy he'd known, the Commonwealth he'd sworn to protect. He was helpless, without weapon or friend, and the final battle was already well underway.
There was no coming back from any of it.
The rage that had filled him drained away. He slumped in the grip of the guards, surrendering to utter desolation.
All was lost. For the first time in his life, he wished without reservation that he were dead.
Then, suddenly, he heard stomping and a rustle of movement. As he turned toward it, his eyes shot wide with surprise. What he saw there was so totally unexpected, he had to wonder if he was hallucinating.
Cairn, still inside the CORE Battlenaut, was standing at the edge, dangling someone over the chasm...someone scrawny as a scarecrow threaded with bone, held aloft by one arm.
Vore. It was Vore.
Cairn was holding Larvis Vore over the chasm of the command center, and it sure looked like he was about to let go of him.
*****
Chapter 43
"Did you ever have one of those days?" said Cairn. "One of those days when you've just finally had enough?"
Vore howled with terror as Cairn shook him over the great chasm of the command center.
"Well, I have," said Cairn. "Like thirteen years ago." He swung Vore back from the edge, then swung him out over the chasm again. "The first time I laid eyes on this mother-fluxer."
"Please stop!" Vore's voice wailed in an upper register now, spiking with sheer panic. "Don't do this! What about the good times?"
"Like when you had the bomb put in my head, you mean?" Cairn swung him up, then down. "Like all the times you used it to make me do whatever you wanted?"
"I would never let you blow up! We were meant to be together!" said Vore, and then he howled as Cairn swung him up and down again.
"You know what your biggest mistake was, though?" said Cairn. "Hiring me out to the Reds to bring in Solomon Scott. Using our past connection as your prisoners to screw with him and get him to come here.
"Do you know why?" Cairn stopped swinging Vore and held him up to face his Battlenaut's faceplate. "Do you know why that was such a big mistake?
"Because he put the past behind him a long time ago," said Cairn. "And I realized that if that sorry sack of plang could do it, then I sure as hell could, too."
With that, Cairn extended his arm. Vore thrashed like a snake on a hook, trying in vain to grab hold of something--anything, even Cairn's armor, that would let him hang on to his life a little longer.
But it was hopeless. And then it didn't matter anymore.
"How does a monster say goodbye?" said Cairn, misquoting one of Vore's favorite lines. "Raarrhh!"
Then, Cairn opened his Battlenaut's hand, and let go.
Screaming, Vore plunged down into the vast space of the command center.
"I guess you were right, Sol." Cairn turned and looked at Scott. "I did the right thing when the time came, didn't I?"
Scott wasn't sure what to say. Cairn had done the right thing, but what good would it do? They were still surrounded by heavily armed Reds, and the Apocalypse was still in full swing. The only thing that had changed was that the universe had one less lowlife to drag it down.
And Scott had one more friend to help him face the end. There was something to be said for that, he had to admit.
"Yeah, Cairn." Scott gave him a thumbs-up. "Nice job, man."
Before either of them could say another word, the Red troops opened fire on Cairn. Those who had a clear shot at him--a dozen, at least--blasted him with slugs from their automatic rifles.
Cairn couldn't shoot back, he had no weapons, but he didn't go down, either. The pumped-up defensive capabilities of his civilian Battlenaut were enough to shrug off the concentrated attack.
Storming into the torrent of firepower, he swept two soldiers off the ledge with one swing of his arm. They flew down into the chasm and hit the array, their bodies dancing in fountains of crimson arcs and sparks over the twisted silver branches.
"Stop him!" shouted Bern. "Stop him now!"
The Red Battlenauts already had Cairn in their crosshairs and opened fire with slugs and lasers. Their guns, much more powerful than the troops', staggered him, driving him back just as he pushed three more men off the ledge.
The flurry of fire came close to Scott, who stood near the middle of the action. For an instant, he let it cascade around him, trying to make sense of the swirling chaos. He felt naked without his armor, beaten by Bern, uncertain what he could possibly do to change anything in the face of insurmountable odds.
In the past, he'd found inspiration by asking himself one question: What would Bern do? But that wouldn't work anymore. Maybe it was time for a new question, one that was still relevant in the face of this madness.
Maybe it was finally time to ask, "What would Solomon Scott do?"
When he thought about it, the answer was pretty dam
n obvious.
