Epic: Book 03 - Hero (44 page)

He closed the comm channel completely. Glancing both ways, he saw that his team had spread out. He gave them the signal to move on.

Dostoevsky’s team continued to trek through the bog. They were within sixty meters of the crash site, but still hadn’t encountered any Bakma.

Becan caught up with Oleg, leaving David alone at the rear. “I hate missions like this,” the Irishman grumbled.

“
They are not so bad,” said Oleg.

“
I hate bein’ ou’ in the sticks. Give me urban combat anny day.”

Varvara chuckled from Oleg’s other side. “Last time you were in the city, Becan, you got hurt. You are lucky to be alive now.”

“
I’d rather die in the city than in the middle o’ the bleedin’ woods.” Shouldering his rifle, Becan nudged Oleg. “By the way, guess who I ran into while I was in the infirmary? Vladimir Lennikov.”

“
Oh, really?” Oleg asked, still scanning the perimeter. “And who is he?”

“
You been here all this time an’ yeh haven’t met Vlad?”

“
Not yet. Was he a comrade?”

“
Not a comrade, really,” Becan said, slowing his pace. Oleg and Varvara continued ahead. “He’s been a lieutenant in the First for three years.”

Oleg froze.

It took a moment for Becan’s words to set in. But when they did, everyone stopped, equally paralyzed. At the front of the group, Dostoevsky went rigid.

“
Wait a minute,” Max said, turning to Oleg. “Weren’t you…?”

“
Weren’t you
in
the First before you came to us?” David finished the question.

Oleg opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Becan aimed his E-35 at the flustered soldier. “Don’t worry, Strakhov. Vlad didn’t remember you, either.”

Dostoevsky lowered his head.

Oleg laughed nervously and began to speak, but Becan cut him off.

“
I saw what yeh did in the federal building, in Krasnoyarsk. I saw yeh drop a half a dozen Bakma who got the jump on yeh without a second o’ warning. I know a little bit abou’ scrappin’.” His finger hovered over the trigger. “They don’t teach tha’ kind o’ thing back in
Philly
.”

Varvara took a step back toward Max.

“
But yeh know wha’, Oleg?” Becan went on. “I saw somethin’ even more tellin’ than your knack for reefin’ up aliens.” He narrowed his eyes with conviction. “I saw the look on your face. An’ it wasn’t the look we’re accustomed to seein’. At least, not from annybody in EDEN.”

Max made a time-out sign with his hands. “Hang on, back up the truck.”

“
Why’d they put yeh here, Strakhov? To make sure everythin’ went accordin’ to plan? To make sure Remmy fell into place?”

Viktor interjected. “Wait! What do you people try to say? That Oleg is eidolon? He cannot be. If he was, Dostoevsky would know.” He turned to the captain.

Dostoevsky was staring at the ground. When Viktor faced him, he lifted his head to match Viktor’s gaze. Even with his face hidden by his fulcrum’s helmet, his body language said more than words could.

Viktor gasped.

Oleg looked squarely at Becan, his caught-off-guard gape melting away. The glare that replaced it was brazen and clear.

Simultaneously, Max and David lifted their assault rifles.

Oleg shook his head. “You do not know the mistake you just made, Irishman.”

“
Save it for Thoor,” Becan said. “I assume you know him fairly well.”

“
Yuri, you knew this?” Max shouted at Dostoevsky. “You trashin’
knew
this?”

Dostoevsky had nothing to say.

“
All this time, Strakhov,” Becan said, “you were here. Sleepin’ in our room. Seein’ wha’ we were abou’.”

“
McCrae…” Dostoevsky said lowly.

“
It was to get Remmy, wasn’t it? It was to make sure he did wha’ yeh wanted? Everythin’ you told us in the lounge, abou’ the Murder Rule an’ how yeh heard abou’ it from a Nightman in the First. Tha’ was all part o’ the script.”

“
McCrae, stop.”

Max suddenly turned. He no longer aimed his weapon at Oleg, but had Dostoevsky alone in his sights.

