Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (90 page)

Through the cockpit glass, Scott saw Tiffany working the controls of her Superwolf. He had intended to give her a final thumbs-up before takeoff, however her sole focus seemed to be on the fighter—as it should have been. The time on the V2’s dashboard read 1911, one minute until zero hour, local time. One minute until those two aircraft lifted from their perches, drifted out of
Northern Forge
’s hangar, and took off toward the Land of the Rising Sun. One minute.

1912.

Go time.

“Let’s do it,” Scott said. Reaching up for the cabin mic, Scott pulled it down to his mouth. “Hold on, everyone. We are launching now, I repeat, we are launching now.”

Jakob blew out a breath. It looked like nerves. Pressing a button on the console, he set the rear bay door to close. Seconds later, the V2 was rising from the hangar floor as the sound of landing gear retracting whined beneath them. Tiffany’s Superwolf was doing the same. Once again, he looked at the fighter. This time, the blonde was looking back. A thumbs-up was offered, and she returned it.

That thumbs-up was going to be the last bit of communication between them until the mission was over. Wherever Tiffany was and whatever she was doing would be a total unknown. Whether or not she survived would be a total unknown. The same applied to her as it pertained to them. This entire operation hinged on timing and trust.

The V2’s nose swung toward the open hangar; the nighttime flurries of Norilsk’s neighboring mountains came into view. Tiffany’s Superwolf hovered into open space ahead of them, then pivoted and set off. His heart pounding, Scott leaned back and tried to stay calm.

Easier said than done.

The nighttime troop bay lights kicked in, illuminating the operatives beneath a deep, red glow. And just like that…they were off. The V2 drifted out into the night, settling into the low valley formed by the mountain ranges. With the transport’s TCV screen activated, Scott could see everything outside in false color, despite the darkness. A feeling of motion kicked in and the transport flew ahead.

There was a two-hour time differential between Norilsk and Japan, which meant the flight would last almost an hour, on the dot. It was more than enough time for everyone to get mentally prepared, but not quite enough for them to settle down. That was for the best, Scott felt. Just like having them experience the frigid blasts of snow from the mountains, Scott didn’t want any semblance of comfort to touch this operation. He just wanted readiness. To that end, Scott rose from the copilot’s seat to keep his own blood flowing. Stepping back into the troop bay as the ride smoothed out, he began the process of checking over his gear.

Scott had never fought with nonlethal rounds before, and there was something inherently disconcerting about loading them into his rifle. Just the same, he knew they were the right decision, and he credited Natalie for her adamancy in using them. Glancing Natalie’s way as she entered his mind, he was surprised to see her already staring at him and making no attempt to hide it. Rising from her seat, she gripped one of the handrails and walked to him. Though Scott assumed it was to say something, he was somewhat caught off guard when she didn’t. Eyes averting away from him as she came to his side, she simply scanned the rest of the troop bay in silence.

She and I are the commanding officers for this thing—she wants to make sure she’s seen with me.

Clearing his throat a bit, he broke the silence and asked, “How are you feeling?”

The captain inhaled softly through her nostrils. “Like I don’t know nearly as much as I used to think I did.”

He knew the feeling.

Looking Scott’s way again, Natalie said, “You do know that if we get there and nothing’s there to be found, I’m going to kill you?”

There was zero casualness in the statement—not a trace of jest. This was more than a threat. This was her giving him her word. He respected that. “If there’s nothing there, I won’t stop you.”

Her emerald eyes remained stoic.

“What if you find out everything I’ve said is true?” he asked.

Natalie hesitated. For a moment, she seemed to be searching him. Peering into him. Trying to figure out how she was going to answer. At long last, she did. “Then I guess I’ll apologize for what I did to your face.”

A soft laugh escaped from Scott’s lips. Feeling his cheek, where her fingernails had scarred him on the banks of the Suez, he said simply, “I look forward to it.”

“This an open meeting, or is it invite only?” The question came from Lilan, as the colonel made his way toward them.

