Epic: Dawn of Destiny

by Lee Stephen

  Svetlana was gone.

  Travis’s focus narrowed on the ridge as he centered the Pariah‘s nose. They were midway between Clarke’s team and the outpost.

  In the troop bay, the operatives peered down at the battle-weary earth. Bodies were strewn across the ground, none of which were recovered before the mass retreat. They would return for bodies later—after the Bakma had left.

  Fox was the first to catch sight of the straggler. Despite the many figures that trekked through the snow—almost all Bakma—this one stood out. It wasn’t a Bakma at all. It was a lone EDEN operative, sprinting across the battlefield. “There’s someone down there,” he said, standing.

  The others followed Fox’s stare. David raised a brow. “Where do they think they’re going? They’re running straight for the outpost…”

  Before another comment could be made, Fox’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God!”

  Clarke’s tone gave away the revelation. “Does anybody up there see Svetlana? She’s gone!”

  Scott leapt to his feet. Svetlana! What was she doing? No…he knew what she was doing. She was doing exactly what he’d be doing.

  Max propped himself up. “Oh my God. She’s going back for Tolya.”

  Varvara gasped; Baranov sprinted to the back of the Pariah. “We just passed over her! She’s running back to the outpost! She’s running straight for the Bakma!”

  Plasma bolts flew in Svetlana’s direction. She’ll never make it, thought Scott. “She’s not gonna make it…” She couldn’t die. Not her. Anyone but her. He had just gotten to know her.

  Cupping his hands over his mouth, Baranov shouted from the doorway. “Sveta!” Just as he called her name, a plasma bolt clipped her in the leg. She toppled forward into the snow. Baranov tore off his helmet and rushed his hand through his hair. “She’s going to be gunned down!”

  “I told Tolya I’d watch her!” Max said, panicking.

  Scott’s heart pounded as he lurched toward the doorway. She would die any second. “She’s not gonna make it!” His legs tensed. His eyes judged the ground.

  As soon as Scott had bent his knees, David cried, “Scott, don’t even this—”

  It was too late. Scott leapt from the open door of the Pariah and fell to the snow.

  Max froze as Scott disappeared.

  David sprinted to the door. “What are you doing?” Before he could say another word, Baranov’s hand intercepted his chest and held him in place.

  “Wait,” Baranov said. “Let him go…”

  Far below, Scott hit the snow and tumbled into a ball.

  Airborne in Vulture-3, distant but not oblivious, General Thoor’s eyes narrowed on the newly snowbound operative. The soldier’s golden collar shone atop the snow.

  The sting that surged through Scott’s arm as he landed hard reminded him that he was wounded. He bit back the pain and scrambled to his feet. It wasn’t hard to find Svetlana—she was the only other human on the ground. The nearest Bakma trained his weapon on her. Scott lifted his assault rifle and fired first. He missed.

  “Sveta, stay down!”

  The Bakma shifted his aim to Scott, as did several others. Diving into the snow as they opened fire, Scott propped himself to a knee and pulled the trigger. One Bakma fell.

  He was outnumbered. He knew it. He counted five Bakma close enough to Svetlana and himself to actively engage, and he was too far away to make a difference. He would never make it to her in time.

  Suddenly, one of the Bakma jolted back and dropped. Before Scott could react, a second Bakma did the same. Jayden’s unmistakable Texas drawl slurred over the comm.

  “Git ‘er, man. I got you covered.”

  There was no more hesitation. Scott leapt to his feet and chased full speed after Svetlana. With Jayden’s suppression, he caught up to her unmolested.

  “Sveta, stay down!” He grabbed her from behind and tackled her into the snow. She was very much awake, though her armor was charred deep. Her eyes were half-crazed. “Are you hurt bad?”

  She shoved him back and spat a torrent of Russian his way, then twisted to escape his grip.

  He grabbed her a second time. The pain in his arm surged again. “Stay down!”

  Before he could utter another word, an explosion of gunfire erupted behind him. He looked back. It was the Pariah. Its nose-mounted chain gun blazed orange as it unleashed a flurry of rounds into the Bakma below.

