Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (79 page)

Just before Scott gave Ju`bajai the order to sever the connection, Max’s voice timidly emerged again.
Hey…

Turning around, Scott raised an acknowledging brow.

Subtle, but there, a slight nervousness was felt from the technician. Whatever he was about to ask, he seemed almost afraid to.
Did, umm…
Again, Scott waited.
Did Flopper make it?

Warmth. As warm as he’d felt since he was under the Egyptian sun, Scott felt warmth. He couldn’t stop his smile from growing. “Yeah. Flopper made it.”

Is he…?

“He’s here.” Scott already knew what Max was going to ask. He looked over at Gavriil. “Can we bring him his dog?”

The look Gavriil shot him was not one of approval. When he saw that he was outnumbered, though, his hardness fell away. Sighing, he answered, “I have stressed the importance of Mr. Axen’s staying calm. You know the risks. And…” Trying as he might to stop himself from smiling, a faint one creeped out. “And you know the rewards. Decide what is best for your friend. The patient is stable, and my night nurses are in charge. I am going to
bed
.” Giving Ju`bajai a look that was as blatantly a request to be disconnected as there could be, Gavriil turned to start walking out of the room. His presence left the minds of the others.

“All righ’,” Becan said once the doctor was gone. Smiling, he moved for the door. “Sit tigh’, Max. I’ll bring in your little buddy.”

The whole while that Becan was out of the room, Scott and Max remained quiet. Though still connected by Ju`bajai, there was no transmission of thought or emotion—there was only a deliberate silence, as if the whole of them were bracing for an impact. Barely two minutes after Becan walked out, the need to brace was no more.

The instant Flopper entered the room, his four paws dug out on the linoleum. There was no need for Max to make a sound, nor for any of the other men to lead the East Siberian Laika to him. Flopper just knew.

Leaping clear onto Max’s bed in a moment that made everyone in the room go rigid, Flopper lay next to Max’s uninjured side as the technician’s arms wrapped around him. Max’s chest held its own as the dog’s tail whipped violently back and forth, thudding against the bed’s armrests as his tongue attacked Max’s face. Flopper looked so…so happy. So unabashedly, exuberantly happy. He looked like he’d found his best friend.

In that moment, the rest of the world faded away. In that potentially reckless moment, the only thing that mattered was what the bystanders beheld. His eyes closed, Max leaned his head forward as much as it was able in its tube-laden state, and he tightened his hold on the dog. Within seconds, he was shaking with silent tears.

Scott was tearing up, too. He couldn’t help it. It was impossible not to get pulled into this along with them. Looking briefly at Becan, Scott saw shimmers in the Irishman’s eyes. It was the same with the nurses.

Though Ju`bajai’s connection with them had long-since been severed, the group didn’t need the Ithini to know what Max was saying to his pointy-eared friend. Each choked-back sob, each tremble of emotion that surely would have made Gavriil Shubin cringe was,
I love you
.

For almost five full minutes, Scott and his friends allowed Max and his dog to have their time with one another. As risky as it might have been—and it most certainly was—the sight of Flopper’s excitement and Max’s uninhibited outpouring made the risk worth it. This was what Max needed, more so than any medical treatment. Maybe this was what the rest of them needed, too. Flopper was taken from atop Max without protest from the technician, as Scott and Becan led the dog out of the room together.

While en route to their respective quarters, Scott and Becan said little besides brief and insignificant observations on the obvious. Though both men were tired, their relative quiet went beyond that. They were affected. Lost in thought. And that was okay.

Nagoya
was coming. Antipov already had the mission’s gears turning. A meeting would invariably be held. A mission would inevitably be run.

This was a planet worth fighting for. It took nothing more than to see the love between a man and a dog to see it more clearly than ever. This was the human experience. This was Earth. If hijacking a train was what it took to defend that, then so be it. They were already wanted by the world. What more could EDEN possibly do?

It was time to start winning this war.

Sunday, March 25
^th
, 0012 NE

2106 hours

Norilsk, Russia

TIME.

