Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (19 page)

“Because, quite frankly, Logan Marshall knows how to run a manhunt. Vector Squad does not. Marshall
is
a lieutenant; he does have command experience.”

Torokin’s focus shifted to Rath. “How long has Marshall been a lieutenant?”

A boisterous laugh escaped Klaus’s mouth, prompting his ex-Vector counterpart to stare at him. Klaus waved Rath onward. “Go on. Tell him how long Marshall has been a lieutenant, please.”

As Archer sighed, the corners of Rath’s lips curved downward. Looking at Torokin, he answered, “I think the important thing to remember is that Logan Marshall is where he is because he has a proven track—”

“One week,” said Klaus.

“Longer than that,” Archer rebutted, glaring at the Vector captain.

Klaus held up nine fingers. “Nine days, Leonid. Nine.”

Closing his eyes and groaning, Torokin ran his hand down his face as the conference room fell into silence. The only man with any semblance of a pleased look on his face was Klaus, whose nine-finger salute had shifted into triumphant arms folded across his chest. Torokin’s gaze shifted to Malcolm Blake, who had been silent during the entire conversation. The black Briton simply stood there, eyes downcast with a look that bordered outright disillusion, one arm propped across his chest while the fist of his other hand pressed against his mouth. At long last, Torokin broke the silence. “What say you, Mister President?”

His brown eyes shifting to Torokin, Blake hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “It is my opinion that we have reached a stage where uncommon solutions may constitute our most viable options.”

That was political speak for,
We’re going to go with Marshall.
Torokin frowned. “I understand Klaus’s concern—I do. I also understand the benefit of having someone with Marshall’s skill set guiding the effort.” Raising his finger, he said, “Might I offer a solution that may appeal to the valid concerns of my friend?” The others waited for Torokin to continue. “Allow me to accompany Marshall.”

The surprised reactions were immediate.

“Klaus has a valid concern in that we cannot entrust a man fueled by emotion—as Marshall very well may be—to lead a team of Vectors on a mission that is this critical. My being with him, however, would mean that there is an EDEN Command presence on the operation. In this instance, I would be the overseer of the operation,” he said, holding his hands out graciously, “but strategic planning would fall under the guidance of Lieutenant Marshall. It would be my job to ensure that what he does is both
legal
and logical.”

The Vector captain shook his head. “In that case, I might as well go myself.”

“I do not think that is wise,” Torokin said. “You are too emotionally attached, my friend—even more so than Marshall. I believe you would compromise this.” Though Klaus grumbled beneath his breath, he didn’t rebut. “Is this something that would be acceptable to you, Mister President?”

After a brief glance at Archer, Blake answered, “I would certainly feel more comfortable with someone like you serving as operational oversight, with the
assurance
that you will
not
attempt to partake in any ground operations.” His expression grew hardened. “Is that acceptable to you, Leonid?”

Unamused laughter escaped the Russian’s lips. “I can assure you that partaking in ground ops is not my intent.”

“Well, that’s not quite the same thing now, is it?”

“I have been in this business long enough to know not to make promises.” He looked at Klaus. “But you know I will do nothing to jeopardize the capture of Remington, especially to satisfy my own ego.” Inhaling deeply, he said, “So, will you allow it, Mister President, even if I cannot offer the assurance you seek?”

Blake nodded. “I will—thank you for stepping up to this.”

“I would also like to bring Chiumbo,” Torokin said. “He would serve as an insurance policy for Lieutenant Marshall should things…not work out.”

At that, there was no hesitation from Blake. “I
fully
endorse Chiumbo accompanying you on the operation. Should things go south with Marshall, he’s an excellent candidate to take the reins.”

His face reddening, Klaus pointed at the two men. “Do you really expect Chiumbo to take orders from Marshall? That would be an
insult
.”

“I fully expect him to, because that is the kind of person Chiumbo is,” Torokin answered. “Chiumbo is one of our best. You know that. He would not raise any issues—”

The German cut him off loudly.
“Then I will raise issues!”

”Captain...” said Blake.

“Chiumbo has been a lieutenant in Vector for
years
, and you wish to place him under the authority of a
child
?”

