Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (24 page)

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“That’s not the one!”

From the crawlspace beneath the
Pariah
’s troop bay floorboards, Boris could hear Travis shouting to him. Grunting as he shifted his belly-down position to reach his voltmeter, the Russian technician hollered back, “I have not done anything yet!”

In the cockpit, Travis leaned in to get a closer look at the transport’s digital readout. The pilot raised an eyebrow. “It shows a secondary line was just unplugged!”

Finally wriggling the voltmeter to where he was, Boris inserted the test probes into one of the main line inputs. “I did not unplug anything! It must be a glitch.”

Rubbing his hair with his hands, Travis blew out a breath and murmured to himself, “This thing sure has a lot of glitches.”

“All readings good!” Boris yelled from beneath the floorboards. “The problem with the vertical thrusters is not from here!”

“If it’s not coming from there, where’s it coming from?” The question was asked mainly to himself, as Travis sighed and shook his head. Nothing about the
Pariah
ever made sense.

Immediately after waking up and eating breakfast, the pair of friends made their way straight to the hangar to do a thorough inspection of the damaged Vulture. Though it had taken its fair share of bullets in the dogfight with the Superwolves, most of the shots had merely hit metal. The only internal systems that were affected at all were the vertical thrusters and forward landing gear. Everything else—or what little there was in the stripped-down Vulture—checked out fine.

“I have power all the way from primary systems to thruster control!” Boris said. “There has to be a problem with the thrusters themselves.”

“But the thrusters weren’t hit,” Travis yelled back, rising from the pilot’s seat to walk back into the troop bay. He knelt down by the removed floor panel that Boris had crawled into. “It’s not getting a feed from
somewhere
.”

Pulling himself into view with a grunt, Boris pushed his mop of black hair from his face and looked up at Travis. “I checked everything from the housing connectors to the primary feed—there is power throughout.”

“That just doesn’t make sense. Could it be a damaged sensor?”

The technician shrugged. “Could be.”

“That would explain…” For a moment, the pilot fell silent in thought. Nodding emphatically and gesturing with his fist, he rose to his feet again. “Yeah, that would explain a lot. Maybe that secondary drop I just saw, too.”

Sighing, Boris said, “I will check the sensors.”

“If that’s the case, that’s easy. They might even have some spare sensors lying around here, somewhere.” Travis walked back into the cockpit and leaned over the controls. “What other systems run through those same sensors?”

“Uhhh.” For several seconds, Boris fell silent. “Autopilot?”

Travis bit his lip, half shaking his head. “But this thing is so stripped down,” he said once more to himself. “Hey, what about…” He cut himself off mid-phrase. “No, we don’t have that, either.”

“None of the bullets hit anywhere near the thruster inputs, so it would make sense that a sensor was damaged somewhere else!” Boris said. “I am almost to the panel. I will check and see.”

“Hey,” yelled Travis, “do you think it’s possible that she just jostled something loose with all that crazy flying she did? What if the problem wasn’t caused by a bullet?”

The technician’s grunts grew louder as he went deeper into the crawlspace. He was almost under the cockpit now. “That would be big coincidence! You have flown crazy sometimes and nothing has come loose.”

Rubbing his chin in thought, Travis said, “It’s possible something just loosened over time, and she gave things just enough of a jiggle to jar it free. Right?”

“Anything is possible!”

“I bet that’s it. I bet that loony blonde broke our ship.”

Beneath the cockpit, Boris laughed. “Small price to pay for saving our lives, no?”

“You know,” Travis said, “if we would’ve surrendered, we might not be stuck in this mountain hellhole. Do you have any idea how close she was to getting us all killed?”

“But I thought you said during flight that surrender was bad? You sound jealous!”

Travis’s eyes narrowed. “Jealous, my tail. What she did worked, but it was insane.”

“Sensor looks fine!” Boris yelled. Grunting, he once again contorted to reach his tools. “Let me look at diagnostic.”

“I kind of feel like…” The pilot bit his lip. “I dunno. I guess it’s hard to imagine anyone else flying this ship other than me.” He sighed. “But if someone’s gotta do it, I guess Tiffany isn’t half bad.” He placed his hand atop the cockpit dashboard, a sentimental expression appearing on his face. “You okay with Tiffany, old girl?”

