"Three hundred meters," said Donna. "Switching to thrusters. I'll put her down on that landing pad in the middle of the compound."
Just then, a loud beeping noise erupted from the dashboard. A blinking yellow holo popped up over the middle of the viewport, displaying a column of statistics that told the tale.
Scott knew what it meant immediately. "They're hailing us."
"Audio only," said Donna. "And that's not all they're doing." Another holo appeared on the left side of the viewport, bright red this time. "Three missile batteries just powered up."
Scott's heart pounded. "Open the channel," he said, "and set thrusters to station-keeping. But be ready for evasive maneuvers."
Donna nodded as her fingers played the controls. "Already ahead of you, Solomon."
As Scott waited for the call to connect, he looked back over his shoulder--and saw Cairn standing behind him instead of sprawling in the command chair. Their eyes met, an unspoken message flashing from Scott to Cairn: I told you so. But Cairn just shrugged and turned to watch the viewport.
"Putting the call on speakers," said Donna. "Good luck."
She flicked one last switch, and a man's deep voice rolled into the control room. "Bellerophon Station to unknown vessel. Identify yourself."
"This is the jump-ship Sun Bin," said Scott, leaving out the part about it being a CORE spacecraft. "Request permission to land for emergency repairs."
There was a pause on the other end of the call. "What repairs, specifically? Your ship appears to be in working order."
"Problems with the oxygen scrubbers," said Scott. "The ship flies fine, but none of us will be live through the trip to our destination, which is thirty light-years away."
Another pause. "Request denied. Recommend you proceed to Warwick III, distance three light years from this location."
"You do realize we'll all be dead by the time we get there," said Scott.
"Suggest you administer cryogenic procedures to conserve life support," said the voice from Bellerophon.
"We don't have cryogenic equipment," snapped Scott.
"You have thirty seconds to alter course," said the voice.
Donna muted the call. "He's right. The three powered-up missile batteries have just targeted us."
Scott smiled grimly at Cairn. "Then I guess it's time for a word from the captain." Grabbing him by the arm, he pulled him forward. "Take it off mute, Donna."
Donna hit a button and gave him the thumbs-up.
"Bellerophon Station, please hold for the commander of this vessel." Scott nodded at Cairn and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Captain Cairn Barrie."
For a long moment, Scott thought Cairn wasn't going to cooperate. He just stood there, glaring, with his jaws and fists clenched, saying nothing.
Scott nodded encouragingly, yet still Cairn kept his mouth shut. So much for the great plan; it looked like Scott was going to have to switch tracks and explain why "Captain" Barrie couldn't join the call after all.
But just as Scott gave up and opened his mouth to speak, Cairn finally took the leap. "This is Captain Cairn Barrie," he said. "Request permission to land, Bellerophon Station."
There was silence on the other end of the call.
Cairn cleared his throat and tried again. "I repeat, this is Captain Cairn Barrie requesting permission to land."
There was another moment of silence before the voice from Bellerophon replied. "Did you say 'Cairn Barrie?'"
"Affirmative," said Cairn.
Another pause from Bellerophon. "Verify your credentials immediately or be destroyed."
Cairn looked at Scott with an expression that slowly changed from angry resistance to disgusted resignation. He flipped up his right middle finger in an obscene gesture just for Scott, then looked away and spoke up once more.
"This is Cairn Barrie," he said. "I.D. number Alpha Bravo seven five niner whiskey victor six...red." When he said the last word, he showed Scott the obscene gesture again without looking at him.
"Challenge epsilon three," said Bellerophon. "Good ships are in short supply in this sector. How do you respond?"
Cairn hesitated, then sighed. "I know a dealer who can sell you one cheap."
There was another pause from Bellerophon Station, the longest yet. Scanning Donna's readouts, Scott could see that the three missile batteries were still charged and aiming at the Sun Bin.
Then, finally, the voice rolled out of the speakers again. "Permission to land granted, Captain Barrie. Please proceed."
"Affirmative," said Cairn.
"Bellerophon control out," said the voice, and then the speakers fell silent.
