Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (15 page)

“For what purpose are we taking her?” Nagogg asked. “Leave her here to die!”

“I will not leave her in the arms of one who wishes her ill,” Tauthin answered.

The vision ended, and the chamber fell silent. As the dim blue light above the metal door reclaimed her vision, Svetlana looked down, her eyes open but staring at nothing. Her breathing grew heavier.

Several moments passed before Tauthin quietly spoke. “I intended a good thing. That intention was betrayed by brethren who now call me
infidel
.”

“Where are we going, Tauthin?” Svetlana asked.

Tauthin hesitated. “The Zone Runner’s fuel cells must rejuvenate. We are in temporary orbit around—”

She faced him deadpanned, her words leaving her before he could finish. “Where are we going, Tauthin?”

The Bakma stared back in silence, jaw motionless as his opaque eyes regarded her. At long last, he answered. “We are going to Khuldaris—the homeworld of the Khuladi.”

In that moment, Svetlana lost everything. Every comfort, every hope. Every flicker of a good memory that she’d intended to relive at some point in the life she was supposed to have had. It had all been ripped from her fingers in an event of which she had no recollection. The gravity around her body grew heavier, and she leaned forward as far as her clasps would allow.

Images flashed through her mind without the need of an Ithini connection. The day she’d decided to pursue EDEN. The day she’d arrived at
Novosibirsk
. Meeting Max, and Captain Clarke, and Tolya. Being rescued by Scott. Being in love. Every moment she’d ever experienced had taken place on a planet she was no longer on.

How can this be real?

“Setana,” said Tauthin, his voice low, “when Nagogg returns, you must denounce the Earthae god. You must do this for your own benefit. The consequences for rejecting Uladek are severe.”

Severe. How insignificant such a word sounded from the coldness of her chains, trillions of miles away from the only world she’d ever known. How could severity compare to this? Expression numbed, her eyes on the floor, she asked, “Will they kill me?”

Tauthin hesitated. “You will suffer.”

To love was to suffer. At no time did that feel more real than now. Beyond loving Scott, beyond loving the people she knew, Svetlana loved life. She loved
her
life, in spite of her tendency to overdramatize it and focus on its hardships. Life was messy—at times figuratively, at times literally—but it was hers.

It…
was
hers.

Inhaling slowly, Svetlana lifted her head and looked across the room. “I forgive you, Tauthin.”

The words only deepened the silence. For a time, it seemed as if Tauthin wouldn’t respond at all. When he finally did, his tone was uncharacteristically withdrawn. “I would sacrifice myself to Nagogg’s spear if it would undo what I have done to you.”

“I did not mean for that,” she said, gently interrupting him. “You do not need to be forgiven for intending a good thing.”

The Bakma angled his head. The question,
for what am I forgiven
, was left un-vocalized.

Svetlana’s jaw set. “I forgive you for thinking that I would be so weak as to denounce the only God I have ever known at the hour I need Him most.”

Silence fell between them as Tauthin observed her, the crimson-purple arch above his eyes tightening ever so slightly. Though her own gaze remained downcast into oblivion, his remained solely on her. At the center of his opaque lenses, his violet irises widened. Turning his head without saying a word, he joined her in beholding the darkness.

*
      
*
      
*

Floating in the Noboat’s hallway, Nagogg pivoted in the air to face two of his Bakma brethren—the larger of which was clad in the sentry armor worn by Tauthin during their escape from Confinement. Ka`vesh and Gabralthaar. Behind them, Ei`dorinthal the Ithini hovered. “Do not allow this door to be opened,” said Nagogg.

“Uladek speaks,” Ka`vesh answered, dipping his head.

The giant Gabralthaar spoke. “What of Tauthinilaas? For how long will he be allowed to repent?” The alien’s deep, guttural tones were only amplified by his mechanized sentry helmet.

At the mention of Tauthin’s name, Nagogg snarled. “Order and Chaos has used him as an instrument. I will allow him as far as Khuldaris before his choice must be made.”

“Uladek speaks.”

“Inform Wuteel: we will progress to the Mid Region as soon as fuel cells allow.”

Gabralthaar nodded submissively.