  Svetlana screamed as she attempted to wrench herself from Scott.

  Scott slammed her to the ground and wrestled himself atop her. “Svetlana, stop it!”

  “We’re coming down on your position,” Travis said over the comm. “Look up.”

  Engines roared above them as the Pariah descended. Baranov and David knelt by the bay door, their arms outstretched to retrieve Svetlana and Scott.

  Svetlana continued to struggle against him.

  Scott held her firm. “Don’t make me knock you out!”

  “Lift her up!” David yelled from above.

  Scott grabbed her from behind and hoisted her into the air. She kicked and screamed, but Baranov and David snatched her before she could writhe away.

  Scott was next. He moaned as his burned shoulder flexed its muscles, but with the help of the others, he was pulled inside.

  “Hold on,” Travis said from the cockpit. “We’re picking the rest up on the ridge!” As the bay door rose, Scott collapsed to the floor.

  “What the hell where you thinking!” David asked.

  Scott didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.

  It took only another minute for the Pariah to arrive at the ridge, where Clarke and his crew were retrieved. Once that was done, the transport set its course for Novosibirsk. The outpost and the Noboats were left behind; there were too few Vindicators to mount an assault. Instead, the fighters looped back and escorted the transports home.

  Almost half of the operatives in the Fourteenth bore some sort of wound. Of the initial ground team, only Baranov and Fox returned unscathed, the latter of whose armor was severely charred. Konstantin sat numbed on the floor with a cauterized hole in his thigh, and Scott’s entire shoulder and arm cramped. David cautiously cradled his own arm, and Kevin scrutinized the small gash in his leg.

  Max’s chest wound was the most serious. Varvara monitored it constantly and made it clear that serious medical attention would be needed as soon as they landed. As she kept over him, Max kept watch over Svetlana, who remained huddled in the corner. Though her armor was charred and twisted, she was not seriously hurt.

  A somber quiet permeated the transport as it cut through the Siberian sky. It was a quiet indicative of many emotions—fear, anger, sadness, and bewilderment. Even the Nightmen among them, Baranov and Dostoevsky, remained silent and still. The only sound in the rear bay, aside from the hum of the Pariah, was Svetlana’s choked breathing as she cried. Her body, crumpled and weak, shivered as Baranov sat beside her, his arm supportive around her shoulder. There was little more that could be done. This was something no one had prepared for.

  Everyone heard the click. It was impossible not to. It was a static noise, a subtle crackle, and it caused every one of the operatives to lift their heads and turn their attention to the wall. To the speaker.

  Someone was on the channel.

  None of them could have prepared for the voice they heard next.

  “Sveta?”

  Nobody made a sound. The operatives all riveted their eyes on Svetlana. She trembled as the voice repeated itself through the speaker.

  “Sveta?”

  It was he. Deep within the walls of the Bakma outpost. It was Novikov.

  Svetlana leapt to her feet and scrambled to the wall. She shot up her hand to press the button beneath the speaker, as tears steamed down her face. “Tolya?”

  The voice moaned. “Sveta…”

  She swallowed at the sound of her name. Pressing her forehead against the speaker, she held one hand firm on the button, while the other braced against the wall. He
r body trembled and she broke down.

  Scott watched as she lost her composure. He watched as her body surrendered, and she slid down the cold of the Pariah‘s hull. The cursed ship. He watched as other eyes began to glisten, and he felt damp with sympathy. Behind the lifeless frame of the speaker mount, Novikov’s rasping breaths heard her. His voice wavered and he began to whisper.

  Svetlana choked sobs as her hand held up the wall. “Nyet, Tolya…nyet…” The words barely escaped her lips.

  Novikov whispered back inaudibly as Svetlana whimpered and closed her eyes. She couldn’t make a sound. Her lips parted in a frozen gasp. Her hand sunk down the surface of the wall.

  Her sobbing was interrupted as Thoor’s voice cut through the speaker. “Are all units cleared of the facility?”

  “Twelfth clear.”

  “Third clear.”

