Battleframe (The Mindwars Book 1) Page 2

  The bad man smiled with sharp pointed teeth and lifted a much bigger gun toward Ray.That was when Ray’s saviour arrived.

  The undergrowth next to Ray suddenly parted and a man in a uniform that Ray recognized from the tridee-reels at school fired his gun at the bad man. The evil man fell backwards and did not get up anymore. This time, Ray felt even happier about that. The uniformed man rushed forward and in rapid succession fired his weapon at the remaining bad men. He then focused on the horrible black pyramid until the ball on the top stopped glowing. Ray was going to have a great story to tell his Mum and Dad at dinner that evening! Why was he crying? What was happening?

  That was when he noticed the boy about his age lying beside him. He must have come with his saviour. Like him, the boy was crying. His mother had always told him to help anyone that was crying so he managed to stammer, “Hi, my name’s Ray. What’s your name?”

  The boy looked back at him and like all brave boys quickly wiped his tears. “My name’s Thomas. Hi.”

  “Thomas, do you want to be my friend?”

  “I’d like that Ray.”

  By this time the man that had saved, them both returned and squatted next to them. Turning to Ray he asked, “What’s your name son?”

  “My mother told me not to speak to strangers. What’s your name?”

  “Gasp.”

  “That’s a funny name. I guess that now I know your name then you’re not a stranger. Mister, my name’s Ray. I think that my Mum and Dad are hurt. Can you help them?”

  “I’m sorry son, I can’t help them but I think that I can help the both of you.” Gasp stood up and looked down at the two boys. “Here take my hands.”

  Ray and Thomas looked at Gasp’s smiling face and without hesitation they reached up to hold Gasp’s outstretched welcoming hands. With his other hand, Ray held firmly onto his father’s rifle.

  Chapter 2

  Freehold

  Squad leader Whizzbang raised his arms for the microscopic nano-robots to generate his battleframe armour perfectly around his trim body. The familiar tingling sensation on his skin indicated that billions of nanites were feverishly converting the energy from tellurite crystals into his battleframe exoskeleton.

  Whizzbang looked around the small rectangular ready room and nodded a greeting to his friend Happy sitting on the plasteel bench across from him. “I’ll never get tired of this,” Whizzbang said in wonder.

  With several loud metallic clunks, Happy slapped the grey walls with his armoured gauntlet. It was a habit that he had developed over the years to reassure himself that everything was just fine with his equipment. “What you talking about Whizz?” he replied in his deep resonating voice.

  Whizzbang flexed the soft gloves of his Raven battleframe. “Each day we put on the most sophisticated infantry combat technology that the Concord has ever developed and we treat it like were putting on a change of clothes.”

  As the legs of his frame materialised around him Happy stood up and stretched his dark skinned six foot five muscular body. “Frap Whizz, I leave that sort of thinking to the tech guys. You and I are battleframe pilots, designed and bred for ushering the enemies of the Concord into the afterlife.”

  “That’s our job now Hap but what are you going to do when it’s all over?”

  “Seriously? The war against the Scourge has been going on for more years than I care to remember. Well before you got those streaks of grey in your hair,” Happy chuckled at his own joke. “I don’t imagine that either of us will be unemployed anytime soon. By the way, where’s Bosk? You guys are always together.”

  Whizzbang stood to his feet and picked up his sniper Charged beam rifle. “I was busy last night but I think he headed down south to do some Digging.”

  Happy nodded and chuckled. “Your friend Bosk is one of a kind. How long you two known each other?”

  “Since our parents were killed in a Scourge assault.”

  “Frap, we’ve all lost someone we love.”

  Whizzbang nodded in agreement while he checked his wrist computer or wrist-comp to ensure that all of his systems were nominal. “Do you think that we’ll ever get off this planet and return to Kaladon?”

