Battlenaut Crucible

Chapter 3

3Perseid led Scott to a wheeled transport in front of the canteen--a sleek black car, low to the ground, with tinted windows. It looked more like it belonged on a race track than a military base at the edge of a war zone.

Perseid hopped in without a word, and Scott followed. He thought briefly about saying how cool the car was, then decided not to. Why stroke the god's ego? It was probably big enough already.

Perseid started the engine and pulled out of his parking spot. "So you're from Tack." It wasn't a question. "In my experience, Tackers are the biggest pains in the ass in the galaxy."

Scott kept staring straight ahead and shrugged.

"That's been my experience," said Perseid, "as a native-born Tacker myself." Then, he jammed the accelerator pedal to the floor, and the car took off at a high rate of speed.

For a long moment, Scott remained silent. "What part of Tack are you from?" He thought he should watch what he said, but he also didn't think it would help to keep his mouth shut and say nothing at all.

"Gratus." Perseid swerved left, nearly hitting an oncoming truck head-on. "I was raised on a farm near Yole, in the Scadlands. And you?"

Scott figured Perseid already knew everything about him, but what the heck. "Tisserie, near Vast."

"So you're a Vastie." Perseid spun the steering wheel, and the car shot right, barreling between sheds down a passage that looked too narrow to let it through. "Plus, all that Marine blood in your family. That explains a few things."

"What things does it explain, exactly?" Scott wasn't sure what Perseid was getting at, but he thought he might be on bumpy ground. Grandma Bern's heroic reputation and rank as Commandant of the entire Marine Corps had stirred up a lot of resentment toward him over the years.

"Your outstanding record," said Perseid. "Your extensive commendations. Your clear commitment to excellence." He bolted the car out of the narrow passage and whipped down a wider road lined with Battlenaut armor undergoing repair and maintenance. "You've had to work harder to prove yourself. You've had to fight harder every step of the way, because of who you are--because you're her grandson." He said it like a simple fact, like he'd known Scott all his life and was just stating the obvious.

Scott blinked. Perseid's insight had probably come from a psych profile--but still. It had been right on the money.

"That's a good thing," said Perseid. "It gives you credibility. It gives you strength of character." Even as he raced around a super-tight left turn, he looked at Scott and smirked. "It makes you exactly what we're looking for."

Scott frowned. What was Perseid talking about? And what did it have to do with the evidence he was supposedly going to show him?

"Almost there." Perseid went even faster, heading for a row of half-cylindrical buildings up ahead. "Better buckle up."

Scott looked at his seat belt. "I'm already buckled up."

"No." Perseid smirked and pointed at his forehead. "I mean in here."

On the outside, the building looked nondescript, one of many identical prefab metal structures on base. Guards stood on either side of the front door; otherwise, there were no signs of life.

But the inside of the place was another matter. It was sheer chaos in there.

As Scott followed Perseid through the front door, he heard the sound of breaking glass and shouting. Looking past Perseid, he saw a brawny woman with spiky blonde hair haul off and shove a short dark-skinned man with a white crew cut. Both of them wore all-black CORE uniforms like Perseid.

"What the hell, Abby!" the man shouted. "So I dropped a damn beaker."

"And corrupted the sample, Trane!" Abby's feet crunched broken glass as she shoved him again. "We don't have much to work with, remember?"

Trane stumbled back a step and bumped into some kind of multi-pronged silver instrument mounted on a black tripod, nearly knocking it over. The whole place was jammed with high tech scientific gear of every conceivable type, piled on the floor, hanging from the ceiling, overflowing from benches and cases and crates.

In the middle of it all, floating in midair over a glowing neon blue dais, Scott saw something familiar. Its image appeared on computer screens all over the room, altered one way or another by different analytical techniques, superimposed with charts and graphs and streams of data...but instantly recognizable.

After all, he could never forget something that had almost killed him a week ago.

He couldn't take his eyes off it. "Where did you get that?" he asked Perseid.

"We found it in what was left of your armor." Perseid smirked and elbowed him in the side. "I told you you didn't know everything about the evidence."

"But they said..." Scott scowled and shook his head. "They told me there was nothing. They said there was no trace of the Red Battlenaut."

"Do the words 'top secret' ring a bell?" said Perseid.

Just then, Abby finally seemed to notice they were there. "Hey!" She stomped a step toward them and planted her fists on her hips. "Who the scudge is this? What's the big idea, Major?"

"Whoa." Trane stepped up beside her and grinned a lopsided grin at Scott. "Is this him? Is this the guy?"

"Roger that." Perseid nodded and smacked Scott on the back. "This is the guy."

"Corporal Solomon Scott." Abby narrowed her eyes and c****d her head to one side. "The man who sees Red Battlenauts."

"Red Battlenaut singular," said Scott. "I only saw the one."

Trane chuckled. "That's one more than most people have ever seen."

"He's also the only person to bring back a piece of one." Perseid walked over to gaze down at the object floating in the glow of the neon blue dais. "It was jammed in a chunk of housing among the debris from his exploded Battlenaut armor."

Scott stared at the object's image on one of the screens. It was a small silver disk with a gleaming, sharpened edge, a circular blade mounted on a broken stem of polished red metal. The last time he'd seen it, it had cut a slit through his armor and almost sliced its way through his face.

"It broke off when I magnetized the armor plating," he said. "Fell down into the guts somewhere."

"So your after action report wasn't complete hoozehock." Perseid tapped the floating blade with a fingertip, making it spin in the levitational field. "This proves the existence of the Red Battlenaut and exonerates you of all possible charges."

"Yes, sir." Scott suppressed the urge to smile. "I guess it does."

"Guess again." Perseid spun the blade once more. "'Top secret,' remember?"

Scott frowned. "Excuse me?"

"This is top secret." Perseid pointed at the blade. "MIS doesn't know it exists. Therefore, your case remains open. You are still a person of interest in the death of Captain Rollins."

Scott gaped at the blade floating over the dais. It was right there in the open, within reach. "But the evidence..."

Perseid stood in front of the floating blade and folded his arms over his chest. "The evidence has more important things to do than get you off the hook, Corporal."

Scott stood for a moment, glaring at Perseid. "Why did you bring me here? Why did you show me this..." He gestured in the direction of the blade. "...if you aren't going to use it to clear my name?"

Abby leaned forward and sneered at him. "Just to screw with you, flux-head."

"To savor your anguish when we snatch away your last hope," said Trane, bugging his eyes wide and unleashing a burst of demented laughter that Abby quickly joined in on.

Scott was about to storm out when Perseid raised his hands, and the laughter stopped. "Because we need you, Solomon." He looked dead serious as he met Scott's gaze. "We need you to help us stop the Red Battlenaut."

"Do I have a choice?" said Scott.

"Do you even need one?" said Perseid. "This is the outcome of the war we're talking about here."

Scott shook his head. "I've already been reassigned, haven't I?"

Perseid straightened and headed for the door. "Come with me, Corporal. Your briefing awaits."