  Travis covered his mouth with his fist as moisture trailed down his cheeks. He lifted his gaze to the sky. In the seat beside him, Boris wiped his eyes and turned to face him. Neither man spoke.

  “Fourteenth, are you clear of the facility?”

  Svetlana trembled as she attempted to stand. She pressed her face against the speaker and said softly through the waver in her voice, “Ya tebya lyublyu.”

  Novikov smiled. Everyone could hear it. “Ya budu vsegda lyubit’ tebya, Svetlana.”

  “Fourteenth, you will respond.”

  Closing his eyes, Travis leaned his head back against the seat cushion, and raised his hand to rub his face. He reached out and placed his finger on the comm button. Beside him, Boris looked away.

  Travis’s finger lingered for several seconds before he gave the button a weak press. The channel was open. “Fourteenth clear.”

  “Detonate.”

  “Ya budu vsegda lyubit’ tebya,” Novikov said.

  Static. The signal was gone.

  Svetlana collapsed against the wall. The tear-stained faces of the Fourteenth followed her movements. Nothing else came from the speaker. Nothing else came from anyone. Svetlana froze in mid-sob, and she slid to the floor.

  Only Baranov moved, rising to his feet and stepping behind her. He knelt on the floor and embraced her with a reddened stare. She crumbled into his arms.

  There were no congratulations when they arrived at Novosibirsk. There were no handshakes. The Pariah was docked, and the Fourteenth retired in silence. No one needed to speak. The empty bunk in Room 14 said enough for all of them.

  15

  Thursday, April 14th, 0011 NE

  EDEN Command

  Everyone in the conference room focused on Judge Kentwood as he adjusted his bifocals and cleared his throat. “Detonation occurred at 0814 hours on Thursday, April 14, Novosibirsk time. Scouts confirmed the detonation with a visual check just before 1100. There were no hostages taken, and as far as we can tell, no survivors. The access lift caved during the course of the explosion, so it’s only right to assume that any Bakma who might have survived below ground will perish. As far as we’re concerned, this chapter is closed.”

  There was a quiet in the room as Kentwood lowered himself into his chair. Pauling leaned forward. “Thank you, Darryl. I assume a full report will be ready within the next few days?”

  Kentwood nodded. “Yes sir. We’ll have a unit investigate the site on hand—hopefully we’ll be able to get deep enough down there to get some kind of salvage. Unfortunately, we aren’t sure how probable that is, considering the facility was destroyed internally.”

  Pauling nodded. “Our priority was to incapacitate the base, and that was done. Salvage was secondary.”

  Before he could comment further, another judge spoke up. It was Richard Lena, one of the youngest judges in the High Command at thirty-six years old. “I think it should be noted that General Thoor was once again present during this operation.”

  “Yes,” Kentwood said. “I was going to mention that again as well. It’s only a matter of time until he gets killed…perhaps we should consider a reprimand of some sort…we have mentioned this to him before.”

  The room became quiet. Pauling’s expression was momentarily distant; then he turned to Kentwood. “No. That would only spark retaliation.”

  Kentwood sighed. “With all due respect, sir, it is we who are in control of EDEN, not General Thoor.”

  “Thoor is too valuable to lose,” Pauling answered adamantly. “If he feels he’s losing his authority in Novosibirsk, he may pull himself and everyone at that facility away from us.”

  Lena interrupted. “The backlash from such retaliation would be overwhelming, sir. Does he truly think that those soldiers would, if given a choice between EDEN and Novosibirsk, choose to side with him?”

  “Yes. He does,” said Pauling. “And he’d be right. Keep in mind, Mr. Lena, Novosibirsk is run more by the Nightmen than by us.”

  “Which is something else that needs to be addressed,” Lena said. “It’s high time we let the general know that Novosibirsk is, contrary to popular belief, an EDEN facility.”

  Several of the judges closed their eyes. “Thoor is a unique situation,” Pauling answered. “This is a case where it’s in the best interest of both EDEN and Thoor if he is allowed to do as he wishes, provided he doesn’t get out of control. We’ve had this discussion before.”

  “I second that.”