Everyone in the control room seemed to relax at once--except for Cairn, who looked like something had crawled up his butt and died.
His lies had been exposed. It was clear now that Bellerophon Station was in Red hands, and he had known all about it, right down to the challenge and response code they needed to get through the front door.
Scott was glad for the confirmation that he'd come to the right place; finally, he could set aside his doubts and focus on the mission ahead. He was also glad he wouldn't have to listen to Cairn's denials anymore.
Part of him wanted to go up to Cairn and rub it in, put him in his place now that the truth was out--but Scott knew that wouldn't help the cause. The goal was continued cooperation, not increased animosity.
It was better to stay all business. "Great work, Cairn." Scott considered trying for a handshake, then settled for a nod instead. "Donna, take us down."
"Already on it, Solomon." Donna's fingers flew over the controls, and the Sun Bin started its descent.
Through the viewport, Scott could see the black domes of Bellerophon Station approaching. He could also see the missile batteries moving to keep the Sun Bin in the crosshairs.
"How long until landfall?" asked Scott.
"Twenty minutes, give or take," said Donna.
"Long enough to send Perseid a message," said Scott. "Tell him we were right about Bellerophon Station. Tell him we're going in."
"Roger that, Solomon," said Donna.
Scott leaned down and gave her a lingering kiss on the lips. Then he drew back, smiled, and did it again.
"How romantic," Cairn said sarcastically. "All we need's some violin music in the background."
This time, it was Scott's turn to flip a middle finger at Cairn.
Cairn snorted. "Let's get this cluster-flux over with," he said, and then he stomped toward the exit.
Scott pulled back from Donna. "Any last questions?"
Her eyes sparkled as she held his gaze. "Are you coming back to me?"
"Hell yes." He kissed her again. "I'd have to be a pretty big jerk not to."
"Damn right." Donna grinned. "Now get out of here. I'm sick of looking at your face."
One more kiss, and Scott left her at the controls. "Good luck!" he said as he ran for the door.
"You break a leg, too," said Donna. "And don't keep me waiting!"
"Wouldn't dream of it!" said Scott as he ran out of the control room. "How long can saving the Commandant and the Commonwealth possibly take?"
And then the door slid shut and he was gone.
*****
Chapter 38
By the time the Sun Bin landed, Scott and Cairn were suited up and ready to go--Scott in the Mark VI Battlenaut, Cairn in the CORE civilian armor. They stood side by side in the middle of the cargo bay, waiting for the hatch to open at the far end so they could venture outside.
As they stood there, Scott wondered if Cairn's heart was pounding as fast as his--and if so, was it for the same reason? Scott was nervous about the mission because he wanted it to succeed; would Cairn be nervous because he wanted the opposite result?
Whatever his intentions, Cairn didn't sound nervous...just cranky. "You're sure I can't shut off this damn A.I.? If I needed another brain in my armor, I would've brought one."
"It'll grow on you." Scott left out the part about Frank going rogue b
ack on Oberon. Why add fuel to Cairn's griping? "Isn't the voice activation nice, though?"
"If you don't mind delays every time you give a command," said Cairn. "Are you sure this armor's cutting edge?"
"You're in a civilian unit with a defensive profile only," said Scott. "The fully loaded combat model's another story."
"Better than that antique you're wearing now?"
"Are you kidding?" said Scott, though he preferred the antique hands-down to the CORE models. He was glad he'd brought it for this critical mission, where everything was on the line. He felt at home in its tried-and-true cockpit, unencumbered by supposed improvements that had gotten in the way of instinctive combat...and ultimately almost killed him.
"So what the hell happened to it?" asked Cairn. "Your new model, that is. Why did you bring the antique?"
"I had my reasons." Just as Scott said it, red lights started flashing in the cargo bay, signaling that the hatch was about to open.
"You're sure this armor's spaceworthy?" said Cairn.
"Absolutely." Scott double-checked to be on the safe side, then nodded. The Mark VI was perfectly airtight, pressurized, and shielded from head to toe. Fong had taken great care of his baby; she was pristine all around.