Through a straining voice, Boris said, “Diagnostic looks good!” A moment later, a series of loud, metal-to-metal bangs emerged.

Sitting upright, Travis looked at the floorboard. “What the heck are you doing?”

Between bangs, Boris said, “When it doubt, beat it out!”

“You know, that doesn’t actually work.”

“First time for everything!”

Another series of loud clangs reverberated. The dashboard in front of Travis illuminated. His eyes widening, the pilot stared at the display. “Whoa, whoa! Stop!” The clanging subsided. “They’re on!” Cycling through the diagnostic display, Travis looked at the vertical thruster readout. “How did you…?”

“Ah-
ha
! One point for the technician! There is a loose connection in the sensor mount—we will have to take it apart to fix it.” Once again, he awkwardly moved back toward the troop bay. “You were probably right about it being loosened over time! So one point for us both.”

As the damage indicator lit up again, Travis frowned. “And, it’s out again.” There was a hesitation from below, as one final bang rang out. Vertical thruster control came back online. “Yeah, this is definitely not gonna cut it. That whole system needs to be replaced.”

“Maybe the ship needs to be replaced!”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”

Boris chuckled. “We will fly her as long as she lets us.”

“No doubt,” said Travis as he curled his fingers around the joystick, just for sentiment’s sake. “This ship’s been through hell and back on numerous occasions. We wouldn’t be the Fourteenth without her.”

His fingers emerging from the displaced floor panel to pull himself out by its edges, Boris said, “But we are not the Fourteenth, anymore. We are outlaws! Yippee pow-wow!”

Releasing the joystick, Travis rose from his seat to walk back into the troop bay. “We’ll always be the Fourteenth. And it’s
ki-yay
.”

“What?”

“Yippee ki-yay. A
pow wow
is what Indians do.”

The greasy, mop-haired technician climbed out of the hole. “If you say.” Once he’d emerged fully, Boris laid on his back and blew out a breath, staring up at the ceiling before closing his eyes. “That is a small hole.”

“All right, so, at least we figured out what the deal is, mostly.” Holding out his hand for Boris to grab, Travis yanked the technician up to his feet. “Now we just have to explain it to Scott in the best way possible come meeting time. Which means a lot of small words.”

“You think we will have a meeting soon?” Boris asked.

Travis nodded. “Hopefully. I’d imagine so. There’s a lot we have to talk about.”

Smiling, Boris said, “Good! I like meetings. We always leave them so happy.”

As the Russian walked toward the open bay door, Travis set his hands on his hips and stared at him from behind. After a moment of silence, he asked, “How can you be so relaxed right now? We’re the most wanted people on the planet.”

Boris pivoted to face his friend. “It is good to be wanted!”

“Not this kind of wanted.” His expression grew serious. “I mean it, man. What’s up with you?”

“I am happy to be alive. In
Cairo
, I thought I might not survive the escape. I have never felt so close to…whatever it would have been, death or capture.” His smile widened. “But we escaped. And now we are here.” As Travis approached him, Boris stepped down the rear bay ramp and waited for it to close. “I am not worried about what my family thinks. They know me. They will know that I would not do something that would bring so much dishonor to them or to myself. If nothing else, they will just pray for me or wish me well.” The two trekked across the hangar toward the doorway to Level-3. “All of my life, I have wanted to do something that matters. Now, I get to do that. It may not make any sense to anyone else, but this is exciting to me—this is the first thing I have done that is so important.”

Giving him a look as they crossed the threshold into the base, Travis said, “This isn’t the first thing you’ve done that’s important.”

“Perhaps not, but still nothing compares. This is big stuff! I am proud to be a part of it.”

At that, Travis stopped. Looking at the technician with an expression akin to awe, he simply shook his head and said, “That’s kind of an amazing thing to say.”

Boris tilted his head. “Is it? The world knows our names, friend! I know that in time, they will know that in what we did, we meant the best.” His grin returned. “Then we will stop being infamous and just be famous. Cars and women! Everything we dream for, right?” he asked, nudging Travis with his elbow.

