BattleMaster (The BattleMaster Corps Book 1)

by Nathaniel Danes

  She’d taken measures to conserve rounds, firing in short, controlled bursts intended to keep the enemy’s heads down. They needed time more than anything — time for her other minions to fight their way to their master’s aid.

  Fifteen percent wouldn’t last long and a reload under heavy fire wasn’t an option. Not even for the robot loader.

  The tank’s gun camera caught Stanner waving his arms and pointing down the hallway. She got the message.

  “Warning, Unit One’s final high explosive projectile has been armed.”

  The rocket’s trail disappeared into the fog. The concussion rattled the tank but it didn’t suffer damage.

  Outside, secondary explosions coming from the land-train forced hidden Euro troopers to expose themselves. Stephanie jumped on the opportunity and nosed the area down, scoring cheap kills at the expense of precious bullets.

  A red light and sharp tone screamed a fresh alert. The tank’s treads screeched to life, propelling it backward at an angle.

  A pair of RPGs barreled toward the tank. Jerking hard, the torrent aimed at the incoming death and spat back on full auto. One of the rockets took a direct hit and exploded a yard inside the room. The blast radius knocked its partner off course, causing it to detonate against the back wall.

  “Ow!” Stephanie reached for her side to find a shard of hot metal embedded in her skin. Pain shot through her as she applied pressure around the wound. Her eyelids felt heavy as consciousness threatened to leave her.

  Reinforcements had to arrive soon.

  She bit her lip and concentrated on the windows in her mind’s eye that followed the other drones. Unit Two, the other mini-tank, was taking the long way around to her to avoid direct enemy contact. It started the fight low on ammo and with no rockets in place. The robot loader was damaged during its breakout. It couldn’t afford to wade through thick resistance.

  Unit Three, the aerial drone, had lifted off after discharging its laser cannon’s minimal charge. It wouldn’t have inflicted much harm on the enemy techs if not for the enclosed space. The craft was circling overhead, powering its weapon up. It had no missiles.

  “Unit One ammunition reserves below five percent.”

  Crap! Stephanie ceased fire. She wanted to use the loader, but it would’ve been too slow, sure to be shot to hell before a single round made it in.

  Euro infantry sensed weakness and poured more rounds into the bay. They advanced by groups, leapfrogging closer.

  Veech dropped down, twisting to face her. “What are you doing!?” His wide eyes saw the end nearing.

  She opened her mouth to speak but a cough came out, trigging a fresh wave of agony. Raising a bloody finger, she pointed at the ammo locker and the tank.

  Veech nodded, then screamed in Stanner’s ear. Laying his rifle down, he held up three fingers.

  She nodded.

  When the third finger folded, Veech slapped Stanner’s shoulder. The corporal wielded his weapon right and left, spraying bullets on automatic. Veech sprang from his starting position and she unleashed what the tank had left.

  Still he ran a gauntlet of smart-bullets zipping and exploding all around.

  The fifties petered out once he reached the locker. A surge of enemy fire hit the room. Stanner fell behind the barricade, clutching his shoulder as his face contorted. Veech spun and collapsed. He dragged himself behind the tank, bleeding from his back and empty-handed.

  It’s now or never.

  Unit Two’s treads ate up the earth as it accelerated around a corner, charging down the length of the land-train. Guns blazing, it plowed into the teeth of the Euro position, occupying their full attention.

  Juking right, Stephanie avoided an RPG and sought to run the circumference of their line. It was a solid plan if not for the absence of adequate ammunition. A string of hollow clicks spelled the end to the drone’s lethality. But not its usefulness.

  Stephanie rammed, chased, and caused as much mayhem as she could. The extra effort bought less than a minute until an RPG knocked a tread off Unit Two, rendering it totally combat ineffective.

  In warfare, though everything can change in less than a minute.

