Resist the Red Battlenaut

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Checking the rightside feed, he saw the surviving Red Battlenaut, the one he'd knocked down with his first missile attack, back on its feet, aiming its energy cannons in his direction. The first shot wouldn't be its last; he could see a fresh charge building in the cannon apertures, getting ready to break free.

  There was barely time to leap out of the line of fire, let alone crank off two missiles...but he did both. The latest energy bolts lanced through the air where he'd just been standing, then cut out as one of the missiles exploded against the Red's left knee.

  The Red teetered, unsteady, and limped around to retarget Scott's Battlenaut. Scott sent in another missile, followed by a punishing barrage of slugs focused on the Red's damaged knee--but it still wasn't enough. The Red built a new charge in the cannons, kept them locked on the Mark VI, ready to belch out tongues of killer force...

  ...and then Cairn's CORE Battlenaut charged in and threw all its weight against that knee. The Red Battlenaut's leg buckled, and the whole unit toppled. On the way down, the cannons fired out of control, stabbing the far wall and ceiling with blistering beams.

  Switching on the comm, Scott quickly tuned it to Cairn's frequency. "Thanks for the save!"

  "Yeah, yeah." Cairn was breathing hard, his voice was strained, but he still managed to pull off a smartass tone. "That and ten credits'll buy me a cup of coffee."

  Checking the feeds on his visor, Scott saw that for once, no new opponents were storming out of the woodwork. "Finally." He blew out his breath. "They've stopped coming."

  "Too busy fighting fires and digging out from under the wreckage, I'll bet," said Cairn. "You've sure made a mess of this joint, Sol."

  "We did." Just then, a flicker of movement on the leftside feed caught Scott's eye. Playing the left keypad, he threw the feed on maximum mag--and identified the source.

  It was Bern, picking her way through the corpses of the troopers. She was carrying a rifle that must have come from one of the dead men, heading in the direction of the exit.

  As if he was actually going to let her get away.

  "Hey!" Scott stomped toward her, lobbing out scattered warning shots. "Stop right there!"

  When she kept moving--speeded up in fact--he brought the warning shots in tighter. Still, she kept moving, so he tagged her with the sonics on their lowest possible setting. It wasn't enough to do permanent damage, but it finally stopped her flight, making her stumble and cry out from the bombardment of concentrated sound waves.

  Unfortunately, she didn't drop the gun. After a moment of disorientation, she swung it up and whirled to face Scott, pointing the barrel at the Mark VI.

  Scott, on the other hand, lowered all his weapons. "Seriously? This is what it's come to?"

  Bern kept the rifle rock-steady, sighted in on Scott's armor as if it could do even the slightest bit of damage to it. "You've just doomed everyone. You know that, don't you?"

  "I think there must be a better way to save them than slaughtering them," said Scott.

  "Zero hope," said Bern. "That's what you've left us. That's what you've left everyone. Zero! Hope!"

  "We'll see," said Scott. "Maybe, when people know more about the situation, when they're aware of the danger, they'll be able to fight it."

  Bern shook her head. "The Lethe virus is too powerful. Might as well try to fight God Himself."

  "I'm feeling pretty froggy." As Scott said it, a series of explosions rang out through the command center. "Maybe I'll take a leap."

  "Shame on you," said Bern. "I wish I'd never brought you here."

  "You and me both," said Scott. "Because then, I'd never have known the truth about what you tried to do."

  Bern kept the gun aimed at him a moment longer, then slowly lowered it. "Someday, you'll understand. You'll look back on this day and curse yourself for stopping what I tried to do."

  "I'm thinking it'll be the other way around," said Scott. "You'll be cursing yourself."

  "Never."

  "Really?" said Scott. "Then you don't care about humanity? You won't keep trying to stave off extinction?"

  "I already took my best shot," said Bern. "The only shot."

  "The Bern I used to know?" said Scott. "She wouldn't give up just because Plan A went down the toilet."

  "Maybe you didn't know her as well as you thought you did."

