The young pilot could hear a steady hum from overhead as his white-painted GunSniper and the identical one piloted by his partner strode purposefully across the rolling hills that surrounded the ZBC base. The Zoid craned its neck to look up, allowing him to make out the shapes of two Pterases as they passed over him, their wings and feet emitting a golden glow. The glow was a visual side-effect of the anti-grav field those parts of the Zoids projected, which was what allowed them to fly despite having almost no wing area and no thrusters.
The glow also made a Pteras an easy target for enemy ground fire in a night battle, but that wasn't likely to be a concern on this particular evening. The sun was sinking low in the sky, but full darkness was almost an hour away, and the matter would probably be resolved by then. Besides, the Zoid the Pterases and GunSnipers were tracking didn't seem inclined to fire its weapons anyway.
The pilot opened a commlink to the base's control room. "Rook, Knight One," he said to the image of the commtech on his screen. "Knight is approaching phase line Bravo and should be in position in less than five minutes. Crow just passed over us headed in the same direction."
"Roger, Knight," the commtech said. His gaze never met the pilot's; it swept back and forth, giving the man a somewhat amusing shifty-eyed look. Knight One knew he was actually monitoring several display screens in front of him that were invisible to the pilot. "The bogey is still headed your way from the southeast and Bishop is right behind him."
"Roger," Knight One said. "Rook, please identify Bishop."
There was a pause as the commtech's eyes continued to sweep back and forth before he said: "Bishop is two GunSnipers with electro-net guns."
"Copy," Knight One said. He closed the commlink and the window on his screen winked out. His Zoid shook rhythmically beneath him as its clawed feet propelled it across the undulating terrain. Ahead an to his right was a grove of giant trees, easily taller than most Zoids. To his left, the long ridge that marked phase line Bravo stretched all the way across his field of vision. Electronets? he thought. They must want to take this one down clean.
He opened a new commlink, and Knight Two appeared on his screen. "Any ideas, Terry?" he asked.
The female pilot shook her head. "Your guess is as good as mine, James," she said. "Maybe it's a drill," she ventured after a minute.
"Maybe." James closed the commlink and checked the digital map window in the lower left-hand corner of his screen. They were in position. He cut the throttle and the GunSniper smoothly came to a stop. The raptor Zoid scanned the area, the horn-like sensor antennae on the back of its head probing its surroundings.
A new commlink window opened. The caller wore the same off-white jumpsuit as James and Terry, but had the heavy helmet of an air Zoid pilot. "Rook, Knight, this is Crow One. Crow has visual contact with the bogey and Bishop. Bogey is moving through the forest toward Knight's position."
"Copy, Crow," the commtech acknowledged. "Knight, stop the bogey and wait for Bishop to catch up. Crow, continue monitoring."
James' "Roger" was followed quickly be the Pteras pilot's. James glanced off to his left at the ridgeline as Terry walker her GunSniper past him and faced the forest. "Rook, Knight One. Could we get on the ridgeline and take this guy down with our sniper rifles?" he suggested.
"Negative, Knight One. Do not, repeat, do not fire on the bogey."
James' face twisted into an incredulous expression. "What?" he shouted. "How are we supposed to stop this guy if we can't fire?"
The commtech gave him a glare. "The bogey has taken no hostile action, and command has ordered us to do likewise. Wait for Bishop to show up and use their net guns."
James let out an annoyed sigh. "Copy," he said, terminating the connection and switching back to Terry. "I don't like this one bit."
"Me neither," she replied. The two GunSnipers continued to peer at the treeline, their bodies set in ready crouches. James switched on his Zoid's infrared scanner and examined the picture it painted on the multi-function display in the center of his control column. He spotted the bright orange flare of a heat source just as the sun's fading rays caught a flash of white in the forest. The GunSniper hissed.
"Here he comes!" Terry called. Almost before the words had left her mouth, a Command Wolf burst out of the woods slightly more than half a kilometer away. No longer forced to slow down by the trees, the Zoid quickly switched to a full run.
