The wireframe diagram showed one of Scott's shoulder lasers melting into the hull, which then grew a different kind of weapon with a big, gaping barrel. The barrel, which had a diameter bigger than the Battlenaut's head, stretched out and angled upward, then fired a spherical bundle into the air. The bundle seemed to disappear after it launched, as it exceeded the span of the wireframe holo.
But Scott saw where its flight took it on the video feeds. Before the smokescreen could obscure his view completely, he saw the bundle strike the Battlenaut that was still visible, striking it right on the chest. As soon as it hit, the bundle splattered, covering the front of the Battlenaut's armor with a lumpy green slime.
As Scott watched, the slime crawled over the armor, spreading in all directions. Within seconds, the Battlenaut was coated and stuck; it tried to move, but the slime locked it in place like a glistening, bright green statue.
At that point, two of the three enemy Battlenauts were out of the picture. Before Scott could celebrate, however, the third Battlenaut, the one that hadn't gotten the biofilm treatment, leaped out of its smokescreen and streaked toward him.
"Alert! Incoming!" Red light and a fast, high-pitched pinging filled the cockpit as Frank sounded the alarm. "Initiating evasive maneuver." Scott didn't even have to order him to evade; automatic fail-safes took care of that.
But his Battlenaut just couldn't move fast enough. It lunged left, bolting out of the way--and its opponent still hit it with a crushing impact, slamming it down to the floor.
The crash knocked the breath out of Scott. The couch held him, but his head still whipped hard to one side, giving his neck a nasty twist.
Just like that, his unit was on its belly, trapped under the weight of the Battlenaut. He saw it on the backside video feed, sitting on top of him. As for the frontside feed, it showed only a view of the floor.
"Frank! Get up!" Scott glared at the feed of the Battlenaut weighing him down. Triggering the eye movement-based controls, the concentrated focus made the image enlarge and push aside the other feeds, staring him in the face. "Get out from under that thing!"
Just then, the red light in the cockpit winked out, and the rapid pinging stopped. "Unable to comply," said Frank. "I have received notification that this exercise has concluded."
Scott pumped his elbows back angrily, plunging them deeper into the couch's padding. "Son of a bitch!"
"I will now proceed with pilot extrusion as ordered," said Frank. "I look forward to our next activity together, Corporal Scott."
With that, the couch slowly rotated, turning over to face upward. As the hull of the unit's back flowed open, Scott could see that the Battlenaut that had defeated him was no longer sitting on it. He blinked as the bright light of the Training Deck poured into the dark cockpit and washed over him.
The couch released him, and he climbed out of the armor. As he emerged from its back and shoulders and took a look around, he finally saw who'd been piloting the three opponent units in the live-fire exercise.
"Hey there!" Donna Perihelion walked toward him, grinning. "Great sparring, Solomon! Three against one, and you still put up a hell of a fight."
Scott wanted to be angry because he'd lost, but he couldn't do it. "So that was you in there?" He gestured at the Battlenaut on its knees behind her. "Why wouldn't you I.D. yourself?"
"So you wouldn't bring any preconceived notions to the bout." Donna stood, face flushed, and planted her hands on her hips. "So you could come as close as possible to a battlefield experience, from live ammo to unknown pilots with unknown capabilities."
Scott heard two sets of footsteps behind him and turned to see the other two pilots approaching. One was a tall black man who looked to be in his early-to-mid twenties. The other was half a head shorter and years older, a man with dark hair and bronze skin.
"Meet the rest of the squad." Donna walked over and stood beside the taller man, who smiled. "This is Roy Taggart, our top sharpshooter. And this..." She walked over to the other man. "...is Everisto García."
Scott nodded at both men, but only Taggart nodded back. García flashed a cold gaze in his general direction, then looked away without emotion or acknowledgement. Hardcore. Scott recognized the attitude.