Of all the people going on the operation, Lilan, Natalie, and Esther were the only ones not donned in Nightman armor. The fact was purely circumstantial, as Lilan
couldn’t
wear the black, full body armor with his arm in a sling, and there was simply no Nightman armor fitted for women. Instead, the three wore black tactical gear from Norilsk law enforcement.

“All visitors welcome,” Scott said in response to the colonel’s question.

Lilan nodded his head quietly. “Actually, umm,” he said, glancing at Natalie before casting his full attention on Scott. “I was kind of hoping to have a minute with you before everything goes down.”

A minute for what?
“Sure thing,” Scott said, looking at Natalie briefly.

“Sure,” Natalie said with more resignation than resolve. “I’ll be here if someone needs me.” Stepping away from them, the Caracal captain returned to her seat, leaning her head back against the hull and closing her eyes beneath the red lights.

Scott’s focus returned to Lilan. “What is it, colonel?”

“I never really got a chance to talk to you, son—not since you bailed us out of Krasnoyarsk. It kind of feels like you’ve been avoiding me a bit.”

Unable to look Lilan in the eyes, Scott looked away and sighed. He didn’t even know how to answer.

“So, have you been?”

Looking back at Lilan, Scott said, “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been meaning to talk with you, I just honest to God haven’t had time.” But there
was
a granule of truth to Lilan’s words. “With that said, though, yeah…maybe a part of me feels a little ashamed.”

“Son…”

Shaking his head, Scott said, “I’m not your son. And I’m not your Golden Lion. The task you gave me—to uphold whatever it was I was supposed to uphold—I’ve failed.”

“I’m gonna beg to differ with that assessment. What you’ve done, and I’m not talkin’ about the killing—that’s life, and that stuff happens when you get dealt a bad card—is to be highly commended. In spite of what happened to you and what you went through, you serve as the captain of a damn fine unit. And you are the only,” he pointed at Scott’s chest for emphasis, “the
only
man on God’s green Earth who could put together an operation like this, pulling together people like this, getting this all planned out. I mean, hell,” he said, looking back at Natalie, “it wasn’t too long ago when you took that girl as your hostage, and now she’s fighting for you.”

Scott wouldn’t go so far as to say
that
. But he caught the colonel’s drift.

The colonel looked at him again, just as Scott lifted his head. Sternness emanated from the old veteran’s steely eyes. “I am proud of you. What you’re doing, right now, is everything a Golden Lion would’ve been expected to do. You’re doing the hard thing. And whatever comes out of it, you’ve earned my respect.”

Hearing Lilan tell him that felt better than Scott thought it would. At the end of the day, Scott wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to make a difference in the right way. Though he’d failed more than he felt he’d succeeded, having the colonel tell him that gave him reassurance that there
was
hope for him. The world didn’t see that now—they saw a terrorist. But maybe someday that would change.

As the colonel patted Scott on the shoulder then returned to his seat, Scott looked at the golden horns of his fulcrum collar. Svetlana had done that for him to remind him that he was still someone whose heart was good. That he was still capable of good things. He would always be a fulcrum. He would always be a murderer. The taking of a life was too serious to simply write off and forget about. But he didn’t have to define himself as
just
a Nightman anymore.

Sitting back down in his seat, Scott mulled over the colonel’s words as the V2 continued to soar. It was time to stop living with the guilt. It was time to stop apologizing for who he was and what he’d done. It was time to be who he was capable of being—not only in deed, but in the heart. He wasn’t who he’d always been, but who he was now wasn’t bad. Sometimes he just needed to be reminded of that.

Leaning back against the V2’s inner hull, Scott closed his eyes. It wasn’t fatigue—just a momentary escape from the visual world. Time alone to seek clarity of purpose for an operation that demanded it. Physically, he was ready to go. It was time now to get his mind right. Japan was just over the nighttime horizon.

The destiny of the Fourteenth was right there with it.

Tuesday, March 27
^th
, 0012 NE

2209 hours

Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan

ANY TIME NOW.

