Epic: Book 03 - Hero (62 page)

“
Hell yes!”
Max pumped his fists as the dog barked wildly. Max grabbed the technical kit, rubbing Flopper with his free hand. “Hell yes, Flopper! That’s your pilot!”

Together, they ran back into the Cruiser.

Travis got on the comm as soon as he had the
Pariah
leveled off. “Pelican pilot, you found that loose Noboat?”

“
Negative,” Seth answered. “We’re covering your ground crew. You all right?”

“
I’m all right.” Travis still fought with the stick, now gently. “She’s pulling to the right.” He engaged the left rudder to straighten out. “There’s not much I can do.”

“
I’m hot-dropping our ground teams. We’re wasting our time looking for an invisible ship.”

“
Copy that.”

There was a brief pause before Seth spoke again. “That was a corker of a recovery, mate. You’re going to have to teach me that one.”

For a moment, Travis didn’t reply. Then slowly, beneath the blood caking on his face inside his helmet, the Fourteenth’s pilot smiled.

Below, in the crashed Fifty-first Vulture, Svetlana finished working on her injured young man. He was as stable as she could get him.

Meanwhile, Auric—deeply wounded—had been mumbling half coherently to himself. Though his words had been slurred at first, he was now regaining his cognizance.

“
I will help you, Auric,” said Svetlana. “Just wait for me.” She was well acquainted with triage measures, and she now turned to the older man—the one she’d left suffering to attend to the younger soldier. When she saw him, her eyes widened. He was still alive. Without a second of hesitation, she dove to the older man’s side.

Auric watched her as he continued to mutter intermittently and feverishly. Finally, he grabbed an assault rifle from the ground and stumbled over to Becan. Despite his injuries, he rejoined the defense.

Further north, the battle around Varvara and the wrecked Vulture waged on. The Fourteenth’s trio of Nicolai, Derrick, and Boris were holding their own. The Forty-second’s able survivors formed a defensive that was sufficient to discourage most of the Bakma from wasting their time.

Varvara worked frantically on the critical man. He was suffering from numerous wounds, ranging from deeply lodged shrapnel to third-degree burns. The medic’s hands were full.

Hovering over Svetlana, Tanneken’s Vulture came to a stop. A pair of operatives hopped out of the already-open rear bay door and as the Vulture lifted away, they split between Becan and Svetlana.

The man who approached Svetlana was well-built. Tips of wavy dark hair emerged from his helmet. His voice resonated deep. “How many survivors?”

Svetlana didn’t look up. “Two in serious condition.”

The man got on the comm. “Two for transport.”

“
Acknowledged, Tristan.”

He abandoned her for Becan and Auric, strengthening their crippled defense. The other soldier—a Japanese man—had joined in as well. For the first time since their initial drop-off, Svetlana’s team had legitimate protection.

“
Take me to the Cruiser,” Tanneken ordered Gabriel’s pilot, Seth. She looked over at her soldiers. “Shavrin, Sokolov, get ready.”

“
Do you want to take one of my men?” Gabriel asked.

“
I do not need your men.”

Gabriel watched the Dutch woman walk away. Only when she was out of earshot did he lean over Seth. “I can bed her in two days. Name your price.”

“
Not a chance in bloody hell. Two hundred, no less.”

“
Fastest two hundred you’ll ever lose.”

Next to them, the heavyset girl rolled her eyes.

37

Friday, November 25
^th
, 0011 NE

1202 hours

At the same time

In the forward section of the Battleship, Dostoevsky, Viktor, and Egor had fought their way to a mechanical lift. According to Dostoevsky’s map, Captain Tkachenok was just beyond the lift on the second floor. They entered and began their ascent.

None of the Nightmen were substantially injured. All three, however, were low on ammunition, their resources having been drained by the combined resistance of Bakma, Ceratopians, necrilids, and canrassis.

As the lift carried them to the next level, Dostoevsky removed his helmet to wipe his forehead. Viktor and Egor studied his face.

