The Glorious Becoming (45 page)

As the
Pariah
drew to closing distance, Travis, Max, Thoor, and his entourage abandonedNovCom for the hangar. A ghost was returning to its lair. The feral dog—and all of its secrets—was coming home.

Cold gusts whipped across the airstrip. Hands shielding his eyes from the blasts, Travis stared into the overcast, late afternoon sky. Watching. Waiting.

Then finding.

At first, the distant dots were indistinguishable, though as they neared, their outlines could be made out. The Vindicators of Gagarin Wing were stretched out across the horizon in a defensive formation. They moved forward slowly as they prepared for descent. And in the center of them all, guarded on every side, was the
Pariah
.

Hair standing on edge, Travis took a step forward. Max watched from behind. Even Thoor and his men seemed lost for words. The prodigal transport had returned. The Vulture that had redefined notoriety was now flying into
Novosibirsk
with a full fighter escort.

Engines whining, the
Pariah
about-faced over the airstrip. Its hull bore every single char mark and scar Travis could remember—badges of honor for the chariot of the Fourteenth. The dog on its tail fin, almost completely blacked out by scorch marks, snarled with animosity.

The hangar came to life.

“I want every computer system of this ship removed and searched,” said Thoor. “Take it apart piece by piece if you need to.” Moving forward in unison, a crew of technicians ran toward the transport as soon as it touched down.

“Piece by piece?” asked Travis, whirling around.

Max put his hand on Travis’s shoulder. “It’s gotta be done, Trav. That ship’s got some explaining to do.”

“But—”

“It’ll be okay.” Max’s own eyes hovered over the ship. “She’ll be okay.”

As the
Pariah
’s rear bay door lowered, Travis watched as a gang of technicians swarmed around it. Then she appeared. Virtually ignored by the technicians around her, Tiffany Feathers emerged through the crowd. Muddy locks of blond hair dangled over her forehead. She looked to be in a daze.

“Tiffany!” Travis ran toward her.

Searching at the sound of her name, she found Travis as he neared her. Jaw trembling, the female pilot broke down. She collapsed in his arms.

“You made it,” he said, talking as if he’d known her for years. “You made it.”

Sucking back her sobs, she pulled away and looked frantically at him.
“My friends!”
She tugged him back toward the ship. “We’ve got to go get my friends!”

Max put his hand on her shoulder. “Just calm down for now. We’re gonna go get your friends.” He looked at Travis sidelong. “Eventually. Maybe.”

“No,” she said vehemently, tugging Travis’s sleeve. “We have to go! We have to go
now
!”

“You’re not in any shape to do that,” Travis said.

She persisted. “You don’t understand!”

“
Richmond
pilot,” said an approaching pair of sentries. Before Tiffany could respond, she was grabbed by both arms.

“Hey!” said Travis. “Get off her!”

Tiffany was lifted off the ground, shrieking and kicking. They were dragging her away.

Travis furiously gave chase. “She just got on the ground! She needs water and rest!”

A fulcrum stepped in his way. “She is being taken to interrogations,” the Nightman said. “She will not be harmed.”

“Yeah, you’d like us to believe that, huh?” asked Max.

“You will be contacted if needed,” said the fulcrum.

No room was left for the men to protest. Stepping back, the fulcrum turned and followed the sentries. Travis and Max could only watch as Tiffany disappeared into The Machine.

23

THURSDAY, MARCH 15
^TH
, 0012 NE

1611 HOURS

“S
OMEBODY HELP
!” Kicking and scraping at the sentries who carried her, Tiffany screamed at the top of her lungs. The pilot’s face was covered by a dusty brown sack, forced over her head shortly after she’d been dragged from the hangar. She could taste the sackcloth in her mouth; its fibers touched her tongue every time she screamed.

“Somebody help me
please
!” Her words were tear-stricken, frantic. The sentries began a downward descent; Tiffany’s ears popped to adjust to new depths. The air grew mustier. One of the sentries spoke—a language she didn’t understand. His voice reverberated like a machine’s. She was violently thrust forward.

