Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (87 page)

There was their ground op, indeed: a plan so simple it seemed too much so. It paled in technical comparison even to the
Battle of Chicago
. In light of what they’d been through lately, he’d take it.

“Well, then,” Scott said, standing by Natalie’s side as the final slide in the presentation was clicked off. “We all know the plan, we all know what’s expected. Let’s fine tune this thing.” Looking at the blond pilot, he said, “Come show us where exactly you were thinking about going in that Superwolf.”

For the next hour, they went over everything. They discussed Tiffany’s low trajectory over the Philippines and her plan to reveal herself to radar just north of Australia’s Gold Coast. They discussed the ever-critical synchronization of time, not only for Tiffany, but for those in the ground op. They discussed their method for entry—who would throw the first flashbang and who would bring up the rear. They discussed the various types of storage crates they might encounter. They discussed it all.

But more importantly than all of that, they discussed why this was the most crucial mission any of them had ever undertaken. The stakes were rehashed, then rehashed again, to no one’s complaint. They
needed
to beat that one to death. At no point could anyone afford to forget the big picture.

Then, they dismissed. With the final mission almost thirty-six hours away, it was time to start readying the troops. If they succeeded, the world would be changed. Regardless of what happened to them afterward, their purpose would be fulfilled. The dawn of destiny had long sunk over the western horizon. What faced them now was a whole new day.

Over the course of the day and a half that followed, the operatives of the ground op team spent time tying up loose ends. Beyond going over the plan, again and again, sometimes alone, sometimes with Natalie or Becan, Scott spent time talking to his comrades in recovery. He talked to Boris and William, reminding both men that in spite of their absence in this operation, they were both a tremendous part of what was going on. He expressed to them that if not for their actions, they’d have never gotten this far to begin with. He spent time with Max, who was just learning many of the details of what was about to take place. Scott made it abundantly clear to the technician that their next priority after the train heist was to locate and secure Svetlana and Tanneken.

Then, Scott spent time with David. Though he was aware of what David was going through with Sharon, Scott made no mention of it. This was David’s secret, not Scott’s to share, even with David himself. There was no benefit in letting his recovering friend know that the cat was out of the bag. As fate had it, none of it mattered, anyway.

That was because David told Scott.

The confession came suddenly in the midst of a lengthy conversation on life and what had led them all to this point. It was told to Scott with urgency, then relief, as if the topic had been an ache in the older man’s chest for some time. David expressed fear that Scott would think less of him for his troubles, particularly in light of the hard time David had given Scott over the his fall to the Nightmen. Scott assured David—and he meant it—that none of that mattered.

For the first time, Scott saw David’s emotional wall break down, as his older friend was overcome by fear that his children would grow up believing that their father was not only a lousy husband but a terrorist. It was a difficult moment for Scott, who had spent most of his time with David as the recipient of wisdom and sympathy, not the one who needed to give them. But he did his part, to the best of his ability and with the help of a quick, silent prayer for God’s guidance.

Ironically, Sharon’s desire for a divorce was motivated by a desire to “get her husband back” from the sojourn he’d taken to Russia. It was a threat intended to bring him home, not to be followed through with—or so David believed. As it turned out, David’s tenure with the NYPD had ended on a sour note for him professionally. Though David opted not to go into detail on the particulars of whatever it was that happened, he did reveal that innocent lives were indirectly lost because of it. An early retirement was offered to him, quite frankly, to push him out. David’s pursuit of EDEN was not for the betterment of mankind, but for personal redemption. It was better to retire an honorable soldier than a disgraced police officer.

It reminded Scott of David’s first encounter with General Thoor, when the late general made mention of David’s “mediocre” run at law enforcement. Thoor must have been privy to whatever details Scott lacked. Though Scott hoped that one day David would choose to share whatever it was that’d taken place, he knew it would not be today. All in all, despite the double heaviness that set in with both David’s disclosure and the realization of what loomed ahead for the team headed to Japan, Scott’s conversation with David was a good one. It was a needed one. It brought a small touch of humanity to a situation that had grown more numbing by the day.