This time, it was Torokin who glared. “Logan Marshall is
anything
but a child. He is a former mercenary—he could probably give anyone in Vector a run for their money.”

“Marshall has not been a lieutenant for two weeks, and he will be issuing orders to the best we have to offer.
I
will not allow Chiumbo to endure such a disgrace.”

Hands clasping behind his back, Archer spoke flatly. “With all due respect, captain, this isn’t your decision.”

Torokin raised an eyebrow and shot Archer a look. That was either one of the boldest or most foolhardy comments he’d ever heard. Either way, it was
not
the way to win over Klaus Faerber.

Growling loudly, Klaus turned away. Torokin called out for him. “Comrade, please! If Marshall is a capable mercenary, he may have resources that we do not. He may have resources comparable to the Nightmen, and they were able to infiltrate
Cairo
Confinement.”

“Take my Vectors,” Klaus said, angling his head just enough to glare at his ex-Vector counterpart. “Take whoever you wish. I will not stop you.” Without another word, the German captain turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving the door swinging in his wake.

A knot formed deep in Torokin’s stomach. He had seen Klaus angry—he’d seen him brooding. This was much, much worse. Torokin shook his head. “He has no intention of leaving this alone.”

“I think that much is obvious,” said Archer.

“Do you think he’ll try to interfere?” Blake asked Torokin.

The Russian answered, “With an operation led by Marshall? No. With the apprehension of Remington? There is no question.” He looked back at the other men. “And if you want my advice, I would let him.”

“He would kill Remington the moment he sees him,” said Archer.

“And would that not be good enough?”

Looking at Torokin harshly, Archer said, “No, it would not be. What if Remington isn’t working alone? What if there’s another terror cell waiting to strike? Capturing Remington and his band of merry men alive is critical to attaining that information.” Realizing his abruptness, he paused briefly and softened his tone. “He also escaped with a Ceratopian and an Ithini. It would make sense to find out why, would it not? Remington may be the only one who can provide us with answers.”

Speaking up, Rath said, “A conspiracy between human and alien forces could be catastrophic, even if Ignatius van Thoor is dead. What if there are other Remingtons out there waiting to carry out plans of their own? By capturing Remington, we may be able to find out the full scope of whatever it is they’re doing, and maybe more importantly, why.”

“Who from Vector do you think would be suitable for this operation?” Blake asked Torokin.

The Russian answered, “Marty Breaux comes to mind, and obviously we’ll need a pilot, so I would suggest Minh Dang. Beyond that, I need to speak with Vincent. I believe this operation would be best handled small. No more than five, maybe six.” After a moment, he raised a hand. “Pablo Quintana, as well. And I may just take Sasha, um, Alexander Kireev, my nephew who is here,” he corrected.

“There’s your five or six right there.”

“I suppose it is.”

Blake hesitated for a moment as he drew a breath. Then he said, “I feel we’re at the very least obligated to mention Todd Kenner, even if only for the probability that Captain Faerber will attempt to contact him.”

“One hundred percent,” Torokin said, eyeing the president. “That probability will be one hundred percent.”

Silence prevailed as the four men exchanged looks, until Blake said, “Then, it seems there’s nothing more for us to discuss. Leonid, contact Commander Hill and make the arrangements.”

“Yes, Mister President.” Bowing his head cordially, Torokin turned away and stepped from the room.

Once Torokin was out of earshot, Blake said, “It sounds as if there’s little doubt in Leonid’s mind that Faerber will contact Kenner.”

“That would be a catastrophe,” said Archer.

Rath raised an eyebrow. “Why would that be a catastrophe? We’d be adding a capable hunter without the burden of being held liable. Wouldn’t that be a benefit?”

“We’d be adding more than a capable hunter, Jason. We would be adding one of the best hunters humanity has ever known. We would be adding a man who is supremely intelligent—a man who would miss
nothing
.” He angled his head back to the others, allowing them a moment to process his words. “Not even from us.”

Rath’s expression fell solemn. He nodded his head. “I understand, sir.”

Facing his fellow conspirators, Archer said, “We must overcome this, gentlemen. For the sake of us all.” Bowing in farewell, he left the room.