The fulcrum leader’s eyes were tired and uncertain. Even as he replaced his helmet and shouldered his assault rifle, his body language spoke more than words. His chest was puffed high, his chin was down, and he clenched his rifle excessively tightly.

He was trying too hard.

The sound of projectile and neutron rays emerged as the lift reached the second floor. The projectile was coming from outside, where Tkachenok and his team had to be; the neutron was farther ahead. As soon as the door opened, the Nightmen dashed out.

Tkachenok was on his knees to their immediate right, firing furiously. Farther on, four Ceratopians returned a barrage of fire, using the corners of a three-way intersection for cover. Tkachenok’s team had far less cover. Restricted to the hallway that jetted out in front of the lift, they used its corner as their only source of protection.

The Ceratopians ducked back to regroup, and a momentary lull hit the scene.

Tkachenok had three others with him, all of whom struggled for breath. As soon as the Nightmen took over the defense, the EDEN operatives ducked back to reorganize.

Reloading his assault rifle, Tkachenok said to Dostoevsky, “Thank God you are here. We could not go down the lift—there was too much resistance on the first floor. The Bakma forced us to the second level.”

“
The first floor is clear,” Dostoevsky said. “We can ferry you out.”

Suddenly Scott cut through the comm. “Captain, it’s Remington.”

Dostoevsky fired down the hall. “Go ahead.”

“
Brooking and I are going after a stranded Fifty-first operative. As soon as we get him, we’re going to work our way to the third level. We can’t backtrack with Bakma behind us.”

Dostoevsky ducked out of the fight, and Tkachenok and his soldiers took his place. “What is on the third level?”

“
Esther says there’s a path to the roof. If we can get there, a transport can pick us up. She knows a safe route.”

A third voice cut into the conversation—Captain Gabriel’s. “You won’t be alone for long, Remington. I’m dropping off two of my best.”

“
Expect
heavy
resistance getting here, captain…”

“
Expected. We’re dropping them just ahead of the Bakma front, but it’s coming fast. They should beat it to your position by a minute or two.”

“
Remington,” asked Dostoevsky, “what do you advise from your position?”

Gabriel interjected, “Captain Dostoevsky, I’ll be en route to you shortly myself. We’ll help you move your wounded. No worries.”

Scott came across. “My advice is to get out. Take Tkachenok’s team back to the first level and get them out of the Battleship. Let Gabriel help you when he arrives.”

“
Our Vulture will be waiting outside,” Gabriel added.

After a round of acknowledgments, the channels were closed.

Dostoevsky stared at his gloved hands. They were still trembling. Not as badly as before, but trembling nonetheless. He clenched his gun harder, and the trembling stopped.

Across the battleship, Scott and Esther were on their way to Nijinsky. Esther hadn’t spoken since Nijinsky’s name had been mentioned. She simply stayed at Scott’s side.

Ceratopian resistance had been light, but the sound of heavier combat echoed down the halls. The large aliens had mustered toward the center of the first floor, as Esther had predicted, not far from the stalls. Esther kept a constant watch on their rear as they continued to press ahead.

The trek had been lengthy, and it was clear why Nijinsky hadn’t worked his way back: canrassis. Scott and Esther had encountered several, and between them, they killed the creatures. The feat would have been much more difficult alone.

“
Around one more corner,” Scott urged. He moved quickly, his assault rifle constantly poised. Esther affirmed. Hurrying forward, Scott rounded the bend and Esther followed suit, her own steps just as quick—until she saw Alexander Nijinsky.

There he was, hunkered down in a three-way intersection, outfitted in battered slayer’s armor. Esther went rigid. She watched him through the sky-blue tint of her visor, her eyes wide with disbelief, as if he wasn’t real.

Scott went to Nijinsky’s side, joining the slayer’s defense. Nijinsky glanced at Scott briefly before the Ceratopians seized his attention again.

“
Are they your only resistance?” Scott asked.

