BattleMaster (The BattleMaster Corps Book 1)

by Nathaniel Danes

  Stanner couldn’t, wouldn’t just quit. Pushing his arms along the ground, he pulled himself up and forward. He wasn’t sure what direction he was going but he was moving, and that was the best he could do.

  His arms fell into a pit and he tumbled down the side, landing on something soft. A flash of light blinded him before a shattering noise pierced his numbed eardrums. A bang sounded overhead, followed by total darkness, and unconsciousness took over.

  ***

  Stephanie struggled to lift her eyelids. They seemed to weigh a ton each. She succeeded but the effort was for naught. Nothingness was all she could see. Her heart raced. Where am I? Am I dead? What happened?

  She mined her memory for the final moments before she awoke in blackness.

  Her drones had been wiped out, but not before inflicting harm on the enemy. Then Captain Chandler had led her ground drones on a successful suicide attack. They’d achieved more than they had hoped in delaying and bleeding the enemy attack. They were happy, proud.

  Everything around them turned to chaos then, with explosions and screams everywhere. That was all she could remember. Death again seemed like the most likely answer. She gulped air and her hands flared about, searching for something, anything to prove she wasn’t dead.

  There!

  Her fingers brushed against something hard, cold, metallic. She followed the object until it came into focus in her imagination.

  A rifle!

  Stephanie trailed the stock till she found warm flesh. She checked his pulse. It was strong and steady. Good, I’m not alone. Where ever I am.

  Squirming, she found her field light in her pocket and affixed it to her palm. The light filled the enclosed space. She was in the foxhole she’d used during the battle, but it had a metal ceiling now.

  Stephanie ran her hand across it. “What the hell?”

  The light caught white letters on it. ‘AEF’ — American Expeditionary Force. It was the side of an APC which an explosion had tipped on top of them. What’s on the outside?

  She moved the light to the soldier, praying he was friendly. The uniform was American Army issue. A wave of relief washed over her. The light illuminated his face and a spark of recognition hit.

  “Private, oh - Corporal Stanner.” She shook him, then remembered to check his medical readings. His wrist computer monitored his condition and the data was easily accessible to her. She selected the device’s wireless signature with her mind’s eye.

  No broken bones, save for some ribs, and no internal injuries beyond a concussion. He’d live and could move but wasn’t waking up. Her field pack was next to her and she pulled out a stimulant injection.

  His eyes burst open. He would’ve bolted straight up, slamming his head into the APC, but Stephanie pressed down on his shoulders. “Shhh.” She put a finger in front of her lips. “Settle down, corporal.”

  “Whaa, where?” He took in their surroundings and sat up straight. The light made him squint.

  She lowered the light. “We passed out in my foxhole. An APC covered us, so the Euros didn’t notice us when they marched through.” Stephanie bit her lip. “At least, I hope they’ve marched through. I just got up myself. I haven’t heard anything, though.”

  Stanner nodded and rubbed his head.

  “You have a concussion. The headache will hopefully go away in a day. All I can give you for it is a mild pain med.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. We need to figure out if we’re alone.” He felt around, dragging his hands across the ceiling’s rim. A trickle of soil rolled down to expose a sliver of moonlight. His hands recoiled from the edge like he’d touched a hot burner.

  “Easy, corporal.” Stephanie grabbed his arm.

  “Sorry, sir. I got ahead of myself. What are your orders?”

  Damn, what are my orders? What do we do if they’re out there? How long can we stay in here? She shook her head. No, don’t do that. Don’t worry about stuff you might not have to worry about. We need to see if anyone is up there.

  “Keep doing what you were doing, corporal. Just more carefully. We’ll expand that hole and stop to listen. We’ll repeat that process until we can risk sticking our head out.” Stephanie checked the clock in her head. “We’ve been down for at least four hours. Chances are the battle has moved on several miles away.”

  “Got it, sir.” Stanner went to work, using his fingers to dig a peek-hole, careful not to cause noticeable movement.

  They dug, listened and repeated.