Laughing a bit, Travis answered, “It’s gonna take a lot more than cars and women to make this one feel worth it.”

“In time, we will all be heroes. That is what I keep telling myself, and it makes me feel better. It will make you feel better, too.” Looking ahead again, Boris marched straight on toward the lounge. “I am going to look for a chess board—something to kill the time before the meeting you say we will have. Do you want to join me?”

“I think I’m actually gonna just head to the room,” the pilot answered. “Get my head right, figure out how I’m gonna present all this.”

Slyly, Boris smirked. “You should go visit Tiffany. I bet she would be happy to see you.”

“Pfft. If not for a pair of handcuffs and the need to rip the joystick out of my hand, she wouldn’t know I existed.”

“I bet she would! You two spent much time together. Perhaps it is I who is jealous of you!”

Turning to the elevator, Travis cast Boris a parting glance. “Go find your chess board. I’ll see you at the meeting.”

“I look forward to it!” Throwing his hand up in a haphazard wave, Boris marched away down the hall.

For several seconds after Boris disappeared, Travis stared at the empty hallway left in the Russian’s wake. Sighing quietly to himself, he murmured, “Thanks for the perspective, B. Always good to hear it.” Taking a step backward, Travis turned around and walked toward the elevator.

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A single set of doors. That was all that stood between Scott and the culmination of his efforts—from everything they’d endured at
Cairo
, from their initial insertion to their daring escape. From Krasnoyarsk to where they were now at
Northern Forge
. What lay behind a single set of doors would tell him whether or not everything had been worth it.

Centurion.

Though there were more reasons than just the Ceratopian to visit
Northern Forge
’s medical bay, the big picture demanded the alien be his primary concern. No one from the Fourteenth had been allowed into the medical bay the night before, when Centurion was in the most dire condition, and Scott hadn’t heard any updates that morning. He needed to know if H`laar’s bodyguard was still alive. Closing his eyes briefly as he drew in a breath, Scott exhaled slowly then reached out to press the door button. The door whisked open, and he stepped inside.

The medical bay was stark, typical of a room of its type with tile floors and white, painted walls. At the far left, just to the side of the door, sat Auric and Catalina. Panning left, Scott spotted Natalie and the rest of Falcon Platoon inside the quarantine cell. They all looked his way. A second quarantine cell was next, containing an alert Ju`bajai. At long last, as Scott’s inspection took him to the far right of the room, he found what he’d gone there to see: Centurion. The massive Ceratopian was lying atop a pair of beds that were pushed together and which looked barely capable of keeping the massive beast in place. Tubes and wires covered the alien’s body and a makeshift oxygen mask partially hid his face. He looked a total mess…but he was breathing. That Centurion had made it this far in as rough a condition as he appeared was a miracle.

There were two individuals inside the medical bay other than the injured and captive—a nurse in her twenties with a dark-brown pixie haircut, and the doctor himself, Gavriil Shubin. Though Scott had met Gavriil briefly the day before, the calmness of the room offered him a better chance to take the doctor in. The doctor was a tall, middle-aged man with short, albeit curly, russet hair. He
looked
like a doctor, right down to the all-business,
there’s-a-good-chance-I’m-smarter-than-you
look on his face. Rising from the desk he was sitting behind, the doctor raised an eyebrow. “Captain Remington, can I help you?”

“Yes, actually,” Scott answered. Hobbling across the room, he smiled cordially at the nurse as he passed her. She didn’t bother smiling back. “I was hoping to get an update on everyone.” Briefly, he looked back at the nurse. There was something about her eyes. They were dark blue and callous in a way that was almost familiar. Did he know this woman? His focus returned to the doctor. “Our guys.” Then to Centurion. “This big guy. Everyone.”

Gavriil’s mouth downturned. The only way Scott’s mind could interpret it was almost like a look of disappointment. Sighing in a manner that made no attempt to disguise itself, Gavriil’s eyes shifted from Scott to the nurse. “Marina.” He went on in Russian. “Tell him whatever he wants to know.” Apparently unaware that Scott could understand him, Gavriil returned his focus to Scott and continued on in English. “My nurse, Marina, will assist you.”