Battleframe (The Mindwars Book 1)

  Tiny straightened to his full six foot nine inches, looked straight ahead and yelled, “Yes sir! Smash anything that doesn’t behave sir!”

  Whizzbang smiled, “Yes, you do that Tiny!”

  Speaking now to the silent mass of people around him Whizzbang projected his parade voice once again, “I want all frames backed out of this area and on the double! We need operational battleframes and ideally squads on the perimeter NOW! If you’re capable of holding a pea shooter I want you to let Bosk know.” Whizzbang pointed to Bosk, who was still holding his Charge rifle above his headed, cocked and ready for action.

  “If you cannot fight then you can do something that’s just as important.” Indicating the corpses crowding the courtyard around the liberty torch Whizzbang said softly, “Your brothers and sisters need you to put them to rest. They’ve fought their last fight and the most honourable thing that we can do for them is to lay them to rest, deep in the sand at the far end of Freehold beach. Point their feet in the direction of the sunrise and a new day.”

  Once again, Whizzbang increased his volume and fervour as he looked into the eyes of every filthy battle weary face, “Today, with a surprise attack, the Scourge have bloodied us but they have awakened something far stronger than they could have imagined! They’ve awoken the blood that runs in all our veins, the blood of brothers and sisters united in a common purpose, a common Concord!”

  With a look of defiance and determination, Whizzbang thrust his fist into the air and yelled, “We are the Concord!” The sudden twinge of pain from his wound caught him by surprise but he kept a brave face and once again pumped his arm upwards and yelled, “We are the Concord!”

  Cheers broke out from the crowd as they took up the chant of “Concord! Concord! Concord!” Whizzbang and the mass of battleframes and other personnel around him pumped their fists into the air. No one knows who started it but it was not long before “Whizzbang!” replaced “Concord!” and as the throng honoured the pilot who reminded them of their heritage. Men and women who fight to defend their land from an insidious invader, that is both remorseless and unrelenting.

  While the crowd continued to chant his name, Whizzbang stepped down from where he was perched and said to Bosk, “There’s been a change in plans.”

  “You think?” Bosk replied incredulously.

  “We’re going to need some help. Can you call the guys down from up top to give us a hand? On second thought, leave Kheldar and DG on the mountain to immediately report any Scourge activity that they see.” Grimly smiling, Whizzbang added, “Also, tell them it’s not time for a dance party just yet.”

  “Good idea. After your little speech, I figure we’re all going to be working double time to get things back together. Don’t forget that Concord central want you for a face-to-face.”

  Rolling his eyes heavenward Whizzbang muttered through clenched teeth, “I haven’t forgotten but it looks like they’ve forgotten about Freehold. Somebody had to do something.”

  Bosk nodded his head, “I agree, Freehold is the bridge between north and south Alpha Three, and it has to hold. Enough chatting, I’d better get to work.” With that, Bosk disappeared into the crowd to take a prominent position so that he could do his bit to bring some order to the chaos.

  Whizzbang thought to himself, “What they really needed was some tellurite. Without it they wouldn’t last long.”

  Far to the north, a lone Scourge strike leader turned towards the sudden tumult arising from Freehold and snarled back a challenge to the darkness around him, “Humans, why do you fight? In the end you will all die!”

  Chapter 20

  The Beginning

  and the End

  Whizzbang smiled as he looked across the main Freehold plaza and saw his close-knit squad go to work. After a warm greeting, Bosk had conscripted their sons, Pyro and Elzetro, to help organise a defence of the settlement in the event of another Scourge attack. Tiny helped Selfia and Acheron triage battleframes that suffered extensive damage versus those that could be readied and sent back into the field as soon as possible. The most difficult task was to inform the pilots of some of the more damaged battleframes that they would have to sit tight and let others get access to the nano-printers and technicians.

  When they had first arrived in Freehold the population was in a state of panic with fear gripping the hearts of even the most tested veterans. Now there was order. Purposeful actions, according to a plan, now supplanted the frantic chaos of a few hours earlier. Courage replaced fear, resolve overcame defeat and the previous sense of pointlessness was no longer evident in the faces of those around him.

  It was not long until Whizzbang found out why he was now informally in charge of Freehold. During the initial Scourge assault, an artillery barrage had accurately targeted and taken out the entire Freehold Concord command staff. As a battleframe Squad Leader, he was the highest ranking officer still alive. For safety sake the command centre would often move locations and for it to be picked off so easily indicated only one possibility. There was a traitor in their midst. Colonel O’Brien and the rest of the officers coordinating the Freehold defence had paid the ultimate price for treachery.

  The Colonel may have been officious and a stickler for the rules but he was also an officer of the Concord and deserved respect and remembrance. Whizzbang bowed his head before the smouldering ruined structure of the former command centre and said a prayer for those lost. There would be no bodies to bury as the massive plasma discharge had eagerly devoured everything in its path. Whizzbang reminded himself that there would always be memories. Taking a deep breath, he spun around and walked back to the central Freehold courtyard.