"Rook, Knight One," James called as he moved his GunSniper to intercept the dashing Command Wolf. "Knight has contact with one Command Wolf." He squinted at the distant Zoid and wished it would slow down enough for him to get a better look. "It looks like….it looks like it has ZBC insignia!" he said.
"That's correct, Knight One," the dour commtech replied. "Block it and wait for Bishop."
The Command Wolf and the pair of GunSnipers were closing at a combined speed somewhere around four hundred kilometers per hour, and James was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that he would make a nice target for an easy, no-deflection shot if the Command Wolf pilot suddenly decided to swearing off his weapons wasn't such a good idea.
Explain to me again how we're supposed to stop this guy, he though to himself. GunSnipers aren't designed for melee combat.
Terry's Zoid was about fifty meters ahead of him and to his left, running at the Command Wolf head-on. As James watched, the Command Wolf made a sharp left turn away from Terry and began to run at an angle across his field of vision. He steered his GunSniper to meet it and eased off the throttle. The GunSniper stretched its neck toward the oncoming Zoid and vocalized a sound that was half screech and half roar.
The Command Wolf pilot, whoever he or she was, wasn't just shy about firing their weapons: they seemed determined to avoid a confrontation altogether. The Command Wolf skidded to a stop, then reared up and wheeled around on its rear legs, ready to run back the way it had come. That plan was spoiled by the two GunSnipers codenamed Bishop One and Two emerging from the forest.
For a couple of seconds, the Command Wolf froze.
Then it sprang forward, charging straight at Bishop Two. Not smart, James thought. He could just imagine the other GunSniper pilot whispering "Come to papa" or something to that effect as he lined up the shot with his electro-net gun.
Bishop Two waited until the Command Wolf was just under one hundred meters away before he fired, just to make sure the shot would hit. James heard the crack of the one-shot gun that replaced the 80mm cannon usually mounted on a GunSniper's chest. The round sped towards the onrushing Command Wolf, and it seemed there was no chance it would miss.
At the last possible second, the Command Wolf simply let its legs drop out from under it. The fifty-ton Zoid dug a shallow trench in the ground beneath it as it slid forward almost on its belly. The net gun projectile flew harmlessly over the Zoid and ended its flight some distance behind it, sticking up out of the ground like a spear.
In the split-second James had taken his eyes off the Command Wolf to watch the net gun projectile, the Command Wolf exploded back to its feet and leaped forward, covering the twenty or so meters that still separated it from Bishop Two. Its jaws were opened wide, and when it slammed into the surprised GunSniper they clamped shut around the smaller Zoid's neck. The Command Wolf finished its leap by landing on its feet with an impact that must have made the pilot's teeth rattle.
That would have been nothing compared to the effect the attack must have had on Bishop Two, however. The GunSniper was yanked violently off its feet and slammed back to the earth on its back, where it lay still.
The Command Wolf spun to face its three remaining antagonists. Its mouth opened in a snarl, revealing gleaming silver fangs. For a couple of seconds, the three ZBC pilots hesitated. It was in that brief moment that James was able to look directly into the Command Wolf's cockpit.
The transparent orange canopy was suffused with firey glow by lights and displays within. It should have been easy to see the pilot, maybe even make out the warrior's appearance.
But there was no pilot. James could see the command seat, empty, the five-point harness hanging limp.
James didn't know if any of the other ZBC pilots could see this, but he didn't have any time to consider it. The warrior codenamed Bishop One, after seeing Bishop Two be brutalized by the rogue Zoid, decided that the rules of engagement were out the window. He opened fire with his tri-barrel laser guns at the Command Wolf, which was still standing next to the downed GunSniper. Displaying the same amazing reflexes it had used to dodge the net moments before, the Command Wolf dodged out of the way. The hail of laser fire meant for the Command Wolf shredded soil only a few meters away from the cockpit of Bishop Two's fallen Zoid, which did nothing to improve that warrior's already shaken state of mind.
The Command Wolf broke into a run again, blowing past Bishop One's GunSniper and heading for open territory. Terry and James chased after it, leaving Bishop One to check on his teammate, whose Zoid's Command System had been frozen by the Command Wolf's punishing physical attack.