  Unit Two’s window blinked out, immersing her in Unit Three. She could practically feel the wind whip through her hair as she dove like an arrow shot from the clouds. Warnings blared inside her mind. The camp’s air defenses had locked onto her. Laser and missile batteries turned to face the sky but they stayed silent.

  Stephanie was in the local network. She couldn’t prevent the defenses from firing but delaying their response to higher orders was within her abilities. She got low unmolested and approached nape of the earth, bleeding off speed.

  Her craft zoomed over the final hillside. Its laser executed a prearranged strike, firing several times in a matter of seconds.

  She hovered a yard off the ground and used the land-trains as cover, staying below the batteries’ firing arc. One by one the last of the Euro air defenses were turned to slag.

  Stephanie owned the sky.

  Flashes from small arms littered the space around the drone bay door housing her body. RPGs zipped for her craft but were avoided with a few well-timed jukes. She slayed the enemy from above with bolts of red lightning like the warrior goddess she was.

  ***

  The pain radiating from Stanner’s shoulder blocked out the world. Gunfire, explosions, and screams were reduced to muffled background noise. He’d always wondered what it was like to be shot and now he knew. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch!

  Warm blood oozed down his arm. Firm pressure arrested its flow but at a cost of more pain, so much so that it took him at least twenty seconds to realize that the noise had disappeared.

  He gasped, gulping in air. His eyes darted in a spasm of directions, stopping on Stephanie and Veech. They were injured and immobile. Nothing moved save for the robot loader that crept along, refilling the tank’s spent ammo magazines. It would’ve been silent if not for the hum of the aerial drone’s grav motor outside the bay door.

  Heavy footfalls grabbed his attention. He stared down the twisted wreck of a hallway they’d originally come.

  They’re coming!

  He looked at the loader. It hadn’t installed the first box yet. Damn!

  Veech was out of position and too hurt to move fast enough. It was all on him. He dragged his rifle to him with his good right hand. Lying flat, he steadied it against his shoulder and waited.

  Euro troopers charged down the hall, firing as they went. Their shots were high and wild. This was a last ditch effort to root out the BattleMaster who’d hurt them so dearly.

  All Stanner had to do was pull the trigger. He did, cutting down five brave men in the process.

  Click.

  “Shit!”

  It almost made him pass out but he jammed in a fresh magazine using the floor as a hammer. Ready for anything, he waited. It never came. They’d won this round.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The mini-tank’s treads rattled across the floor as it rolled to the center of the drone bay. It was a good spot for the fully loaded unit to cover the wide-open door and the wrecked hallway.

  “Corporal,” Veech coughed. “How bad are you hurt?”

  Stanner relaxed his grip on the weapon trained down the corridor of death. “Took a slug in my left shoulder. Damn lucky. It must’ve bounced off something first, ‘cause it didn’t explode.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, find a med kit and hurry. The lieutenant doesn’t look so good, but she can cover you for now. Who knows what they have left out there?”

  “Ow.” Stephanie’s face twisted. “I’ve got an aerial unit out there ripping the guts out of the other land-trains. Finding some hunkered down stragglers.”

  Stanner let his rifle tip over. It clanked flat. Pain coursed through him as he pulled himself up with his good arm. His legs felt like rubber, but they firmed up with each step.

  The bay was
a disaster. Scorch marks, dented walls, and puddles of blood were just where it started. He scanned the room, looking for the universal symbol of hope. The box with the thick red cross was attached to the side of a work station. He ripped it off and hurried to Stephanie’s side.

  Her bloody hand covered the area around a piece of jagged metal sticking out of her waist. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Dropping to his knees, he winced but ignored it to open the kit.

  In centuries past, all a soldier in the field could hope for was a box of badges and basic meds to stabilize them. Fortunately, Stanner had far more at his fingertips.

  The small industrial and population base from which the colonies equipped their militaries meant common foot soldiers went into battle with little more than what had been available to a warrior in the mid-twenty-first century on Earth. Despite these limitations, the Eden powers had invested in high-end medical tech to treat their wounded.

