Epic: Book 02 - Outlaw Trigger

by Lee Stephen

  Galina laughed and looked at him. “You mean from General Thoor? I am certain.” Her gaze returned forward. “He was probably waiting there for them, like he always does.”

  Scott remembered well his first encounter with the general. He remembered the flight from Richmond. He remembered the pouring rain. He didn’t know what to make of the man they called the ‘Terror.’ If not for Thoor, Novosibirsk would have been overrun by the Bakma. Thoor and his Nightmen had saved them. But did that justify everything else?

  “It was terrible weather when you arrived, was it not?”

  Scott nodded absently. “Yes it was.”

  She chuckled under her breath. “That is little Novosibirsk tradition. Show them the bad first.”

  “Ha,” Scott said with a snort. “I’m still waiting for the good to kick in.”

  The hangar was packed. Wide-eyed rookies were clustered in every direction. Some stood alone, while others listened to the droning of their new unit leaders. Somewhere amid the controlled chaos, the Fourteenth’s new blood waited.

  Scott peered ahead as he and Galina tracked closer. Rain pattered against their umbrella, as their feet splashed the concrete below.

  “Is there a way this is supposed to work?” Scott asked.

  “I do not know. I have never done this before.”

  Scott realized it in that moment: he and his friends had lucked out. They had avoided the chaos of coming in with a graduating class. They’d come in as transfers. Just them, the technicians, and Thoor.

  It made sense that this class was so large. Over three thousand soldiers had been lost in the Assault on Novosibirsk. They had to be restocked. But was this enough?

  When they finally entered the hangar, Scott grabbed hold of a passing technician. “Are they separated by unit?”

  The technician stared at Scott for a moment. “English, no good…”

  Galina was quick to take over. After several seconds of what Scott could only assume was the Russian version of same question, the technician smiled and replied. Then he hustled away.

  “He says they have been put in unit order…so we are fourteenth from the left.”

  “Is it really going to be that easy?” Scott counted from left to right, until his eyes came to rest on two lone operatives, one man and one woman. They stood next to each other in the back.

  “That must be them,” Galina said.

  “It’s got to be.” He glanced to her. “You ready?”

  “Very much!”

  “Let’s bring them home.”

  He couldn’t help but wonder what the alphas were thinking. He wondered if they knew where they were. In the network that was EDEN’s bases, Novosibirsk was by far the worst. Its reputation was downright abhorrent. At least the rookies had teammates to greet them. “These guys have it made. We got turned loose the moment we got here.”

  Galina laughed as she kept by his side. “You turned out okay.”

  “Just okay?” he asked with a look.

  “Maybe a little better.”

  As the alphas drew closer, their features came into view. The scout was the first one he studied. She was a fair-complexioned black woman. Her mocha-colored skin complemented her chocolate bun to perfection, a bun that—despite its dampness—sat tidily in place. As soon as Scott and Galina neared her, she turned to regard them.

  Her eyes were large and brown, and they followed Scott with heightened timidity. She was tiny, and slender to match. She looked like a scout.

  The man beside her was large, but not huge. If Scott had the right pair, then this was the smallest demolitionist he’d ever seen. He towered above the girl, and he was still taller than Scott, but compared with William Harbinger he was average. His brown hair was almost too short to hold wetness—practically shaved—and he was as pale as a man could become. The two rookies were complete opposites.

  “Get your game face on,” Scott said.

  Galina gave him a funny look. “My game face?”

  “Sports reference.” As soon as they drew close, the alphas snapped to salutes. The girl’s was crisp—purposed; the man’s more casual. Scott returned a salute of his own. “Who do we have here?”

  The girl was first to speak. “Alpha Private Esther Brooking, sir!” Her voice was chirpy. It fit her small size to perfection.

  The man beside her smirked. It caught Scott off guard. “Alpha Private and Demolitionist Maksim Frolov, lieutenant.”

