Epic: Book 02 - Outlaw Trigger (37 page)

Dostoevsky eyed him. “Nicolai…I know.”

After a final look inside, Romanov left. The door was shut behind him, and Dostoevsky was once again alone.

He drank until he passed out cold.

* * *

Later that morning

The cafeteria once again bustled with life as the operatives of
Novosibirsk
took to its nauseous odors like cattle to a freeze-dried trough. At the head of the herd was Alexander Nijinsky.

The uniform he wore was of a dark texture. While its details—pockets, seams, and zippers—were plainly visible, only one characteristic screamed out above the rest: the upside-down crimson triangle patched over his heart. The reward for his loyalty to Thoor.

Slayers were the most common of the Nightmen, and while the horns of the fulcrums stole the spotlight, the slayers were the ones who muscled The Machine. Nijinsky’s unit—the Third—made no mention of the new suit of armor in Nijinsky’s locker. It was a generally accepted fact that when a man became a Nightman, he had ascended beyond other men’s opinions. It was best not to ask questions.

With the rest of the Third dispersed throughout the cafeteria, Nijinsky settled down with his tray near a table at the far end of the room. It was the same table he’d sat at when he first saw the girl—his unbeknownst gateway to knighthood.

Novosibirsk
was far from a melting pot. Over eighty percent of the base population consisted of Russians. When a member of another nationality joined its ranks, he or she was usually placed in a unit with others of like kind. Nonetheless, amid the constant chatter of Russian conversationalists around him, the occasional foreign language caught his attention. The culprits today were two men—one large and one not—who sat at the table directly in front of him. He was just far enough away to hear their words, and he was familiar enough with their language to understand them. They were Americans.

“
All I know,” said Derrick, “is that Ulrich’s not gonna let this go. He’s already put in three formal complaints to Thoor.”

“
Nothing’s gonna come out of it,” William said, shoving a spoonful of porridge into his mouth, then talking through the swallow. “It’s a Nightman unit, man. They had Ivan, and they still got that other guy.”

Derrick gave him a look. “Man, c’mon. The girl
commed the wrong unit
. There’s no way Thoor’s gonna let that slide.”

“
Wrong, wrong, wrong,” William said smugly. “I saw the report. The Fourteenth claimed it was equipment malfunction.”

“
Aw man, are you serious?”

“
Yep.”

“
That’s bunk.”

“
What, do you
want
that poor chick to get in trouble?” William asked.

“
Dude…
she killed half our unit
.”

“
Yeah, I know,” William shrugged. “But it wasn’t anyone that we liked.”

Nijinsky knew what they were talking about. Not the details, but he knew of the mission. Khatanga. It had been a Ceratopian assignment. His unit—the Third—almost got called in to clean up the mess that the Eighth and Fourteenth had left behind. But the task went to the First and the Fifth.

He took another bite as he continued to listen.

“
She had a rough enough time, man,” said William. “Did you know Scott slapped her?”

“
I heard it was more like a smack.”

“
Whatever. She’s probably scarred for life.”

“
Stupid girl.”

William waved him off. “Oh, leave her alone. She doesn’t need anyone else chastising her. A smack in the face from Scott Remington’s embarrassing enough—the man can’t hit worth a sack of scat.”

“
I don’t know about that. You seen him lately?”

“
I stopped watching them spar after Ivan died.”

Derrick harrumphed. “Well you ain’t seen nothing, then. Someone taught Scott how to throw down.”

Nijinsky smiled to himself as he listened on. He had heard of Scott Remington. Scott Remington was the Golden Lion; most people in
Novosibirsk
had heard of him. When someone like that joined a base, usually word got around. In fact, rumor had it that Remington had played a role in the
Assault on Novosibirsk
. Not a starring role, but a role nonetheless. That alone spoke of something impressive.

William shook his head. “I still can’t believe what happened to him. I just can’t believe it.”

“
You talkin’ about his girlfriend?”

“
Yeah, Nicole.”

“
I know. It don’t seem right.”

“
It’s not,” said William. “I’ve barely seen him since she died, but he ain’t the same. It’s not just Khatanga, either. He even
looks
different.”

“
The guy just lost his
fiancee
. That kind of thing can mess a man up. I’m surprised he even went on that mission at all.”

“
I can’t even imagine what he must feel like. Especially since he knows one of them did it.”

“
I heard they think it happened while she was here in the cafeteria.”

Nijinsky stopped. His spoon hovered in front of his mouth, but it was frozen in place just centimeters away from his lips. He lowered the spoon, and turned his head the Americans’ way.

“
Someone’s gonna die,” said Derrick. “I know
I’d
kill someone if they murdered my wife.”

“
She wasn’t his wife yet.”

“
C’mon, you know she was gonna be.”

“
Yeah.”

Derrick took a swig of water. “I’d hate to be the lunkard who murdered her. That man has no idea what he got himself into. Scott’s mad like the devil.”

“
I hear that.”

“
That Nightman’s gonna
die
.”

Nijinsky dropped his spoon. It clanked against his plate as he flinched down to grab it.

“
All right, man,” William said, “this food sucks.”

“
Yeah…”

The demolitionist stood with his tray. “One of my friends from Alabama is mailing me some barbeque sauce.”

“
Are you serious?”

“
Like a heart attack.”

“
Oh man!”

As Nijinsky watched the two Americans leave, his fingers trembled on the table. Only seconds after the two men disappeared, he stood up, picked up his tray, and hurried out.