It was so funny, the way time worked. Years—half a life—could pass in the blink of an eye. Yet when something critical loomed over the horizon, it felt as if time utterly stopped. Such had been the days leading up to their final mission.

Scott and the remnant of the Fourteenth and Falcon Platoon had spent considerable time together, discussing the events that had taken place and what was to come and getting to know each other as best they could in such a circumstance. Yet even with the exploration of this newfound camaraderie, time came to a crawl. Now only two days away from their scheduled train heist, Scott was waiting for the blur to kick back in. It had yet to do so.

The slowness wasn’t due to a lack of things taking place. It almost seemed as if every day brought some kind of new adventure—albeit, not the kind with explosions and weapons fire. There’d been the marriage of Jayden and Esther, which was feeling more like the right decision every day. So undeniable was the chemistry between the sniper and scout, it left many wondering why it had taken this long for them to couple up in the first place.

Though the first few days for “Jester,” as they insisted on being called, saw them understandably keeping to themselves in their room, the days since had been surprisingly normal. They ate with the group, they hung out, they discussed the upcoming mission. Scott was thankful that Jayden and Esther amalgamated back into the fold quickly. All hands were needed on deck—even those holding the hand of another.

That same amalgamation counted for the injured operatives from the Fourteenth, too, all of whom were slowly getting back into social form as the days passed. One by one, David, Lilan, Boris, and William were released from the infirmary. Though handicapped by various devices such as crutches, wheelchairs, and arm slings, they were, nonetheless, able to return to rooms of their own, though Gavriil instructed that they be rooms right next to the medical bay so his nurses could make proper checkups. Though the full recovery process would be long—and in some cases uncertain—for all of them, they could find comfort in standard quarters.

As far as Max went, no amount of medication could compare with the positive boost Flopper had given him. The dog practically lived in the medical bay, much to Gavriil’s chagrin, though there was little he could do about it. Every time the poor doctor attempted to shoo the dog out, he was rebutted with a dangerous growl and the baring of sharp canines. Flopper, affable pooch or not, was not leaving Max’s side without a fight. With the dog’s presence wholly defended by the nursing staff, Gavriil found himself on an island of hopeless protest. As long as Max was there, the dog was going to stay.

With Max unable to speak, the crew continually turned to Ju`bajai to provide a mental doorway into Max’s thoughts. The Ithini was pleased to oblige. As Scott had requested, Ju`bajai was finally given freedom that weekend to leave the confines of the medical bay, with one caveat: the medical bay was still her home. A cot and several pieces of furniture were moved into her quarantine cell, which looked more like a house of glass now. Ju`bajai was ordered to make check-ins to the medical bay at regular intervals, which the alien was happy to do considering the freedom she’d been given to wander.

The entire ordeal of Ju`bajai’s release had actually gone more smoothly than Scott anticipated. Not one complaint had been raised nor one hostility exhibited. Of course, there was a good reason for this. While the denizens of
Northern Forge
might have wondered about the dangers of Ju`bajai, there was
no
wondering when it came to the dangers of Valentin Lukin. Scott had read the release sent to everyone on base by Valentin in regards to leaving Ju`bajai alone. It hadn’t minced words. The punishment for approaching the alien in any hostile way was promised to be severe.

For her part, however, Ju`bajai did well. Despite the freedom she had in wandering the base, she spent a lot of her time on Level-3, simply observing the cafeteria. But even with those excursions, the biggest surprise was where Ju`bajai elected to spend most of her time.

The medical bay.

By the look of things, the only thing the Ithini truly wanted was the freedom
to
leave her cell, not necessarily
actually
leaving her cell. Beyond short trips here and there, a typical day for Ju`bajai was sitting in a chair in the same place she’d been quarantined, except with an open door that allowed her to leave whenever she pleased. It was a best-case scenario all the way around. Had Ju`bajai chosen to go wandering about people’s quarters and openly probing into their minds, Scott was sure there’d have been a lot more drama. If Ju`bajai’s freedom was to serve as a litmus test for the eventual freedom of Centurion, then Scott was pleased with the results.

