The Glorious Becoming (71 page)

“Restrain her,” Scott said, pointing at Natalie before looking back at Boris. “You mean to tell me if they don’t have lights, they can’t take off?”

“Of course they can,” Boris answered. “But it will give us a little bit of lead time. But probably, they will just call other bases to come after us.”

Scott was floored. “That’s our whole plan of escape?”

Throwing up his hands, Boris answered, “Get the tram, turn off the sprinklers, fly the ship! I do what I can!”

“Where is this thing taking us?”

“East. I do not even know.”

Scott’s mind raced. They couldn’t stay in the air for too long or they’d get blown out of the sky. But if they landed, they’d get assaulted on the ground. Hiding in a city wasn’t an option—they had a Ceratopian. If only they could get out of the ship without EDEN realizing it. At that instant, the idea came. “What’s the closest body of water to where we are?”

Boris looked at his map. “The Suez Canal.”

“Set the autopilot to take us right over it. Go low and set it to slow down and make a directional turn following the water. Program a lot of turns.”

“Umm, okay. Why?”

“Because we’re about to pull another Luxor.”

B
ACK ON THE
ground, Logan Marshall was running full-speed into the blacked-out hangar. He snagged the first EDEN guard he saw. “The ship that just took off from here, where’s it going?”

“What? Who are you? We are busy here!”

“Lieutenant Logan Marshall of the Caracals. We need to go after it!”

“We have ten thousand things we need to do right now!”

Grabbing the guard by the collar, Logan slammed him against a forklift.
“Listen to me! Captain Natalie Rockwell is on board that ship, she’s been taken as a hostage. Now shut up and get me in the vecking air!”

A
DJUSTING HIS COMM
, Scott ran into the troop bay and queued up the Fourteenth. “Scott to Travis.”

Seconds later, the pilot replied. “Travis here, sir. We’re leaving
Novosibirsk
airspace now.”

“Listen, here’s what we’re going to do. Boris is going to take us low and slow over the Suez Canal, then program the transport to fly eastward. He’s inputting course corrections and zigzags so that it looks like a human’s behind the controls.” Technically, a human wasn’t even behind the controls
now
. “All of us, Boris included, are going to ditch by the shore.” They couldn’t ditch too deeply; Scott didn’t know if Ceratopians could swim. On top of that, Centurion was severely injured. “We’re going to swim to shore and find a place to hide.”

“We’ll just come get you.”

“No, that would be
bad
! If you come anywhere near here, EDEN will track you. Stay away until we figure something out.”

Travis interrupted. “No one can track the
Pariah
now, sir. She’s just metal with an engine.”

“Travis, I—wait, did you say the
Pariah
?”

“Long story, sir! I’ll be happy to tell you about it later.”

And Scott was eager to hear. “You know what you’re doing, Trav. Did everyone make it out okay over there?”

There was a hesitation. “Not everyone, sir. No.”

As Travis’s paused came, Scott locked eyes with the rest of his crew. Esther’s mocha skin paled.

“Derrick is dead,” the pilot said.

The moment Scott heard Derrick’s name, a part of him deflated.
Derrick...
William had now lost two of his closest friends in him and Joe Janson. The demolitionist would be crushed.

Travis spoke again. “He’s not the only one, sir.”

Becan took over the channel from the
Pariah
’s end. “Max is messed up, Remmy. He couldn’t make it to the ship. Tanneken stayed back with him. Tha’s all we know.”

“He’s alive?”

“He was last we heard, but...it didn’t sound good.”

Worse and worse. Max was one of his closest friends. He suddenly felt sick. “Did everyone else make it?”

The Irishman sighed. “There’s no way to say it, so I’m jus’ goin’ to say it. We lost Sveta.”

Scott’s sickness was gone. It was replaced by pure shock.
“What?”

“We don’t know where she is. She was with Max, they were goin’ to leave with Tanneken’s unit. Tanneken found Max injured, but Sveta was gone.”

Esther covered her mouth with a fist. Her brown eyes settled uncomfortably on Scott.

Scott’s face turned crimson. “Turn around,
get back to The Machine,
and go find her.”

“Remmy, it’s not tha’ easy.”

Nothing was ever easy. They’d just broken a Ceratopian out of
Cairo
. “Listen carefully, McCrae. Turn that ship around, go back to
Novosibirsk,
and locate Svetlana.”

