Resist the Red Battlenaut (12 page)

 

As long as the morning had been, the rest of the day turned out to be much longer for Scott. He wasn't getting shot at anymore, but he was in high demand for one simple reason: he was the only one who could see all the Red wreckage.

Even powered down, disabled, and blown apart, the Red Battlenauts remained mostly concealed from everyone else. Larger pieces were just as invisible to the naked eye and high tech equipment as they had been while part of a greater whole. Tiny pieces, for some reason, became visible, but the big stuff remained unseen and undetectable.

The prisoner stayed in stealth mode, too. Diamondback personnel couldn't see him at all; it was up to Scott to secure, transport, and lock him away in the
Sun Tzu
's brig.

On top of all that, it was up to Scott to direct every phase of the salvage effort. He had to locate and point out every bit of debris, then personally supervise as work crews gathered it up (which, in most cases, was like gathering up make-believe wreckage, since they could only see tiny bits of it). He had to closely monitor how much was loaded onto the cargo ship--which arrived soon after the drop ship--to ensure the load fit in the hold and did not exceed the ship's tolerances. At the same time, he had to watch for anything potentially hazardous, like active power plants and unexploded ordnance, and assign them to protected storage.

Most of it was up to him, the one person who could see every bit of wreckage that the Reds had left behind. He was sore, tired, and worried sick about Donna, but he had to keep going till the last of it was cleaned up and hauled back to the
Sun Tzu
. Any piece could turn out to be an all-important clue leading to the next stage of the search for the source of the Reds.

 

*****

 

"You're
sure
this tub's full of Red junk?" Chief Azimuth stood in the open hatch of the cargo ship and scowled at its contents. "Looks to me like there are just a few pieces scattered around."

"It's there, all right." Scott walked along the fringe of the massive pile of Red Battlenaut pieces, ticking off items on a tablet computer checklist. "I see it plain as day."

He felt like he knew the contents of the hold by heart at that point. He'd spent over twelve hours locating each and every piece and supervising its removal, so the details were ingrained in his mind. Now that he was back onboard the
Sun Tzu
, he would get to know them even better; it was up to him, as the only one with "Red-vision," to oversee the unloading process and study the pieces that remained invisible to everyone else.

Azimuth had a gleaming silver wrench in his hand, and he waved it at the unseen salvage. "Well, I've been told to assist you with this..." He let the words hang to convey his disapproval. "...but I think an
imaginary friend
might be more along the lines of what
you
need for this imaginary
load
." He chuckled at his joke and glanced around as if he expected his ever-present Engineering crew to laugh along with him.

If there was ever a time when Scott might be in the mood to deal with Azimuth, this wasn't it. He had one goal in the forefront of his thoughts: getting to the medicenter to spend time at Donna's side. He'd heard she was in a coma, but he hadn't made it back to the
Sun Tzu
to see her until now. If only he could finish the checklist and get past Azimuth...

"Well, I'm done here for now." Scott double-tapped the tablet screen and lowered it to his side. "Though you're welcome to keep working." Grinning, he gestured at the largely invisible heap of equipment and debris.

"Ha, ha." Azimuth said it sarcastically. "Very funny, Mr. Celebrity." Taking a step forward, he poked his wrench at the space in front of him. "So what happens if I just walk in that direction? Will I bump into this invisible wreckage, or will I magically pass right through it?"

"Why don't you try it and find out?" said Scott.

Azimuth took another step forward. "If it's all really here, and not some hoozehock figment of your imagination, I'd like to know how the flux they did it. How could they make it undetectable by any equipment and unseen by anyone except
you
?"

"If I knew, I'd make it visible to
everyone
," said Scott. "Too much work for
me
this way."

"What you're saying is, there's nothing I can do to assist." Azimuth sounded relieved.

That made Scott think harder to come up with something for him to do. "Actually, if you could increase the shielding around this bay, that would be great. Just in case some kind of external signal is causing this cloaking effect."

Azimuth shrugged. "I suppose that's possible. Maybe some kind of neutrino pulse that blends in with the cosmic background radiation."