  Not a whisper of enemy activity met their ears.

  Stephanie examined the hole. It was half the size of her head. “Looks like it’s time to poke our heads out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She sat down and looked him square in the eye. “There is something we need to get straight before we expose ourselves.”

  “What?”

  Stephanie exhaled and wrung her hands. “I know you’ve been briefed on the protocol in the event a BattleMaster is at risk of being captured.”

  “Oh.” He lowered his eyes. “That.”

  “Yes, that.” She stiffened. “It’s something easy to talk about in theory, but it’s another to actually do it. If I’m about to be captured, though, it’s vital that you kill me and destroy as much of my brain as possible. If the enemy were to take possession of my wetware intact, in a functional brain, they could learn dangerous amounts of information about the BattleMaster system. Maybe enough to develop weapon tailored to stopping it.”

  “I understand.” He refused to look her in the eye.

  “Corporal, trust me. You’ll be doing me a favor by killing me. If I’m captured, whatever is left of my life will be hell. Sheer torture. A lab rat used against my countrymen. I need to know you can do it if the time comes.”

  Stanner pressed his lips together and stared into her eyes. The intensity of his gaze, the depth of his brown eyes caused her heart to skip a beat. “I’ll do it, sir. I promise I won’t let them take you alive.”

  She nodded. “Okay, then. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get out of this damn grave.”

  ***

  Stanner’s head throbbed as he scanned the abandoned battlefield. The area around their impromptu shelter was littered with dead soldiers and wrecked machines. He slid back down, wincing from a sharp pain in his ribs. “I don’t see a thing, lieutenant.”

  Stephanie moved toward him.

  He extended his hands. “Hold on, sir. I should go up and take a look around on my own. You stay here. If everything really is clear, I’ll be back for you.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Good luck.”

  He gripped handfuls of dirt and pulled them down, expanding the hole to accommodate his body’s width. Then, arms overhead, he pulled himself out. His mid-section screamed as he wriggled through the gap into the night air. The fresh breeze was invigorating. He sucked in deep breaths, savoring the clean flavor with a hint of smoke.

  Low crawling, he made his way to another foxhole that turned out to have two bodies in it. Both wore American Army uniforms but were too burnt and bloodied for him to identify. That was hard on him, as he knew they were from his platoon. Each dead soldier was a man he’d considered a friend.

  He put that emotion in a box, pushed it deep into his gut and continued with the mission. Moving from cover to cover, Stanner searched the area and didn’t find any sign of current activity. This was a graveyard.

  “It’s clear, lieutenant.” He put his hand in the hole and helped Stephanie out.

  Stephanie stretched her limbs once free of the cramped space. He couldn’t help but notice how her curves popped out as she contorted her firm frame in an array of positions. Her head jerked toward him, catching him staring. He whipped around and blushed.

  Please pretend that didn’t happen.

  Stephanie cleared her throat. “Did you find anything we can use?”

  Thank you. “There’s weapons, ammo, and rations we can scavenge. The Euros didn’t stop here and our guys we
ren’t interested in making a stand. Everything seems just as it was left.”

  “Good.” She moved to one of his fallen comrades and stripped him of his weapon. It was necessary but still stabbed a cold pin into Stanner’s heart. “We need to get moving, work our way back to our line. Wherever the hell that maybe.”

  He tapped his helmet. “I’m out of com range, sir. I don’t suppose your wetware can make contact with someone friendly?”

  “I’m afraid not.” She released the mag. Finding it full, she slapped it back in. “My transmitter by itself has a good range if I have line-of-sight. Across the ground, it’s shorter. Signal boosters in the APCs are what give us aerial Masters our real long-range capabilities, and all of those are knocked out.

  “I could try contacting an aerial drone. There may be a recon unit up there, but that would be like sending up a flare and the Euros would be all over it. Nabbing a BattleMaster is a top priority of theirs. Their brain-to-machine interfaces are way behind ours. That’s why each unmanned craft is controlled by a single pilot on the ground.”

