by Lee Stephen
David’s eyes slid shut as he clutched the lifeless fist. There had not even been any final words. The last sound Henry ever made was a scream of torment. David didn’t know what to say.
“Good work, men.”
The operatives swung their heads around to where Lilan stood shrouded in the intersection. His voice was completely neutral.
“McCrae, Remington—take Zigler and Mathis back to the ship. Jurgen, Carter—help me round up the necrilids’ corpses. Nothing stays behind.”
The four men stared as Lilan turned to walk away, though he paused a moment later as he glanced down at Zigler’s body.
“If you want to take a minute over there,” he said, “that’s fine. Just be sure you take one here, too.”
Lilan never said another word. There were no eulogies or tears of regret; he simply walked away.
The four soldiers gave Henry and Zigler their moments of silence, then did as told. They rounded up the corpses of the dead necrilids and placed the bodies of their fellow-soldiers into the Vulture. It took twenty minutes to secure everything for travel. They wasted no further time as the Vulture lifted off the ground, swung its nose east, and soared back home to Richmond.
Not one of them spoke on the ride home.
10
Monday, April 11th, 0011 NE
1956 hours
A fog fell over Charlie Squad. Upon their return to Richmond, Scott, David, Becan, and Michael reported the news of the fallen to the rest of the unit. Lilan did not accompany them; he retired to his quarters after the bodies were attended.
The squad received the news as well as expected. Sasha and Natasha reacted with tears, while others offered quiet condolences. All were in mourning.
In the first hours of the next morning, Charlie Squad was summoned to be debriefed. The mission was reviewed, and the operatives were advised how to better execute an operation of similar parameters next time. Nonetheless, Lilan considered the mission a success.
David and Michael were informed of their immediate promotion to beta private, after which the meeting was adjourned. The operatives left, as Lilan and Tacker went about their respective duties. The remainder of the afternoon was spent in somber silence.
* * *
It was 2100 hours when General Hutchin’s door opened and Colonel Lilan stepped inside. Hutchin was hunched over a letter when Lilan entered. “Have a seat, colonel. Thank you for coming in on such short notice. I know you’re not used to late-night calls.”
Lilan sat. “Sir.”
“Good job last night. The deaths were unfortunate, but that’s to be expected.”
“Yes sir, thank you.”
Hutchin exhaled. “No use beating around the bush. I didn’t call you in here for a debriefing. I have something else for you.” Lilan remained silent. “You know as well as I do that good soldiers are hard to come by these days. I will admit, I had my doubts as to whether or not you could adequately break in these operatives, and I must confess that you’ve done a superb job. Better than most would’ve.”
Lilan’s expression narrowed. The muscles in his arms tensed.
“We as a base are fortunate to have received such promising talent, I’m sure you’ve recognized this already. But not all of our international cousins have been so lucky…”
“No,” Lilan growled, “you are not about to tell me—”
“We got a request from Novosibirsk for operatives yesterday.”
“If you do this to me again, so help me God—”
“We’re transferring one of your sections. The one with Jurgen, McCrae, Remington, and Timmons.”
Lilan’s face flushed red.
“Quite frankly, you’ve done such a good job breaking in the new operatives that we’re going to make that your new role, at least for the time being. You’ll still run missions, but they’ll be mostly training missions for new arrivals on base, until we have a chance to place them in more experienced units. Richmond may actually be the new hub for rookies fresh out of Philadelphia.”
“I trashing knew it.”
“Tone, colonel, watch your tone. It’s hard to come by officers who have not only experience, but patience like yours. You’ll be training the future of EDEN.”
Lilan inched forward in his chair. “It was all a lie to keep me motivated, wasn’t it? All that talk of restoring Falcon and all that dung.”
“Brent, you know that’s not true.”
“Shut up! I’ve seen this happen before! You use us until you get enough new blood to put us on the bench. I knew this was coming when you gave me a unit full of rookies!”