"Exactly." Scott headed for the door. "Block out every kind of signal you can think of. Maybe all this will finally come into view." He swept his arm in a wide arc to indicate the room's contents.

"Okay." Azimuth scratched his head. "Whatever you say, Mr. Celebrity. You're the big expert here."

Scott didn't have the time, energy, or desire to have it out with him, so he just kept walking. Anyway, it wouldn't matter; Azimuth would probably keep baiting and haranguing him till the day he died.

"Get back here as soon as you can," said Azimuth just as Scott stepped through the doorway. "Apparently, I need your supervision so I don't do anything wrong."

Scott didn't turn back. "Don't worry," he said over his shoulder. "I'm sure someone will clean up after you like always."

Then, before Azimuth could lob another crack his way, he shut the door behind him and raced off toward the medicenter.

 

*****

 

Donna did not look good. Her face and shoulders were covered with cuts and bruises. Her left arm and right leg were immobilized in green organic crystal casts, suspended in midair by antigrav nodes.

But at least she was alive. According to the holographic readouts floating above her, she was in stable condition. She was stuck in a coma, but at least she was out of immediate danger.

Scott stood beside her bed and stared down at her, eyes burning. He felt guilty for not doing more to keep her from getting hurt. Maybe, if he'd kept her closer or followed a different course, she wouldn't have ended up like this.

He wanted to reach down and touch her, but she was so banged up, he was afraid to try. It was then that he realized just how much he was going to miss her. Even with all the work he had ahead of him, it was going to bother him not to have her around.

Just then, Dr. Beauchamp drifted over and checked the holo readouts. "Talk to her if you like. Remember, she can hear what you say."

Scott nodded. He knew from first-hand experience how right she was. Back on Tack, after his escape from the Iridess Chasm and his terrible fall at Penitent Peak, he'd actually died...then spent months in a deep coma after being revived. He still remembered things that people had said by his bedside when they'd thought he couldn't hear them--everything from whispered prayers to secret revelations.

"It will help stimulate her mind if you talk to her," said Beauchamp. "It will have a therapeutic effect, especially coming from you, as close as you two have gotten. As much as you mean to her."

Scott frowned. He and Donna hadn't tried to hide their friendship, but hearing Beauchamp mention it had surprised him. It had made him feel strange.

In the short time that he and Donna had known each other, they'd indeed gotten close. She was his best friend on the ship; they'd even shared a bed. Seeing her injured filled him with sadness and regret.

So why had he had felt a twinge of doubt when Beauchamp had talked about their relationship?

"Fine. This is fine." Beauchamp worked her way through the holo readouts, then smiled at Scott. "Her numbers look good."

"That's great," said Scott. "She took a hell of a hit."

"You can have all the padding and restraints in the world," said Beauchamp. "They will only protect you from so much in those big tin cans."

Scott rubbed his eyes and nodded. Suddenly, he felt completely exhausted. "When do you think she'll come out of it?"

"Hard to say at this stage." Beauchamp glided to the foot of the bed, where a holographic chart appeared at her approach. "Once the swelling in her brain goes down, I'll have a better idea."

Scott felt himself about to yawn and stifled it. He thought about catching some Z's, but that just depressed him. Even if he slept in Donna's bed to get away from Trane and Abby's snoring, he doubted he'd get much rest.

"As soon as there is a change, we will reevaluate." Beauchamp finished with the chart and flicked it away with a sweep of her hand. "Meanwhile, I can devote my full attention to
you
." She tipped her head to one side and beamed a warm and knowing smile in his direction.

Scott felt his cheeks flush.

Beauchamp raised her eyebrows and pointed an index finger at him. "To be exact, I need to devote my attention to examining your telemetry records from Shard."

Scott relaxed and smiled back at her as if he'd understood all along. "Right."

"I've already downloaded everything from your armor's internal drives," said Beauchamp. "It's just a matter of comparing all that--the complete record of all your body's responses to stimuli on Shard--to the baseline record we set during your pre-mission physical. Then, we see how that compares to telemetry and camera feeds from other members of the squad at key points. When you were all looking at a Red, for example, but only
you
actually
saw
it, what physiological differences were there?"