“Scott,” said David, jumping on the channel, “Yuri, Egor, and Varvara stayed behind to find Sveta. If the rest of us hadn’t left,
none
of us would be leaving.”

Inside, Scott was fuming. But he was as guilty as any of the
Novosibirsk
crew. He’d been willing to leave Auric behind for the sake of the mission. Now the shoe was on someone else’s foot. Grinding his teeth, Scott slammed his boot against the cabin wall with all of his might. Svetlana. He’d gone on this mission to save her. Because he loved her. And now she was gone.

“He’s gonna find her, Scott,” David said. “You know that.”

Jaw set, Scott said, “No, he won’t. I will.” With that, he closed the channel from his end. There was no doubt in his mind who had taken Svetlana. General Thoor. She’d been Thoor’s leverage against Scott from the onset of the
Cairo
operation—and Thoor wasn’t about to let that leverage slip away. If Scott had been Thoor, that’s what he’d have done, too.

Very gently, Esther touched his arm.

“Captain!” said Boris. “I have multiple ships leaving from
Cairo
! Fighters and transports!”

“Time to the Suez?” Scott’s voice wasn’t raised or emotional. It was low. Controlled.

Boris checked the nav computer. “Three minutes.”

“Cut it to two.”

Blowing out a breath, Boris went back to work.

* * *

NOVOSIBIRSK

N
OVOSIBIRSK
WAS GETTING
pummeled. EDEN now had full control of the outer grounds and main building. The push for control of the entire facility was in full swing, as the bodies of Nightmen who’d been overwhelmed were strewn across the airstrip. With The Machine’s defenses failing, EDEN’s forces set their sights on the Citadel.

In the midst of the pandemonium were Dostoevsky, Egor, and Varvara. Having escaped the flood of EDEN soldiers on the grounds, they were now sprinting full speed toward the Citadel themselves.

Dostoevsky knew that if Svetlana had been captured, the Nightmen were behind it. The dungeon of Fort Zhukov was the only natural place for them to have taken her. With EDEN soldiers—Vector Squad included—roaming the surface level and facility buildings, searching those areas for Svetlana wasn’t an option. He would have been gunned down on sight like all the other Nightmen. That would do Svetlana no good at all.

“Yuri!”

Stopping mid-stride, Dostoevsky looked toward the sound of his name. It was Antipov. The leader of the eidola was trotting his direction, assault rifle at the ready. “Iosif,” Dostoevsky addressed him, “I am looking for Voronova. Do you know where she is?”

Nodding briefly in acknowledgment of Egor’s presence, the gritty Antipov turned to Dostoevsky. “The general sent Strakhov to get her. She is being taken to Chernobyl.”

“Strakhov?” Dostoevsky’s faced flushed furiously. “Do you know what he would do with her? Do you know the things he has already done?”

“I know exactly what he would do. He would take her to Chernobyl safely. That is what has been ordered of him.” Antipov glared. “You know how I feel about Strakhov.”

Dostoevsky growled loudly. “It was not a good idea to send him after her, regardless of his orders! I must find him.”

“Chernobyl,” Antipov said. “Even now, the migration begins. Go there, find the rest of our brothers. You will find the woman as well.”

“What will you do?”

The eidolon held up his rifle. “I will join the ranks of EDEN here. When the time comes, we will take back what we have lost.
Novosibirsk
will always be our Machine.” He pointed behind him down the hall. “Go. There is time to leave this place, but do not move slowly. You will be killed on sight here.” He looked at Varvara. “Who is this?”

“Varvara Yudina,” Dostoevsky said, looking at the blond medic. Varvara looked terrified. “She is coming with me.”

Staring at Varvara warily, Antipov exhaled. “As you wish. Now go. You will find Voronova at Chernobyl. Speed be with you.” Nightman salutes were exchanged, and Antipov left them.

“Do you trust him?” Varvara asked.

“Iosif? He is the leader of the eidola. He speaks honey but has the bite of a snake. But he has no reason to lie to me now.” He looked down the hall. “If Sveta is being taken to Chernobyl, then we too must go there.”

Swallowing hard, Varvara said, “Perhaps you should comm Oleg. To make sure he has her.”

“You heard about Max. That means Oleg has her. It is better for us to surprise him at Chernobyl. If he knows we are after her, he will harm her to spite us.”

“I will tell the others.” She reached for her comm.

“No,” Dostoevsky warned. “Leave the comm channel clear. I do not even want the possibility of anything being intercepted.” Varvara did as told.