  The vote of confidence came from Judge Rath, who sat several seats left of the president. “Thoor is too valuable to lose. The minute he feels we’re threatening his authority, he’ll pull himself and every Nightman away.”

  Lena sighed. “I still feel it would be best to at least send a note asking him to consider taking better care of himself. We don’t have generals coming out of the woodwork…and he’d be a very hard one to replace.”

  “The hardest,” Kentwood agreed.

  “Noted,” Pauling answered. “Mr. Lena, I’ll have you tend to that notice. I do advise you, however, to be careful in how you choose your words.” Lena nodded, and Pauling looked at his watch. “I’m sorry to have to call this meeting to an end early, but I have an important call coming through concerning the proposed facility in Sydney. Before we leave, are there any further comments? Questions?”

  Silence presided over the table, until Kentwood cleared his throat. The rest of the High Command turned to face him. “Yes, sir…”

  “Very well, Darryl. Go ahead.”

  “As you know, sir, I’ve been doing a lot of work with Intelligence lately.” He reached down to the tabletop, where he produced a single sheet of paper. “There are some…”

  The sentence trailed off, and his eyes lingered on the document in his hand. The rest of the room watched in silence.

  “…there are a few things I’ve found that concern me, I’m not sure if this is the appropriate time to discuss this, but I’ve come across some interesting findings. I don’t have a full report ready, but given time, I should be able to produce one. I was wondering if I could be allowed full access to the Intelligence Department. Supervised, of course.”

  Several of the judges raised their eyebrows.

  “I don’t want to report anything that I can’t prove or at least back up to some degree,” Kentwood said. “Given a few weeks, I should be able to have a full report of what I’m talking about on your desk.”

  Pauling looked thoughtfully for a few moments, then said, “I don’t have issue with that. I’ll notify Kang tomorrow.”

  “Thank you sir,” Kentwood said.

  “Is there anything else?” No one else spoke. “Very well, then. We’ll convene again tomorrow at 1500. You’re dismissed.”

  The members of the High Command rose and filed out of the room as Kentwood gathered his papers. Before he could step out, Judge Rath approached him. “What exactly did you find that’s so intriguing?” Rath asked. “Is it something we should be aware of?”

  Kentwood smiled and offered a half laugh. “It’s probably nothing. It could just be errors in documentation for all I know. I rather not get into details until I
’ve looked into it further…no use spreading news that may not be news at all.”

  Rath cocked his head. “So it’s nothing we should be worrying about then?”

  “No, not yet, anyway. It’s probably nothing, just me looking at things too critically.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “No,” Kentwood smiled, “I guess not.”

  “All right. Well, good luck with the report. I look forward to hearing about it.”

  Kentwood bowed his head in dismissal. He made his departure from the room, and Rath followed several steps behind.

  Rath slowed to a stop just outside the conference room. As soon as Kentwood disappeared ahead of him, Rath scanned the hall until his gaze came to rest on the eyes of another judge—Malcolm Blake—who stood at the far end of the hallway. The two locked eyes for several seconds before the brown-skinned Blake nodded in acknowledgment and disappeared around the corner.

  Rath remained in front of the conference room doors, where his gaze sunk to the floor. Several moments passed, before he too turned to walk away. The meeting area was left empty, and the doors to the conference room left closed in silence.

  * * *

  2032 hours

  Novosibirsk, Russia

  Jayden stared at the bottom of the bunk above him. “That’s twice in a row now,” he mumbled. Over twelve hours had passed since the strike on the Bakma outpost, and the unit was divided. Scott, David, Kevin, Konstantin, Max, and Svetlana were among those injured enough to require medical housing. The others remained unharmed in Room 14. While most of those in the medical bay were expected to be released within the week, Max and Konstantin were in for considerably longer recoveries.

  Becan, in his own bunk next to Jayden, said to the Texan, “Mmm?”

  “Twice they left me out,” Jayden repeated.

  Silence fell around them. “Righ’.”

  “I’m serious. The bug-hunt and this one. The only mission I got to be a part of was Chicago.” Jayden’s hand reached down to drag his cowboy hat from the floor. He lifted it to his chest.