But he wasn't going to act that way himself, as bugged as he was after the surprise bout and defeat. "Good to meet you." He stepped forward and reached for García, who grudgingly returned the handshake without making eye contact. Then, he shook Taggart's hand, too. "Thanks for the fight."
Taggart grinned. "Any time." He seemed like a friendly guy.
"You posted some solid scores today," said Donna. "You seem to be getting the hang of that CORE Battlenaut just fine."
Scott hadn't known that she'd been scoring him. "Thanks." She hadn't mentioned that she was some kind of training instructor.
"I have no doubt that you'll be fully rated on that armor in no time. Which is a good thing, since we'll be at Shard in three days." Donna walked over and punched him in the arm. "Now get your ass to Engineering. Chief Azimuth has been screaming for you."
Scott's stomach twisted. "I thought he was done with me for the day."
"Apparently not." Donna shrugged and punched him again. "He said something about polishing the manipulator contacts in the secondary grid chamber."
Secondary...not primary. So maybe Azimuth wasn't going to order him to kill himself again. "All right." Scott blew out his breath. "Thanks for passing that along."
"No problem," said Donna. "So maybe I'll see you later, then."
In the brig, probably, thought Scott, after I break down and murder Chief Azimuth. But what he said was, "Maybe you will."
"Great." She flashed him a huge smile before he headed for the door. Maybe it would have made him feel good if he hadn't been going back to the hellhole known as Engineering. Maybe he would have been in better spirits if the crappy day he'd been having had finally been over.
*****
Chapter 12
By the time Scott finally headed for his billet that night, he felt like the walking dead. His exhaustion was overwhelming, his head full of static, his eyes glazed over. He was still moving, but only on autopilot; his every last reserve of energy had been totally depleted, leaving him just enough juice to shuffle off to bed.
It had been a hell of a day. After the surprise sparring on the Training Deck, he'd gone to Engineering and taken a different kind of beating. Chief Azimuth hadn't thrown tools at him like before, and he hadn't done anything like ordering Scott to kill himself, but he'd worked him like a rented mule.
It seemed like Scott had scrubbed every centimeter of Engineering...then gone back over it all a second time...and a third. Not only had he polished the manipulator contacts in the secondary grid chamber, but he'd hand-cleaned the entire chamber from floor to ceiling. Sanitizing every catwalk, niche, and accessway hadn't been enough; he'd also had to clean, lubricate, and recalibrate every tool, spare part, and piece of equipment in the department.
And the whole time, Azimuth had trailed after him, watching his progress and insulting him. How many times had he called Scott a piece of hoozehock or a mother-fluxing plang-licker? It had all blurred together after a while and faded into the background of his haze of exhaustion.
After six hours of hard labor, Azimuth had finally released him. By then, Scott had been two hours late for the Surface Warfare Group meeting, but he'd shown up anyway, secretly hoping it was already over so he could just go get some rest. But his hopes had been in vain; the meeting had still been in full swing.
Trane, the head of the group, had torn Scott a new one for being so late--and then the meeting had kept going. It had run for another three hours, then four more after a five-minute break. Scott had to hand it to the Diamondbacks: they were determined to be ready for the Red Battlenauts when they made landfall at Shard.
It had been a real marathon session, and Scott had been called on often to weigh in on the group's strategies. Just when his brain had felt at its fuzziest, he'd been tapp
ed again and again for insights and opinions, then challenged just as often over both. Toward the end, he'd started to fade, and Trane had caught him drifting off three times. More than once, he'd said things that hadn't entirely made sense, and he'd had to backtrack and correct himself.
When the meeting had finally ended, he'd gratefully trudged off toward his billet--only to be cornered by Donna. She'd talked his ear off for fifteen minutes (or was it an hour?), before he'd managed to disengage and resume his march toward oblivion.
Just then, when he'd been only half a corridor away from bed, a burst of alarms and flashing lights had signaled a shipwide drill. Surging with adrenaline, he'd run to his most recent post--Engineering--and worked with the team there to follow emergency procedures under simulated battle conditions.