“Brent…”
“What about Tacker? You want to move him, too? I’m just holding him back, right?”
Hutchin’s tone rose. “Colonel…”
“In fact, why not transfer me to Philadelphia? Put me in front of a classroom giving lectures on the history of EDEN!”
Hutchin pounded his fist on the desktop. “Silence! One more word, colonel, and you’ll find yourself looking for another career! If you were any other man, you’d have been relieved a long time ago!”
Lilan opened his mouth, but Hutchin interrupted.
“You are temporarily relieved from command until further notice. I will not tolerate disrespect, not from you, nor anybody else. You are to inform Major Tacker of the situation, and have him relay the message to the unit. He will have command of Falcon Platoon until I see fit to put you back in charge. Is that understood?”
Lilan broke eye contact. “Dregg.”
Silence descended upon the room. Hutchin’s eyes broke wide. “What did you just say?”
Lilan glared across the table. The room was quiet. “I said nothing. Sir.”
Hutchin’s face remained red. “That is what I thought you said.”
“Thoor is going to ruin those four men.”
“You’re dismissed.”
Lilan snapped to a salute. Hutchin saluted back, and Lilan swung around to walk out the room. He didn’t bother to close the door behind him.
* * *
“So much for bein’ the first to go,” said Becan. He, Scott, and Jayden sat across from one another in Room 421. They had been there for almost thirty minutes, as it neared 10 p.m.
Scott was stoic. “I still can’t believe how fast it happened. Two days ago everything was great. One mission, and bang. Blink of an eye.”
“It should’ve been me. If I had paid attention—”
“Don’t even think like that.”
“I’m bloody serious. I should have been payin’ attention.”
Jayden glanced to Becan. “It happens, man.”
“Won’t happen again, I cross m’heart.”
Scott sighed and turned to Jayden. “Be glad you weren’t there.”
“I wish I was.”
“Yeh don’t,” Becan said. “Not in tha’ hellhole.”
“It was like living a nightmare,” Scott said. “I didn’t even see anything first-hand, and it was still the most terrifying experience of my life.”
Jayden sighed. “I still wish I’da been there.”
Scott’s eyes trailed to the floor. Truth be told…it would have been better had Jayden been there. The comfort of a sniper at your back was hard to replace. “I wish so, too, actually.” Jayden smiled at Scott. “Nothing can be done about that now, though.”
“How’s Dave holdin’ up?” Becan asked.
Scott nodded his head. “He’s doing all right. He took it hard because of Henry…he liked Henry.” He pitied Henry. That was the truth of the matter. David had seen him for what he was…a man with no business being enlisted in EDEN.
“I think we all liked him,” Becan said. “Had a bloody miserable job, we’ll give him tha’, but he was tryin’ to do his part. Tryin’ to not be ordinary.”
Scott smiled half-heartedly. “I think that was his problem. He was here for the wrong reason.” Nobody could make themselves a hero. It was something that just happened naturally—instinctively.
Scott raised his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…do yeh think they were…yeh know, met by someone? Or did it all just fade to black? Their conscious mind just shut off, an’ now it’s just over?”
Jayden glanced to the Irishman. “You mean how did they die?”
“Righ’.”
Scott gazed down. How does one meet death? The question that was destined to haunt man for as long as he lived. What is death? Scott himself knew his fate. An afterlife was there, for him, in Paradise. God was there. But what about Henry and Zigler? Were they met by an angel…or something worse? Zigler…Zigler always carried an attitude. Angry, coercive, bitter. Who waited for him on the other side? It couldn’t have been God. There was no reflection of God in his life. God fueled goodness.
He shook his head. No. What was he thinking? How could he even speculate that, on the day of Zigler’s death? Fool, Scott. You’re a fool for that. You deserve to die for that. For a moment, he hated himself.
“…Remmy?”
Scott looked across to Becan. “Huh?”
“Yeh got this blank look on your face.”
