by Lee Stephen
The three women lowered themselves into their chairs, then they sat motionless. Svetlana’s tray was placed square in front of her, though she made no effort to sample anything on it.
Becan watched in silence as Galina and Varvara’s hands remained on Svetlana’s shoulders. They made occasional gestures to the untouched tray of food, none of which prompted a response from her. Becan’s own gaze fell to the tabletop, where his tray of half-eaten food sat.
Before any of his comrades could say anything, Becan pushed back in his chair and rose to his feet. They watched as he excused himself in silence and began to weave through the cafeteria toward the table with the three women.
Varvara caught sight of him as he neared. She offered him a sad smile as she massaged her hand on Svetlana’s shoulder, then she leaned in to Galina to whisper. A moment later, Galina glanced Becan’s way. Her expression mirrored Varvara’s, and she slid from her chair to stand. She joined Becan as he drew close, then turned to regard the now-empty chair next to Svetlana. “Please sit,” she whispered. “That would be good for her.”
Becan hesitated. He looked at Galina, then Svetlana, who made no indication that she was aware of his arrival. Finally, after a slow approach, he lowered into the chair.
Svetlana was a mess. What was once a striking and elegant appearance was now ragged and unkempt, as the golden hair that flowed to her shoulders was now tucked behind her ears in an oily slickness. The blue eyes that entranced with dangerous allure were now dim, suppressed above dark bags that revealed a woman who had not slept in days.
She stared at her tray despite Becan’s presence beside her. Silence surrounded them until Becan rested his hand against her back. “Yeh have to eat.” She offered no response, nor made any indication that she was aware of him. Becan’s eyes trailed to her tray, then returned to her. “Please…”
There was nothing. No response, no movement, no lift of the eyes. Svetlana sat beside him, thousands of miles away. Becan closed his eyes, then slid his arm around her shoulder and inched against her. As he gave her a hug, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “We’re here for yeh, girl.” Her head turned a bit, though that was the extent of her reply. Stillness fell again.
Becan withdrew his arm, pushed away, and stood up. Galina joined him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she mouthed. Varvara offered the same expression from her seat before the two women resumed their aid.
Becan stepped away from the table and slid his hands in his pockets. He looked back to the table from which he had come, where his male counterparts watched him. He locked eyes with them for a moment, then back-stepped, turned around, and shuffled out of the cafeteria.
Jayden frowned as Becan exited, then looked at the Irishman’s abandoned tray of food. “Man…that sucks.”
“Yeah,” Travis said as he sighed and looked at his own plate. “He tried, though. That’s the best he could do. I feel for Svetlana, she really is a good girl.”
Fox turned in his chair to face them. “Tolya was a good guy.”
“What do you think’s gonna happen with you guys now?” asked William.
“How do you mean?” Fox asked.
“Well you lost a lieutenant. I mean, someone’s gotta replace him, right?”
Jayden stared deliberately at the table space in front of him.
“That is true,” Fox nodded. “I’m actually surprised nobody’s been moved up yet. They usually get to that kind of thing faster than this.”
“Maybe Clarke’s slacking.” William harrumphed.
“I doubt that,” Fox said. “Clarke’s usually very good with that kind of thing. He’s probably just been busy.” He reached for the untouched apple on his tray and held it in hand. He raised it in front of his face, inspecting it thoroughly. “But I don’t know who’ll end up getting promoted over this.”
Travis offered a half-smile. “I wonder if I’ll get moved up.”
Jayden looked at the pilot, saying nothing.
Fox smirked. “You’ve only been here what, four years? I think pilots have to be in for at least a decade before officer consideration.”
“Yeah, that seems about right,” Travis said, laughing.
“I wonder about Remington,” Fox speculated. “I’m sure he won’t be promoted to lieutenant, but…well, I’m positive they’ll need someone to take an extra delta role.”
“They certainly ain’t gonna bump him based on his fighting skills,” William laughed.
Fox chuckled under his breath. “He is an interesting individual though. Don’t forget—he is the Golden Lion. It’s not every day someone like that comes around…some people just have it.”
“What’s it?” William asked.
Travis offered an absent nod. “I like him.”
Fox pointed immediately. “That is it. Why do you like him, Travis?”
“I don’t know,” Travis shrugged. “He just seems like a really good guy. And I mean…look at what he did in Siberia. He saved Svetlana’s life.”
Fox nodded in conclusion. “Travis doesn’t know him, but he likes him. And that’s what it is. It’s a combination of initiative and charisma that not everybody has.”
“But he can’t fight.” William shook his head.
“Well I’m sure there’s a lot he can’t do,” said Fox. “One thing he can’t do is please everyone, as is obvious with Max. But you don’t have to please everyone. You just have to please your superiors. If you can do that, there’s no limit to how far you can go.”
For the first time in the discussion, Jayden sparked to life. “Scott doesn’t suck up. He’s never sucked up.”
“I never said he did.”
“And what he did in Chicago was great.”
Fox sighed. “I never said it wasn’t. What he did in Siberia probably saved Sveta’s life, too. I’m simply stating the facts.”