  There was a lot to do and even more to think about if they were to survive this disaster. When he had given his speech, earlier that night Whizzbang had unknowingly filled the vacuum left by the previous leaders and had become the default Freehold Commander.

  It just so happened that Whizzbang and his squad were the right people at the right time. They provided some semblance of hope to those in desperate need. Naturally, each of them were heroes in the making, forged by the circumstances thrust upon them.

  Moving through the crowd Whizzbang gave a smile and a word of encouragement here and a pat on the back there. He even shared a hug and shed a few tears with those who had lost loved ones in the recent Scourge assault. He was every inch the Commander, restoring morale everywhere he went.

  Before sunrise, Whizzbang and those that could be spared from the immediate Freehold defence headed to the far end of the beach to say their last good-byes to lost friends. Crews dug graves well above the high tide mark and the fallen were lain with a light white cloth covering their bodies. Their toes all pointed to where the sun was about to rise above the ocean in the east.

  In place of a gravestone, each gravesite had a short stake driven into the ground. As people came to pay their respects, they hung keepsakes on the rough wood in remembrance of good times with friends who were now enjoying eternal sleep.

  It wasn’t lost on those gathered in the early morning that the two hundred and thirty-nine bodies looked like a line of sunbathers soaking up some rays before going for a cooling swim. A few chuckles could be heard which helped alleviate the corporate feeling of grief as one person after another pointed it out. Maybe, Paradise would be like enjoying a long overdue holiday.

  Standing on the sand below the graves Whizzbang turned towards the ocean just as the suns first rays appeared above the horizon. It had been a long night and after the battles of the day before his very bones seemed to be weary.

  The gentle breeze brought the smell of fresh salty air. Whizzbang closed his eyes and took a few slow deep breaths to help remind himself that at this moment, there was still some peace and tranquillity in the world. Strange that the last gift of the dead was a small respite from all the terror and destruction.

  Opening his eyes Whizzbang looked down at several hundred expectant faces staring up at him. Like a Juggernaut’s plasma ca
non the burden of leadership suddenly hit him as he realised that these people were looking to him to say something, anything that would strengthen the tenuous thread of hope that their courage hung by. It had been thirty hours since he first arrived and what he really wanted was time to find out why his arm still hurt so badly, followed by several hours of shut-eye. Like many things, they would both have to wait until later.

  Looking back at them, tears welling in his eyes, he stammered, “I didn’t know most of these brave souls, but I can see that hanging from every stake are memories of good times with those that did.”

  Looking over his shoulder at the graves he continued, “Raven, Rex, Anvil, Rook, Eagle, whatever their battleframe they all fought so that we could live and defend this land from the enemy at our gates. The question they are asking from the grave is, ‘What are we going to do with their sacrifice?’”

  Turning his back on the crowd below him Whizzbang faced the line of graves, dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Behind him, he could hear those assembled do likewise and then with a firm resolute voice said, “While there is yet breath in me I will not let this land fall to the Scourge. I will not see Freehold fall! I swear this by the sacrifice that you have made for us all.”

  Slowly standing to his feet Whizzbang turned to face those assembled as they also rose to theirs. He squinted his eyes and looked at the sun rising above the horizon as it began the new day in its journey across the sky. The yellow rays had a purple tinge from shining through the Barrier before illuminating the beach and the lost pilot’s graves.

  In the age old Concord salute to fallen comrades Whizzbang clenched his right fist and slapped it against the left side of his chest, and then arm outstretched, pointed his middle and pointer finger straight up to the sky. The two fingers indicated that no member of the Concord would ever be alone, even in the journey into the next life. His arm still ached but it was worth the additional pain to honour the fallen. Just then a lone seagull cawed high overhead as if to signal the end of the ceremony and the assembled gathering drifted slowly back to Freehold. Silently, those assigned filled in the graves.

  Climbing the steps from the beach up to the Freedom Torch Whizzbang noted the purposeful activity all across the settlement. As he passed he nodded encouragement to technicians, mechanics and pilots. Their faces, though grim had the glimmer of hope in their eyes. Nano-printers hummed with newly infused tellurite from Diggers deployed within the Freehold district during the night. “That was good news,” he thought to himself. Fresh, new battleframe components materialised on the various nano-workbenches, ready to be rushed to mechanics and technicians for the replacement of damaged parts. They were still short the tellurite to manufacture complete frames and would have to make do with the parts.

  Bosk strode up to Whizzbang and said, “How’d it go?”

  “As good as can be expected. A lot of friends died yesterday and there’s still a lot unaccounted for.”

  Bosk nodded solemnly in agreement. “I’ve had the two boys, I mean, our two young men coordinating with several squads of frames, running patrols both to the south and north. Kheldar and DG are keeping their eyes open up top, but to be fair, their itching to get some payback rather than being on nanny duty.”

  Whizzbang sighed, “They’ll be plenty of time for that by the time this is over. Hang on, did you hear that?”

  “I heard nothing.”

  Whizzbang cocked his head to the side, “Bosk, I’ve got to go. Sorry, I know we’re in the middle of a big one here. Esther is calling.” Speaking into his comnet Whizzbang said, “Sorry guys, I’ve got to cut out now. Hopefully I’ll see you online later. Pyro, Mum’s calling, we’ve got to go now. It’s dinner time.”