“
No. There are several more farther up the hall. I held them off with the threat of grenades. They will not use them in their own ship. I think they believe they can escape.”

Scott spoke through the comm. “Remington to Papanov.”

The moment Scott said his last name, Nijinsky jolted back, fumbling his assault rifle and nearly dropping it. He locked his stare on Scott’s nametag.

“
Papanov here.”

Signaling Esther, Scott continued. “We’ve got Ceratopians in our vicinity. If we fall back to you, they’re going to pursue. I’m sending my scout back. Nijinsky and I will hold them off here.”

“
Understood.”

Scott fired around the corner. “Esther, go back. Take them to the third level and get them to the roof.”

The scout hesitated, her eyes lingering on Nijinsky.

“
Esther,
go
!”

“
Yes sir.”

Scott positioned himself in front of Nijinsky, giving the Russian slayer a faceless stare. “How many Ceratopians have you killed?”

Nijinsky didn’t reply. He stared at Scott as if in some sort of trance.

“
Nijinsky!”

The slayer flinched and snapped to attention. “One—one or two,” he stuttered.

A neutron ray flashed past Scott’s head. Aiming his rifle at the nearest alien, he held down the trigger. Bullets peppered the Ceratopian’s neck. Scott ducked back to avoid fire. He checked his weapon and readied himself again. “One or two, huh? That’s gonna change.”

It took Esther a minute to reach Papanov again. Papanov’s injured commander was firing poorly from the corner of the security checkpoint; Papanov himself was doing only marginally better. Bakma stragglers had appeared from the hallways behind them.

Esther dove into the fray, firing both her pistols. A Bakma fell before the aliens doubled back.

“
Lieutenant Papanov,” Esther panted, moving for cover, “we’ve got to charge through that Bakma front. The maintenance shaft we need to take to the third level is thirty meters away.”

Papanov yelled over the sound of his rifle. “A maintenance shaft? Will we all fit?”

“
It’s a Ceratopian maintenance shaft—quite big enough.”

Projectile fire erupted from far behind the Bakma—beyond where Esther and Papanov were crouched. Almost simultaneously, an American voice proclaimed over the comm: “Ladies and gentlemen, the cavalry has arrived!”

Several Bakma stumbled into Papanov and Esther’s lines of fire. The two operatives unloaded their weapons and the aliens were gunned down.

From around the corner where the Bakma had emerged, two EDEN soldiers appeared. They ran backward, constantly watching their rear with their assault rifles aimed, even as they came within normal speaking distance.

Both were well-built men, though one favored height over brawn. The taller man, an American, addressed Esther. “This is the part where you thank us!”

“
There are at least twenty Bakma behind us,” interrupted the other soldier. He was decidedly British. “They followed us in.”

“
I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Esther said, “but you just came from the direction we need to go.”

Bakma reinforcements materialized from down the hall, thrusting Esther, Papanov, and the two new soldiers into another firefight.

The American was on Esther’s side of the corner. He shouted between bursts of gunfire. “There’s no way all twenty Bakma took the same hall! I’m guessing there’s six down there, tops. We can take six if we charge.”

“
What if you’re wrong?”

“
I’m never wrong.”

Esther looked at his nametag. When she read it, her mouth fell. “
Custer
? Your last name is
Custer
?”

The soldier fired again. “Yeah, so what?”

Esther fell back to the wall. “We’re all going to die.”

Back in the cruiser, David and Gavrilyuk—the woman from the Forty-second—frantically tried to open the still-sealed doors. David was straining to his limit to lift one of them. He pressed the full weight of his body against it, the veins in his neck bulging beneath his armor.

The sound of scampering paws caught their attention. They spun to the open exit hall, where a tail-wagging Flopper bounded in.

“
A
dog
?” Gavrilyuk asked.

Max burst into the room behind Flopper, a technical kit in his hands. “Get ready! We’re raising the doors.” Both soldiers grabbed their weapons as Max hurried to a control panel along the wall. Flopper stayed at his side while Max opened his kit and went to work.