Hands freed, she ripped the sack from her head, whirling around just in time to see a stone door groan shut, slicing off the lone shaft of light that had been there. Darkness consumed her. Scrambling to the door, she pounded her hands upon its slimy surface. “Let me out! Somebody let me out!” Each syllable was accompanied by its own panicked heave. She pressed her forehead to the stone, her face locked with tears.

A dark blue hue emanated from behind her. The blonde spun around and shrieked. Someone was there. The light was just enough to betray his form—a cape and broad shoulders, and a visor hat that blacked out his face. He stood like a statue. Tiffany scampered backward into a corner.

“What is your name?” His voice reverberated off the stone—an emotionless drone.

Tiffany flinched. The voice repeated itself. Body trembling in terror, she answered, “Tiffany Feathers.”

Silence. The man looked at her, his visor hat turning slowly her direction. He didn’t seem to breathe.

“Please let me go,” she said, fingers grabbing the tangled hair by her scalp. The pilot’s lips quivered.

“What was your mission?”

“My mission?”

“Yes,” the voice said.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

The man’s tone never changed. “You were dispatched to a location in North America. What was your mission?”

“Noboats. We were called out to some Noboats.”

“Continue.”

She pressed harder against the corner. “We went to Lake Drummond. We got intercepted by some other ships. Four Vindicators and two Vultures.”

“The Vulture you arrived in. Was it one of them?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Yes, please let me go.”

Her pleas were ignored. “How did you acquire this aircraft?”

Pushing her hair back, she said, “They landed. We thought they were trying to find us. But they abandoned their ships.”

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know. They just went outside. I snuck on board, I was going to try and rescue my friends and fly us away. But the ship’s autopilot engaged.” Her breathing intensified. “I couldn’t turn it off, then I found that comm and talked to Travis—he said I was in his ship—”

He cut her off. “Were the operatives who tried to kill you from EDEN?”

“Yes!” She seemed eager to answer. “Yes, they were! I don’t know why they attacked—”

“Is your intent to destroy this facility?”

Tiffany blinked. “What? No...no!”

“Are you part of a conspiracy to destroy the Nightman sect?”

“No!”

“Remove your clothes.”

Silence struck the stone room. Tiffany’s mouth hung open. “W-What?”

“Remove your clothes.”

Panic hit her. “No, wait! Why do—”

The form moved. Its arm lifted until it pointed straight at her. The contours of a pistol glinted in the lighting. “You will remove your clothes, or we will.”

Breaths sharpening, she opened her mouth to plea once more. A shot rang out—the bullet ricocheted off the stone above her, she screamed and ducked down. Her words poured out amid heaves. “Okay! Okay!” Fingers shivering, she unzipped her flight suit. “Please don’t rape me.” She repeated the words between every sob.

The form said nothing, nor did it move. It remained statuesque, its pistol aiming straight for her head.

It took several minutes for Tiffany to completely undress. On the verge of hysteria, she threw her clothes at the man’s feet. She curled into a ball.

“You are now the property of the Nightmen,” he said. “You will not attempt to leave this facility. You will not attempt to contact any outside source. Failure to follow these rules will result in your termination.” At the conclusion of the words, he bent down and retrieved her clothes.

Lifting her head slightly, Tiffany watched as the faint blue hue faded away. The cell was pitched in darkness. From the back of the room, the sound of stone grinding against stone cut through the silence. The man’s footsteps stepped backward. Stone grinded again, then silence prevailed.

Arms hugging her exposed body, Tiffany exhaled in cold, shivering breaths. “Hello?” Her echo was the only response she received. Wobbling to her feet, she pressed against the wall, searching its damp, slimy surface for any kind of crease. Slamming her palms against the wall, she screamed as loud as she could.
“Someone let me out!”

On the opposite side of the hidden stone door, Thoor handed Tiffany’s clothes to one of the fulcrums beside him. “I want every piece analyzed for tracking devices. If any are found, contact me immediately.”

“Yes, general,” said the fulcrum.

“Clothe her, then assign her to the pilot.”

The fulcrum canted his head. “The pilot, general?”