"Rook, Knight One," James said, opening the comm link again. "Bogey Zoid has attacked. Bishop Two is down." The Command Wolf was heading back toward the forest, and the GunSniper turned to follow it almost without any control input from James. "The Zoid is heading back into the woods. Knight is in pursuit."
The Command Wolf and pursuing GunSnipers dashed through the treeline and deeper into the woods. What little daylight there was left could not penetrate through the branches of the towering trees, leaving the forest shadowy and dark. About a hundred meters ahead, James could catch occasional glimpses of Terry's GunSniper and their quarry weaving between giant trees. The infrared display allowed him to keep track of the Command Wolf easily when it would have probably evaded less well-equipped Zoids.
The Command Wolf abruptly stopped its headlong run and spun one hundred eighty degrees so that it faced the trailing GunSnipers. Only a few mammoth trees now separated hunter and hunted. Terry was closer than he was, so he brought up the commlink to her again. "Terry, watch out."
On the screen, he saw her smile wickedly. "No sweat," she responded. "Looks like he's going to make this easy."
A flash of silvery light briefly illuminated the forest as James' GunSniper, still moving at the best speed it could sustain in the maze-like woods, rounded one particularly large oak. At the same moment, the commlink window to Terry filled with static, and he found himself in a large clearing, where the Command Wolf and Terry's GunSniper stood only meters apart.
Terry's GunSniper was staggering backwards as though it had just taken a serious hit, but James couldn't see any signs of damage on the raptor-Zoid. The Command Wolf whirled and bolted into the forest, pausing only long enough to give James an angry growl. James was about to chase after it, but hesitated. Terry's Zoid was still swaying drunkenly, barely staying on its feet.
"Terry? Terry, what's wrong?" he called, hoping that only the visual link was out.
Terry's response was rendered incomprehensible by roaring static. James could hear only "Someth-…-ong…ca-…get…-ontrol," before the transmission was completely drowned out. James edged his Zoid closer, the GunSniper peering at its counterpart and vocalizing what seemed to be its concern. The other GunSniper lurched one final time, then seemed to steady itself. It rounded on James Zoid and and roared, its head held low and its fangs bared.
James' GunSniper took a step back, as surprised as its pilot at the other Zoid's apparent hostility. Before either had a chance to do anything else, Terry's GunSniper attacked, slamming into James' mount with bone-jarring force. The two GunSnipers crashed to the ground in a tangled heap.
James' head banged against the side of the cockpit canopy, his safey harness insufficient to compensate for the impact. His vision became distorted as he rode the ragged edge of consciousness, then cleared, just in time to see a silver blur streak overhead and disappear into the darkness of the forest.
James cursed at the throbbing pain in the side of his head, then cursed again when he saw that his command system was frozen. On the bright side, however, the commlink was clear again.
"What the…" Terry paused, apparently unable to think of an obscenity strong enough to fit the situation. "What was that?"
James gazed off into the forest, which was now almost totally enveloped in darkness. "I don't know."
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A set-up. It must have been a set-up.
That was the only conclusion Stevan could reach as his Command Wolf dashed up one side of the latest in a series of small rises and started down the other. The Zoid's break-neck pace sent thundering aftershocks up his spine, aggravating muscles already sore from too much time spent in the cockpit over the past two days and creating a new flash of agony with every stride. Stevan held the control column as though his very survival depended on maintaining his grip, his teeth clenched against the pain, eyes darting from the HUD to other displays to the view through the sides of the Command Wolf's canopy.
All around him there were nothing but small, undulating hills. None were more than ten meters high at its peak, obstacles of little consequence to the swift, fifty-ton beast running recklessly through them. To Stevan it seemed as if they had been placed there just to annoy him, to block his view of his surroundings and render the Command Wolf's sensors useless so that he never knew what awaited him over the next one, or one to his right, or his left, or behind him. He had named his team the Chimeras. Now it seemed he was being haunted by them.
These thoughts hovered at the back of his mind, a fear he was only barely conscious of nibbling away at the edged of his psyche. He wasn't panicking, although if he had been his actions probably would have been about the same. His inability to pinpoint his tormentor's locations was unimportant. What mattered is that they were there.
