Epic: Book 03 - Hero (47 page)

Rising suddenly from behind their cover, Scott swiveled his assault rifle to fire. The two Bakma came into view.
Die, you dreggs.
He pressed in the trigger.

Then she hit him. “Scott, no!” Esther’s body collided against his, and his aim was thrown off. A staccato of bullets tattered against the ceiling and wall. The Bakma covered their heads.

Scott released the trigger and the room suddenly went silent. As Egor and Auric turned the corner into the engine room, Scott’s focus shifted solely to Esther.

Her eyes were wide open. She wore a mixture of compassion and shock, the former for the state of his mind, the latter for what could only be the state of his face. She addressed him through both emotions. “Please don’t.”

Don’t kill the Bakma. She was stopping him from killing the Bakma—Bakma who’d willingly surrendered because he’d made them say
grrashna
.

All at once it hit him.
I almost did it. I almost cut them down, right then and there. I almost became a monster again.
He’d just saved Pelican Squad. He’d just overcome a Bakma ambush and captured a fully functional Noboat. Yet still the rage was inside him. It had almost overwhelmed all the good he had done.

“
Commander,” said Nicolai from the doorway. “The Noboat is clear.”

Esther stifled a horrified tear. She was still looking at his face.

Auric cleared his throat. “Most of the Bakma have surrendered—”

“
Then take them into custody, you noodle!” Esther screamed. She looked back at Scott, but he was already walking out of the room. He didn’t look at her again.

When Scott emerged outdoors, Captain Gabriel was standing with his men. The moment the Australian saw him, his mouth fell.

“
Scott!” said Svetlana, running his way. She’d returned to the battle scene, too. “Are you okay?” The moment she saw his face, her eyes flashed with an urgent new fear.

“
Is everyone safe?” Scott asked. As he said it, he registered his body’s pain for the first time. He cringed, stumbled forward, and fell.

The ground was not all that hit him. Something was in his head. His nausea and dizziness returned.

Something is wrong.

Svetlana pulled off her helmet and knelt. “Let me see you!”

His palms were burnt badly, and the rest of his body felt the same. But nothing hurt as bad as his face.

Svetlana opened her medical kit. “Tell me what happened.”

He felt around his eye. He’d been hit with the butt of a plasma rifle—he’d almost forgotten. That was when his cheekbone had trembled. The area around his eye was already swollen. He felt dizzy. “I’m fine,” he lied.

“
You are
not
fine!”

She smeared something slimy and cold into his face. He winced and shrunk back.

“
Stop moving,” she said, grabbing his arm. “This is cold gel. It will stop the swelling in your cheek.”

It felt colder than ice, and wet and disgusting. He clenched his teeth hard.

No sooner had she finished with the cold gel, she coated his forehead with another gel pack.

“
I’m not hurt there,” Scott said. The dizziness was becoming worse. He felt as though he was being connected with an alien, except to a much deeper extent. He felt as though he was beginning to float.

“
You are burnt,” she said calmly, taking another handful of the gel and rubbing it on his arms. “This is burn gel. You need a lot of gels.”

Gabriel watched from above. “Is there anything I can do?”

Svetlana looked at him. “Contact our Vulture—it is called the
Pariah
. Tell the pilot to land over here.” Gabriel acknowledged and moved away.

Svetlana glared at Scott. “That was stupid, Scott. That was
stupid
. You should not have done what you did.”

Stupid? Saving Captain Gabriel had been stupid? Capturing a fully functional Noboat was stupid? Scott disagreed. Lightheadedness struck him again, coming in waves, each one subsequently worse than the last. He began to lose awareness.

“
You have to be careful…”

He eyes started to roll back. His brain throbbed uncontrollably.

The next thing he felt was her hand cradling his head. When she spoke now, her voice was less scolding. It was soft and compassionate. “I know what you are feeling…do not be afraid. It is normal.” She ran her fingers over his hair. “When you awaken, I will be there for you. I will greet you with a smile.”

He wasn’t hearing her words. His mind had disassociated from everything around him.

Scott fell asleep right there on the battlefield. Svetlana held him long after the healing gels had been applied. She held him long after the operatives began to disperse.

Until the
Pariah
came to take them away.

28

Friday, November 18
^th
, 0011 NE

1155 hours

EDEN Command

Archer was sitting at his desk when someone knocked on his door. He answered immediately. “Come in.”

“
I can’t.”

The British judge looked up and sighed. Rising from his chair, he crossed the room and opened the door from inside. Every judge’s suite had its own security system. Doors could only be opened two ways: by an eye scanner or from whoever was already in the room. Of all the policies, protocols, and assignments in EDEN Command, it was the one thing Archer could never remember.

The Canadian Judge Rath was waiting in the hall. “The door.”

“
I know. I bloody know.” Archer motioned him in.

Rath scowled. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for days while you’ve been gallivanting with Torokin. Are you trying to recruit him,
too
?”

“
I’m getting him off our back. He’s as ignorant as he is obnoxious, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a threat. I have not come this far to have an ex-Vector mess it all up.”

“
What did you tell him after the meeting? Was it the truth?”

“
It was my truth. Not
the
truth. They’re close, but they’re not the same.”

“
That you spoke to him at all is risky enough.”

“
Speaking of Vectors,” said Archer, deflecting the subject, “I can’t talk to you for long. I have a conference call with Hutchin and Faerber in a few minutes.”

“
Hutchin and
Faerber
?”

“
In regards to placing his son.”

The Canadian judge sat at Archer’s table. “I’m surprised he’s not going to
Berlin
.”