Turning away from Ka`vesh and Gabralthaar, Nagogg’s black eyes fell upon a blinded Bakma floating at the precipice of the bridge’s entryway. The alien had been there since the Noboat reached microgravity, positioning himself as far from the flow of traffic as was possible. Though his eye sockets had long been stripped of their instruments, his head was tilted in the conversation’s direction, tacitly listening. As Nagogg drifted toward him, he lifted his head erect.

“Heed well, Kraash-nagun,” said Nagogg. “Uladek speaks to those who listen.”

Dipping his head as Nagogg drifted past, Kraash-nagun said, “Uladek speaks.”

Nagogg disappeared into the bridge.

From just beyond the corona of a red giant star, the Noboat sat in stationary orbit. In the seemingly infinite distance, almost too faint to be distinguishable from the countless stars around it, was the star the Earthae called the Sun. In the opposite direction, too far beyond the Mid Region to be visible from the Noboat’s vantage point, was a star that was much bigger. It was a star that demanded that all other stars bow. It was a star draped in dogma. Born out of hate.

Beckoning its lost to come home.

Saturday, March 17
^th
, 0012 NE

1214 hours

Norilsk, Russia

LAND. JUST LAND. Just get there, get that door open, and land. Then, exhale.

For the past hour, Scott had watched snow-covered trees zip past the
Pariah
as the Vulture transport skimmed over them, its nose pointed to Norilsk as it followed Tiffany’s Superwolf across frozen Siberia. It was a miracle that they were alive. It was unfathomable that they possessed a Superwolf and a pilot capable of flying one. It was all the more reason to want the
Pariah
to land as quickly as possible. They were skating on such thin ice, the slightest bit of misfortune might be all it took to plunge them beneath the depths of all hope.

According to Travis, the city of Norilsk was not far ahead. For that, Scott was grateful. Every minute they stayed airborne was another minute EDEN had to discover their location. They needed a place to hide, desperately.

As had been the case during the initial flight, the small stretch of downtime offered the operatives in the troop bay a chance to close their eyes and attempt something akin to sleep. The only sound that came from the troop bay was quiet breathing, and even that was mostly muffled by the humming of the
Pariah
’s engines and the rattling of its frame, both of which almost served as lulling sounds themselves. Just the same, any rest gleaned from this part of the flight would be deceptively temporary, as it had been for Scott, whose own dozing off had been little more than a glorified catnap. The whole crew would be dead on their feet upon awakening.

The only member of the troop bay that Scott knew for sure wasn’t attempting to sleep was Ju`bajai. The Ithini was strapped into the seat nearest to the cockpit—a seat that was grossly oversized for her small frame—staring at Scott in the unsettling way she tended to stare at people. Ju`bajai was almost quiet enough to forget completely, until moments like these came when one found her opaque eyes glued steadily to theirs, with no outward indication as to what the alien was thinking or feeling. And so with no indicators to guide him, Scott simply asked in his mind,
What?
There was no doubt that Ju`bajai was in his mind and able to read him. The way she was staring him down, she was either dropping a hint or socially inept. The Ithini made no reaction—she simply stared on. Shaking his head and looking away, Scott thought,
You are so freaking creepy.

The troop bay had been mostly quiet after the excitement of the dogfight had died down and the reality of the Fourteenth’s and Falcon’s exhausted states resurfaced. Though several of the operatives appeared drowsy, a few were still fully alert. Chief among them was Natalie Rockwell.

Though she’d said virtually nothing during the entirety of their flight, she
had
had a constant companion in Flopper. The East Siberian Laika remained faithfully at her side, the pup’s only motion being an occasional roll-over for a tummy rub, which Natalie provided, the movements of her hand over Flopper’s stomach seeming almost involuntary.

Natalie surveyed the operatives around her, almost all of whom were sacked out, save Colonel Lilan and Auric, the latter of whom was still keeping vigilant watch over her. At several points during the flight, her leg muscles had tensed as if she was on the verge of moving, though the German’s steadfastness kept her grounded. Unable to sit still any longer, Natalie pushed up as much as her chained hand allowed. The motion prompted Auric to tense up on his handgun until opened palms by Natalie assured him she wasn’t up to anything devious. She nodded in the direction of Lilan—an unspoken request to be allowed to speak to the colonel, which the German permitted. Lilan observed as Natalie motioned for him, then rose from his seat to walk her way.