  Scott was impressed—Maksim had noticed Scott’s rank already. The smirk was unexpected, but he liked it. It was different coming from a rookie. “Well, Ms. Brooking and Mr. Frolov, welcome to Novosibirsk. I am Lieutenant Scott Remington, and by my side is Epsilon Galina Lebesheva.” As soon as Scott told them his name, Esther lifted an eyebrow. “We are part of the squad known as the Fourteenth. Do you two have all your bags ready?”

  “Yes, lieutenant,” Maksim answered.

  “Excellent. Let’s get you in for the night.”

  Unpacking was a pain. Scott knew this all too well; he’d unpacked twice. If anyone were to tell him that two homes were better than one, he’d beg to differ. He watched as Esther and Maksim slung their wet duffle bags over their shoulders. He was certain they wanted the same thing he had when he was in their shoes: a warm shower and a bed. He knew they’d get them both soon.

  “How was your flight from Philadelphia?” asked Galina.

  “Very good, ma’am,” said Esther.

  “Good. You must be tired tonight, yes?”

  “Yes ma’am, very much.”

  As they walked past the Pariah, Scott dipped his head toward it. “That’s our Vulture, right there by the corner. Whenever we get called for a mission, that’s the ride we take.”

  Esther noticed the tail fin immediately. The dog and name were impossible to miss. “Why do they call her the Pariah, sir?”

  Galina and Scott swapped a wry look. “We will let Travis tell you that,” Galina answered. “He is our pilot. I am sure he would be happy to explain it to you.”

  “Where are you two from?” Scott asked.

  “Cambridge.”

  Maksim grinned. “Novosibirsk.”

  “Novosibirsk?” Galina asked in a surprised tone.

  “Da.”

  A local boy, thought Scott. This was already his home. “This isn’t much of a jump for you, then?”

  “I live twenty minutes away from here, lieutenant.”

  “It’s a smidge farther for me,” said Esther.

  Scott turned to her. “Don’t worry about getting too lonely. Our captain’s from Britain.”

  Her smile grew large. “Fancy that, sir!”

  “He will love the new company,” Galina said. “We give him hard enough time as it is.”

  As Scott stepped out from the hangar, Galina lifted her umbrella and he edged beneath it. “You two don’t mind a little rain, do you?”

  “No sir,” Esther said as she followed. She blinked as the droplets hit her face. “I’m fond of water anyway. I feel at home.”

  Scott almost said something, but bit his lip before he could. The poor girl just had no idea.

  The journey to Room 14 was a wet one, at least for the rookies. Despite the rain’s lack of severity, it drenched them from head to toe. Scott found it amusing. It was good to be on the dry side of the spectrum. The stormy arrival was a rite of passage, and his dues had already been paid. As they stepped into the barracks, their wet shoes squeaked down the hall.

  “So you’re a scout, Esther?” Scott asked.

  Esther brushed the damp strands from her face. “Yes, sir. I’ve graduated with high results, in the upper twentieth percentile for all Type-2s.”

  Scott smiled. It was boasting, but it wasn’t arrogance. It was eagerness to please. “So what exactly does a Type-2 do?” He already knew the answer, but it gave them something to talk about.

  “Tactical observation, sir. We listen, we watch, and we report. We’re choice for sniper supplementation and tactical planning.”
/>   “We have a sniper in the Fourteenth. Delta Trooper Jayden Timmons. He’s from Texas.”

  “Texas, sir?”

  “Blue Creek.”

  “Shall I need to adjust to a slurry accent?” she joked.

  Scott chuckled. “He’s not so bad. I’m sure you’ve had your fill of southerners in Philadelphia.” Captain Williams was a southerner. Scott switched his gaze to Maksim. “You ever fought Captain Williams, Maksim?”

  “Da, lieutenant,” said Maksim, laughing. “He beat me quick.”

  “He beats everyone quick.”

  “Did you fight Captain Williams, sir?” Esther asked.

  “I did. I lasted about fifteen seconds.” Which actually wasn’t bad. There were more than enough cadets who went down with the first hit.

  Since Dostoevsky had taken Scott under his wing, Scott’s hand-to-hand prowess had soared. He didn’t plan on being a Nightman anytime soon, but he had to hand it to them—they knew how to fight. He wondered how he’d handle Captain Williams now.