But even with weddings, recovering comrades, and free-roaming Ithinis, the biggest surprise of all involved the reason they were at
Northern Forge
in the first place: Centurion. Simply put, the Ceratopian’s recovery was remarkable. With every day that passed, the massive beast grew stronger and stronger, until one day—with no prompting of the doctor or warning from Centurion, the Ceratopian rose from his bed, yanked out his tubes, and stood. Thankfully, the event occurred during one of Ju`bajai’s check-ins, allowing her to coax Centurion back onto his bed before he injured himself, though the event prompted an immediate visit from Scott and Valentin. Upon their arrival to the medical bay and seeing Centurion for themselves, there was no denying it: within days, H`laar’s bodyguard would be back on his feet.

It was everything Scott could have hoped for. It justified everything they’d done. With Centurion up and able to communicate, they could learn everything they were meant to learn from H`laar. Gavriil did insist, however, that any serious questioning be delayed until the alien was back at full form, simply to avoid overtaxing him during the recovery process. Ju`bajai confirmed that this was a good idea, insisting that most of the relevant data had already been pulled from the Ceratopian, by her. As the Ithini explained, nothing gleaned from Centurion would tell them more than the contents of the device they were set to retrieve. There was no sense in prodding the alien’s brain too much—Centurion was exhausted enough as it was. Scott had no issues with this, and so Centurion was given full clearance to rest his mind until the device was recovered.

All in all, things were looking up, despite the monumental task that was ahead of them. After all they’d been through, the series of good events was downright invigorating. They’d all take it.

As for Scott personally, the week had given him plenty of time to reflect on a number of things, from the scope of the big picture to his own personal battles. No personal battle was harder to deal with than not having Svetlana. Though he was managing things as best he could, the marriage of Jayden and Esther made it incredibly difficult
not
to think about her. He found himself longing to be with Svetlana constantly. He was ready for the ambiguity of their relationship to end. He was ready to take her in his arms and kiss her. He was ready, quite simply, to
find
her. So much time had passed since she’d gone missing, and there were no leads anywhere. With Antipov going radio dark, getting updates from him was impossible. He only hoped that sometime during that stretch of time, the eidola chief had located her and somehow gotten her into the caravan headed to Chernobyl.

David, as he often was, was instrumental in helping Scott through it. During his numerous daily visits to David’s room next to the medical bay, Scott often found himself recanting to David his stressor of the day, only to have the older operative offer wisdom to help Scott deal with it. It was wonderful to have David back as a friend and father figure. The only disappointment was that it’d taken them so long to get back to that level. Yet delayed progress was still progress, and Scott wouldn’t complain.

Despite the improvements in his comrades’ recoveries, the lack of able-bodied operatives had left Scott with few people from the Fourteenth to associate with in what little free time he had. And though Jayden and Esther weren’t receiving medical treatment, Scott didn’t quite feel right about intruding on a recently-married couple. For this reason, Scott’s partner-in-crime to pass the time had become none other than Becan McCrae.

Truth be told, it was good to spend time with Becan on a one-to-one level. Since his promotion to captain of the Fourteenth, Scott’s time with the Irishman had greatly diminished. Time just became too rare a commodity. But here, with so little to do while planning wasn’t ongoing, Becan was the perfect counterpart. The feeling from the Irishman seemed to be mutual, so it was no surprise when two days before the train heist, Becan knocked on Scott’s door to gauge his interest in some mission preplanning. What kind of responsible leader would say no?

With tablets and pencils in hand, Scott and his Irish comrade sat against the walls in Scott’s room, scribbling down lists of various things, such as equipment lists and potential personnel groupings—sometimes collaboratively, sometimes quietly on their own. It didn’t matter that much of their time was spent in silence. It was just good to have someone else there to do something with. One of the “four transfers.” An original. Becan was, quite simply, the best company Scott could have hoped for.