  It was worth the investment to save a wounded veteran on planet rather than draft a raw recruit from millions of miles away, train him, and transport him across the vastness of space to the front. Sometimes the economics of war came down on the side of the grunt.

  He pulled out a basic medical scanner. The clear plastic rectangle device fit neatly into his hand. A few quick strokes of his finger set the language to English. Thank God for a multi-national enemy.

  “Hold on, lieutenant. I’ll know what to do in just a couple seconds.” He pressed the scanner onto her abdomen. A blinking red light let him know it was examining her.

  “That was a hell of a fight.” Stephanie squirmed from a wave of pain.

  “You probably shouldn’t speak.”

  “We BattleMasters don’t usually get our hands dirty like that.” She sucked in a breath. “It was so close, so personal. I don’t know how you guys do it.”

  “We just follow orders.”

  “My dad was a grunt.” She gritted her teeth. “He was killed in action.”

  Stanner looked her in the eye. “I’m, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “A little ironic that I jointed the BattleMaster Corps to save men like him, to have their backs, and all I did was get myself killed in my first real fight.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t talk like that.” The red light turned green and a diagnosis popped up. “I got something.”

  “How bad is it?”

  His shoulders relaxed as a wave of relief washed over him. “You’re gonna be just fine, lieutenant. This spike is only an inch and half in. It didn’t hit any organs and isn’t near a major artery. The recommended treatment is careful removal, bandaging, and some antibiotics and anti-viral meds. Plus something to help with the inflammation.”

  “Any chance you can throw in a painkiller?” She winced. “Maybe before you pull the damn thing out.”

  “I think I can hook you up. It’s part of the basic combat med package.” He took the injector and jammed it into the med kit’s dispenser slot. The drug cocktail filled it. He inserted the tip of the cigar-shaped tube into her skin at several points around the injury. “How does that feel?”

  “Better, though it still hurts like a bitch.”

  “Ah, yeah. I didn’t give you a big dose. We still need you sharp for the drones. There’re likely still Euros running around.”

  “Understood.”

  Stanner straightened up, still on his knees. “Okay, you ready to do this?”

  “No, but what choice do I have?”

  He wrapped his fingers around the metal shard. “Stay still. On three, I’ll pull it out slow.”

  She nodded, bracing herself for the shock of agony.

  “One...” He yanked it out in one smooth motion, placing a bandage against the hole immediately.

  “Aaahhh!” Stephanie’s neck arched back. “What the hell happened to two and three?”

  He shrugged. “A little trick my mom taught me. Trust me, it hurt less like that. Anticipation of pain is almost always worse than the actual pain.”

  Taking deep breaths, she eyed him. “I beg to fucking differ.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Go take care of the sergeant and yourself.” She jerked her head toward Veech.

  Stanner went to stand but paused. “Lieutenant?”

  “Yes.”

  He touched her forearm and stared into her eyes. “You saved us. We’d be dead right now if it wasn’t for you. You had our backs, and now we might be able to really do something useful for the rest of our guys.”

  A smile crossed her face. “Thanks, corporal. Now go. We have a lot to do and not much time.”

  Veech had been hit with a large chunk of bullet that detonated close enough to him to cause serious damage. Stanner had to leave it in but stopped the bleeding and gave him enough drugs to get the burly man back on his feet.

  An injection and bandage of his own got Stanner ready to go. Well, as ready as he was going to be without a real doctor and a week off.

  Veech gingerly slipped an ammo bandolier on. “So, Stanner, what was that plan of yours again?”

  “We have an amazing opportunity here, sergeant.” He spread out his hands. “We’re deep in the enemy rear and we’ve captured key equipment and vital intel. If we play our cards right, we can change the course of the entire war.”

  Veech cocked his head. “What can a flyer and one mini-tank do against an onslaught?”