"I hope you figure it out," said Scott. "Being the only one who can see everything Red-related is running me ragged."

Even as he said those words, the voice of Major Perseid broke in over the shipwide intercom. "Corporal Scott, report to the brig. Corporal Scott, report to the brig immediately."

Scott sighed at the speaker set into the wall above the door. "See what I mean?"

Beauchamp nodded. "You're under a great deal of stress." She tipped her head to the other side. "So why is it that you don't seem particularly stressed out to me?"

Scott frowned. "That's funny, because I
feel
stressed out."

"I don't know," said Beauchamp. "You've been subjected to a lot of pressure since you first came aboard the
Sun Tzu
. If anything, I'd say you've
thrived
on it."

Scott shrugged. "If you say so." It was true, he was good at keeping a cool head under pressure. Nevertheless, he didn't think he'd been
thriving
, exactly. If he'd been at the top of his game, would Donna have ended up in a medicenter bed?

"So, tell me." Beauchamp stared at him through slitted eyes. "What happens when the stress finally lets up?"

The truth was, it never did. But Scott wasn't going to tell her that. "I'll be thrilled. Good luck examining those telemetry records from Shard, because the sooner the heat's off me, the better."

Beauchamp folded her arms over her chest with her usual languorous grace. "During our first session, I asked why you were so alone. Now, I would like to leave you with another question." She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. "What will you do if you lose the only person you've reached out to on this ship? The only one you can depend on?" She cast a meaningful gaze at Donna on the bed. "What will you have left to keep you going?"

Scott wasn't in any kind of mood to be psychoanalyzed. He actually felt the urge to tell her to keep her shrink hoozehock to herself at a time like this.

But something she'd said--which part, he wasn't sure--had touched a nerve. Did it have something to do with the strange way he'd felt when she'd mentioned how much he meant to Donna and how close he and Donna had become?

All he knew for sure was that he couldn't stop and think about it right now. "I have to go," he said, pointing at the intercom speaker. "They need me in the brig."

"They do, don't they?" Beauchamp gestured toward the door. "I guess you'd better get going."

Scott nodded in Donna's direction. "Would you let me know if she takes a turn for the worse?"

"Or if she wakes up, yes," said Beauchamp.

"Thank you." Scott hurried to the door, which slid open in front of him.

"And Scott?" Beauchamp's voice held him at the threshold. "Donna is not the only one you can depend on."

Instantly, Scott thought of Grandma Bern. "You're right," he said over his shoulder. "Maybe I need to call home."

"Yes," said Beauchamp. "Or you can always come and talk to me again." She clasped her hands behind her and made a little bow. "At your service, Corporal."

Scott smiled and nodded. "Thanks." Not that he would likely have time in his crazy schedule to talk over his feelings. Not that that could take precedence over stopping the Reds and saving the Commonwealth.

And not that he really needed it. He'd done just fine without it so far, even after all that had happened.

If dying hadn't stopped him, was there anything he couldn't handle on his own?

 

*****

 

 

"We've noticed changes in the prisoner's cell," said Major Perseid when Scott entered the anteroom of the brig. "Objects have been moved around. Bedclothes. That leads us to think the prisoner might be awake."

Scott frowned, very aware of all the eyes trained on him at that moment. Perseid, Rexis, Trane, Abby, and Khalil were all standing in a semi-circle, staring at him with dark intensity. The way they looked at him, he felt like he'd done something wrong by being singled out, like it was something he should have prevented.

"Since you're the only one who can see and hear him, you'll have to perform the interrogation," said Perseid. "Plus which, you've said he seems to think there's some kind of connection between you."

"You two get all buddy-buddy down there on Shard?" Trane said with a sneer. "Or was it something more meaningful?"

Scott ignored him. "He knew my name and rank from monitoring our comms."

"If he was monitoring comms, he must have heard other names, too," said Rexis.

"He also figured out that I was the only one in the squad who could see him," said Scott.