  "She made me the man I am today," said Scott. "Maybe that's how you can get in touch with who she really was. When in doubt, ask yourself what I would do...because I learned it all from her."

  Bern fell silent. Tossing the gun aside, she walked to the edge and gazed down at the ruined command center.

  Scott stomped up beside her and shared the view. On the monitor screens that hadn't been smashed, he saw no battles in progress--just ships floating in space and Battlenauts standing idle on planets' surfaces. Now that the array had stopped transmitting, and everyone saw each other for who they really were, the shooting and bombing and killing were over.

  Would the situation stay that way when the current crisis passed? Not according to Bern. If her projections held true, it wouldn't be long until the Lethe virus ramped up the violence on its own, driving humankind into an intra-species war that would only end with complete annihilation.

  But that was a problem for tomorrow. Today's struggle was done, leaving chaos, casualties, and unfinished business galore...but, also, at least for the moment, a kind of peace.

  And absolute certainty in Scott's heart that he had done the right thing.

  Switching on the comm, he opened a channel. "Care to help me rescue survivors?"

  Cairn yawned. "Got nothing better to do at the moment. What about Granny Genocide?"

  Scott played the comm over his speakers so Bern could hear him. "She's going to give us a hand, aren't you? Getting survivors to safety?"

  Bern took one last look at the ruins and turned away. Scott saw her on his frontside feed, nodding defeatedly.

  "That's great." Scott muted the speakers, hung up on Cairn, and opened a different channel. "Hey, Donna?"

  Her sweet voice popped up instantly, clear as a chiming bell. "Yes, my love?"

  Scott grinned. So what if the cat was out of the bag about how he felt? They hadn't exactly rushed things, had they? "Could you place a call for me? Could you get in touch with Command?"

  "You know I can." Her voice was so melodic, she could have just as well been saying "I love you."

  "Tell 'em to get some folks out here ASAP," said Scott. "They've got their work cut out for them."

  "Will do, Solomon."

  "Oh, and Donna?" Scott smirked. "Tell them I asked for one ship in particular. You know the one."

  Donna laughed. "The Sun Tzu, Solomon?"

  "Got that right," said Scott. "And if Major Perseid doesn't like it?"

  "He can go flux himself," said Donna.

  "Damn skippy," said Scott, and then he snapped the channel shut like he was slamming a door.

  *****

  Chapter 45

  Four weeks later...

  Scott marched down a dimly lit corridor with an M.P. at either shoulder, heading for the door at the end. He couldn't wait to walk through it and soak up the fresh air and freedom.

  He hadn't had much of either one lately. After returning from Bellerophon Station, he'd gone straight into a detention center on Archibald--not exactly a prisoner, but not really a free man, either. The events of Redmageddon (that was what the media were calling it) had been so devastating and struck so deep into the Commonwealth's heart that Command had demanded interrogation of all the central figures.

  Scott was about as central as they came, so he'd gotten the full treatment. For four weeks, he'd undergone a steady regimen of intense debriefings, questioning under truth serum, lie detection tests, and intimidation. The interrogators had come at him from every possible angle, stopping short of torture but just barely. The whole time, he'd never changed his story one iota. He'd clung to the truth like a shipwrecked mariner to a floating plank, and he
'd ridden out the storm.

  Now, finally, they seemed to be done with him. His release had come through, and he could get on with his life...whatever the hell it was going to be.

  The M.P.s marched him to the end of the hall, and the one on the left smacked his hand against a glass panel on the wall. A bar of white light behind the panel flashed from top to bottom, then went dark. A loud buzzer rang out, and Scott heard the sound of heavy lock bolts unlatching.

  Then, as he watched, the door slowly opened. Sunlight streamed in, making him squint--but he never looked away. He'd imagined this moment over and over for the past four weeks and had no intention of missing a bit of it.

  When the door was all the way open, the M.P. at his right gestured for him to go. "Whenever you're ready, sir."

  Scott nodded. "Okay." Heart pounding, he walked through the doorway with steady, measured steps.

  He stopped on the other side, blinking as he adjusted to the brightness. A light breeze flowed over him, sweet with the fragrance of spring flowers, and he breathed deeply.

