Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (77 page)

Lifting its giant maw from the trough, Mishka looked at Svetlana and huffed loudly. Svetlana smiled a bit, though she had no idea what the gesture was supposed to mean. Perhaps it was wondering if she was going to eat. “The answer is
no
,” she said with a faint smile, just in case. “That is your trough. I will gladly eat calunod.”

Sputtering with its tongue, Mishka returned to its meal.

Svetlana sighed. So this was what it was like to be a prisoner of war plotting her escape. She was as confident as she could be that she would figure this out, despite the plethora of challenges that she faced. Tauthin and Kraash-nagun might have been comfortable abandoning all hope, but Svetlana had no intention to. Come hell or high water, she was going to get her freedom. Then, she was going to get back to Earth—wherever it was. Having that long-term goal was important. It gave her something to hope for.

Until that time came, however, there was little that Svetlana could do. Ultimately, her options would be limited to what the Bakma gave her, be it by their own arrogance or by simply underestimating her and slipping up. She was ready to take advantage of either.

Lying down on her side, Svetlana closed her eyes and exhaled a long breath through her exposed nasal cavities. Her face didn’t hurt at all now—her body having adjusted to the mutilation it had experienced and the beating it’d taken during EDEN’s attack on
Novosibirsk
. The biggest threat for her now was infection—but that would be tackled when it would be tackled. It wasn’t like there was a hospital in driving distance. She’d pray for her body to be strong then leave it to God. Despite Tauthin and Kraash-nagun’s urgings, she still believed in Him. Despite everything around her that screamed the contrary, she still believed He was working some kind of plan. He’d gotten her this far—He could keep her health intact for a little while longer.

Svetlana had no trouble falling asleep on the pen’s metal floor. As exhausted as she was, she could’ve probably fallen asleep on a bed of nails. No dreams of Nagogg haunted her mind as she slumbered. Quite the contrary, she had a bona fide dream of
Novosibirsk
. It was as welcome a reprieve for her mind as rest was for her body.

She held onto it as long as she could.

Friday, March 23
^rd
, 0012 NE

2004 hours

Norilsk, Russia

Two days later

THE CALL CAME to Scott just as he was getting ready for bed. Though brief, it was enough to prompt Scott to scramble to his closet, sling on his uniform, then bolt down the hallway to retrieve Becan. The frenetic nature of it was almost mission-like—but this was far more desirable.

Max was waking up.

Though the Fourteenth had been keeping tabs on the technician’s progress, visits to the med-bay specifically
to
see Max became less frequent each day. The sad truth was that, by and large, no one in the unit could bear to look at Max for any extended period of time without becoming depressed. To see him comatose and covered in tubes was gut-wrenching and emotionally deflating—and deflation was the last thing any of them needed to feel with the train heist looming over the horizon.

Gavriil Shubin had warned Scott the day before that he would start weening Max out of sedation—Scott just didn’t expect it to happen at eight o’clock at night. He was sure there must have been a reason and was eager to find out what it was. Right now, though, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that his friend was coming to—and
that
was worth leaping out of bed for.

The past two days had effectively reclassified what the Fourteenth—and Falcon Platoon, for that matter—considered to be normal. From the Falcon side of things, their thankfulness just to be alive and free to roam a place morphed into a growing sense of restlessness and bitterness that that place was
Northern Forge
. This was a unit that didn’t belong there. There was an ironic solace in knowing that their loved ones wouldn’t be interviewed on television alongside the families of the Fourteenth, but only because their loved ones thought they were dead. After all, the final resting place of Falcon Platoon was still the Great Dismal Swamp. For all they knew, their obituaries were already in the newspaper. But from top to bottom, their demeanors were miserable. Budding camaraderie with the Fourteenth only went so far in offering them a sense of calm. Simply put, they were getting fed up with being there.

In no member of Falcon Platoon was that more evident than in Tom King, who had even gone so far as to begin picking fights with some of
Northern Forge
’s staffers. The sense that Tom could be trouble had arisen in Scott’s mind the moment he met the man, but the last thing
any
of them needed was to fall out of the already-not-quite-good graces of the base. It was a long drop from the hangar doors to the bottom of the mountainside.

