Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (61 page)

Drying his hands and snatching a pair of rubber gloves, the doctor answered, “You can get out of the way and let us work.”

“Do you have enough people to handle this? If not, I’ll help however I can.”

Gavriil glared. “This is not what we do, Captain Remington. We were never intended to be a military facility! I will do what I can do, but I make no promises.”

“I wasn’t asking for any promises—”

“I know what you were asking. The answer is ‘no,’ there is nothing you can do.” He stopped briefly, only to point. “You can leave through that door. That is the only way you can help me.”

Though his shoulders sagged, Scott backed out of the way. Pressing his back against the wall in the far corner, Scott watched and listened to as much as he could take in. William was getting the most attention, though Lilan was getting the full focus of one of the nurses, no doubt because of his age. They were all so messed up. What kind of weapons had done this? Scott had never seen Nightman-caliber armor shredded so effortlessly. As Gavriil, a nurse, and two random staffers surrounded William, two on each side, Gavriil gave a three-count in Russian. When the count ended, the four hoisted the demolitionist’s body, transferring it awkwardly from a stretcher to the top of the operating table. William was let down with a heavy thud and the doctor cleared the staffers away.

William was hurt. David was hurt. Boris was hurt. Lilan was hurt. Travis and Donald were dead. Not to mention the emotional damage that people like Tiffany and Becan had experienced or the fact that the
Pariah
was a total wreck. They’d gotten their tails collectively handed to them. And this was a
win
.

According to those on the ground, members of Vector had been part of the ground assault. That spoke volumes. That meant that EDEN was ready to send their best at a moment’s notice. Wherever they went now, if they were seen, they’d have to contend with the most elite of EDEN’s military. Not that they were going anywhere, anyway—not with the
Pariah
the massive paperweight that it was.

Whatever we got from Hami Station better be worth it. Antipov had better be happy.
Scott was sick of this. Sick of combat, sick of the straw they’d all drawn.
Vector. Countered by freaking Vector.
It was hard to imagine their situation getting any worse.
I wonder if they know what they did to us.
They surely must have known they’d taken out the
Pariah
’s pilot. The moment Scott took the controls, the Vulture was flying as if it was inebriated. There was no doubt in Scott’s mind that they knew.

Wherever you are, you wait. You’ll get what’s coming to you. Turnabout is fair play.

It was in the aftermath of that thought that Scott stopped.

This isn’t Vector’s fault. They think they’re the good guys in this. They have no idea what’s happening on this side of things.

What he would have given for a ten-minute audience with Klaus Faerber—preferably with impact glass between them. If he could only show them that what he and his comrades were doing was unavoidable and for the greater good…

…but killing the innocent staffers at
Hami Station
wouldn’t help that perception. Valentin had gunned down
Hami Station
’s workers like
they
were the targets. No wonder the Fourteenth looked like the villains.

As if on cue, the keeper of
Northern Forge
walked through the door of the medical bay. The moment Scott saw him, the words slipped right out. “What in the hell were you doing?”

“Excuse me?” Valentin asked.

“You killed civilian workers.” Grabbing the keeper by the collar, Scott slammed him back against the wall, knocking over instruments from a nearby shelf.
“Why in the hell were you killing civilian workers?”
So calamitous was the eruption, the whole of the room turned to face them. Even Natalie, in her cell, flinched at the outburst.

Snarling, Valentin shoved Scott violently with his palms. Every making of a fight seemed on the verge of breaking out. “My sentries should have executed you the
moment
you arrived. You will be the ruin of this facility—of all of us!”

Pointing off into the distance as if it meant something, Scott continued his tirade. “This isn’t their
vecking
war! You gunned them down like you enjoyed it.” He’d heard all the gory details from Jayden. Had he been there, he might have put Valentin down himself.

The keeper snapped.
“This is everyone’s war!”
Stepping up to Scott, he stared the American fulcrum down face-to-face. “You said those very words yourself—see the big picture.
That
was the big picture!”