“Oh,” Scott said. “Sorry, just…thought of something, that’s all.”
Becan fell quiet. “So how do yeh think they died?”
Forgive me, Father. Please forgive me for that. Scott’s gaze fell. “I hope in peace. It’s no one’s right to say. We can only hope that they found peace.”
“Yeh believe in Heaven, righ’?”
“Yes.”
“Do yeh think they made it?”
It didn’t matter what he thought. It only mattered what they thought, Henry and Zigler. It only mattered what they believed. “I don’t know.”
Becan gazed at his feet. “…I hope I make it.”
Scott stared at him. It had nothing to do with hope. It had to do with faith. Belief in God, divine mercy. Didn’t Becan know that? No…if he knew that, he wouldn’t have said what he said. Before he could say anything further, there was a knock at the door.
“Probably Dave,” Becan said.
Scott nodded as Jayden rose to answer it. David, Scott thought. The unit needed someone like him, especially in times like this. David knew about death, he knew about the loss of comrades. Henry’s death had hit him hard, that much Scott knew…but he also knew that David would pull through. It was funny how much faith he had in him. A month ago, the name David Jurgen had meant nothing to Scott. Now, it was synonymous with wisdom.
Jayden snapped to attention. Scott and Becan canted their heads to the door. It wasn’t David. It was Major Tacker. They leapt to their feet and saluted crisply.
“At ease,” Tacker said. He stepped past Jayden into the room and sat down in an unclaimed chair.
Scott’s posture relaxed, though not completely. It was impossible to be completely at ease around superiors, even those as amiable as Tacker. But why was Tacker’s countenance so…informal wasn’t the word. Blank. He just walked in and sat down. And said nothing.
Something was wrong.
Tacker stared at the floor and rubbed his neck. Silence hung in the air. Becan and Jayden stood side by side as Scott watched from the far wall. Before any of them could open their mouths to inquire, Tacker took a deep breath and spoke. “You’re all being transferred. So is Jurgen.”
Scott’s jaw dropped as Tacker resumed.
“Don’t ask me why, and don’t ask me what I think about it. You leave for Novosibirsk tomorrow morning at 0700, in Vulture-15. It’s already late, so I don’t have to tell you how soon that is. Get in your goodbyes, get your things packed, and get as much rest as you can. Morning comes quick.”
Tacker pushed to his feet. “That’s all.” Scott’s brow furrowed as the major left through the door and disappeared into the hallway. His footsteps echoed away seconds later.
The room stood in silence. There was no conversation. There was no argument. There wasn’t enough time for it.
The night was a blur. Becan and Jayden said their goodbyes, while Scott sought out David. Together, they called Nicole and Sharon. The calls were almost too brief to be fully registered. Several emotions—shock, panic, and disbelief—emanated from the two women. Even from the two men. But there was no time for that now. There was no time to try to understand. As soon as they hung up, they packed what few belongings they had into their duffle bags. Soon, Room 419 was as barren as the day they had arrived.
Scott and David spent the rest of the night in the hangar. Despite Tacker’s recommendation, sleep was impossible. They stored their bags in their assigned transport—Vulture-15—then made their way to Vulture-7. The Vulture they knew. They leaned against its hull as conversation ensued.
Neither knew specifics about Novosibirsk, though both knew of it. It was one of the worst environments for EDEN operatives on the planet. It was larger than Richmond, classified as a Class-4 facility, and it was one of the oldest in the organization.
Novosibirsk was home to the Nightmen—a defunct sect of the Russian military. It had been disbanded and outlawed for its brutality when the New Era began, though Novosibirsk became the landing spot for many of its former officers. The general of Novosibirsk—Ignatius van Thoor—was a former Nightman captain. When Thoor inherited command of Novosibirsk, every ex-Nightmen who had served under him flocked there to reunite. Though Thoor was unknown outside of EDEN, he was regarded within the organization as one of the most brutally effective leaders in the world. His men were proud to serve under him and terrified to stand against him.