Location: Unknown

Time: Unknown

THERE WAS NO WAY for Svetlana to tell how much time had passed since she’d first awoken and discovered herself chained to the wall of a Bakma Noboat with metal clasps. Beyond there being no sense of day or night to reference in the spacecraft, her internal clock felt in complete disarray. Despite her situation, she had fallen asleep—unintentionally—after a long silence between her and Tauthin, who was chained several meters to her left. This only added to her uncertain sense of time, as she didn’t know whether she’d slept for two hours or twelve.

She had long gotten accustomed to the vinegar-like smell of the Noboat’s interior, the acetone odor having layered itself upon her nostrils like a sour blanket. She only knew that if the vessel stunk, she must have stunk, too, an attribute that mattered little in her current predicament. At the very least, the sensation of nausea had subsided to a degree, weightlessness settling in as a strange, new normal.

In the time that Svetlana and Tauthin
were
both awake, interpersonal communication was almost nonexistent. It wasn’t for a lack of effort, at least on Tauthin’s part. Despite the loss of their Ithini connection much earlier, before she’d fallen asleep, Tauthin’s attempts at broken English had been met with a cold silence from Svetlana.

Reality had set in. The shock and horror of her awakening had quickly transformed into numbness, and over time, that numbness had become focus, not on a plan, but on her situation. The suddenness at which her panic and confusion settled surprised even her. Past dramas—loves, rivalries, the trivialities of daily life—were now wholly insignificant. Nothing she had ever done, nothing she had ever felt, mattered any longer. It was a past life erased. It was a new mindset for her, and necessity demanded a quick acceptance of it. And so accept it, she did.

But on her terms.

They could take away her hope and render her past insignificant, but they couldn’t change who she was. The last time she’d checked, she was still Svetlana Voronova. Tauthin had warned her that if she failed to submit to Nagogg’s demands, to denounce God for Uladek, she would suffer. Trade the truth for a lie. That just wasn’t something she was prepared to do. And so suffer, it would be. She was afraid, but she was determined to be strong.

Her determination came just in time. The door to the chamber whooshed open, and the familiar
click
of an Ithini connection tapped into her mind. Entering through the door, propelling himself with a gentle push in microgravity, came Nagogg. The lipless Bakma’s opaque stare settled on Svetlana. Beside her, Tauthin tensed.

Nagogg wasted no time. Hovering in front of Svetlana, he rasped through his exposed teeth, “The time has come for you to choose. Do you denounce your false Earthae god and submit to the one master, Uladek, bringer of Order and Chaos?”

“I do
not
denounce,” she said defiantly.

Tauthin quickly interjected. “Setana, you
must
denounce!”

“I will never denounce!”

Snarling angrily, Tauthin turned his focus to Nagogg. “She is useless to you, Nagogg. She does not possess the capacity to understand.”

Svetlana glared at Tauthin.

“She does not fear because she does not know. You cannot hold this ignorance against her!”

Speaking clearly, firmly, and with narrowed eyes, Svetlana said to Nagogg, “I. Do. Not. Submit.”

Tauthin’s shoulders sank.

His focus returning to Svetlana, Nagogg angled his head and scrutinized her, the emaciated rider’s bulbous eyes surveying her from top to bottom. Then he looked out of the chamber door, where his makeshift crew observed. Nagogg’s eyes came to rest on Kraash-Nagun, the foot soldier elite with the gouged eyes. Seeming deep in thought, Nagogg clicked his own teeth together, each click loud in the absence of his lips. He looked back at Svetlana, his eyes narrowing faintly as he examined her face. Beyond discoloration from the bruise on her cheek, it was perfect. Unblemished. His choice had been made. Silently, Nagogg raised a finger to the observers. With an unaffected tone, Nagogg said simply, “Take her.” From outside the chamber, Gabralthaar the titan and Ka`vesh the soldier floated toward Svetlana.

Tauthin erupted. “Do not harm her! She is innocent!” he shouted, rattling his clasps violently but to no avail.
“She is innocent!”

Svetlana’s heart raced faster as the Bakma drew nearer. By the time they reached her, it felt like it was pounding out of her chest. “What are they doing?” she asked, looking frantically to Tauthin. Her chained counterpart looked almost dazed—he was taking in Svetlana’s face with borderline obsession, as if seeing it for the last time.