So he concentrated on more immediate concerns: staying ahead of the enemies he knew were behind him and staying alert so he could react if any of the phantoms he imagined really did materialize from somewhere else. Taking it one hill at a time.
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, he thought. That was one of the principles of combat he had learned at the Academy. Remembering the maxim brought him no comfort. Had he prepared?
Rebecca had told them that her team's base was in the mountain range, inaccessible to large transports. The WhaleKing had landed at the base of he mountains and they had started out from there, the Chimeras in their Zoids and Rebecca and her team in Saber Tigers. (And those teammates were another mystery. None of the Chimeras had seen any one but Rebecca on the WhaleKing, and all attempts at making conversation with the pilots of the Spirit Cats other two Saber Tigers via commlink had been blocked.) Their trek had gone on for almost two hours, ending only when a group of Rev Raptors had ambushed them, targeting the Chimeras but not Rebecca's team.
That was when Stevan decided that Rebecca had set them up. He should have known. Everything that had happened was his fault. He was the team's leader. He was responsible.
But it didn't make any sense. If Rebecca was working with the Backdraft Group, why had she helped them out at Rocketown the night before? The Backdraft gained nothing by bailing them out in the desert only to let them be killed the next day in the mountains. For that matter, if she was with the Backdraft, why had she warned them to be careful the morning before the attack on their base?
But she had to be working with them, because the attacking Backdraft forces had taken pains to avoid firing at her Zoid or those of her escorts. It didn't make any sense, and wouldn't have even if Stevan had been able to focus his mental energy on pondering it. Like his fears about what lay behind each rise, these questions swirled at the border between thought and subconscious, indefined concern.
Stevan tried the commlink again as the Command Wolf put another hill behind it. He greeted the harsh, noisy static with a curse. His comm system was still being jammed.
The Command Wolf suddenly skidded to a stop, its metal feet fighting for purchase on the shifting rocks beneath them. Stevan was thrown violently forward, the five-point harness preventing him from injuring his head or torso on the control column but digging into his body painfully nonetheless.
A Rev Raptor lunged out from behind a rise, the timing of its surprise attack spoiled by the Command Wolf's abrupt halt. Stevan wondered how his Zoid had anticipated the ambush, but that thought was swept aside by a torrent of anger as Stevan slammed the control yoke forward, bellowing inarticulate rage at the Rev Raptor. He hated the very sight of the Zoids.
The Rev Raptors that had attacked the Chimeras in the mountains had fought far better than the ones they had encountered previously. Their tactics were better and heir reactions were quicker. But not quick enough. If the Rev Raptor was surprised by the failure of its bushwhacking attempt, it was totally unprepared for its erstwhile quarry to leap forward, fangs bared with deadly intent.
The Command Wolf hit the Rev Raptor with a gonging crash. Sparks flew to the ground as the two Zoids' metal hides ground together. The Command Wolf's jaws snapped at the Backdraft Zoid's neck, but failed to find it. The sheer force of the impact hurled the Raptor backward and lifted it several meters off the ground before gravity's mighty hand shoved it back down. It staggered, giant talons trying vainly to bite into the rock-strewn terrain before it finally dropped, completing a pratfall that might have looked somewhat humorous to a detached observer.
Stevan brought his targeting crosshairs down on the enemy Zoid's prone form, but before he could pull the trigger, he was thrown around in the cockpit again, this time backwards against the seat. The Command Wolf sprang forward, but its timing was less perfect this time. A laser blast tore into its right rear leg, failing to do any critical damage to the leg but leaving a scorched, sparking scar on the armor plate that protected it.
The Command Wolf came down and immediately bounded forward again, barely missing the head of the fallen Rev Raptor as a second one, the one that had fired the laser shot, took up the pursuit. The Command Wolf had overruled its pilot, somehow knowing that the time Stevan would have taken to finish off the first Backdraft Zoid would have given its counterpart time to gun them down.
Stevan wondered what accounted for his Zoid's almost prescient reflexes, and whether it was worse to merely expect his persecutors to resume their attacks or actually have them do so.
The chase continued.