  He was standing on a paved lot with walls on two sides and lush greenery up ahead. Thirty meters away, where the two walls ended, leafy green trees and long-stemmed pink and white flowers swayed in the breeze, beckoning him. It was the best thing he'd seen in four weeks.

  At least until Donna darted around the corner.

  The door slammed shut behind him, and he ran toward her. It was the first time he'd seen her since entering the detention center. She'd been interred and questioned there, too, though the interrogators had always kept them apart.

  That had only made him think of her all the more. Knowing she was in the same facility but kept from seeing him had driven him crazy; he'd never longed for someone so intensely in his entire life.

  Now, finally, there she was, leaping into his arms.

  "Solomon!" She kissed him passionately, clutching at his face and shoulders.

  He kissed her back with all that passion and more. His fingers roamed like wild animals over her back and through her blonde hair, which had started growing out in detention. They strained together like it was the end of the world and this would be the last time they'd ever see each other alive.

  Scott lost himself in the blaze of it, gave himself over to the all-consuming fire. It felt even better than he had imagined during all the lonely hours in his cell...like something out of a perfect, impossible dream.

  When the first frenzied rush finally faded, Donna leaned back and beamed at him. "Oh my God, Solomon! I missed you so much!"

  "I missed you, too." It was the biggest understatement he'd ever made. "I couldn't stop thinking about you." He went in for another lingering, ravenous kiss.

  Neither of them spoke until Donna pulled away. "Someone else is here to see you, Solomon. They insisted."

  Scott frowned. "Who?"

  Her reply was to stick two fingers in her mouth, turn her head, and let out the shrillest whistle ever over her left shoulder.

  A moment later, Perseid and Rexis marched around the corner and headed straight for them.

  "Corporal Scott!" barked Perseid. "We meet again!"

  Donna tried to move away, but Scott wouldn't let her. Instinct made him want to salute, but he wouldn't let that happen, either. "I'm not a corporal anymore, remember?"

  "Really?" Perseid reached for a handshake.

  Scott returned it, though he had mixed emotions about seeing him. "I lost my commission, remember? Back when I disobeyed your order not to go to Bellerophon Station?"

  Perseid's frown deepened. "I don't remember that."

  "You called me a traitor. You said I was finished." Scott bobbed his head at Donna. "You said her career was over, too.

  "Seriously?" Perseid scowled at Rexis. "Do you remember any of this, Captain?"

  Rexis smirked. "Hell no, sir. Not a word of it."

  "I guess it didn't happen, then." Perseid shrugged. "So you're ready to report for duty, Corporal Scott? Or do you need a few days' R&R to bounce back from detention?"

  Just like that, Scott had a second chance. But he wondered if there was more to it than met the eye. "What's the catch?"

  "Nothing happened, right?" said Perseid. "Ipso facto, no catch. You just pick up where you left off."

  Scott narrowed his eyes. "You mean I just go right back to my old Marine unit and all is forgiven?"

  "No, actually." Rexis shook her head. "You're not going back to your old unit."

  "But I thought you said..."

  Perseid interrupted. "You're not going back to your old unit because you're a Diamondback from now on."

  Scott's eyes widened. Perseid's statement totally floored him. Of all the things he'd expected him to say, that hadn't been one of them. "A Diamondback?"

  Perseid nodded. "You saved the Commonwealth, didn't you? And untold billions of lives." Reaching into a hip pocket, he pulled out a silver Diamondback insignia and held it out in the palm of his hand. "I'd say you've earned it, Sergeant Scott."

  Sergeant. So there was a promotion in it for him, too...and a pay bump, no doubt. Perseid was pulling out the stops when it came to rewards.

  "Oh, and did I mention your medal?" Perseid reached into another hip pocket and fished out a gleaming gold medal with a sword and stars inlaid in silver. "The Order of Zedsemene, in recognition of extraordinary valor in the preservation of the Commonwealth and all it stands for."

  Donna hugged Scott excitedly. The Order of Zedsemene was a huge deal, the highest honor a Marine could attain. They both knew full well how much it meant.