From the Fourteenth’s side of things, the unit had handled their sequestering at
Northern Forge
surprisingly well. Stronger than the pain of seeing their loved ones urging them to “come home” on the television was their determination to see this operation through to its completion and, ultimately, to clear their names. Though none of them had asked to be in this situation, none of them blamed each other for it. If nothing else, the two days of relative inactivity had given many in the unit a renewed sense of confidence. They were still alive.
Something
had to be going right.

Little had been seen of Jayden and Esther since their wedding. Valentin had cleared out a room for them at the far corner of the living quarters, from which the newlyweds had sparsely ventured. All in all, as shocking as their sudden marriage was, things seemed to be going well with it. The only negative was how it had affected Scott. He missed Svetlana more than ever.

Antipov still had heard nothing of Oleg and Svetlana’s whereabouts. As far as anyone knew, they’d just vanished. Scott didn’t understand it. With every day that passed, Scott’s heart grew heavier and heavier. He was starting to believe that the last moment he’d spent with her—that ridiculous moment in his suite, when she’d made a fool of herself for him only to be rejected—might have actually been their last. It was tortuous to even think about.

Though Scott was naturally excited about the prospect of having Max back with them in the land of the living, he was also acutely aware that Max was the Fourteenth’s last verifiable link to Svetlana. Prior to Oleg having her, she’d apparently been with Max to some extent. Scott didn’t know how much Max knew, but anything was better than nothing. He needed to find some kind of reason to hope.

Gavriil was standing outside the medical bay door, waiting for Scott and Becan as they approached. Despite the exhausted look on the doctor’s face, his countenance was not the first thing the two men noticed. What they noticed was the blood. His scrubs were covered in it. Immediately, a sense of dread came over Scott. What had happened?

Seeming to note their alarm, Gavriil held up his gloved hand. “This blood is not your friend’s—do not panic. A forge worker lost a hand today. It was a ‘gusher.’”

Scott sighed in relief.

“Before you go in there, there is something you need to know. Your friend is very scared. He is confused.” A frown crossed his face. “I did not call you here out of the goodness of my heart. I called you because, if he does not see a face he recognizes, I fear he may become aggressive.” The doctor hesitated. “Your friend is…stubborn.”

That was Max, all right.

Gavriil continued. “Please come in and help us calm him.”

“We can do that,” Scott said, looking at Becan as if waiting for him to offer the same assurance. “We’ll get him calm.”

The doctor nodded. “He will be unable to talk, so any effort on his part to do so will likely only frustrate him. He is only now realizing that he has a tracheostomy tube in his neck.”

Scott nodded. “Understood.”

“All right, then. Let us go.” Turning the doorknob, Gavriil stepped aside to allow the three men to enter.

A pair of nurses were at Max’s sides, each attempting to calm him as he fought against soft wrist restraints. The look on his face was pure panic. It was heart-wrenching. Scott glanced briefly about the room, his gaze passing over Centurion and Ju`bajai, the latter of whom was slated to be released the next day, before returning to Max.
Let him see you.
Sliding past another nurse, Scott stopped at the foot of Max’s bed. As soon as the technician saw him, his terrified stare stopped. It shifted from fear, to confusion, to slow realization. Max inhaled sharply through his nose and started to sit up. He was about to call out Scott’s name.

“Don’t even try,” said Scott, holding his palm out quickly but firmly. “Your throat is busted up—you can’t talk yet.” The technician listened, though the look of confusion remained. “You were…” There was no other way to say it. “You were shot in the neck.” Max’s expression was unchanged as Becan moved behind Scott and into Max’s view. Looking over to Gavriil, Scott said, “Get him a pencil and a tablet.” One of the nurses removed Max’s wrist restraints upon Gavriil’s order. His handwriting wouldn’t be pretty, but he’d still be able to write. Nodding, the doctor complied. Scott’s focus returned to Max, who was still staring in total loss. This was going to be hard.

“There’s a lot that I’m going to need to explain,” Scott said, “but before I say anything, I need you to promise to stay calm.” For Max, that would be a tall order—but the technician didn’t have a choice. “Nod that you understand.”