Perseid and Rexis were looking at Scott with disapproval. He wished he'd had time for a mission debrief before now; it wasn't good, the way the information was coming to light.

He knew he needed to clarify quickly. "As I said, he figured it out. When he moved out of the line of fire, there was a delay in targeting as I called his new coordinates. That suggested I was the only one who actually had eyes on him."

Perseid folded his arms over his chest and nodded grimly. "I wonder if he was able to transmit that information to anyone?"

"We'll never know," said Rexis. "Red transmissions seem to be as undetectable to us as everything else about them."

"If he did contact someone, he didn't have much to tell them," said Scott. "I didn't verbally confirm his conclusions, and I was careful not to give him any useful information during our exchange."

"You'll have to do the same when you interrogate him," said Rexis. "Expect that he'll be seeking information as much as you are."

"Not that he can get the information
out
." Khalil gestured at the sealed, windowless door of the brig cell behind him. "We've triple-reinforced that room every way we know how. Assuming he possesses some hidden transmission capability, we will block any signal he tries to send."

"Fortunately, the Reds don't possess any technology we aren't prepared for." Trane smacked himself in the forehead. "Oh, wait, they do!"

"Which would only matter if Corporal Scott were inclined to reveal any secrets to the prisoner." Perseid raised his eyebrows as he looked at Scott. "
Are
you so inclined, Corporal?"

Scott shook his head. "Absolutely not, sir."

"Then you're going in." Perseid stepped aside, clearing a path to the cell door. "And you're going to get as much as you can out of him while giving away as little as possible about us. Is that correct, Corporal?"

"Sir, yes sir." Scott cracked off a sharp salute and headed for the cell door.

"Here." Rexis shoved a tablet computer at him. "Remember to take notes. The rest of us won't hear a word he says until we crack the Reds' stealth technology."

Scott took the tablet. "Understood."

"We'll be recording video and audio the whole time, though." Rexis smiled. "For future reference. For when we can see and hear everything."

"
If
," said Trane.

"
When
." Rexis gave Scott's upper arm a squeeze. "Now get in there and
good luck
."

"Thanks." Scott summoned up a grin and reached for the passcode keypad mounted beside the door.

 

*****

 

When Scott entered the cell, the Red pilot was lying on a bare cot with his knees drawn up, staring at the ceiling. The pillow, bedsheets, and blanket were strewn over the floor.

"Doesn't anybody knock around here?" The pilot said it without looking at Scott. "Now what if I'd been in the middle of something?"

"Then I guess you'd be S.O.L.," said Scott.

At the sound of Scott's voice, the pilot's head rolled over to train his cobalt blue eyes in his direction. "Why, if it isn't Corporal Scott!" His voice was laced with sarcasm. "Finally! Someone who can actually
see
me!"

Scott shrugged. "Trust me, it's not that exciting."

The pilot laughed. "You
love
being special...being the only one who see me. Admit it."

"Honestly? I could do without it." Scott pulled up the only chair in the cell, an antigrav float with a cushioned black seat and back, and sat down three meters from the bed. "So how's it going? How's your visit so far?"

"Are you kidding?" The pilot swung his legs off the bed and sat up, grinning. "I'm on a CORE ship with a secret Diamondback task force! Could it
get
any cooler than
this
?"

Scott kept his poker face in place as he tapped the tablet, making a note.
Aware of CORE and Diamondbacks.
"You're from Tack, aren't you?" He looked up from the tablet. "Goyo, maybe? Or Syssop?" Now that he could hear the pilot's voice without electronic distortion, he recognized his accent.

"Spoken like a true Tackie," said the pilot. "I know
exactly
where
you're
from. Tisserie, near Vast."

Scott was surprised but tried not to show it. The pilot had done a little
too
well pinpointing his native region...not that he was about to admit it. "So, what should I call you?"

"Chrysanthemonium aspergillus," said the pilot. "Either that, or no-name gobbledygook flippersnapper."

"Cut me some slack," said Scott. "You already know
my
name. Why not tell me yours, and we'll call it even."