  Stanner scuffed. “The Goliaths seemed pretty damn effective to me.”

  “They are tough, but pound for pound, the BattleMaster system is superior. Our combat units are far cheaper to manufacture, we can attack from more points, and the controller is removed from danger. Every Goliath we destroyed represents the loss of a highly trained and experienced driver. You don’t just replace those like spare parts.”

  He squatted to collect extra ammo and magazines. “Okay, I get that their drivers can’t control multiple units at the same time, which reduces their ability to coordinate, but why don’t individual drivers control them remotely?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s probably something to do with differing technology tracks. We started down the BattleMaster road decades ago, while they focused on the Goliath model. We each developed systems and infrastructure to support our own tracks and that’s not something you just switch off and on.”

  The pair was loaded down with supplies. He held his rifle across his chest. “Now what?”

  Stephanie gazed north. “We can’t head directly back to our lines; we’re likely to run into trouble that way. We’ll start on a northeast heading before angling to the east.”

  “That makes sense.”

  She took a broad step ahead of him. Stanner reached out and grabbed her arm. “Sir, I think it’s wise if I take point. You should stay back several yards, as many as twenty. If we run into trouble, it’s best if I find it first.”

  Stephanie’s body stiffened and she stared back at him. He couldn’t read her expression. It was like she wanted to argue with him that she wanted point. That didn’t make any sense. No BattleMaster he knew of would dare put herself at increased risk.

  She sighed and her muscles relaxed. “Yes, of course you’re right, corporal. It’s just … I became a BattleMaster to cover grunts like you. I’m used to my drones flying ahead.”

  “I appreciate the thought, sir, but I know my place in the grand design.” He chuckled. “Captain Chandler has a way of making sure I don’t forget.”

  “I bet she does.” Stephanie stepped aside. “Lead the way. I’ve got your six.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dr. Xavier Bach threw his coffee cup against the lab wall. A huff was forced through his lips from the effort. The empty container ricocheted off the hard surface and rattled around on the floor until it came to a stop, completely intact.

  Clanks echoed throughout the deserted office. It was early in the morning; it was the only time he could get the mainframe to run his trials, another reminder of where he stood in the grand scheme of things.

  “Damn polymers.” He gave the cup the middle finger. It would’ve been more satisfying if the blasted thing had had the decency to shatter into a hundred pieces. He needed to break something after the failure of his latest simulation.

  Nothing he did seemed to work. Was there a mind out there that could control the envisioned BattleSwarm system? Was his dream, the key to his legend, an impossible goal? Was he just another crazy genius chasing a unicorn?

  “No!” Xavier balled his fists. “I am Xavier Bach and BattleSwarm will work. I will make it work.”

  Taking several deep breaths, he let his heart rate slow as the redness receded from his cheeks. He picked up the cup and strolled to the dispenser. “Coffee, hot.” Sipping as he walked, he sat down in front of his computer. “Okay, I need to change directions. Get creative, think outside the box. Computer, give me a list of brain disorders.”

  ***

  Reba shot out of the APC like she’d been fired from a cannon. A bandage covered the left half of her face where a near-miss by a laser had given her third-degree burns and fried her retina. The pain was intense and constant. Meds only helped take the edge off. Anything stronger and she wouldn’t be able to fight.

  Chaos was in command. Vehicles and people seemed to be heading in every direction and nowhere. Horns blared and officers and non-coms yelled. They were reeling in the face of the counterattack, and this mess illustrated how serious the situation was.

  She ran to the hauler, a centipede-looking flatbed truck with a dozen sections. It carried vital ground bot replacements. It was fully loaded and came to a stop as she approached. Reba jumped onto its back and tugged fruitlessly against the straps holding a mini-tank down.

  A sergeant hopped off one of the beds and ran to intercept her. “Stop!” He waved his arms. “You could damage the clamps and delay offloading!”

  A pain flare-up surged through her and frustration boiled over. As the man climbed up next to her, she wanted to strike him with a right hook. Biting her lip, she kept her clenched fist at her side. The taste of copper and salt filled her mouth.