Hesitating for a moment, Max finally nodded once.

“Okay. Good.” At least he was cognitive. Now came the hard part. “This is going to be hard to believe, but you’re not in
Novosibirsk
. You’re in a base called
Northern Forge
, in the mountains next to Norilsk.” Squinting, Max cocked his head back in what looked like disbelief. At the same time, Gavriil placed the tablet and pencil close to his hand. Max looked at him briefly before turning his gaze back to Scott. “
Novosibirsk
was attacked. EDEN assaulted the base while my team was still in
Cairo
. It was a surprise attack meant to catch Thoor off guard.”

Fumbling around for the pencil and tablet, Max’s gaze broke from Scott as he awkwardly tried to scribble. The whole while Max wrote, frustration grew on his face. When the tip of his pencil snapped, he slammed it onto the floor.

“Calm down, man,” said Scott, moving to Max’s side to retrieve the notepad. When he looked at the words the technician was trying to scribble, his eyes narrowed with befuddlement. “Were…R…
Geg
?” What the? “Were R Geg?” Scott shook his head as he tried to decipher it. “Weave R…Glig?”

Rolling his eyes, Max wheezed in a way that seemed to want to say, “For the love of God.”

Perhaps I might be of service.

As the voice emerged in Scott’s mind, he blinked and stepped back with surprise. It took him a moment, but he realized where it was coming from. Ju`bajai. Looking behind him at the Ithini in the quarantine chamber, Scott saw that the being was staring directly at him. He hadn’t even heard her connection click. Nodding enthusiastically, Scott said, “Yes! Absolutely.” That would sure beat the left-handed chicken-scratch of a confused man. Scott looked back at Max. “Ju`bajai—umm, the Ithini here—is going to connect us. Let her do so.”

Max leered at the Ithini for a moment before hesitantly nodding his head. Drawing in a breath, he closed his eyes, only to open them suddenly a moment later. The connection was in place. There was no hesitation—Max’s disembodied voice came to Scott’s mind instantly.
Where is Oleg?

Blinking, Scott cocked his head. That was the last thing he’d expected Max to ask. “Wait, what?”

Where is Oleg? Does he have Sveta?

“Hang on a second. How do you…? How did you know that Oleg had Svetlana?” Hadn’t Max been shot before Oleg ever came into the picture?

The technician’s eyes narrowed.
Because he’s the dregg that shot me.

Scott’s mouth fell open.
Oleg
shot Max? As in…Oleg Strakhov? Was that why Svetlana had been in his custody? Because she’d been taken by force?

Upon seeing Scott make the face, Becan cleared his throat tactfully. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“He says Oleg shot him,” Scott answered without looking back. Becan’s eyes widened.

Gavriil shook his head. “He may be speaking of some dream he had while under sedation.”

Glaring at the doctor, Max said,
Tell this sack of scat I ain’t dreaming. I remember every vecking thing.

Ju`bajai’s voice resurfaced.
The fault may be mine.
Scott looked at her.
I spent time in his mind, searching his memory banks for the event that caused his injury. I may have inadvertently returned it to his awareness. What he says happened
is
what happened.

“If you knew that’s what happened, why didn’t you tell us?” Scott asked Ju`bajai angrily.

She simply stared back.
I did not know this was information you sought.

“Wha’s goin’ on, now?” asked Becan.

Again, Scott answered him. “Ju`bajai’s been jogging his memories. Snooping in them, basically.” He didn’t have time to recap every single thing that was said. “Can you just include everyone in on this?” Scott asked the Ithini, pointing back to Becan. “Becan and the doctor?”

Certainly.

“Get ready, guys,” Scott said. A moment later, the connection expanded.

Gavriil’s eyes widened as he took a step back, his face paling. “What is…?”

“It’s an Ithini connection,” said Scott. “You ever had one before?” Still gaping, the doctor shook his head. “Grab a bucket to puke in.”

A brief lull ensued, after which Max eyed his comrades.
Sveta and I were in the infirmary—I was just keeping watch over her, like we were supposed to do after we found out Thoor was using her as leverage. EDEN attacked, and we fled. We were halfway to the Fourteenth when Oleg showed up.