"Red Battlenauts are all spaceworthy," said Cairn. "They're the greatest fighting machines ever built."
"That's what you say." Scott grabbed his interface helmet from a hook on the cockpit wall and lowered it onto his head. As soon as the padded halo fit down around his skull, the visor display lit up in front of him. The frontside camera feed appeared automatically, showing the cargo hold's rear hatch sliding open in the flashing red light. "But they're not so tough when people can actually see them, are they?"
"I bet you'll have another chance to find out," said Cairn. "Or do you think they're going to just let us waltz in there on our own?"
"I thought you'd have more pull than that," said Scott, using the keypad on the left armrest to set up his weapons. Without the CORE Battlenaut's morphing capabilities, he was stuck with the standard complement of projectile weapons, lasers, sonics, and missiles--but that was enough for him. It was all he'd ever needed to win on the battlefield as a Commonwealth Marine, before the Diamondbacks had come along.
"Maybe they're wondering if--oh, I don't know--I'm being forced to do this against my will?" snapped Cairn. "There is that possibility."
Scott could see that the hatch was almost all the way open now. "You did a great job talking our way down here," he said. "Just do more of the same, and we'll be fine."
"No, we won't," said Cairn. "You don't know these people like I do."
"Good thing you're here, then." Scott worked the keypad on the right armrest of his couch, bringing up Cairn's telemetry on the far left side of his visor. Then, he locked it there so he could quickly refer to it at any time, instantly assessing Cairn's status. "I couldn't do this without you."
"What the hell can I do? I'm in armor without any weapons." Cairn made a snorting sound over the comm. "Not that I'd use them to help you if I had any."
"You'll do the right thing when the time comes," said Scott. "I believe in you."
"Then you're in for a rude awakening," Cairn said darkly.
*****
The two Battlenauts stomped out of the cargo hold of the Sun Bin and onto the landing pad pavement. Scott put Cairn in front to keep him visible and let him take the lead in dealing with the Reds. How he planned to deal with them, what exactly he would do when the time came, was impossible to know.
Cairn carried a lot of hate around with him, much of it aimed at Scott for what had happened at Iridess Chasm. Scott had tried to get him to switch it off, to understand that Scott had never meant to let him be hurt and would have saved him if he'd known he'd survived. But was any of that enough, after so many years, to earn them a second chance? Would Scott himself have been quick to forgive under the same circumstances, if he'd been the one spirited away by Larvis Vore and subjected to untold tortures for decades? He couldn't say.
But Cairn's redemption was his only hope. It seemed like a pathetically fragile frame on which to hang the survival of Bern and the Commonwealth...but it was all he had. Here at the end of the road, he couldn't depend on the Diamondbacks or the Marines or anyone else--just Donna Perihelion and Cairn Barrie. The woman who loved him and the man who despised him.
"Which way do we go?" Cairn stood and looked around at the black domes surrounding the landing pad.
"Beats me," said Scott. "Let's ask for directions."
After a pause, he heard Cairn's voice over the comm. "Come in, Bellerophon Station." Before leaving the Sun Bin, Scott had tweaked Cairn's armor so he could hear every call he made over the comm. Secretly contacting the Reds just wasn't going to happen. "This is Captain Cairn Barrie. Please direct us to the spacecraft repair facility."
No answer. The incoming comm channel remained silent.
"Give it another try," said Scott.
"Right," said Cairn. "Because maybe they forgot we're out here." He took three steps forward and opened the channel again. "Come in, Bellerophon Station. Please direct us to the repair facility."
Still, there was no response.
"Maybe they stepped away," suggested Scott. "Or their radio equipment's malfunctioning."
Cairn tried again without being asked. "Bellerophon Station!" This time, he raised his voice. "Where's the damn repair facility?"
Again, no one answered.
After a long moment, Scott nudged the joystick and brought the Mark VI lumbering up to stand beside the CORE civilian armor. "Let's just pick a direction. I guess they don't want to be bothered with us."