By the time the drill had run its course, two more hours had passed. He'd stayed in Engineering an hour more before he'd finally been able to get the hell out of there and call it a day.
Now, finally, his billet was dead ahead. He shuffled along the last few meters to the door, made his way inside the darkened room, and found his rack as the door slid shut behind him.
Unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Just like the night before, Trane and Abby were in their own racks, snoring with abandon.
For a moment, Scott stood by his bed and listened to the thunderous duet. He hadn't thought it could get any louder than the night before, but it had. Even being as tired as he was, he couldn't imagine sleeping through that racket.
But if he went another night with little or no sleep, he was going to have a problem. He knew his sleep deprivation limits, and he knew he was hitting the wall right now.
So his choice was clear. He had to get out of that room. He had to take Donna up on her invitation.
Yawning, Scott trudged out of the room to a door down the hall and across from his assigned rack room. The door slid open when he approached, revealing another darkened space--thankfully, one without a pair of champion snorers going at it inside.
When Scott stepped in, the door slid shut. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then he had a look around.
There were twelve bunk beds in the room, six along each wall, and half the racks were full. Slowly, he walked between them, peering at their contents, searching for Donna.
He found her at the end of the row, on the top bunk. She was sleeping on her side, facing out, her mouth open slightly.
Trying not to wake Masada Feinberg, who was sleeping in the rack below her, he slowly climbed two rungs up the ladder at the foot of the bed. Reaching for Donna, he tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
It took a few tries to get her attention. When she finally opened her eyes and saw him, she instantly broke into a wide, sleepy grin. "Hey," she whispered, reaching over to stroke the top of his hand. "You came!"
"Trane and Abby are off the charts again," said Scott. "I can sleep through a lot, but those two are ridiculous."
"Well, there's plenty of room up here." Donna gave his hand a tug.
"Are you sure about that?" Scott frowned. Her rack didn't look roomy at all; it hadn't been made for two people.
"Absolutely." Donna slid over, opening up a little space. "We'll make it work."
Scott hesitated, wondering what he was getting in for. But then he climbed the rest of the way up and rolled into the rack beside her. It was against his better judgment, he wasn't sure he wanted to get involved with anyone on any level...but he needed sleep so badly, he felt like he was ready to pass out.
"There, see?" Donna snuggled up tight against him and laid her arm across his chest. "Plenty of room."
Scott nodded and let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Thank you." He looked over at her and smiled. "I'm so tired, I can't see straight."
"No worries." She let her hand drift slowly over his chest. "I can empathize. I used to have a rack in the same room as those two, and it was like trying to sleep in a Battlenaut factory."
"It was a tough day," said Scott. "One damn thing after another."
"Including that crazy surprise armor drill on the Training Deck, right?" Donna laughed softly and batted his chest with her hand.
"That wasn't so bad." Scott shook his head. "It might even have been the best part of the day, actually."
"Except this part," said Donna.
"Exactly." Scott met her gaze and held it for a moment. It was then he knew, without a doubt, that she would do whatever he liked if he chose to make a move. Her body was against him, her hand touching his chest, her face just centimeters away from his--and she was willing. She was ready for anything and waiting to see what he would do next.
He considered the possibilities. He was a red-blooded man, and she was attractive...but he was also exhausted. As tempted as he was, as much as he might hate himself later for missing out, he just didn't have it in him.
Yawning, he slid his arm around her shoulders. "Thanks again," he told her. "I really owe you for this."
Donna picked up on his signals and relaxed against him. "That's right, you do." She ran her fingers down over his abdomen and kept them there a moment. "And I intend to collect."
Scott didn't address her comment. He could already feel himself drifting off as the possibilities that had been circling the two of them slowly faded away.
"Good night," he said, and then he gave her shoulders a squeeze, feeling truly grateful to be there with her after his lousy day. "Get me up when you get up, okay?"
"I'll do that," said Donna. "You can depend on me."