The fulcrum began to speak, but Max cut him off.

“
I don’t wanna hear it, Yuri. You’ve been let off the hook long enough. I don’t care if you didn’t kill Nicole. I don’t care if you had nothing to do with Oleg. You still knew. You trashing
knew
.”

Dostoevsky raised his hands in defense. “Max, you must understand…”

“
Shut the hell up.”

Oleg’s glare stayed solely on Becan. “The repercussions you face cannot be imagined.”

The Irishman ignored his threat. “Did yeh murder Clarke, too? Were yeh clearin’ the ranks for your good mucker Yuri?”

“
I swear upon the throne of God, I will be the last voice you hear.”

“
Bite the back o’ me bollocks—you’re exposed. An’ we’re goin’ to tell every man, woman, an’
Nightman
who you really are.”

Dostoevsky interjected again. “There could not be a worse time to discuss this.” He looked at Max. “We are on our way to a fallen Vulture. There may be lives at stake.”

“
Yeah, ‘cos I’m sure yeh care abou’
tha’
.”

“
The captain is right,” said Varvara. “This is terrible timing. There is a ship, maybe with injured!”

Becan’s aim never wavered. “Drop your weapons, Strakhov, if tha’s even your real name.”

Oleg let go of his assault rifle. He relinquished his pistol as well.

“
Now step away.”

The eidolon complied.

“
Dave?”

David crept forward to claim the abandoned guns.

“
Lose the helmet an’ armor,” Becan said.

Oleg scowled. “You have already made your point.”

Becan’s finger tightened against the trigger.

The eidolon cursed and removed his helmet. After a minute of unfastening, his armor was discarded on the ground. His insulated clothing was all that remained.

“
Give me a reason not to waste yeh righ’ here.”

“
Becan…” David said.

The Irishman’s glare remained fixed. “There’s nothin’ I’d love more than to watch your brain hit the snow. Yours, then
his
.” He motioned to Dostoevsky.

“
Becan,
don’t
.”

“
Yeh set all o’ this up, Oleg. Yeh came to screw everythin’ up, you bleedin’ hoor’s melt.”

David’s voice grew more stern. “If you do this, you’ll be just like them.”

“
This isn’t murder, Dave. It’s capital punishment.”

“
I’ll take Oleg. I’ll watch him at gunpoint. There’s nothing he can do.”

Becan hesitated as the others observed.

“
Don’t become one of them.”

The Irishman lowered his gun. “If he sneezes, take off his head.”

Oleg turned his glare on David.

Dostoevsky spoke again. “Everyone please listen. This was terrible time for this to happen, but it has already been done. We must continue with the mission. We will take Oleg with us, without weapons.” He looked at the eidolon. “He will not cause a problem.”

David’s aim remained true.

“
We have not seen Bakma so far,” continued Dostoevsky. “If we are lucky, there will be none. Let us get to the crash site and help as many as we can. Afterward, we will deal with this. All right?” No one answered. “All right?”

It was Becan who broke the stalemate. “Righ’,” he said dryly. “Well, lead the way.”

Back in the forest, Scott and his team pressed on. At the rate they were moving, they wouldn’t get to the transport for thirty more minutes, but he didn’t care if it took thirty hours. The Bakma were calculating, and the more he thought about Esther’s idea that this was a hostage situation, the more he realized she was likely right.

The transport was within ninety meters, but still nothing could be seen. Only trees and snow covered the landscape.

Casting a sidelong look at the slayers, Scott continued ahead. Eighty meters. Several clearings loomed in the distance, but not to their visual advantage. He scrutinized them just in case, not only looking for Bakma but for any sign of a Noboat. Spatial discrepancies, noteworthy voids of snowfall—anything that could have been a dematerialized ship.

Alien technology was difficult to grasp. Bakma plasma weapons, though generally understood, were troublesome to dissect. Ceratopian neutron blasters were hardly neutron at all—the media simply took that one word and ran. They were more like ballistic reverse-gravity guns. Across the board, from weaponry to armor to mass-defying propulsion systems, alien tech was a mysterious realm.