  “Get off Alpha Three?” Happy ran his fingers through his long black dreadlocks before replying. “Frap Whizz, it almost seems like a dream. What I do know is that we need to secure the tellurite crystals for the war effort. Alpha Three’s loaded with the richest veins of crystals in this sector. Without pilots defending the mining Diggers, the war would be over in a few weeks. I’m just glad the Scourge haven’t figured that out yet.”

  Tellurite crystal is the raw material for almost all Concord technology. Molecular sized robots convert the tellurite into energy and then reconstitute the energy back into almost any substance. The crystals power everything from battleframes to household appliances. It was the most malleable source of energy ever discovered and if it is to win the war, the Concord of planets had an insatiable appetite for more of it.

  Whizzbang pressed the button to login to his wrist-comp and mumbled to himself, “I’ve been here so long I can barely remember what the home world is like.” Looking up at his friend, Whizzbang saw Happy encased in a Rook support battleframe and armed with a shoulder mounted Lightning gun. Happy energized his frame, flexed his servo-assisted legs a number of times and gave a brief noisy burst of his boot-mounted jump jets. With a rush, the smell of burning tellurite crystals from the pre-ignition systems instantly permeated throughout the ready room.

  Satisfied that everything was in working order Happy loudly stomped his metal shrouded feet a couple of times on the plasteel floor grating. “Whizz, when are you going to get rid of that pea shooter and get some serious firepower like my friend Lightning here?” Happy affectionately tapped the gun mounted on his battleframe’s shoulder. He looked back at his friend and the barrel of the Lightning gun immediately tracked to point at Whizzbang.

  “You mean this little thing?” Whizzbang hefted his long barrelled Charge rifle in his soft-gloved hands. “Happy, if I could only zoom in close enough with my scope I could boil your brains at a few thousand meters. The problem is the target’s just so small,” he laughed.

  Happy tapped the side of his head. “If I recall this little pea brain has managed to rescue your ass a number of times.”

  “I’ll give you that one.”

  Whizzbang completed his post-frame energizing checks. As was his habit Whizzbang raised his rifle above his head and stretched his arms and back. Lowering his gun, he swung his arms from side to side to ensure that the soft Raven battleframe armour did not restrict any movement. As expected, it fitted perfectly. He loved the Raven, as it was ideal for deep enemy reconnaissance. It allowed him to be as silent as death while the Charge rifle delivered a killing blow at a long range. Each time Whizzbang piloted the Raven he was reminded of his chief instructor’s mantra, “A dead enemy can’t hurt you.”

  A battleframe was like a second skin that augmented a pilots speed and strength so that they could move quickly around the battlefield. Depending upon the battleframe, jump jets were mounted either within the boots or on the back plating to allowed short duration flight. As well as their unique weaponry, each battleframe came equipped with a number of specialist capabilities. A built-in medical unit could release a slew of nanites to repair battleframe damage or nanomeds to assist a wounded pilot. Once used, the nanites would automatically replicate themselves from tellurite crystals and within a few minutes, they could once again be available to the pilot.

  The Concord had developed over twenty different battleframes, each for a specialised purpose. Some, such as the Anvil, were heavily armoured and fitted like a suit of medieval plate armour. Others, such as the Eagle Claw and Raven, were lightweight and designed for ease of movement and stealth.

  Whizzbang slung his Charge rifle over his back into its harness and a sudden feeling of vertigo gripped him. He leaned against the ready room wall to steady himself. He had experien
ced the feeling before but it seemed to be happening more frequently over recent weeks. Just like the other times the vertigo vanished as fast as it came. What was happening? Was something wrong with him? Again, just like the previous episodes, there was no lasting, negative side effects. He would have to find the underlying cause of the problem but for now, that would have to wait.

  “Haps, you Good To Go?”

  Happy looked with concern at his friend. “You OK Whizz?”

  “I’m fine Haps, just a bit dizzy for a second. I’m G2G - are you?”

  “Maybe you should see the base doc?”

  “What are you? My mother?” Whizzbang said a little irritably.