  Why, then, wasn't Scott more excited himself? Why, instead of a rush of pride, did he just feel a wave of anxiety?

  "Congratulations, Sergeant." Rexis grinned. "I guess it goes without saying that there'll be a hell of a blowout to celebrate all this."

  "Right." Scott grinned back at her, but he wasn't feeling it. For some screwed-up reason, he wasn't feeling it even a little bit.

  "Here." Perseid stepped closer and held up the medal. "Let me pin this on you."

  Scott surprised even himself when he shot up a hand to stop him. "No."

  Perseid looked startled. "Would you rather wait for a formal ceremony? There'll be one of those, too, but I thought you'd like to have this now if you could."

  Without a word, Scott held out his hand. Perseid hesitated, then placed the medal in his palm.

  As Scott gazed at the gleaming object, he knew he should be thrilled to receive it. It was more than he or any man or woman his age could realistically hope for--and it held the power to shape his future. Without fail, Zedsemene honorees went on to become generals, admirals, senators, even presidents. And commandants, too...just like Bern. She had been a member of the order herself, in fact, though her membership had been revoked when she was thrown into prison.

  Was that why the medal and the perks that came with it made him anxious? Was he afraid he might somehow follow in her footsteps and make terrible errors in judgment that led to disaster?

  Scott thought about it as he turned the medal over in his hand. It felt wrong, somehow...and the longer he held it, the more wrong it felt.

  Was it because he didn't see the outcome at Bellerophon Station as a victory? Because hundreds of thousands of people had still died that day before he'd shut down the array? Because he'd still lost his beloved grandmother, seen her replaced by a delusional extremist in league with Larvis Vore? And then, in appreciation of his hard work, he'd been locked up for a month, interrogated like a terrorist?

  Whatever the reason, the medal felt wrong to him; he didn't want it. But he realized there was something he did want, though he didn't understand exactly why.

  In point of fact, it made no sense whatsoever. It seemed to contradict every logical, reasonable course he could take. It went against everything he'd been taught to aspire to.

  But as soon as it came together in his mind, he felt sure of it. The anxious feelings faded away, replaced by confident certainty.

  "No thanks."
He handed the medal back to Perseid.

  Perseid scowled. "You don't want the Order of Zedsemene?"

  Scott shook his head. "I don't want any of it. The commission, the promotion, any of it."

  "Solomon?" Donna looked up at him as if he were crazy.

  Scott just kept shaking his head.

  "Whoa." Perseid put his hands up in front of him, palms facing Scott. "Slow down there a minute, Sergeant."

  "Not Sergeant," said Scott. "I'll settle for Solomon. Or Sol."

  "You've just gone through a lot." Perseid lowered his hands. "Why don't you think it over for a while before giving us a flat-out 'no?'"

  Scott shrugged. "Don't need to."

  "But we need you," said Perseid. "We need all hands on deck to pick up the pieces from Redmageddon."

  "And who knows when the Civil War will flare up again," added Rexis. "Our truce with the Rightfuls could go up in smoke at any time."

  "You don't need me," said Scott.

  "We do," said Perseid.

  "You don't." Scott shook his head. "But I need out."

  "Maybe it just feels that way right now," said Perseid. "Will you just please think it over? Consider it a favor to me. I'll keep these safe until then." Perseid slid the Zedsemene medal and the Diamondback insignia into one of his hip pockets.

  "There's really no need, Major," said Scott.

  "Call me Jack," said Perseid. "And just humor me, okay? The offers are open as long as you need them to be."

  "I still don't understand," said Rexis. "Why would you turn down a promotion, a commission with the most elite fighting force in the quadrant, and the Order of Zedsemene? Are you fluxed in the head?"

  "I don't know." The breeze picked up, and the swaying flowers caught Scott's eye. He watched them for a moment, bobbing in the morning sunlight, alive in a way he hadn't thought of for a very long time. "Maybe it's just time to move on. Time for a change."

  "What about you?" Rexis asked Donna. "Are you buying into this?"