With a sudden surge of willpower, he shook himself out of his daze. Whipping around, he charged a Red trooper who didn't see him until it was too late. One broken neck later, he kicked the trooper's body off the ledge and turned with the dead man's rifle in his hands.
And he let it sing.
Red troopers dropped like flies in a cloud of pesticide--one, two, three, four, five. They were all so focused on Cairn that Scott plowed through them unopposed...at first, anyway. Once he took out his seventh man, half the survivors turned on him and cut loose.
Firing behind him as he ran, Scott bolted around one of the Red Battlenauts, using it for cover. The Battlenaut was so involved lighting up Cairn's armor that either it didn't notice, or it didn't care.
Peering out from behind his cover, Scott saw that Cairn was taking some serious heat. The Reds were pounding the civilian Battlenaut with ridiculous amounts of ordnance, making it jump around like a puppet.
To the credit of the CORE engineers, Cairn's Battlenaut was holding together under conditions that would have smashed other Battlenauts like piñatas...but Scott knew it wouldn't last forever. At some point, the focused fire would exceed the armor's every tolerance and turn it into confetti.
Cairn needed help, and fast--but what the hell could Scott do? He had cover, but the troops were blasting away all around him, trying to pick him off every time he bobbed his head out. Two of the bastards were stealing pages from his playbook, using the other two Red Battlenauts as cover in a bid to outflank him.
It was starting to look like he and Cairn would go down in a blaze of glory...which, frankly, didn't bother him that much. Given the circumstances, he could think of worse fates--like spending the rest of his life with Bern-gone-bad as the rest of humanity clawed its way back from oblivion.
Maybe it was even appropriate, when he got right down to it. He and Cairn would come full circle, dying together the way they almost did thirteen years ago.
Leaning out from behind the Battlenaut's leg, Scott cranked off ten more rounds, nailing two more troopers...and then he pulled the trigger again, and nothing happened. Out of ammo.
He ducked back just as a hail of slugs poured his way. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the empty rifle, catching glimpses of Red troops moving in on both his flanks.
Stealing another look outside his cover, he saw Cairn's Battlenaut jittering madly in the maelstrom. He watched just long enough to see Cairn fall to one knee under the onslaught, going down slow.
Clenching his teeth, Scott got ready for what was left of his life. All he had to do was pick a direction and charge like a lunatic into the fire...push past the pain as the slugs punched into him and keep going. Take as many of the Reds down as he could with his rifle butt and bare hands. Do it in the name of Captain Rollins and the men and women of the Sam Nicholas and Augustus and all the millions and billions who were dying and about to die at the hands of his grandmother.
Die like a Marine, like a Diamondback, like a man. Because that's what fucking Solomon Scott would do.
Breathing fast, he turned the rifle in his grip, bracing the barrel against his side. Count to three, just do it, count to three and then go. He looked right, then left, sizing up the outflankers, trying to pick which one looked weaker.
And then he decided to run forward instead, straight ahead at the biggest bunch of them. Because he had more possible kills that way, a bigger bang in the making...and anyway, why the hell not?
Closing his eyes, Scott took a deep breath, then let it out and had another. Not far away, he heard Cairn cry out from his battered Battlenaut. It wouldn't be long now until the end of it for him, too.
Scott opened his eyes and grinned like the world's biggest son of a bitch. Swinging the rifle butt in front of him, he stepped out from behind the Red Battlenaut.
Just as a missile hammered into the Red from behind and exploded.
Stunned by the blast, Scott stumbled but didn't fall. As debris showered around him, he looked back along the missile's path, hunting its source. When he saw it through the smoke, his son-of-a-bitch grin came back bigger than ever.
The towering figure was plated in blue and silver armor. Light flared from its shoulder-mounted launchers as they sent two more missiles streaking toward the Red Battlenaut.
Scott couldn't stop grinning as he ran toward it, away from the incoming missiles. Nothing had ever looked more welcoming to him than that oh-so-familiar war machine, that beautiful engine of destruction.
The Mark VI.
*****
Chapter 44
The Red Battlenaut exploded behind Scott as the second and third missiles from the Mark VI slammed into it. The shockwave from the blast nearly knocked him off his feet, but somehow he kept running toward his armor.
His heart thundered as he raced up and banged his fists on one leg. He could think of only one person who could possibly be piloting the Battlenaut, and he badly needed to hear her voice.
"Donna!" He kept pounding his fists as he yelled up at the gleaming giant. "Donna, is that you?"