  Happy raised his hands in mock surrender while at the same time his face split into a mischievous grin. “OK, OK, I’m G2G. Let’s do this Whizz.”

  Whizzbang nodded towards his friend and then stepped out through the energy wall that separated the ready room from the cool night air. After the confines and sterile atmosphere of the ready room, the wide-open darkness of the night was a welcome relief.

  Tilting his head to the side he spoke into his comnet pickup, “Freehold control, this is Whizzbang, Romeo, Oscar, Sierra, two, niner reporting.”

  A handler’s voice crackled over his headset, “Acknowledged, Whizzbang, Romeo, Oscar, Sierra, two niner this is Freehold control.”

  “Freehold, is all nominal?”

  “Whizzbang, we have green across the board.”

  “Mission?”

  There was a slight pause and the sound of typing on a keyboard. “Scouting recon ten clicks around Freehold.”

  “Copy That Freehold.”

  “Freehold out.”

  Happy looked across at Whizzbang and said, “All green. That sounds like a good sign.”

  “It certainly doesn’t happen very often. Let’s head across the square, jump-jet up to get some height and then start our recon.”

  “I’m with you Whizz.”

  Before heading off Whizzbang pulled his Charge rifle out of its back holster and tightened his hand on the grip. Despite what central command had told him something did not feel right. He could not put his finger on it but it was like an itch that you cannot seem to scratch and it was not going away.

  As they walked across the Freehold main town square, Whizzbang moved like the wind slipping between the trees in a forest, while Happy’s metallic Rook boots crunched loudly against the cobblestones with each step. Despite their differences, there was an economy of movement to both their strides. A deadly grace that was mimicked by their shadows dancing in rhythm to the light cast by the large flickering flaming torch raised upon a high narrow pole in the middle of the central courtyard. The Concord raised the torch years earlier as a sign of defiance to the Scourge and pilots now usually referred to it simply as the “Freedom Torch”.

  Whizzbang glanced down the hillside towards the pristine beach far below. The moonlight shimmered off the water and he could faintly hear the surf gently lapping the shore in the distance. He had spent many of his rest days soaking up the sun and swimming on that beach. Around him, grass thatched huts provided the illusion of a vacation resort. In reality, Freehold was the second largest Concord military installation on the planet.

  As long as a single battleframe remained standing, Free, as it was affectionately known, would never be overrun by the Scourge. It meant too much to the men and women who fought, not for profit or fame, but for the survival of the Concord. Freehold was also where battleframe pilots could relax and have a few drinks with their squad before they once again did their combat duty.

  Pilots like Whizzbang and Happy, would ensure that Alpha Three was clear of threats and then return to Freehold to relax by the bar or laze in the sunshine on the beach. The stresses and strains of thrusting themselves into harm’s way and hoping that they would make it out the other side would damage any pilot’s psyche without the “RnR” that Free offered.

  With a puzzled look on his face Happy looked back across the courtyard towards the ready room energy wall. “Whizz, something don’t….”

  Whizzbang interrupted his friend with an open-handed glove signalling for silence as he took a few deep breaths to slow his beating heart. Closing his eyes Whizzbang sniffed the air a few times and then listened intently to the noises around him, soaking it all in, looking for anything that seemed out of place. After years as a battleframe pilot, he had learned the technique of fully embracing the world around him with his senses. Time after time, it had saved him and his friends from disaster.

  A hammer fell from a rack with a clatter, a master technician berated an apprentice and the gentle breeze wafted the smell of tellurite jump jets from a battleframe that had passed earlier. Whizzbang quickly categorised the sensory inputs as friend or foe as his senses continued to roam the area to the limit of their capabilities.

  Opening his eyes once again Whizzbang asked, “Happy, can you feel that?”

  Happy mimicked his friend’s battle stance, closed his eyes and focused his hearing and smell to identify what his friend was referring. He had known Whizzbang a long time and had never regretted paying close attention to his friend's sixth sense when he felt something was not quite right.

  “Yes, something doesn’t feel right.”