It was five in the morning when Jayden arrived; his brown cowboy hat gave him away immediately. He joined Scott and David in conversation as soon as his belongings were stored.
Jayden was more talkative than usual, as he explained how the news of the move made him miss his hometown of Blue Creek. When he’d called his parents to tell them, they hadn’t believed him.
As they leaned against Vulture-7‘s hull, the reddish hue of sunrise peaked over the distant treetops. In the time the sun took to rise completely, the conversation died. Their eyes remained on the horizon, as their noses remained on the scent of a Virginian morning.
Becan didn’t arrive until 0640—twenty minutes before departure. His uniform and hair were unkempt as usual, and his wrinkled duffle bag slung sloppily over one shoulder. He tossed it into the transport and joined his comrades. He spoke next to nothing in the short time they propped themselves against Vulture-7 together. Even under the circumstances, it was an odd quiet from the Irishman. No reason was given as to why, nor was one requested. Silence was not to be argued.
Nobody was there to send them off when they climbed into the transport. No colonel, no major, no teammates—only the technicians and pilots as they walked about the hangar doing their routine checks. The operatives strapped themselves into the transport’s matted chairs and gazed out of the cold portholes of its hull. The running lights were lit, and Vulture-15 taxied onto the runway. As it rolled forward, Scott peered out of the window—a last look for anyone there to see them away. There was no one.
Clearance was given for takeoff, and the craft ascended. Scott hadn’t slept since Tacker’s visit, and fatigue finally set in. As they rocketed forward, he closed his eyes. He fell asleep right away, and David and Jayden were soon to follow.
Only Becan remained awake for the first half of the journey. He gazed out the window as the clouds glided past, his eyes lingering absently on the sky. He never once turned his head to see if the others were asleep. He only stared at the horizon, eyes distant and thoughtful, as he watched and waited for Novosibirsk.
PART II
11
Tuesday, April 12th, 0011 NE
EDEN Command
Carl Pauling, president of EDEN, nodded to the slender man across from him. “Proceed with your report, Judge Kentwood,” he said as he motioned for the man to rise. The other el
even judges watched Kentwood closely as he stood.
Kentwood covered his mouth with his fist and cleared his throat. “My fellow judges…we have a problem.”
A murmur spread through the High Command. Pauling’s gaze spanned the large, black, circular table, and the twelve men who sat around it—the twelve judges of EDEN. There were no others present in the conference room. There were no others allowed. Behind Pauling, a wall-sized display screen showed a gently rotating Earth.
Kentwood continued. “We’re all aware of the increased Bakma activity in North Asia, particularly in Siberia and Northern China. Our outpost at the North Pole has been assaulted several times in recent weeks, and though none of the attacks have been heavy, there has been significant damage to the facility’s structure, at least enough to force us to allocate our resources there more heavily.” Kentwood was eloquent in his presentation. He had always been that way. “It was feared for some time that the Bakma have been targeting the North Pole to clear it completely from EDEN influence in order to possibly establish an outpost of their own there. An outpost on Earth would be valuable, and the two poles represent prime locations for such.”
He regarded the other judges thoughtfully. “We were half right.”
He reached beneath the table to retrieve a manila folder. He opened its pale cover and produced a thin stack of papers, which he then handed to the judge on his left. “What I am passing out to you now is a satellite image of Northern Siberia.” The stack of papers began to circulate.
“You’ll note the red dot just above the Arctic Circle. Its approximate coordinates are 125 degrees, 14 minutes east longitude, and 67 degrees, 25 minutes north latitude. Seven hours ago, Novosibirsk radar picked up the signal out of nowhere, marked by that dot. It was a stationary signal, extra-terrestrial in origin. A team was sent to investigate, and they discovered a crashed Bakma Noboat. There was no indication of a fight between it and another vessel, and they came to the conclusion that it must have crashed there accidentally, materializing in the process. No crew members were found alive.”