He was rewarded with the sound of her voice over the Battlenaut's speakers. "Yes and no."
The sound of gunfire distracted Scott. Looking back, he saw the Red troopers regrouping and popping off potshots in his direction. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It is me." As she said it, the Mark VI lowered itself to its knees. The canopy slid open, revealing an empty cockpit. "But I'm not inside the unit. You didn't know Fong tricked this baby out with remote control, didja?"
The shots from the troopers were getting closer. "I do now!" One nearly chipped off his earlobe, and he started scrambling up the hull toward the cockpit. "Mind if I take her for a spin?"
"Just don't scratch the paint job," said Donna.
Scott slid down into the cockpit and closed the canopy. "I love you, honey!"
"Oh my God!" said Donna. "That's the first time you've ever said that!"
"I was talking to the Mark VI, actually," said Scott.
"Solomon!"
"But what the hell." Scott strapped himself in, pulled on his helmet, and played the keypads, prepping his weapons. "As long as you don't mind sharing, we can work something out."
"Less talking, more fighting!" snapped Donna, and then she closed the comm channel with attitude.
"You read my mind," said Scott, just as he unleashed a storm of slugs and lasers at the Red troopers.
The men didn't stand a chance against the Battlenaut. Scott's barrage mowed them down in a flurry of flesh and blood, leaving a jumble of bodies and abandoned rifles.
Then, without hesitation, he swung around to see if he was too late to help Cairn.
At first, the massive Red Battlenauts blocked his view--but telemetry told him the CORE unit was still powered up and Cairn was still alive. For the moment, that was all he needed to know.
"Buckle up, assholes!" Scott's fingers danced over the keypads, setting up missile strikes. "It's judgment day!"
He jammed home the trigger button on the stick, releasing two missiles. Watching the forward feed, he saw them streak toward one of the Red Battlenauts like the spears of avenging angels, leaving smoky contrails to mark their passage.
They struck within centimeters of each other on the Red's upper back. When the warheads flashed, they erupted with enough force to throw the Red down hard, opening up the view for Scott.
As promised on telemetry, Cairn's Battlenaut was still in one piece...though it was down on its hands and knees, throwing off some wicked sparks. As long as Scott kept up his momentum, it wasn't too late to save Cairn.
Scott launched another missile at the downed Red for good measure, then swung around. The second Red was already throwing shots in his direction, blasting Scott's armor with torrents of slugs...and charging its chest cannons with rippling golden energy.
Scott hit him with sonics, then queued up two more missiles. Worst case scenario, they might not pierce the enemy's frontal shielding, but at least th
ey might jolt the Red enough for Scott to make his next play.
He thumbed the firing button, and the missiles took off. Then, with a guttural battle cry, he punched the stick forward, charging through their contrails toward the Red.
As planned, the missiles rammed into the Red's chest, blowing out the cannons. The Red reeled from the impact, throwing out smoke instead of slugs--and Scott came in like a locomotive, plowing his shoulder into the charred flashpoint where the missiles had hit.
The Red stumbled backward, and Scott kept pushing, driving it past Cairn toward the edge. Firing its remaining guns wildly, the Red blew out hails of slugs and laser beams, rattling and scorching Scott's armor--but not enough to stop him. He kept shoving the Red further back, moving it toward the point of no return.
Near the brink, the Red found leverage and resisted. Scott pulled back enough to interrupt the pressure, breaking the Red's momentum and focus. Then, he thrust forward suddenly with overwhelming force and cast the Red off the ledge, leaning back hard on the stick to keep the Mark VI from falling in after it.
Looking over the edge, he saw the Red crash into the array far below. As the full weight of the Battlenaut hit, the array exploded--a huge blast at the impact site, then a chain of blasts, one after another, along the whole length of it. With each new roar and flash and shockwave, blazing silver shrapnel filled the air, broken bits of the array's shattered branches punching through control panels, monitors, and human bodies.
Scott smiled inside the Mark VI. He was pretty sure he'd just stopped Armageddon. Without signals from the array, the hallucinations turning allies against each other would surely stop. Even if he accomplished nothing else, at least he'd done that much.
Suddenly, he heard a shout from Cairn: "Incoming! Move!"
Scott jerked the stick back, and the Mark VI lurched to one side--not a second too soon. Just as he got out of the way, searing twin bolts of golden energy poured past, less than a meter from cooking him in his shell.
Resist the Red Battlenaut Page 30
