Resist the Red Battlenaut (32 page)

On the screen, Grist saw the barren, storm-swept surface of the rebel-held moon, Sangre. The latest flare of lightning revealed a towering black figure on the crest of the hill. At that instant, the very first instant he glimpsed it, Grist knew in his heart what it was even as he knew in his head it just wasn't possible.

The flare of light faded, and the black figure faded with it back into the night. When the next lightning struck a moment later, the hilltop was deserted.

"Begorra." One rotting nostril fell away from Swindle's leprous face. "It's
him
, ain't it, boyo?"

Grist blinked hard and shook his head. "Can't say." Just then, his arm burned as the automated hypodermic cuff strapped to his bicep shot a fresh jolt of go-juice into his system. A ring of lights around the forward viewport flashed in a pattern designed to reset his body's circadian rhythms.

Must've been about to nod off. Can't have that, can we?
As the go-juice pumped through his arteries, Grist felt himself return to full alertness. The Battlenaut's sensors and computers had done their job again, intervening at just the right moment with just the right dose of meds to keep Grist awake and alert for yet another hour.

Grist licked his dry lips and checked the video monitor again. Lightning spiked nearby, revealing six soldiers in Battlenaut armor facing off on a rocky battlefield...but no sign of the dark figure from the hilltop.

Grist stabbed the comm button and spoke into his mic. "Hey, Freak. Ever hear of the Black Battlenaut?"

When he didn't get a reply, Grist looked at the button he'd just hit and realized it wasn't the comm at all. He was just about to punch the real comm button when the cockpit rocked from a powerful impact. It was enough to crack his helmeted skull against the headrest and snap him back to the reality from which he'd taken a brief vacation.

Fight. That's right.
His hands flew back to the steering and weapons controls.
I'm in a firefight.

I'm fighting a war here.

 

*****

 

Sharon "Freak" Freemare laughed like a maniac as she cut loose her Battlenaut's main guns against the oncoming enemy. One slug hit home in a big way, punching through the enemy's armor and leaving a jagged, smoking hole at the top of one leg.

Still shrieking with laughter, Freak swung a laser around and opened up on the damage. Metal and plastic melted before the onslaught, and the enemy Battlenaut's leg gave way within seconds.

The damaged Battlenaut went down hard, flat on its face. The enemy soldier in its cockpit tried in vain to force the smashed war machine to get up and fight, but it was still lying in the mud when Freak marched her own Battlenaut over to meet it.

"Hey, traitor!" shouted Freak, though she knew the downed pilot couldn't hear her. "Special delivery from the
Redeyes
for ya!"

Freak used her lasers to disable the enemy Battlenaut's weapons systems. The whole time, the smell of baking bread was so strong in the cockpit that it made her stomach growl.

Why she smelled baking bread in the cockpit instead of the usual sweat and stink, she had no idea, but she didn't let it trouble her. Better just to soak it in like the smell of roses that had rushed over her moments earlier, or the incredible smooth feeling of silk that had rippled over her skin moments before that.

Better just to enjoy the ride.

Eyeballing the display on her visor, she located the other members of her squad. Lieutenants Grist and Pellucid formed two points of a triangle enclosing the battlefield, with Freak as the third point. Four enemy Battlenauts were trapped inside the triangle, three still standing plus the one she'd just brought down.

Freak cackled as she swung her Battlenaut toward a fresh target.
These bums are no match for the Redeyes.

That was what Freak's squad called themselves:
Redeyes
, because they fought without rest. Computers monitored the alertness of this experimental squad and administered countermeasures, chemical and otherwise, to keep them awake and fighting. Such sleep deprivation techniques promised to limit downtime for deployed Commonwealth troops, giving them an edge in the ongoing civil war against the Rightfuls.

From Freak's point of view, the experiment was the biggest success of all time. She and the others had been awake for days on end, so long she'd lost count, and still they suffered no ill effects.

If anything, Freak felt better than ever. She'd never fought more fiercely or thought more clearly in her life.

Who knew insomnia could be so much fun?

 

*****

 

What happens next? Find out in
Beware the Black Battlenaut
, now
on sale
!

 

*****

 

About the Author

 

Robert T. Jeschonek is an award-winning writer whose fiction, comics, essays, articles, and podcasts have been published around the world. His young adult urban fantasy novel,
My Favorite Band Does Not Exist
, was named one of
Booklist
's Top Ten First Novels for Youth. Simon & Schuster, DAW/Penguin Books, and DC Comics have published his work. He won the grand prize in Pocket Books' nationwide
Strange New Worlds
contest and was nominated for the British Fantasy Award. Visit him online at www.thefictioneer.com. You can also find him on Facebook and follow him as @TheFictioneer on Twitter.

 

*****

 

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Now on Sale
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A Young Adult Fantasy Novel That Really Rocks!

 

One of Booklist's Top Ten First Novels for Youth

 

Being trapped in a book can be a nightmare—just ask Idea Deity. He's convinced that he exists only in the pages of a novel written by a malevolent author . . . and that he will die in Chapter 64. Meanwhile, Reacher Mirage, lead singer of the secret rock band Youforia, can't figure out who's posting information about him and his band online that only
he
should know. Someone seems to be pulling the strings of both teens' lives . . . and they're not too happy about it. With Youforia about to be exposed in a national magazine and Chapter 64 bearing down like a speeding freight train, time is running out. Will Idea and Reacher be able to join forces and take control of their own lives before it's too late?

 

School of Rock
meets
Alice in Wonderland
in this fast-paced, completely unpredictable novel of alternate realities, time travel, and rock ‘n' roll. If your favorite band does not exist . . . do
you?

 

"Overall,
My Favorite Band Does Not Exist
is a wacky and enjoyable trip...full of intriguing, imaginative concepts that keep a reader hooked." –Thom Dunn,
The Daily Genoshan

 

"This first novel has all the look of a cult fave: baffling to many, an anthem for a few, and unlike anything else out there." –Ian Chipman,
Booklist
Starred Review

 

"
Chaos theory meets rock 'n' roll in adult author Jeschonek's ambitious, reality-bending YA debut." "...this proudly surreal piece of metafiction could develop a cult following
..."–
Publishers Weekly

 

"Reading this reminded me of authors like Terry Prachett and Neil Gaiman…" –
BiblioJunkies

 

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*****

 

 

RESIST THE RED BATTLENAUT

 

Copyright © 2012 by Robert T. Jeschonek

www.thefictioneer.com

 

Cover Art Copyright © 2012 by Ben Baldwin

www.benbaldwin.co.uk

 

Published in October 2012 by Pie Press by arrangement with the author. All rights reserved by the author.

 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

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