Scott smiled. His eyes were closed, but he could tell from the sound of her voice that she was smiling when she said it.
*****
Chapter 13
Less than two days later, when the Sun Tzu slowed its near-faster-than-light travel at the edge of the Veda system, Scott was a changed man--fully rested and ready for anything. Sleeping in Donna's rack that first time and once afterward had really done the trick; without Trane and Abby's nonstop snoring, he'd been able to catch up on some of his much-needed lost sleep. That had made him better equipped to muscle through the hassles of shipboard life and prepare for the mission to Shard.
Which was good, because things hadn't gotten any easier for him. His schedule had stayed just as intense, packed with duty (in different departments, thankfully, not just Engineering), CORE Battlenaut training, shipwide drills, and meetings of the Surface Warfare Group. The Diamondbacks had run him ragged, pushing him to the limit in every possible way; without the rest he'd gotten with Donna, he wondered if he would've made it through as well as he had.
As for any other developments with Donna, Scott managed to keep them on hold. It was a situation that couldn't last forever, but at least for now, it seemed to be working out okay. There'd be time enough to reconsider after Shard, he figured. Assuming they all made it back from the mission, of course.
*****
The Sun Tzu was less than three hours from Shard when Perseid called Scott to the Command Deck. Scott was annoyed, in the middle of prepping his Battlenaut for landfall, but he also wondered what Perseid might want.
When the door to the Command Deck opened, Scott had to take a moment to get used to the place again. He hadn't been there since his first day aboard the ship, and the illusion of standing unprotected in open space made him feel a little dizzy.
On the other hand, the sight of the gray and silver planet up ahead was familiar to him by now. Shard had been on his mind a lot lately; he'd been studying it for days, memorizing landmarks, flora, and fauna that could help him survive its hostile environment. He'd been helping to plot strategies for battle on its surface, ways to defeat Red Battlenauts or anyone else the Diamondbacks encountered. He knew that planet well, though he also knew he'd never truly understand it until he got down there.
After adjusting to the see-through environs of the Command Deck, Scott stepped up to Perseid, who was standing on a circle of white light in the middle of the deck with his hands clasped behind his back.
&nb
sp; "Corporal Scott reporting, sir." Scott snapped off a crisp salute.
Perseid spoke over his shoulder. "At ease, Corporal."
Scott relaxed.
"We're almost there," said Perseid. "Should be an interesting experience."
"Yes, sir," said Scott.
"I'm willing to bet it'll be full of surprises." Perseid glanced over his shoulder. "But you're ready for all that, am I right?"
"Absolutely," said Scott.
Perseid nodded. "You'll be our eyes and ears on Shard. Assuming the Reds haven't figured out a way to hide from you, too."
"It'll be a damn short mission if they have," said Scott.
"It'll be a damn short war," said Perseid. "Or, best case scenario, we come out of this with more than just you able to see the bastards." He turned to Scott. "That's why Dr. Beauchamp will be watching your telemetry like a hawk, looking for irregularities. We need to know what makes you special when it comes to spotting the Reds."
"Okay." Scott couldn't say he hadn't seen this coming. Perseid had said from the start that he wanted to figure out Scott's secret power and put it to work for the Commonwealth.
"She'll do the same with the other pilots, too. We hope the data will lead to a breakthrough in seeing Red Battlenauts." Perseid leaner closer, meeting Scott's gaze. "That won't be a problem for you, will it?"
"No, sir." Scott shook his head firmly. "Not a problem."
"Because we absolutely need to spread your capability around." Perseid tipped his head to one side. "Because what if something happens to you?"
"I understand," said Scott.
"We've got one guy who can see the Reds. One guy with the fate of maybe the entire quadrant on his shoulders." Perseid narrowed his eyes. "Now what happens if we lose that one guy?"
"The quadrant is fluxed," said Scott.
"Totally fluxed." Perseid reached out for a handshake. "Which is why I called you up here. I wanted to personally wish you luck."
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