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A laser barrage swarmed around the Command Wolf's position, wreaking havoc on the terrain but missing their target. Stevan's hands jerked the controls, and the Command Wolf popped out from behind the monumentally huge boulder it was crouching behind long enough to return fire. He yanked the column again, but the Command Wolf needed no encouragment from him to duck back again just before a second incoming salvo rent the air and the stony slope.
The enemy Zoids continued to blaze away at the rock, seemingly determined to reduce it to rubble if their target wasn't going to leave its shadow. A laser shot found a weak point in the boulder and chipped away a two meter-wide chunk, which flew off down the hill. Smaller stones and pebbles showered the Command Wolf, making a rattling sound that was quickly lost in the din of the continuing fire.
Stevan gritted his teeth, unconsciously hunching down in his seat as if he could make himself a smaller target that way. The Command Wolf growled as they repeated the shoot and move pattern. "I know," he said in response to the empty cockpit.
This is not good. It wouldn't be long before the Backdraft Zoids managed to work around the hulking devil's-back and attack from from behind and above as well as from in front and below. Then the rock would afford him no protection.
He repeated the pattern again. Pop out, shoot, pop back in. Could he escape over the back of the mountain before they could cut off that route as well? Zoid and pilot glanced back over their shoulders to examine the incline. No. It would take a couple of precious minutes to negotiate the slope at a safe pace, and the Backdraft Zoids would gun them down in mere econds if they tried. The terrain was treacherous, and trying to take the rise quickly held just as great a risk of disaster.
A Rev Raptor broke cover and tried to venture closer. It quickly payed the price for its boldness. Stevan aimed and fired by reflex. His fire knocked the Raptor off its feet, sending it on a sliding, rolling tumble down the incline that offered him a sobering preview of the fate that awaited him if the Command Wolf missed its footing in a desperate dash up the hill. The Rev Raptor reached the bottom and lay still. The bombardment from the surviving Backdraft Zoids seemed to increase in intensity.
Another shard of rock broke off, flying almost straight up, startling Stevan and narrowly missing the Command Wolf as it came back down. A rear attack would be a moot point if the enemy Zoids managed to blast away the monolith. Then he and the Command Wolf would be utterly exposed on the mountain side. The side of the rock that faced his persecutors was already blackened by scorch marks, and its surface, previously relatively smooth, was now pitted and chipped. It was only a matter of time.
The thundering crossfire went on. Destructive energies sufficient to level a city block slashed back and forth without the slightest practical effect except to slowly wear away outstanding features of the gradient until the time when there would be nowhere left to hide.
Stevan became aware of a Rev Raptor that had managed to get around a smaller rise and flank him. A couple of shots were enough to convince it to step back out of the line of fire. But sooner or later it would manage a dash across the gap to the next large irregularity, and then there would be nothing he could do. And even if he could hold this one off, another would work its way up on the other side. Again, it was only a matter of time.
The Command Wolf roared, its frustration easily discernible. "I know,"Stevan said again, softly.
Their time was almost up.
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A rumble. There is nowhere left to run, said the one.
An answering rumble, somewhat angry. I am tired of running, answered the other.
So am I. A pause. If they get behind us, we will probably not survive.
I know. I have already calculated the odds, the second one said. A longer pause. It seems we are out of options.
I could subvert them, the first suggested.
A low, glutteral sound that spoke of deep turmoil and indecision. No.
Why?
Because that…a cry of suppressed rage. Because this…is not how it is supposed to be.
A longer pause as the first sensed what its fellow wanted to do, was fighting against itself not to do. I understand. But it would not work. Let me take them.
NO. More forceful this time, more strident.
We must do it, and quickly. There is no other way.
There is one.
Concern, contemplation. You would not survive.
With your help, I could.
More consideration. The first was mulling the problem, wrestling with it. I am unsure.
Decide. It is as you said: we must act quickly.
The first was a bit more certain. What of him?
He will be alright, the other said. He has done well. He has been a worthy comrade. A deep growl as it tried to convey what it felt. But now it is up to us. We must do it. For our sake and his.
Then do it. There was no more hesitation. I am ready.