  Whizzbang flicked to the local comnet and said, “Whizzbang Romeo, Oscar, Sierra, two niner to any battleframe in the Freehold area.”

  Static greeted his broadcast and after waiting for thirty seconds, Whizzbang repeated the message.

  Happy finally opened his eyes and said unconvincingly, “Looks like no frames are in range.” Whizzbang did not need to see Happy’s face to know that his friend did not believe what he said any more than he did.

  Whizzbang’s veteran steel blue eyes looked around at the normal scene of technicians and mechanics repairing battleframe equipment, noticing every detail, missing nothing. His pupils had seen too many battles, too many friends fall and too many loved ones lost. They were the eyes of loss and the eyes of an expert of his trade.

  Whizzbang was one of a handful of older pilots that got that way by keeping a trim fit body and paying attention to what he called his “sixth sense”. Right now, it was tingling like crazy. Something was wrong and he could not put his finger on it.

  “Happy, we need to plug directly into the scanning tower and find out what’s going on. Something tells me that central has got it wrong.”

  Happy realised the seriousness of Whizzbang’s tone and dropped immediately into the abbreviated staccato form of talking known as battlespeak, “CT,” which means “Copy That” or I understand and agree.

  Whizzbang took a few more steps forward and then stopped abruptly and for almost a minute stared up at the stars as if seeking an answer to his questing mind. Why did he feel something was wrong? Happy had become accustomed to his friend’s odd behaviour and on more than one occasion, it was the sole reason he was still alive.

  Whizzbang nodded almost politely to the symbol of liberty flickering in a gust of wind above. With a quick blast of their battleframe’s jump jets, both pilots soared over to the scanning tower uplink terminal on the other side of the courtyard. As he landed, a shiver ran up Wbizzbang’s spine and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end – something was very wrong!

  “Happy, combat ready!”

  Happy instantly replied with, “G2G.” He then dropped a couple of pods of specialised nanites from his battleframe that instantly commenced building two anti-personnel turrets. The short squat automated guns sat on a tripod that could clamp itself to almost any surface and at any angle. Within ten seconds, the nanites completed assembling the turrets. Each gun automatically began swinging their barrels back and forth scanning for enemies.

  “Better to be safe than sorry Whizz,” Happy said a bit sheepishly.

  “Agreed.”

  Whizzbang deftly fingered his wrist-comp and tapped directly into the scanning network that provided a detailed map of the surrounding regions a
nd revealed any enemy activity. If there were something out there then they would soon know.

  “Haps, you’ve got to see this.”

  Happy turned his eyes away from the darkness to look down at Whizzbang’s wrist-comp. What he saw turned his blood to ice.

  The Scourge had come.

  This time they were coming in a mass invasion. Other than Freehold and Concord Central Command, every sector, from the mining settlements up north to the fisheries down in the south were now dark and under the enemies control.

  No one really knew who the Scourge were or where they had come from. Those sort of questions became irrelevant once a Scourge Juggernaut had you lined up in the cross hairs of its plasma launcher. Similar in form to humans they typically wore a dark grey battle armour, which had wicked short spikes at the joints and a raised collar to protect the neck.

  All the Scourge Whizzbang had fought over the years had small pink beady eyes that looked like they were tiny pools of molten lava sunken into the head. Deathly white skin covered a hairless skull and sharp pointed ears were equally as pale. Scourge had longer teeth than humans and warriors would file them to points to frighten enemies. They were deadly adversaries on the battlefield and with their own variations of battleframes they became even more so.

  From many encounters, Whizzbang knew that the Scourge killed and then killed some more as they revelled in the glory of combat and destruction. They never took prisoners and never surrendered. Every encounter was a fight to the bitter end with one side dead or alive.

  Whizzbang looked up from his wrist-comp. It was time to put a stop to the advance or for the first time ever, Freehold would be overrun. Whizzbang had a lot of friends in Alpha Three and right now he knew that many of them would be dying.