  He saw the rage in her eyes and stepped back. “Get off my cargo, captain, before I throw you off. You are screwing with a critical operation. Your rank doesn’t matter here and now.”

  Rage filled her. Reba’s inability to inflict meaningful harm reminded her of her physical inferiority to men. It made her feel like her mother. I’m nothing like her. She was weak, I’m a BattleMaster, the ultimate warrior on the modern battlefield.

  “Captain.” The sergeant hooked his thumb toward the ground, narrowing his gaze.

  “Fine.” She jumped down. “The first units off this truck belong to me. Some of us have a war to fight, sergeant.”

  She clenched her fists. Bones crackled in her hand, but the pain had fallen into the background. Nothing else mattered except getting her bots back in the fight. I’m stronger than all of them. I’m better than any man.

  ***

  The sun rose behind Stanner. His active camo BDUs changed with each new ray, shifting from black to a mixture of greens and browns. The birth of light sent butterflies into a flutter in Stanner’s stomach. They were more exposed now.

  He knelt, scanning the horizon. Holding up an open hand, he signaled for Stephanie to join him.

  She matched his pose. “You see something?”

  “No.” He didn’t take his eyes off the landscape. “But we need to be more careful. Shorter distance from points of cover.” He looked up. “We’re under hostile airspace. Drones could be a problem.”

  “That’s my biggest worry, and not just from the sky. Each pair of Euro aerial drones is controlled by a single pilot. That means they need to keep large numbers of personnel near the front lines to avoid the signal delay from getting too long. They’re a big juicy target, though, so they still have to hang back farther than we do. It’s one of our advantages over them.”

  Stanner took a swig from his straw. “What are the other advantages?”

  “Coordination.” She sipped her water. “It’s easier to get a dozen BattleMasters on the same page than sixty pilots.”

  “Okay, so the point is that their heavily guarded mobile command unit is somewhere out there and we’d like to avoid it,”

  Stephanie nodded. “Yep.”

  “Excelle
nt.”

  She smirked. “No one said getting caught behind enemy lines was supposed to be easy.”

  “I wished someone had told me that before I signed up for this mission.”

  The lame joke made her laugh. Her brilliantly bright smile was infectious. He couldn’t help but join her. The brief respite melted a layer of stress, allowing him to notice how lovely she was underneath the smeared dirt on her face.

  She caught him staring and for a second she stared back. Silence drifted between them save for the beating of their hearts.

  What’s happening? Stanner cleared his throat and looked away. “Um...we should get moving.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Stephanie fumbled as she put her straw away.

  He crouched. “I’ll scout ahead but we’ll keep in visual contact. When I get to a good spot, I’ll wave you forward.”

  “Good plan, corporal.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  ***

  Stephanie and Stanner leapfrogged through the morning hours, stopping at noon for a break. They settled down in a shallow valley flanking a wide stream, where Stephanie lay in the tall grass and chewed on a protein bar. She turned her head toward Stanner. He sat above her so that his head was barely over the edge. He had a panoramic view of the area while it would take an eagle to spot him.

  Her gaze shifted to the clouds overhead. A drone could be tracking them now, though that was unlikely. They’d maintained radio silence and their uniforms hid their heat signature. They were needles in a very big haystack.

  Stanner glanced at her, checking to see if she was okay. Or was that it? He looked at her like she was something more than a mission. And honestly, she liked it. He returned to watching for trouble.

  What was it Captain Chandler said? Something about having our way with the infantry? I could, it’s been a while and those hormones sure don’t help. I think he likes me — not like anyone would know. She checked him out. His firm muscles pressed against his fatigues. She blushed. I could...no. What the hell am I thinking?

  Shaking her head, she lifted her straw to take a drink. The bitter taste made her wince. She stared at the gently flowing water. It was clear to the bottom, and the swirls memorized her. Plunging the straw into the stream to exchange the water in the bladder, a rush of refreshing coolness washed over her hand.