  Within a minute, they stood outside the door to Room 14. Though water droplets fell to the floor, the alphas remained properly silent.

  “Here’s the drill,” Scott whispered. “Curfew for most units is 2100 hours, and we’re no exception. After nine, we expect lights out and lips sealed. Understood?”

  They nodded.

  Scott gripped the knob. “All right, then. Let’s be quiet while we slip inside. You’re on your own to find bunks. Just don’t wake anyone up.” He turned the knob, pushed the door, and slid into the darkness.

  Or where there should have been darkness.

  The room was lit up and alive with operatives milling about everywhere. Even Clarke was there, entertaining Boris with a game of chess in the corner.

  Scott stood in dumbstruck silence, as Becan pranced in his direction.

  “I’m guessin’ these are the new ones, then?”

  Scott was too stunned to reply.

  “Howyeh!” Becan grinned to Esther and Maksim. “Becan McCrae, pleasure to meet yeh both!”

  As the alphas stood in the doorway, the room’s focus turned to them.

  “Here at last!” Clarke said, standing from the chess board. Boris threw up his hands.

  “Captain, I checkmate you in two moves, why you leave?”

  Clarke ignored him.

  Scott leaned close to Becan as the operatives neared. “Why in the world is everyone up?”

  “The captain said we could stay up to meet the rookies! Tha’s grand, isn’t it?”

  It was grand, all right. Especially since Clarke had told him earlier to let the unit sleep. Somehow, Scott wasn’t surprised. After nine, we expect lights out and lips sealed. Understood? His own words replayed in his mind. So much for being taken seriously.

  “Hi,” David said as he extended his hand. Travis did the same. Esther and Maksim offered them dampened smiles.

  Becan pulled Scott aside as introductions ensued. “Esther’s a little vixen!”

  He immediately gave Becan a look. “Give the girl twenty-four hours before you try to bed her.”

  “Righ’. I’ll start timin’.” He checked his watch.

  The crowd parted as Clarke stepped through. “I’m delighted the two of you are here! When we learnt we were due for a demolitionist and a scout, we were ecstatic.”

  “We’re tickled pink, sir,” Esther said.

  “Bloody good to hear a real English accent!” Clarke beamed as the other men groaned. “Please come, and I’ll introduce you to the rest of our crew.” With that, he led the alphas away.

  “He’s kind of small,” Travis said, glancing to Scott.

  “What?” Scott asked.

  “Maksim. The demolitionist.”

  “He’s bigger than anyone else here,” Scott answered. “You don’t have to be a registered giant to be a demolitionist.”

  “Yeah, but still—”

  Becan cut in, looking to Travis. “Can you lug a mini-gun?”

  “Well…no—”

  “Then dry up. He’ll do bloody grand.”

  “Anyway,” Scott said, “when were you guys planning on sleeping tonight? Or should I not wake you up tomorrow morning?”

  “Please don’t,” Becan said.

  “I’m serious.”

  David chuckled. “Loosen up. We’ll be fine. Clarke already said we didn’t have to get up at six. We can sleep in for once.”

  “You never sleep in.”

  “I know.”

  “Righ’,” said Becan. “Well, I’ll let yis talk abou’ trivial things, like goin’ to bed an’ wakin’ up an’ all. I’m goin’ to show Esther the community showers.” Within seconds, he was on Clarke’s tail, as the captain gave the alphas the tour.

  David smiled as he watched Becan go. “So what do you think? About the rookies?”

  Scott slid his hands in his pockets. “It’s too early to think anything yet. They haven’t even unpacked.”

  “You working them hard tomorrow?”

  “Actually, we’re swimming tomorrow.”

  Jayden’s eyes shot wide open. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. Now stop whining all the time.”

  “Sweet!”

  “You working them hard Wednesday?” David asked.

  Scott laughed and shook his head. “Actually, Wednesday I’m running some passing drills.”

  “So basically, they’re getting the easiest military transition in history.”