“Navarro, from the Fourteenth. He brought her to safety—being with him will alleviate her fear. She has tasted terror. Now we will give her someone to confide in. If she possesses information, it will flow freely to him.”

“But general, what if Navarro defies you? What if he sets her free or aids her in contacting EDEN?”

“He knows better.”

Reservedly, the fulcrum acknowledged.

“Instruct him not to let her escape from his sight. She is not to leave, nor may she contact anyone outside of this facility.” Once again, the fulcrum affirmed. “Go.”

* * *

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

T
RAVIS WAS STILL
in the hangar, despite the sentry’s earlier instructions to return to Room 14. He hadn’t been able to tear himself from the scene around the
Pariah
. Technicians were hauling out entire consoles. The ship’s interior was being disassembled. As the ravaging went on, the color in Travis’s face continually drained.

A new sound emerged behind him: a woman’s screaming mingled with intense moments of struggle. Turning quickly, Travis watched as Tiffany was hauled back into view. Breaking away from the
Pariah
, he ran in her direction. “Hey! Let her go!”

She wore an EDEN uniform that was oversized. When Travis approached, the sentries pushed her toward him. The moment she made contact with Travis, she violently shoved him back.

“Get away from me!”

He raised his hands up. “Whoa, whoa! It’s okay!”

“Don’t touch me! Who are you people?”

“I’m not one of them!” He shook his head vehemently. “Do I look like one of them? I kept you alive, remember?”

One of the sentries approached him. “She is not to leave The Machine. She is not to contact the outside world.”

Blinking, Travis said, “Hang on, wait a minute—”

“Should she violate either of these rules, both of you will be terminated.”

“Why are you telling
me
this?” Then it clicked. “Wait, no! No way! You expect me to...?” Tiffany listened as the conversation continued.

“She has been assigned to you. You are to ensure she adheres to our orders.”

Travis’s face fell. “I can’t watch this girl! I’ve got a unit to pilot, I just got my ship back! You gotta give her to someone else.”

“She will remain in your custody until she is needed elsewhere.”

“Wait,” said a still-flustered Tiffany, “I’m to remain in his
custody
?”

“She must never leave your sight.”

Travis lost it. “That’s impossible, man! What if I gotta work on the ship? What if I gotta take a dump?”

“Make it work.”

“Make it
work
?”

Tiffany quickly backed away. “Hell no! I’m not gonna sit by this guy while he takes a dump!”

“See?” proclaimed Travis. “She’s gonna run off first chance she gets!”

“I am not here to give you solutions,” answered the sentry. “She is to remain with you at all times. Ensuring that happens is
your
concern.”

Travis threw his hands up. “How the heck am I supposed to do that? Handcuff myself to her?”

The sentry turned and walked away.

Pointing at Travis, Tiffany slowly stepped back. “You listen to me. I’ve been shot down, shipped to Russia, stripped naked, and interrogated by a creeper.” She slowly backtracked. “I am
not
staying with you! I’m going after my friends.”

“You can’t, Tiffany.”

“Watch me.”

“News flash! You’re in
Novosibirsk
. What are you gonna do, hail a cab?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve already stolen one ship today.”

“Look,” he said exasperatedly, “I know things are crazy for you right now—”

“You know?” Her volume rose; she pointed to the west. “I just watched my entire platoon get shot down! I just watched half my friends die, and the other half is still out there. And you think you
know
?”

He rolled his eyes.

She inhaled sharply. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I
didn’t
.”

She sneered back. “You totally did. You did like
this
,” she said, rolling her eyes in demonstration.

“What? I so did not!”

Her eyes narrowed scathingly. “You’re a sucky eye-roller
and
a liar.”

“Okay, time out. Let’s start this thing over,” Travis said. “I’m not your enemy. I’m not gonna try to shoot you, I’m not gonna try to strip you—”

“Hell no you’re not gonna
strip
me!”

His hands flailed. “Stop! Just stop! Let me talk without interrupting—”

“You were talking about stripping me!”

“I said I
wasn’t
going to strip you!”

She yelled, “Then why’d you use that word if it wasn’t on your mind?”