  “Oh come on Dad! It’s just starting to get really interesting!”

  “We can’t hang around any longer otherwise she’ll have our heads!”

  “Sure thing. Cheers Elzetro. Hey, Kheldar and DG. Thanks for the dance party earlier!”

  The sound of laughter erupted across the local and Kheldar said, “Anytime Pyro. Guys, DG and I are going to call it quits as well. Let’s see if we can get together tomorrow.”

  Bosk looked across at his friend and watched him vanish just before he quit as well.

  Part II

  Revelations

  Chapter 1

  The Real World

  Russell, alias Whizzbang, removed the virtual reality screen assembly from his head and placed it on the desk in front of him. He had a smile a mile wide on his face. His heart was still pounding from the experience. Wow, what a session! For a game still in beta test, “Scourge Wars” was like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was so real, so engaging! The graphics and sound made it feel like he had actually been on Alpha Three.

  For the past thirty-five years, Russell had been playing computer games. Starting on clunky text adventures right through to the latest releases that could only run on high-end graphics gear. He even did a stint as a games programmer, but soon discovered that designing games and business models for them, was much more interesting than searching a few thousand lines of code for a semicolon or some other error.

  Russell turned across to his son James and said, “So what did you think of that session of “Scourge Wars” Pyro?”

  James finished hanging up his VR gear on a stand in front him and turned to his father. There was a broad smile on his face as he said, “It was amazing! I think this time was the best we’ve ever played!”

  James was twenty years old and had grown up on his father’s healthy diet of games. Just shy of six feet, short brown hair and a ready smile made him the attraction for girls at any party. It also helped that James worked out regularly with both weights and a jogging regime that put his father to shame. His easygoing manner and bright sparkling mischievous blue eyes ensured that he was never short of friends, either his or his father’s.

  One time James had accompanied Russell on a work trip to help man a booth for his father’s business at a trade fair in Los Angeles. It was not long before he became the hit of the conference and made such a positive impression that people still talked about him a couple of years later.

  Russell flexed his neck and said, “We’d better see what your mother’s prepared for dinner. Whatever it is, it smells outstanding!”

  James’ sniffed the air expectantly, “Smells like chili garlic lamb with noodles.”

  Russell pushed his chair back from the desk, stood to his feet and stretched up to the ceiling to loosen his muscles up a bit. It was then that he let out a yell as he grabbed his upper left arm. “What the!!!” he managed to say between clenched teeth. At his father’s pained voice James instinctively leapt to his feet to support him.

  The door to the study flew open and Russell’s wife, Esther, burst in with a concerned look on her face. “You OK Russ, I heard you from the kitchen.”

  Esther’s lustrous brown hair had a few lighter highlights and the cut revealed her neck at the back while remaining longer on the sides. She had a figure to die for and stunningly gorgeous brown green eyes that Russell repeatedly got lost in. In her mid-forties, she had not lost any of her enthusiasm for life and currently had an apron around her waist over blue jeans.

  As James guided his father to a chair Russell winced, “I think I’m OK but my arm feels like it’s on fire.”

  “Here, let me take a look at that,” Esther said with a note of authority in her voice. Many years earlier, she had trained as a nurse and all the members of the family were used to the efficient manner she would deal with any ailment.

  Russell carefully unbuttoned his shirt and with his wife’s help pulled his arms out of the sleeves. Bending down to look carefully at his arm Esther asked, “Russell, what have you been doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got what looks like a third degree burn along the back of your upper arm.”

  Russell twisted his head around to try to look at the wound and gave a momentary gasp as the sk
in in his arm tightened. The red, blistered welt was a little over a pencil in width and about ten centimetres long.

  Esther shook her head from side to side, “It looks like you’ve leaned against a heater for a few minutes. Are you sure you don’t know what caused this?”

  “I have no idea.” Russell replied flatly.

  Esther gave him one of those, you are not telling me everything looks and said, “Wait here and I’ll go and get some burn cream.”

  Esther closed the door behind her and James looked up at his father and whispered, “Dad, that’s exactly where the Scourge Sniper hit you in Scourge Wars.”

  “I know son.”

  “What’s going on Dad?”

  “I have no idea but I do know that I haven’t been lying against any heaters lately.”

  Just then, the phone on the cluttered desk next to his computer rang. Reaching his right arm across his body Russell hit the hands free button and said, “Russ here.”

  Bosk or Mihaly in the non-game world’s strong voice came over the speaker, “Hi Russ, have you experienced anything strange after leaving the game this evening?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel like I’ve been peppered with holes. I’ve got bruises all over my body about the size of twenty cent pieces." Mihaly took a deep breath and continued, "Nothing serious but I’m aching all over. It’s like I’ve been in a warzone. Marie’s just got home and is wondering what the heck I’ve been up to.”

  “Remember in the game I was hit by a Scourge sniper in the arm and it just kept on aching and aching.”

  “Yep, you complained about that a number of times.”