Scott was not the only one with much to do prior to the operation. Upon the mission details being relayed to them, the other members of the ground op spent time with their respective partners on the mission, discussing both vague strategies and specific practices that might benefit them when the first gunshot rang out. And no partnership discussed their situation more intensely than Jayden and Esther.

The husband-and-wife, sniper-and-scout team ran each other through every potential scenario that could occur during the mission. What they’d do if the V2 was shot down before reaching the train. What they’d do if train security overwhelmed them. How they’d handle it if they simply couldn’t find the box with the device. They wanted to leave no possibility to chance. The goal for the two of them was simple: make it out alive. Make it out together. Don’t let their one week of bliss be their only one.

Despite Scott’s imploring Esther to make amends with Natalie for whatever wrongs the scout felt she’d endured, Esther waited until the evening before the mission to speak with her, in that way that was all her own. She apologized for her reaction to Natalie in Natalie’s first meeting with the unit. She explained to Natalie that she’d “never stop seeing” her as a “tart,” and that she’d continue to call her
Venus
as much as she “damn well sodding” pleased. Tit became tat as Natalie played the
Polyester
card, to which Esther only narrowed her eyes and glared. But at the end of the quasi-tense conversation, Esther assured Natalie that while she would certainly never like her, she wouldn’t outright try to murder her.

Progress was progress.

As for the rest of the “Outlaw Fourteenth,” as they had taken to calling themselves, their time not spent in preparation was spent simply in camaraderie, laughing and sharing what little time they had before the final mission began. Hours passed like minutes—and minutes occasionally like hours—as each operative watched the clock at his or her own pace, waiting for zero hour to arrive. Waiting for the end.

It could not come quickly enough.

Location: Unknown

Time: Unknown

SVETLANA WASN’T SURE how much time had passed since she’d fallen asleep next to Nagogg’s chair. Time in general seemed far less defined—and far less significant—in the vastness of space. Squinting tiredly as she awoke from her most recent slumber, she stretched her muscles as much as her clasps allowed.

The body of the slain Kalarael had been removed from the bridge shortly after the being’s murder, though Svetlana wasn’t sure what’d been done with it. Mishka had still not been returned to the bridge, leaving Svetlana to believe that the beast must have been back in its pen. She made a mental note
not
to look for extra blood stains or carcass parts when they sent her back to it. If Mishka had worked his jaw muscles on the slain Kalarael’s bones, Svetlana didn’t want to know.

A slight shuffling emerged from the hallway, behind the bridge door. Looking in the door’s direction, Svetlana watched as Ka`vesh walked Gabralthaar inside. The Bakma titan was wincing noticeably from the injury he’d sustained on board the Kalarael spaceship. As Gabralthaar leaned against a console, Ka`vesh approached Nagogg’s chair.

“There appears to be a projectile embedded in his left forearm,” Ka`vesh said, as Svetlana listened in carefully. “I attempted to remove it, though it only resulted in more pain.” The warrior looked back at Gabralthaar. “I hesitate to hurt him too much more.”

Nagogg grunted lowly in contemplation, though said nothing.

“Wuteel says that the Earthae female,” said Ka`vesh, nodding to Svetlana, “tended to one of his wounds on the battlefields of Earth. Perhaps she can tend to Gabralthaar’s wound, as well.”

A knot formed in the pit of Svetlana’s stomach. Tending to any of these monsters’ wounds was the last thing she wanted to do. It was quite the contrary: she wanted them to suffer as much as possible.

Rising from his chair, Nagogg pointed to Ei`dorinthal. “Connect us, slave.” The
click
came, and Nagogg walked around and knelt in front of Svetlana’s face. “Our warrior, Gabralthaar, is injured. You will treat him.”

The inclination to spit came, but she quickly thought better of it. For all she knew, it would be the Kalarael and not her that Nagogg would punish—for if the warrior was good at anything, it was finding a way to get his point across. There was little else the chieftain could take from her. Though she said nothing in reply to Nagogg, she didn’t challenge him. That was enough to prompt the chieftain to motion for Ka`vesh.