  “Right.” And right David was. On their first day with Charlie Squad, Tacker had pulled a mission drill. “They’ll be fine. This place will show its face soon enough.” Something was going to be their reality check. The food, the weather, the Nightmen…something. No one got off at Novosibirsk unscathed.

  Scott glanced across the room and saw Becan. Unbelievable. He really was showing Esther the showers.

  “Thank you,” Galina said from Scott’s side. “For letting me come today.”

  “Thank you for coming, Galina.” He loved that about the epsilon medic. She was always doing her best. Always willing to do more. “But I think this is the part where I leave.”

  She smiled. “You are going to bed?”

  “Yeah. My work here is done.”

  She sighed and turned to Becan. “Then I will drag him away from Esther and gather everyone for sleep. Or they will all drown tomorrow from tire.”

  Drowning would certainly put an end to the swimming requests, thought Scott. “Night, Galya.”

  “Good night, lieutenant.”

  “Night everyone.”

  “See you tomorrow, Scott!”

  Tomorrow. Captain’s permission or not, they weren’t sleeping in. Not on his watch. At least not too much, anyway. Scott waved to those nearby, and slipped out of Room 14.

  It was funny how fast he’d adjusted to officer life. It was funny how fast his teammates had adjusted to him as an officer. It had slid into place like a glove.

  He was excited about tomorrow. He wasn’t crazy about admitting it, but he liked the pool, too. It was a nice change of pace from outdoor training.

  When he crawled into bed, sleep found him right away. He offered it no resistance.

  5

  Tuesday, August 2, 0011 NE

  EDEN Command

  The night met Judge Torokin with restlessness. As Monday rolled over to Tuesday, he laid still in the bed of his judge’s suite. Despite he and Grinkov’s earlier enthusiasm for vodka, neither man had left Torokin’s room drunk. They only talked of past battles and future issues, then solemnly retired to their rooms.

  It was politics that kept him awake. The banquet had rendered him bitter. This was a war. It was a war in which they had few answers to show for their roles. And they were bringing in more politicians. It made him sick.

  Torokin slid out of bed. Throwing on his official judge attire, he gave himself a brief look in the mirror. This was a war—a war in which he felt unproductive. There was only one thing he could think of
to do. The one thing he could do anytime.

  He could try to get answers.

  Torokin rarely visited Alien Confinement, despite the luxury of rank that enabled him to do so. He was more interested in other things such as tactics and movements and guns. But on occasion, he ventured inside—usually in the hours of night.

  There was too much that EDEN didn’t know. That upset him. He was a man who lived for the offensive, and an offensive was the one thing they couldn’t mount. They had no way to invade the aliens’ worlds. They had no way to challenge their space-faring fleets. They had almost no way of doing anything—except waiting, reacting, and readjusting in the aftermaths of the incursions. That thought made Torokin feel vulnerable. He hated it.

  As he stepped to the first security door, he eyed the camera above. The tired voice of a guard addressed him.

  “Please look into the retinal scanner.”

  Torokin did so, then waited patiently as the first set of doors opened. Ahead, two sets of similar doors remained closed. A retinal scanner, a hand sensor, and a voice detector: the three requirements to obtain entry. And if those were compromised, there were six armed guards at the inner doorway. When added to the fact that no one knew exactly where EDEN Command was, it was safe to call Confinement secure.

  As soon as Torokin had passed through the final two doors, he found himself inside the corridor. The familiar smell of sterility hit his nose.

  “Good evening, Judge Torokin,” one of the armed guards said in Russian. There was always at least one guard who could greet the judges in their native language. That was designed. “Can I assist you?”

  “No,” Torokin answered. “I know my way.”

  The guard resumed his place as Torokin stepped past.

  He knew he wouldn’t get answers from any of the aliens. At least, he’d get nothing new. They’d spoken to this same set of prisoners for months. There were only so many ways to ask the same questions. But that didn’t mean that Torokin wouldn’t try. At least he felt useful, even if it was only the false impression of true progress.

  A scientist hurried to meet him. “Good evening, Judge Torokin. Will you be speaking to a prisoner today?” The scientist was Puerto Rican, but spoke English.