“Yeah well,” Jayden said, “Scott’s a great leader. I’d rather follow him than anyone else.”
“Come on,” Fox said. “How can you say that? He’s not even in a leadership position.”
The Texan sat upright. “Because he’s the only person who gives me a chance. I never get to do anything. I got left out of a bug-hunt back at Richmond and I got left out on the mission here. And it’s all because I don’t go around talking to everyone.”
All eyes focused on Jayden as he continued. “I can’t help it—I’m not all social like everyone else. I wish I was, but I’m not. Nobody even notices me around here, and I know it’s me, but that’s just me. That’s who I am. But that shouldn’t stop me from being given a chance. In Siberia they needed a sniper on the mission, and you got to go but I didn’t. That’s not your fault—you’re probably a great sniper, but if nobody gives me a chance how am I supposed to prove anything?”
Jayden was forced to take a breath before he went on. “When Scott was in control in Chicago, he gave me a chance. He told me to get high in the building and shoot at the aliens, and he put faith in me to do it right. It wasn’t like he was there watching me to make sure I didn’t screw up. He trusted me. He even said, ‘go do your thing.’ I was so proud to be a sniper that day, and I did a good job.
“He gave everyone a chance. He told Becan to take command if he went down, he told Sasha to set up a hospital, and he even let Donner drive the van. That was all our first mission, and he never even met Donner before. But he gave us all a chance to do what we spent years training to do. Nobody got left out.”
He paused briefly. “That’s why I say I’d rather follow him than anyone else, ‘cause he gives everybody a chance. And that’s why I don’t appreciate you sayin’ things behind his back, like that he sucks up and stuff. So please don’t say stuff like that, ‘cause he’s a hell of a good guy who tries to get everyone involved.”
For several moments, nobody said a word. Jayden’s face was flushed red, but he eventually slid back and reassumed his silent persona.
Twenty seconds passed before Fox replied.
“Sorry.�
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From that point on, the conversation dulled. Though a few words were spoken about those in the infirmary, as well as speculation on the lack of recent alien activity, it all served more as end-of-discussion filler than relevant subject matter. Eventually, the four men stood up from the table, replaced their trays, and filed out of the cafeteria. William bid them farewell and departed to his unit’s room. The rest of them journeyed back to Room 14.
When they returned, Clarke awaited them. He, along with Dostoevsky and Baranov, sat beyond the open doors of the lounge at the central table. Kevin and Boris were with them, as was Becan; it became apparent they were just in time for an impromptu meeting.
As soon as those present were settled in the lounge, Clarke eased the door shut and cleared his throat. “There’s a small bit that I’d like to speak with you about this morning while it’s just us. I don’t mind going on without the girls this morning, as this is a rather touchy subject, and their time is best spent together right now. For us, however, I’d like to conduct some business as well as a small bit of personal reflection, and wisdom, if you’ll see it as such.”
He paused before he went on. “I know that the death of Anatoly was something hard to swallow, for all of us. In no way do I intend, however, to look back upon his life and claim that his death was a wasted one. I know…that this has been a cause of tension in the unit in several areas, understandably so…but the lieutenant died doing what he dedicated his life to doing—protecting Earth. He was given a direct order, and followed it to the fullest extend of his capabilities. The general expects no less from each and every one of you, and I expect no less from each and every one of you.
“Svetlana has my heartfelt condolences, I’ve told her that already and left it at that. I’ve given her permission to request a temporary leave of absence, if she so desires it. She’s yet to respond to me on the matter.”
The group was silent as he continued.
“I’ve been serving in EDEN since its inception. If there is one lesson I have learned, and one that I suggest you all learn, quickly, it’s that no one is given the promise of a tomorrow. We live in a time when attacks come unexpectedly, from all directions. We’re forced into situations that we simply cannot plan for, against an enemy that has a technological advantage. Deaths are inevitable. I have lost many friends throughout my years serving this organization, as you have all lost friends. While this is something I hope is never treated with apathy, it is something that must be accepted. The only thing that we as operatives can do is move on and continue to do our jobs to the utmost capacity. That is precisely what we, the command staff, intend on doing.”
At that moment, Clarke glanced to Commander Baranov and nodded. “Ivan.”
Baranov cleared his throat. “The following changes have been made to the ranking structure of this unit. Delta Trooper Axen will be promoted to the rank of lieutenant and tertiary officer. Gamma Private Powers will be promoted to the rank of delta trooper. And last, Beta Private Jurgen will be promoted to gamma. Though Axen and Jurgen are not here at present, we could not wait any longer before implementing these changes. They will be notified today of their new roles.”
Clarke spoke as soon as Baranov was finished. “These changes are effective immediately. Fox, you’re the only one of those three present, so I’ll tell you here. I expect from you the excellence that you’ve always given.”
Fox bowed his head. “Yes sir.”
Clarke offered a faint smile. “Very well. Now, everyone get prepared for our morning session. It has not been overlooked. Today we’ll be running several courses, so dress for the cold. Dismissed.”
The operatives filed out of the lounge to change, as Clarke, Baranov, and Dostoevsky remained behind in hushed discussion.