Gripping his assault rifle tighter, Dostoevsky listened to the approaching sounds of EDEN—gunfire, shouting, and death. They were breaching the Citadel. Soon they’d control all of
Novosibirsk
.

It was time for them to leave.

F
LANKED BY AN
escort of four sentries, Ignatius van Thoor weaved through the dank stone corridors that led to The Machine’s secret underground hangar. Marusich was at his side, receiving updates from the various sections of Nightmen that were still standing. Not terribly far behind them, the sound of chaos rifles reverberated. Vector Squad was on their heels.

“Is Saretok prepared to receive us?” Thoor asked through quickened breaths. Just ahead of them, the opening to the spacious hangar cavern appeared.

“Yes, general,” answered Marusich, “Chernobyl is ready.”

Their pace quickened; the hangar was before them. As they emerged from the stone corridor into the underground room, all six of them picked up their pace. The Noboat sat perched before them, powered up and ready for flight. Escape was imminent.

Suddenly, Marusich skidded to a halt. The fulcrum pointed toward one of the hangar’s control booths. “General!” Thoor’s eyes followed, where they found a cluster of bodies sprawled on the ground. Technicians. One of them was ripped completely in half.

“What is this?” Thoor asked, mouth hanging in a stupor. His attention averted as a sentry stepped out of the Noboat’s side door. “You! What has happened here?”

The sentry flinched as Thoor shouted. In the next second, the unknown Nightman raised his assault rifle and opened fire. Bullets zinged past Thoor as he ducked down; his own sentries moved in to shield him. Marusich returned fire. In the seconds that followed, the sentry by the Noboat was joined by a pair of reinforcements.

They were Bakma.

Motioning into the Noboat, Tauthin shouted through his mechanized sentry helmet. “Into the Zone Runner! Prepare for dimensional shift!” The two Bakma at his side, Ka’vesh and Uguul, withdrew back into the vessel. As bullets ricocheted around the Noboat’s antechamber entrance, Tauthin ducked inside. The door closed behind him.

Marching into the bridge, Tauthin barked orders to his makeshift crew. Squatting by the bridge entrance, their canrassi breathed through its wide, bloody jaws. Tauthin sat in the captain’s chair. “Shift
now
!” From the engineer’s station, Gabralthaar engaged the phase shifter. The bluewhite flashes began. Tauthin turned his head to the floor by his chair, where the battered blond medic was propped unconsciously. Facing the view screen, Tauthin narrowed his eyes.

Blue lightning bolts flashed through the hangar. There was a crack of something like thunder. The Noboat disappeared.

Holding his visor hat in place amid the rush of the Noboat’s thrusters, Thoor stared slack-jawed at the shimmering vessel before them. Even without seeing it in full form, it was obvious what the Noboat was doing. It was turning its nose toward the exit.

“How could this be?” Thoor asked in horror.

There was an eruption of gunfire behind them. Thoor ducked for cover once again as his escort of sentries opened fire. Within seconds, a tidal wave of chaos rounds shredded through the sentries’ armor. They fell to the ground. Thoor and Marusich were the only two left. Rushing toward them, their X-111s poised and ready, were a dozen men clad in purple and white.

Marusich made no attempt to open fire. Throwing down his weapon, he raised his hands in the air.

At the forefront of the Vectors, a man decidedly larger than the rest stalked forward. Behind the tint of his EDEN visor, he glared at General Thoor. There was no need for the man to declare who he was. Thoor already knew.

“I did not kill your son,” Thoor said.

The Vector reached to his helmet. Detaching its clamps, he slid it off his battle-scarred head. His blue eyes never wavered.

“Had I killed him, I would not have denied it. I would have announced it to the world. You
know
this. This has been a conspiracy!”

Reaching for his holster, the Vector withdrew his sidearm.

Thoor’s eyes widened as he held out his hand. “Wait, Klaus,
listen
!”

Those were the last words spoken by Ignatius van Thoor. As Klaus Faerber raised his pistol and fired, Thoor’s head rocked back violently. His visor hat flew to the wayside. The Terror of Amsterdam fell to the ground.

Marusich went rigid, staring through his faceless helmet at the body of the general.

Without a word, Faerber turned his sidearm on Marusich, releasing three shots into the fulcrum’s chest. The bullets tore through Marusich’s armor. He toppled next to Thoor.