“
Klaus doesn’t want him to. He wants him out of the battlefront—he’s a very smart man.”

“
Hutchin is a weasel.”

Archer didn’t smile. “Brief or not, we have business.”

Pulling a sprig from his pocket, Rath flicked his wrist. The sprig glowed to life. “Unscented,” he said, sliding it through his lips.

Archer watched the vapors for a moment, then sat down. “Malcolm spoke to Carol.”

Rath raised an eyebrow.

“
She understands.”

“
I knew she would.”

Archer leaned back, crossing his legs. “She gave me a name for our chief of security: Hector Mendoza. Have you heard of him?”

“
Yes, I have. He’s someone I’d have never thought of.”

“
She says he’s approachable.”

“
He’s pure scum. And yes, very approachable.”

“
He’ll be here by the end of the month. Inform Willoughby of his imminent transfer. Send him to
Sydney
.” Archer’s posture stiffened. “Tell me something about
Novosibirsk
.”

Rath frowned. “Uzochi found out how they’re getting their supplies. There’s no money trail because there’s no money. They get supplied from small towns and businesses, in exchange for ‘police’ protection. They have third party forges all over Russia. They run it like the mob.”

“
A Nightman police force,” said Archer. “That’s a crime deterrent if I’ve ever heard of one. Add it to the list of charges.”

“
I still fail to understand why
Novosibirsk
is so important.”

Archer squared his shoulders. “Because the Nightmen breed resistance. Resistance is contagious. I’m curing a pandemic before it begins.”

“
You do realize that after Europe,
Novosibirsk
won’t be the Council’s priority?”

“
Yes, I do. Europe was awful and ill-timed. But that doesn’t matter. The Machine is an obstacle that must be removed.” He examined his fingernails. “Pauling will not have the stomach to challenge Thoor. We shall wait until he retires if we must. According to Nharassel, we have two years.”

“
Two years? What else did he tell you?”

The Briton hesitated for a moment. “Some small bits of interest, but there’s a lot more he’s
not
telling me. I’m not sure he’s aware of how much I know.”

“
And how much do you know?”

Silence fell between them. As sprig vapors drifted through the room, the only sounds were of the ticking clock and air conditioning.

Finally Archer spoke. “I know time is critical. The Golathoch are sensing urgency and fear. I know no other species will get involved, at the risk of being next on the list.” He looked at Rath steadily. “And I know those points are moot if we don’t find H`laar.”

At the mention of that name, Rath sighed.

“
He isn’t at
Novosibirsk
,” Archer continued. “Wherever he is, he’s priority number one, even above Thoor. We are so close. Let us tie up these loose ends. Then all will come.”

Rath scratched his head and leaned back. His hazel eyes rested on Archer. “I’ll keep looking. We’ll find him.”

“
We must.”

The Canadian stood up to leave.

“
Malcolm and Carol will be returning shortly,” Archer said as Rath crossed the room. “I’ll see you again soon enough.”

“
Right.” Rath left, shutting the door carefully behind him.

Once again, Archer’s suite fell into silence. The faint clouds of sprig vapor disappeared, and his eyes drifted to his wall clock. His conference call was one minute late, but that didn’t matter. For some things, timing was of the utmost importance, but the call wasn’t one of them.

Reaching to the conference comm in the middle of his table, Archer input several numbers. After a series of rings, a man answered.

“
Hutchin.”

“
Hello, general, it’s Benjamin Archer.”

“
Ah, yes, judge! How are you tonight?”

“
Oh, is it night?” Archer asked, the corners of his lips curving up. “Over here, we’re never quite sure.”

* * *

Novosibirsk, Russia

At the same time

Judges Blake and June crossed the hangar. Their transport, a Vulture from EDEN Command, was ready to take them back home.

The afternoon cold was relentless. Snow covered the landscape in all directions; the airstrip was one of the few areas kept bare. Both judges were dressed in thick overcoats, earmuffs, and gloves. Even so, they shivered.

Blake and June were about to board when a shout stopped them, and they both turned.

It was a Nightman sentry. He was trotting toward them as fast as his armor would allow. He stopped several meters from the ship. “Judges, General Thoor requests an audience before you leave.”

“
He requests an audience
now
?” asked Blake. “After ignoring us for over a week?”

The sentry said nothing.

“
Well, by all means. Lead the way.”

The walk to the Citadel of The Machine was quiet. The sentry’s pace was purposely slow as he led the judges through the officers’ wing and down the hidden limestone stairwell to the Hall of the Fulcrums. While Blake had the look of a man who knew what to expect, June’s demeanor was far less confident. It was her first time into the underworld of Fort Zhukov.

Soon, even Blake’s familiarity came to an end. As they reached the end of the Hall of the Fulcrums, the corridor narrowed to the point where the flames from the wall torches could be felt. Their fragrance made the air oppressive. The judges stopped when they came to a set of wooden doors, and the sentry stepped aside to allow them to pass.

“
The general awaits,” he said.

Blake looked at him warily. “He waits in there?”

“
Yes, judge.”

“
What’s behind that door?”

“
The Inner Sanctum.”

Blake and June turned to the door. Besides the one who’d led them, there were two more sentries in front of it—one at each side. “Are we just supposed to walk in?” Blake asked.

No sooner had he said it, a groan of ancient wood cut through the tunnel. The doors swung open. Both judges stared into the lair of General Thoor.

Blake’s eyes followed the path of crimson carpet leading into the room. At the end of the carpet, ensconced in the dimly illuminated throne, sat Ignatius van Thoor.