  “They were just tools to get us this far, keep us alive and clear out the majority of the Euros.” Stanner slammed a full magazine into his rifle, ignoring the jolt of pain the action caused in his shoulder. “Now we have to clear out this land-train from here on and take full control of its systems. We’re going to drive the bastard right up their asses.”

  “What will that do?” Veech shouldered his rifle.

  “Remember how they jammed us, keeping us from contacting HQ?” He pointed at the ceiling. “This thing has a powerful transmitter and I say we use it against them. We can even use the boosted signal to take control of some their drones.”

  Stephanie joined them, holding her side and leaning against the tank for cover. “It’s not that simple. The BattleMaster link is nearly impossible to effectively block. The frequency is always shifting and if they’re anything like us, they’ll keep to line-of-sight and be forward deployed for close proximity. We could overwhelm the signal, but only in a small geographic area, not large enough to really do anything. Fighting here is too mobile for it to really work.”

  Veech gestured toward her. “Can you take over some of their attackers?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I was only able to do what I did here because of some unique circumstances.”

  “Not if we find their Magic Box.” A coy smile formed on Stanner’s face.

  “How do you know about that?” Stephanie’s jaw fell open. “I’m not even supposed to know about it.”

  Veech held a hand up. “Hold on. What in the hell are you two talking about?”

  She stood straight. “It’s really just a rumor. In theory the Magic Box is a failsafe for command to stop a BattleMaster in the event one of us loses it. Supposedly it can cut the link or switch controllers. That might not sound like a big deal, but the entire BattleMaster system is built on the security of the link. Any back door to the system, even a friendly one, is a serious weakness.”

  “But you don’t know if it’s real?” Veech switched his stare between them.

  “No one I know can confirm its existence in the American Army.” She turned her hands up. “So who the hell knows if the Euros have anything remotely like that here?”

  “It has to exist,” Stanner pleaded. “No general and especially no politician would feel okay with giving such power to any individual without a way of retaining some measure of control.”

  Veech nodded his head. “It does sound like the kind of bullshit they’d pull.”

  “Fine.” Stephanie shrugged. “Your logic is sound, but what makes you think there’s a Magic Box here, and if there is, t
hat we can find it, let alone access it?”

  “We won’t know unless we look.” Stanner pulled the bolt back on his rifle, chambering the first round. “Besides, we have to finish clearing out this camp, and isn’t killing Euros what we’re doing here anyway? Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Veech gave him a thumbs-up. “I knew I’d turn you from a wide-eyed cherry into a real soldier.” He raised his rifle in front of him, pain tightening his cheeks. “Let’s go hunting.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Veech took point, stalking through the untouched hallway with his rifle at the ready. It was deserted, quiet, save for Stanner’s heavy breathing behind him.

  One by one they cleared the small rooms that lined the narrow passage. They took turns covering the area ahead while the other swept and cleared storage rooms, offices, bathrooms, and a variety of miscellaneous spaces. Two and a half compartments worth of effort turned up nothing.

  Stanner emerged from another empty search and took position in the doorframe. Veech advanced and placed his hand on the knob of the next door when a faint sound, maybe a muffled cough, caught his attention. It didn’t appear to come from the room he was about to enter.

  Letting go of the knob, he balled his fist and held it high before pointing forward to signal Stanner about the potential threat.

  The signature click of a bolt locking in place triggered his survival instincts. Veech turned and dove to his rear, landing flat on his stomach as dozens of rounds zipped and detonated overhead. He low-crawled for the safety of the cleared rooms opposite Stanner, who sprayed down the hall to cover him.

  It snowed a mix of debris off the walls. The noise was deafening in the enclosed space. What he could hear blanked out when a grenade went off behind him. Smoke blinded everyone.

  Veech stuck his weapon out and joined the fray. We need to push forward.

  ***

  It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Colonel Frederick Von Wolfgang kept saying that mantra to himself as he cowered behind his desk. The raw brutality of war was being waged meters from his office. The unmistakable drumbeat of combat penetrated the thin interior walls to flay his nerves.