It was right then, as Ka`vesh was kneeling down with his magnetic key to unlatch Svetlana’s wrist and ankle clasps, that the thought popped up in Svetlana’s mind. The key. She was right there, looking at it as Ka`vesh released her. If she could see where he put it, she could…

…she could steal it.

Even as the idea came, the whispers of doubt began in her head. This was a task more befitting Esther, not Svetlana. How could she do it without being noticed? With scarcely any clothes, where could she even hide it? Stealing this from the clutches of Ka`vesh as he was right there with her, and while all of the other Bakma on the bridge were viewing her, was an idea that was utterly insane.

But what if she could do it? As Ka`vesh pulled her up with one hand, Svetlana watched the magnetic key out of the corner of her eye. The Bakma warrior placed it in a tuck of his tattered wardrobe—a makeshift pocket. It was
right there
.

Ka`vesh shoved her toward Gabralthaar, and she stumbled at the titan’s feet. As she hit the ground, it came to her. She knew exactly how this was going to work. Forcing her mind from the makings of the plan, she turned her blue eyes on Gabralthaar. Taking a step closer, she reached out for his arm. “Let me see,” she said.

Gabralthaar stared at her for several moments—almost as if weighing whether or not he could trust her—then slowly extended his hand for her to take. He breathed in uncomfortable silence as she moved her hands up his massive forearm until she reached the wound. It looked similar to a standard bullet wound. That meant the Kalarael used some sort of projectile weapon, like humanity did. Apparently, it was strong enough to cut through Nightman sentry armor. Interesting.

And easily treatable.

She knew the action she needed to initiate to have a chance at snatching the key from Ka`vesh. She knew how to go about doing it. The only hard part was physically pulling the act off. It was time to play the fool. Placing her hands close to the wound, she prodded around it ever so slightly—just enough to cause a wince from the Bakma titan. Just enough to make him wonder how much this would hurt.

Showtime.

“Okay,” she said nonchalantly, placing two fingers around the wound as if holding it open. Gabralthaar winced harder. “This is going to hurt.” She didn’t even wait for the titan to respond—she slid two fingers into the hole
hard
. The massive Gabralthaar roared. Withdrawing his wounded arm, he shoved Svetlana back with his good one.

Bait taken.

Stumbling backward in the kind of exaggerated way that a klutz would, Svetlana turned at the last moment to fall face-first on the floor by Ka`vesh’s feet. From the pilot’s chair, Nik-nish laughed.

“Pick her up!” shouted Nagogg, who spun to glare at Gabralthaar. “She was warning you that it would hurt—can you not endure a weak Earthae female?”

Bending over, Ka`vesh grabbed Svetlana violently by her shoulders. Clutching his garments, she counteracted his movements with her own fledgling ones. In the midst of the brief—albeit frenzied—struggle to stand, her fingers slipped into the warrior’s makeshift pocket.

So many things had to go right for this to work. Her fingers would have to find the magnetic key. They’d have to close around it hard enough to pull it out. None of the onlookers could notice. And all of it had to happen in the span of about two seconds.

Starting now.

Sliding into the pocket, the tips of Svetlana’s fingers immediately touched something metallic and cold. That was it! It was the only thing that Ka`vesh had in the pocket. Darting ever-so-slightly deeper, she pinched the key with her index and pointer fingers. Flicking it up into her palm, she closed her hand around it. Ka`vesh hadn’t felt any of it. The key was in her possession.

A cold panic struck her as she drew the key out. She couldn’t hide it on herself—she was almost completely stripped. She couldn’t toss it somewhere for Ed to retrieve. Even if they didn’t notice the toss, which was wholly unlikely, they would surely hear the key clanking across the floor. In the split second that she had to make a decision, she chose the only route that came natural: hold onto it and hope they didn’t notice. Keeping her right hand half-cupped—not too loosely that it’d fall but not so tightly as to become obvious—she stood erect to face Gabralthaar again. The titan was glaring at her, his left hand clasped firmly over his right forearm.

For a second time, though much more timidly, she approached him. “Relax.” The word was just as much for her as it was for the titan. Her heart was beating like it was about to burst from her chest. That cold, metal key stuck out in her hand—she could feel every part of it. It felt ten feet long. What was she going to do?