“The big picture doesn’t involve killing innocent people. If we do that, we’re
no
better than EDEN!”

“We have
already
killed innocent people!” Valentin boomed. He dug his finger into Scott’s chest. “Look at the armor you wear now. Look at mine! We have already crossed that bridge.”

The keeper was right—but that didn’t have to be the end of it. “We made mistakes, but that doesn’t mean we’re damned to make them the rest of our lives. We have a choice. Next time, choose better.”

Calmly and steadily, Valentin said, “Do not ever tell me what you think I should do.”

Scott felt his heart hardening. Whatever happened that turned Valentin from chaplain to killer, it’d dug itself in deep. The only option Scott had—at least at this point in time—was to turn and walk away. So he did.

Casting a final look to the room and its occupants, almost all of whom had been watching the confrontation, Scott pushed past Valentin and limped for the hall. No one made any attempt to stop him—their focus simply returned to their former tasks. Except for one person.

Still standing against the glass wall of her quarantine cell, Natalie Rockwell watched Scott as he exited. The former Caracal captain’s face remained stoic, though her emerald eyes showed something different from the disdain they’d echoed toward him previously. She bore the look of a woman lost in thought. At long last, as the chaos of the medical bay returned in full form, Natalie turned around, slid down the wall, and stared ahead into nothingness.

Scott needed to get away. From the medical bay, from the hallways, from everything. Travis Navarro and Donald Bell were dead. With the urgency of immediate survival behind Scott, that new reality could sink in. Both men’s bodies were in the hangar, laid out across the floor and draped with white cloth. Scott didn’t know what the plan was in regards to their place of burial, but he intended to be a part of that conversation. Were it up to Valentin, the keeper would likely just throw their bodies out of the hangar and let them bounce down the mountainside into oblivion. And if that happened? Valentin would be the next body to get thrown out—Scott didn’t care
how
many of the keeper’s sentries he had to fight through.

But right now, the only place in
Northern Forge
that was calling him was his room. With David in the medical bay, he was assured of privacy. Scott entered his room, closing and locking the door behind him. Shutting off the light, he sat back against the wall in the far corner, next to the crutches he hadn’t been using, and closed his eyes, sliding down the wall until he hit the floor. Inhaling a deep breath, he released it slowly to savor the mere ability to do so in peace. His sense of sound still hadn’t returned in full, though the echo of the roaring wind in his face was gradually being replaced by the sounds of footsteps in the hall and overheard Russian conversations. It was a welcomed change from the cacophony of sound in the
Pariah
.

Scott did not find sleep; it wasn’t a part of his search. After sitting in silence for almost an hour, his mind awash with everything from situational summarization to grief from the loss of two friends, Scott finally gathered his willpower and rose to go shower. Next to the dose of peace and quiet, cleanliness was the next thing Scott wanted. He could only imagine how those who’d been on the battlefield must have felt.

Just as no one had knocked on Scott’s door all the while he sat in his room, no one dared to look him in the eyes as he groggily trundled, this time
with
his crutches, toward the showers on Level-3. There was no question that word of what had occurred was passing around
Northern Forge
, if for no other reason than because the base’s own keeper had been a part of it.

The amount of things that had transpired over a short span of time astounded Scott in the worst possible way. What would the rest of the week bring? He didn’t want to think about it. The only thing Scott Remington wanted to think about was water, soap, and shampoo.

And each one was wonderful.

*
      
*
      
*

EDEN Command

At the same time

“DO NOT SIT UNTIL you find where he is!”
Benjamin Archer yelled into his comm before he slung it from his hands into the wall where it shattered. Standing beside him in his suite in uncomfortable silence was Malcolm Blake. Glaring at the president, Archer pointed his finger for emphasis and said, “This is derailing everything we’ve worked for!”