"Wrong." Cairn raised his Battlenaut's arm and pointed at a gap between two of the black domes about half a kilometer distant. "They sent out a welcoming committee."
Scott looked where he was pointing, and there they were: two Red Battlenauts, striding out from between the domes in close formation. "An escort?" At first, he thought it was possible. After all, Cairn had established his Red credentials and requested assistance.
But no. While they were still half a klick out, the Reds started shooting. Both of them cut loose their golden energy beams at once, merging them into a single colossal stream rushing straight toward Scott and Cairn.
"Move!" Scott jammed the stick right, and his Battlenaut bolted that way, getting out of the line of fire just in time. The searing beam of energy blazed past without touching him; it struck one of the domes instead, splashing harmlessly off its protective surface.
Cairn, who'd darted left instead of right, was also in the clear. His black CORE armor wobbled a little from the sudden start and stop, then stabilized. "Hey!" He was shouting over the comm at Bellerophon Station. "You guys're shooting at one of your own!"
No answer came back over the comm channel. So much for being on the same side.
"I said stand down!" said Cairn. "I'm as Red as you are!"
The Reds' only reply was to fire another merged beam of golden energy. This time, it was heading straight for Cairn.
He dodged out of the way in time but stumbled and went down on his belly on the pavement. Scott heard him cry out when he hit, but according to telemetry, he wasn't hurt badly.
In which case, Scott realized, that was the best place for him--out of the action, out of the way. Instead of having to worry about the guy in the civilian armor, Scott could focus his attention on fighting the Reds.
Without a word to Cairn, Scott wrenched the stick forward and ran away from him.
The Reds were waiting. As the footfalls of the Mark VI pounded across the landing pad, the Reds opened fire with their energy beams again. This time, instead of mingling the beams, they kept them separate, catching Scott between them--then scissored them together.
Playing the right keypad and yanking the stick back, Scott leaped clear before the twin beams could slice into him. While airborne, he brought up the coordinate grid over the frontside feed on his visor. When he came back
down, he quickly calculated a bearing on one of the Reds and punched it into the left keypad, then thumbed the firing button on the stick. A missile shot out of his shoulder-mounted launcher, streaking straight at the Red he'd targeted.
The firing solution was sound, but the target swatted away the missile at the last instant. In retaliation, the Red unleashed a stream of slugs in Scott's direction, and his partner did the same.
This time, the fire didn't miss. Both torrents of slugs slammed into Scott's armor with shuddering force, knocking him back but not off his feet.
Tapping the keys madly, Scott cooked up a new solution and launched another missile. That one had barely left the launcher when he pumped out another.
The missiles rocketed toward the Reds, covering three hundred meters of airless moon in milliseconds. Each missile looked like it was going to strike one of the Reds head-on--but then they both veered suddenly downward and blew apart the pavement at the Reds' feet instead.
The streams of slugs stopped battering Scott's armor as the Red Battlenauts went down. Debris moving fast enough to escape the low gravity shot into space, and the rest of it showered around them.
Determined to press his advantage, Scott charged toward the Reds. He knew from experience how tough their armor was and didn't expect them to stay down for good.
He wasn't sure he could beat them at all, in fact. The last time he'd taken on a Red Battlenaut while piloting a Mark VI, the Red had wrecked his ride, forcing him to eject.
Not that he was going to give up. He knew the Reds and their fighting style better this time. He'd just have to hope he could win by being trickier and more relentless.
Plus more determined because of the stakes. Were the Reds fighting to save a beloved grandmother? Were they single-handedly trying to save a planetary Commonwealth? No fluxing way.
As Scott raced the Mark VI toward the Reds, he cut loose an unholy bombardment of slugs, missiles, and lasers. It was back to basics without the exotic weapons of the CORE Battlenaut--the drone pods, biofilm, Dragon's Breath, etc.--but he didn't mind a bit. He couldn't reconfigure his armor into Missile Mode or make it beanstalk or turn into a Red Battlenaut...but that was okay, too. It felt more hands-on this way, more personal...just right for handing out payback.
Resist the Red Battlenaut Page 27