_{* * *}

Nijinsky’s palms sweated as he hurried down the Hall of the Fulcrums. He darted between the dim flickers of torchlight as his eyes searched frantically for the wooden doors of the Inner Sanctum. The dank odors of the dungeon headquarters surrounded him. As soon as he found the doors, he offered the sentries beside them a nod and reached out to push them open.

But the sentries didn’t nod back. As soon as Nijinsky reached for the door, they converged to impede his path. Before the new slayer could react, one of the sentries slammed a hand to his chest. Nijinsky was violently bucked away.

He stared in astonishment at the sentries. “You must let me in! I must speak to the general at once!”

The leftmost guard responded through the mechanical drone of his helmet. “General Thoor is not present.”

“
Where can I find him?”

“
That is not your concern.”

Nijinsky stood flustered between them. “You do not understand. I must speak to the general
immediately
. This is not a joke!”

“
Your presence has not been requested.”

“
I demand to speak with him. I insist! This is an urgent Nightman affair.”

The sentry stared through his zombified eyes. “If that were true, we would already know of it.”

Those were the last words the sentries uttered. Even as Nijinsky stared at them, they stood in unwavering blockage.

Finally, Nijinsky stepped back. “Then I will find him myself.” Turning around, he strode out of the Hall of the Fulcrums, leaving the Citadel of The Machine silent in his wake.

It was an overcast day, and there had been no real dawn. The sky simply grew fainter in brightness, through rows of puffy gray clouds.

Nijinsky hustled down the sidewalks of
Novosibirsk
, his eyes peeled in search of General Thoor. After a fifteen-minute walk of the grounds, he found the general near the easternmost fields. He was overseeing a series of drills involving a column of fulcrum elites.

Nijinsky wasted no time as he hurried over to meet with the general. Though sentries were present, there were none immediately by Thoor’s side, and Nijinsky was careful to maintain a safe distance. He waited for the Terror to address him. After several moments of indignant silence, Thoor spoke, his autocratic drone heavy and cold. “Why have you come to me, slayer?” He asked the question without turning around.

Nijinsky bowed his head in reverence. “General,” he said anxiously, “the woman that I killed…I believe she belonged to Scott Remington.”

Thoor was silent for a moment before he responded. “Do you take issue with that, Nijinsky?”

A frightened laugh burst from Nijinsky’s lips, then quickly subsided. “But he is the Golden Lion. He will
kill
me. They say he is angry like the devil.”

“
And this frightens you?”

For a moment, Nijinsky couldn’t offer an answer. When he finally did, it was only half of one. “No, general, I am not afraid, but…”

Thoor responded when Nijinsky trailed off. “You do not sound like a man unafraid.”

“
General…this is not an ordinary soldier. This is the American from
Richmond
. This is the one they say leads like a champion.”

“
I know who Scott Remington is.” Thoor’s voice firmed with his words. “This American champion concerns you?”

“
General,” Nijinsky sighed, “I did not know. I did not know this was the one whose woman I was to kill.”

“
If you had…would you have still killed her?”

Nijinsky hesitated. Several awkward seconds passed before he finally gave his answer. “Yes, general. I would have still killed her. I do not regret what I have done, I only…”

“
What is it that you want, slayer?” Thoor asked impatiently.

This time there was no hesitation. “Can he be moved? To another place, another facility? Or can they watch him? The eidola?”

The space around them was consumed in utter silence. For a moment, even the barking of the drillmaster seemed to fade away into nothingness. When Thoor finally spoke, his voice was decidedly clear. “You want protection.”

Nijinsky opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out.

“
Fear is not a luxury that you may be accorded.”

“
But why did you choose her?” Nijinsky blurted. As soon as he said it, he bit his own lips.

The atmosphere cooled. “It is as I have told you,” Thoor said. “You were given an invaluable task. Her loss was necessary.”

“
But what if Remington finds out?”

“
For your sake, pray that he does not.”

During the whole of their conversation, not once had Thoor’s eyes turned to meet him. His gaze remained icy, locked on the exercises and the fulcrum elites who performed them. He appeared almost statuesque.

“
Yes, general,” Nijinsky finally answered. “I will not let this concern me.” His voice vibrated as he spoke the words.

“
Leave, slayer. If you approach me again with such insignificant concerns, the wrath of the Golden Lion will be the least of your fears.”

“
Yes, general.” Nijinsky snapped off a salute.

It wasn’t returned.

As he retreated from the general’s presence, Nijinsky once again felt his palms become sweaty. His mind was almost paralyzed with paranoia. Nonetheless, he reentered the complexity of
Novosibirsk
‘s main grounds and made his way back to Room 3.

As had been the case since his transformation, Nijinsky was not approached by anyone in his unit—not even the unit’s Nightmen. There was little that scared him. He had always been that way, and that was why he had become a Nightman. He was not afraid of murder. He was not afraid of darkness. But now, for the first time in as long as he could recall, there was someone that he feared. It was someone more violent than he. It was someone whose bloodlust burned fierce. Fierce as a lion.

Fierce as the lion he’d struck.

19

Thursday, August 11
^th
, 0011 NE

1755 hours

That evening

Scott had been out of his room for several hours. They were hours spent wandering at loss. First he’d walked to the hangar. Then he’d gone to the infirmary. Then he’d paced the halls. He walked to run away—to cry alone.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept, and he didn’t care. There were too many thoughts in his head. Some thoughts had been there all day—those of Galina and Nicole. But other thoughts had slowly crept in since.

There was Esther. There were her tears as she trembled into David’s arms during Khatanga. There was the flinch in her body as Scott yelled.