Archer had just gotten off the comm with Jaya Saxena, who’d given him a report of the events that’d taken place at
Hami Station
, as it’d been reported to her by Judge Torokin. That Vector had done some damage to the Fourteenth was no consolation for the fact that the Fourteenth had both destroyed the satellite facility and escaped. Sweeps of the area around Krasnoyarsk Krai, where the Fourteenth was now suspected to be hiding, revealed nothing. The British judge’s last nerve was utterly frayed.

Clearing his throat quietly, Blake said, “What exactly did destroying
Hami Station
accomplish for Remington?”

“Quintana was attempting to ascertain a direct location for him based on outlaw transmissions from Krasnoyarsk. The satellite they were using to trace those signals got its signal directly from
Hami Station
.
Hami Station
was the link, and now it’s gone.” Archer’s face was red like a beet. “They cut Quintana off at the knees.”

“How did they know?” Blake folded his arms. “Do you think they have someone working for them on the inside?”

“Of course, someone is working for them.” Striding back to the wall where he’d slammed the comm, he bent down to collect its broken pieces. “It had to be someone from
Novosibirsk
. Someone must have heard Quintana’s plan and relayed it to Remington in secret.”

There was a knock at the door. Calling out without hesitation, Archer asked, “Who is it?”

“Chief Mendoza!”

“Hector,” Blake said, as if further elaboration was needed.

Stepping past the president, Archer opened the door to allow his security chief to enter. “What is it?” Archer asked once the door was reclosed.

Mendoza almost looked embarrassed. “Captain Faerber is looking for you. He sent me to find you.” The Hispanic chief frowned. “He intends to ask you about Todd Kenner.”

“Dear God,” said Blake painfully, rubbing his eyes with his face as he lowered himself onto Archer’s couch. “Pauling picked the right time to retire.”

Scowl deepening, Archer focused on Mendoza. “Inform Captain Faerber that, despite the severity of our current situation, we will not require the services of Todd Kenner—not now, not ever.” The amber-eyed judge exhaled. “He is simply too great a risk.”

Dipping his head in acknowledgment of both men, Mendoza said, “I will inform Captain Faerber at once.” The security chief took a step back and paused as if waiting for one of the judges to say something else. When neither did, he opened the door and stepped from the room.

Alone with Archer once again, Blake sighed. “Remington is turning out to be quite the headache.”

“I want his head on a plate.” Chewing on his tongue, Archer said, “
After
I interrogate him.”

“Well,” said Blake, meandering to the door, “I supposed I’d better prep a statement about what just took place.” Archer said nothing in response, and Blake placed his hand on the doorknob, turning it in preparation to pull the door open. He looked back at his counterpart before he did. “Is this going to be worth it?”

It took a moment for Archer to even indicate that he’d heard the question. When he did, the look he gave Blake was almost appeasing. “Yes. I assure you, it will be.”

It was enough to draw out the faintest of half-hearted, weary smiles from the president. Without a word, he opened the door and stepped out, leaving Benjamin Archer in silence.

Archer stood motionless, eyes glazed over in the direction of the door from which Blake had just exited through. Running his hand through his champagne-blond hair, he blew out a long breath then closed his eyes to stretch his neck. Rolling his head in a circle, he brought it level again and resumed his forward gaze, reaching briefly for his comm to make a call before realizing that he’d shattered it minutes before. Looking at its remnants as they rested on his countertop, an irritated frown formed on his lips. Striding forward, Archer walked out of the door and into the hall.

*
      
*
      
*

Novosibirsk, Russia

One hour later

TOROKIN WAS WAITING on the airstrip when the Vector hunters touched down. Having been briefed by EDEN Command on everything that’d taken place, his task was simply to wait for his comrades to arrive—in whatever condition they were in. With his hands shoved into his pockets beneath a blisteringly cold wind, the Russian judge approached the back of the transport as its rear bay door whined down. Standing at the back of the V2, packed in like sardines with the other stragglers retrieved from the ground at
Hami Station
, were Logan and his soot-faced team. Torokin had fully prepared himself for expressions of disgust, but when Logan and Chiumbo approached him with borderline smirks on their faces, the Russian judge angled his head curiously. “What?”