As Becan crouched down to open his duffle bag, he grumbled under his breath. “Tha’ was nice an’ motivational.”
Travis cast a faint smile to Fox, as he too changed into workout clothes. “Congrats, man.”
“Thanks,” Fox answered, offering a grim smile of his own. “Hate to get it that way, but…that’s how it goes, I guess.”
“Well,” Becan said, “I’m glad they moved Dave up a rank. Keepin’ him at beta is a waste o’ his experience. Who d’yeh think is goin’ to tell him?”
Fox knelt to tie his boots. “I’d imagine they’ll send a courier or something. Or maybe one of the officers will go tell them today.”
“Righ’,” the Irishman said. “Hopefully they’ll be back on their feet in a little bit annyway.”
It took several minutes for the operatives to get bundled, at which point they gathered together and made the trek outside. The cold tore at them throughout the workout session, though it mattered little. As the procession of laps and exercises carried on, conversation flowed freely among them. There was a sense of forced, but necessary return to normality.
By the time the workout was finished, almost two hours later, all of the operatives present were adequately exhausted. It did not take long for Room 14 to fill with the warm steam that gushed from the showerheads. It was justifiable compensation for the cold sting of the outside. As soon as the rush of showers was over, each of the operatives returned to their individual expenditures of time.
The routine of Novosibirsk once again set in.
17
Thursday, April 21st, 0011 NE
0750 hours
The nurse smiled as she placed a finger beneath Scott’s chin. “You watch that shoulder,” she said through her Russian accent, before she turned her attention to David and teased. “And you…why were you here again?”
David, whose left arm was almost completely healed over, grinned. “I came for the personal attention.”
The nurse laughed. “Take care, you two,” she said with a gentle wave, as she checked off their exit forms.
Scott and David waved in return, then made their way out of the infirmary.
They had spent eight days in the infirmary altogether, and it was decided that morning that they were both cleared enough to return to active duty. While David was without hindrance, Scott wore a protective cloth over the burnt area of his shoulder and arm. It was an area that, while limited, was functional. He would have to return to the infirmary in several days for a reexamination, though the advanced healing gels were expected to do their work well, as modern technology usually did.
They left the medical wing in lifted spirits. It was impossible not to. After so many days, the odor of the injured became too familiar for comfort. When that happened, they knew they had to get out soon. Their health agreed.
The morning was freezing as always, though they welcomed the change. Anything different was better by that point, even if it was the icy chill of Russian air. Nonetheless, they soon longed for the warmth of the inside as they trekked across the grounds.
Room 14 was abandoned, though they didn’t mind. The reunion of their nostrils and the stale smell of the room was as wonderful as anticipated. The others didn’t need to be there for it to feel like home. The beds were all made, and the scent of old tea hung in the air.
“They must be working out,” Scott said as he stepped in through the doorway and made for his bunk.
“Must be,” David answered. His course was different, as he veered past his bunk and straight to his closet. He flipped through his clothes until he came to his uniform. The gamma patch was embroidered on the front of its chest. “That’s a beautiful thing,” he said with a grin.
Scott smiled. “Welcome to the club.”
“Do I get any benefits?”
“Two weeks of paid vacation and a free Russian lap dance.”
“That’ll work.”
Scott knelt beside his duffle bag, where he rifled through its contents. When he pulled out his hand, his football was firm in its grasp. As his fingers squeezed the dirt-stained leather, he felt a welcome rush of familiarity.
David clapped his hands together and held out his open palms. “Hey.” Scott saw the gestur
e and underhanded him the ball. It spiraled across the room, where it padded into David’s hands. “Long time since I caught one of these.”
Scott eased into an open area of the room and held his hands out. “You think they’re running?”
“Probably,” David said as he underhanded the ball back.
“They’ll probably be back in about a half hour then.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” David said. “Want to get breakfast before they get back?”
Scott knelt down and rolled the football under his bunk. “Sure. I miss the cafeteria food.”
David grinned. “Which is a very revealing sign of the times.”
They checked over their personal belongings, then they made their way out of Room 14. As they ventured across the grounds toward the cafeteria, something out of place caught their eyes. Off in the distance, away from the sidewalk but close enough to be seen, stood the form of a massive man. His backside faced Novosibirsk, as he stared off into the unending snowscape. Scott recognized him immediately.
“Is that Will?”
David’s brow furrowed. “I think it is…what the hell’s he doing out there in the snow?”
“He’s not getting a tan,” Scott laughed.
They stepped away from the sidewalk and trudged toward the demolitionist. The snow crunched under their feet with every step. Within seconds, William turned, indicating his awareness of their presence.
“Hey man. What’s up?” said Scott.
William’s expression caught Scott completely off guard. It was hardened. It was devoid of emotion. It was the most un-Williamlike expression Scott had ever seen.
“Hey,” William rasped.
“You lookin’ for Yeti out here?” David asked.
“No.” William’s cheeks were glossed over with a frozen red, and his hands were shoved in his pockets with little ambition. Several awkward seconds passed before he moved away from them and returned his gaze to the icy landscape.