Leaning against the wall beside her, Lilan waited for the Caracal captain to address him. She cast a quick glance to the other Falcons to ensure their continued slumber. After seeing they were undisturbed, her focus returned to the colonel. “I saw the reports from EDEN Command saying that you were dead.”

Very faintly, the colonel smirked. “The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.”

“How is that possible?”

Lilan looked at her keenly. “You’re not a part of their crew, are you?” She shook her head. “What are you doing with them?”

“I’m…” Natalie’s words trailed off as she sought a way to answer. She finally settled on the truth. “I’m their hostage.”

Lilan’s eyebrow raised. “Hostage? I wasn’t aware they were into that.”

“I don’t think they meant for me to be one. I think I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I got swept up.”

Harrumphing, Lilan said, “Hell of an operation to get swept up in.”

Looking away, Natalie eyed the cockpit entrance, where Scott and Travis were sitting. Sighing, she addressed Lilan without looking at him. “For the past week, I was under the impression that Scott Remington had been transferred to
Cairo
—where I was stationed—to be my executive officer. And I just recently learned that he’d been using me as a cover.” Lilan listened intently. “He went to
Cairo
to break a Ceratopian out of Confinement. He and that one,” she motioned to Esther, “Esther Brooking.”

Lilan nodded. “Mm.”

“This all went down not ten hours ago. During those ten hours, I’ve spent every fiber of my being hating every single person on this ship.” Natalie’s head tilted downward. “Then you showed up.”

“And now your head’s spinning. You’re not sure what or who to believe.

“Pretty much, yes.”

The colonel’s voice lowered. “Well, let me tell you what
I
believe, Miss…” He paused as he waited for her name.

“Rockwell. Captain, actually,” she said, as if the title bore little to no weight, though a faint smile from Lilan indicated it did.

“Let me tell you what I believe, Captain Rockwell. I believe that a couple of days ago, my entire platoon was intercepted and shot down over a Carolina swamp. And I
believe
I saw Vultures touch down, and that I saw EDEN operatives step out and try to kill any survivors on the ground.” Natalie canted her head as he went on. “I believe that every member of my crew would be dead right now had we not been rescued by a young woman named Svetlana, who is from this unit, and a band of Nightmen flying a Bakma Noboat.”

At mention of the word
Noboat
, Natalie’s eyes narrowed with confusion.

Glancing around the troop bay, Lilan’s voice fell to a whisper. “Things aren’t what they seem right now, and I’d be lying if I told you I knew the whole truth. But whatever Remington and his crew did to you, I’d give them the benefit of the doubt and a chance to explain themselves.”

Her eyes flickering downward, Natalie stared at the floor, before lifting her head just enough to catch a sidelong view of the operatives within the troop bay—her abductors.

“One more thing,” Lilan said, capturing Natalie’s attention again. “Whatever you think you know about Remington, I can assure you that you don’t know the whole story. Give him, above anyone else here, a chance to talk to you. You might be surprised at what you hear.”

“How do you know what he’s been through? We just picked you up.”

Smiling, Lilan answered, “I heard about it from that young woman who rescued us, Svetlana. My guess is she knows him better than anyone.”

“Who is this person?” Natalie asked. “Svetlana.”

“That would be Remington’s woman,” Lilan answered, dipping his head toward the cockpit. After receiving a stunned look from the Caracal captain, the colonel smirked. “Sorry if that disappoints.”

She shook her head. “Disappointment about
that
is the last thing I’m feeling right now.” Natalie offered Lilan a look of apologetic appreciation. “Thank you for talking to me.”

“Talk to
him
,” Lilan said, pointing at the cockpit. “And be open to the possibility that what you’ve been led to believe may not necessarily be the truth, no matter how bad things may appear.”

Before Natalie could respond, the
Pariah
’s troop bay speakers crackled, and Travis’s voice emerged. “We’re approaching Norilsk, crew. Strap yourselves in.”

Nodding to Natalie’s chair, Lilan said, “Better listen, captain.” A brief smile was exchanged, and Lilan returned to his seat.