Those were the words Jakob had spoken to Scott only minutes earlier. For the past fifteen minutes, the transport had glided through a mountain valley in Japan’s Nagano and Yamanashi Prefectures, cutting straight through the crescent-shaped country toward the Izu Peninsula. Beyond simply being the most direct route to the peninsula, the Nagano Prefecture offered the advantage of being highly mountainous and sparsely populated. If this operation went awry, it wouldn’t be because they came into it recklessly.

As the forecast predicted, a violent rain was falling outside the transport, tattering hard against the windshield and hull as the transport rocketed onward. Scott understood that there was a benefit to this, but it was hard to not shake that ominous feeling that accompanied the weather.

“Shizuoka,” Jakob said.

The Shizuoka Prefecture. Their target region. Inside Scott’s fulcrum armor, his palms were sweating.

Blowing out a nervous breath, the pilot looked sideways at Scott. “Three to four minutes.”

That was Scott’s cue. Turning out of the copilot’s seat, Scott stepped through the troop bay door. Beneath the dark red glow of the V2’s nighttime running lights, the operatives turned their heads to look at him. “Three to four minutes,” he said simply. There was no need to raise his voice or hype the moment. The crew knew what was about to go down. Scott slid his fulcrum helmet down over his head with a
click
. Behind the camera-fed visor, the red hues of the hull were replaced by TCV illumination. Silently, the others began doing the same, clamping on helmets and standing with readied weapons. Turning back to Jakob, Scott said, “I’m shutting this door.” The pilot nodded, and Scott closed the door between the cockpit and troop bay.

The truth was, Scott didn’t
want
to see the approach. He didn’t want the full scenery to come into view. He wanted to hear that clunk, to see that bay door come down, then to open that hatch that led into the train. He wanted surgical focus.

A swell came to Scott’s mind. Judging by everyone’s sudden pause and curious looks, it had come to them, too. Scott raised his hand to catch their attention. “It’s all right. It’s just her.” At the far end of the troop bay, Ju`bajai was sitting silently, her opaque eyes widened with focus. Narrowing his eyes hesitantly behind his helmet, he thought,
That is you, right?

Affirmative. All participants are connected.

And there was their solution to radio dark. Scott was thankful he’d had the opportunity to get everyone connected with the Ithini leading up to the mission, else the whole of the cabin might be keeling over and passing out. From what Ju`bajai had explained to Scott, she would be able to not only relay information through a wide-area connection, but also to ascertain who the messages’ intended targets were. That was important. Scott definitely wanted to be able to communicate with the alien privately if need be.

The V2’s velocity shifted abruptly, prompting Scott to grab hold of the support rail again to stop himself from falling over. They were making their move to intercept. Scott closed his eyes.
Let us do this, God. Let us get this thing and get out with no one hurt. Keep Tiffany safe wherever she is, too.
If the Valley Girl had stuck to the plan, then she’d already appeared on EDEN’s radar screens and was drawing their fighters away. Despite the confidence he had in her, he was worried sick—as he was certain the others were, too. If they made it back to
Northern Forge
and there wasn’t a Superwolf there waiting for them…

…he didn’t want to think about that.

Another shift in velocity came as the V2’s forward speed slowed dramatically. Its nose swung.

“Veck, man.”

The words were uttered by Tom, who was staring out of the porthole window nearest him.

“Here it comes,” Tom said.

Scott didn’t want to see it. Closing his eyes and holding the support rail with an iron grip, he waited for the landing. Another shift came, this one upward and accompanied by a burst of descent thrusters. Everyone in the troop bay was rocked in the same direction, but they held their own. Beneath them, muffled behind the hard tattering of rainfall, a new sound emerged like a mechanical roar. The train.

Close enough. Opening his eyes, Scott stormed through the troop bay to the back door, weaving through operatives with his hand on the rail to support him. This was
his
mission. He wanted to be the first outside when that door came down. Settling in between the pack of slayers—the first of the operatives going through the hatch—he waited for the clunk.

Another person fell in line beside him, jostling into him slightly as the V2’s vertical thrusters adjusted themselves. Natalie. Her chestnut ponytail dangled behind her tactical helmet as she glanced at him through her ballistic goggles before setting her sights on the door. Her assault rifle over her back, she waited with equal fervency.