The pilot lowered his head and gave Scott a sinister, leering look. "Guess."

Scott sighed. "Come on. At least tell me your
first
name."

"Guess." The pilot's voice was a hiss.

"Forget it," said Scott. "I'll just call you flux-face or something."

"I'll give you a clue." The pilot leaned forward and slowly raised an index finger to point at Scott. "You already
know
what it is."

Scott shook his head. He wasn't going to play games with the pilot. "So why did you ask to see me? What's on your mind?"

"You, actually." The pilot slid back, drew up one knee, and leaned against the wall. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Scott winced. "Like you've got a
crush
on me or something?"

The pilot tipped his head back and gazed at Scott through narrowed eyes. "It's just interesting how things work out sometimes. Who could have imagined we'd be brought together like this?"

"Not me." Scott rubbed his chin, wondering how he might get information out of the guy. The pilot was so alert and cagey, he felt like a dead end...but maybe Scott could exploit the weird personal interest he seemed to have. "I guess it was meant to be."

"Destiny?" The pilot smirked. "I'll buy that."

"Maybe it happened for a reason," said Scott. "Maybe we're meant to help each other."

"Hm." The pilot looked up at the ceiling. "Wouldn't that be something?" He didn't sound very sincere. "Helping each other bring peace to the galaxy?" He snickered.

"I'm just saying." Scott clasped his hands behind his head and tipped his antigrav chair back. "Anything's possible, isn't it?"

"You're right about that," said the pilot. "You don't
know
how right you are."

"So." Scott cleared his throat. "Where do we start?"

The pilot leaned forward and stared at him, then got to his feet. "That's easy." He crossed the room, approaching Scott.

Instantly, Scott's heart beat harder. Every muscle in his body tensed, getting ready to spring into action.

But the pilot stopped short of him by half a meter. "We start with you," he said, his icy gaze locking with Scott's. "We start with you guessing my name."

Scott unclasped his hands and lowered them from behind his head. "Why bother? Even if I guessed it correctly, you wouldn't tell me."

"I won't
have
to tell you," said the pilot. "You'll
know
." Blue eyes glittering, he leaned toward Scott and lowered his voice. "I told you before, you
already
know."

"And
I
told
you
, I
don't
know." Scott's guard was up, his mind racing with hand-to-hand combat scenarios. The pilot didn't stand a chance against him. "So let's talk about something that
matters
."

"My
name
matters." The pilot leaned closer. "Our
past
matters."

Scott frowned, taking his closest look yet at the pilot's face--still seeing no trace of familiarity. "We don't
have
a past. And I don't appreciate you wasting my
time
like this."

"We
do
have a past." The pilot sneered and nodded. "We
have
met before, and I
know
you remember."

"Then you're wrong," said Scott, "because I don't."

"There's no way you could forget," said the pilot. "No way in hell." He held Scott's gaze another moment, then slowly withdrew and went back to his cot. "Think about it. Search your mind. I guarantee the memories are in there."

"Right." Scott thought for a moment, hunting for an angle. "So if I remember meeting you, we can talk about the people you're working for?"

"If you remember how we met," said the pilot, "the people I work for will be the
last
thing you'll want to talk about."

"So let's talk about them
now
," said Scott.

The pilot shook his head and lay down on the cot. "I'm done talking for now. I need you to leave, Sol."

Scott's eyes widened. How did the pilot know his first name? He was sure no one had said it over the comm.

"Don't you know the meaning of the words 'get out?'" snapped the pilot.

Scott got up from the chair and started for the door. Was it possible?
Had
he met the Red pilot somewhere before?

"And Scott?" said the pilot. "If you're lying about remembering me to protect your reputation, you'll get nothing out of me."

Scott looked back over his shoulder at him but didn't reply.

"Believe it." The pilot rolled over to face the wall. "I won't let you screw me again, Scott. Not like before."

Scott scowled and kept walking. He'd had enough of the pilot's shtick.

"This time,
I'm
doing the screwing," said the pilot. "And
you're
the one paying the price!"

 

*****