But nothing was more puzzling than the Bakma Noboat. Nothing about their chameleon ability was understood; in fact, most things appeared contradictory. When they disappeared, they literally disappeared. From visual clues to radar detection, it was as though they ceased to exist. Yet they were there. Even when invisible, they possessed a kind of energy that affected the physical world, enough to be noticed if one looked hard enough. They were there, but they weren’t.

It all came down to one thing. In the engine room of every Noboat sat a massive pillar of pure, colorless quartz. No other alien vessel contained one. It was the crux of chameleon technology, but the science behind it was unknown. When a Noboat was shot down the crystal was always the first thing to go, and none had ever been recovered, nor had one been witnessed in use.

But at the moment, none of it mattered.

The crash site was within seventy meters. Instinctively slowing his forward progress, Scott went through a mental checklist. He had several grenades on his belt, his sidearm was ready, and he was prepared for close combat. No Bakma had ever been seen with suits of chameleon-based armor, but he was prepared for that just in case. He was ready for anything.

Sixty meters. His fingers twitched. Though his body was warm from his heaters, he could sense the cold all around.

Within fifty, Egor stopped. Scott caught the abrupt pause in his peripherals. “Commander,” the slayer whispered through the comm.

Scott motioned the others to halt.

“
The crash site. It is through the trees.”

Scott zoomed in again, but he couldn’t make out anything. Egor must have had the best angle. “I don’t see it yet. Anyone else?” No one replied. “Egor, tell me
exactly
what you see.”

“
I am too far to make out details, but I can see the Vulture on the surface.”

“
Did it dig into the ground?”

“
I do not think so, commander. I think it is mostly exposed. But I cannot see much.”

They would have to move closer. Scott was silent as he took in the woods.
Where are you?
The Bakma were out there somewhere—he knew it. His hand slid to his comm. “We’ve made visual contact with the transport.” That is, one of them had. “Travis, has anything been detected above the site?”

“
Negative, sir. Air chatter’s been nonexistent. They’re just circling around.”

“
Esther, what do you see?”

“
I’m a hundred meters east-southeast from your location. I’ve seen nothing yet, sir. There’s too much tree cover, but I am pressing forwards.”

“
No signs of Noboat activity?”

“
None yet.”

“
Keep in touch.”

“
Scott,” said Svetlana behind him, “if there
are
wounded, we must reach them soon.”

He resisted the urge to argue. She wasn’t telling him to hurry, she was just stating the facts. There was a fine line between speed and caution, and they were barely maintaining their balance. He adjusted his comm’s frequency. “Captain Gabriel, this is Commander Remington of the Fourteenth contacting Pelican Squad. We have attained a visual on your location. If you copy this transmission, please respond.” There was nothing.

He repeated his request. “Captain Gabriel, this is Commander Remington of the Fourteenth. We are approaching from the—”

He stopped. A chill ran down his spine. He let go of his comm.
Don’t tell them what direction we’re approaching from. Don’t even comm them again.
He gripped his assault rifle harder.

“
Scott, what is it, man?” whispered William.

Something was wrong—it was like a pricking at the back of his brain. His instincts were warning him. Slowly he pressed on. When he reached the thirty-meter mark, he finally saw the Pelican Squad transport. It had crashed nose-down in the snow, but it wasn’t a wreck. On the contrary, it looked like a decent landing, considering the circumstances. “Has anyone detected
anything
else yet?”

“
No, commander.”

“
Nothing, man.”

Scott scanned the area again. “Esther, do you see anything?”

“
I see the crash site as well, but nothing else.”

Scott grimaced. “Exercise extreme caution. Watch everything.” He put emphasis on every word.

Twenty-five meters. He could now see the craft well. They were approaching on a straight intercept course for the ship’s rear bay door. It was fully closed, and he wondered if it had power at all.