The Glorious Becoming (Epic)

by Lee Stephen

  “Yes, sir!” the Texan answered.

  “Everyone still has their weapons, right?” They affirmed. “Don’t leave them behind! Forget your armor unless you’re geared up already—we don’t have the time.” Raising his comm to his lips, Scott queued up The Machine; he needed to get them scrambling to Cairo. “Remington to Nov-Com.” Nothing. “Remington toNovCom.” Where were they? “Remington to Thoor!” Still, no response came. Grinding his teeth, Scott adjusted his comm. “Travis! Veck, someone come in!”

  The comm crackled. Travis’s voice emerged amid the sound of chaos. “—attack, man!”

  Attack? What? “I did not receive, come again!”

  There was a burst of reception. “I said we’re under attack!”

  “Under attack? What’s under attack?”

  “The base! The base!”

  He didn’t have time for them to be under attack! He needed someone en route to Cairo! “Novosibirsk can handle Noboats, Trav! We need someone here now!”

  “It’s EDEN, Scott! We’re under attack by EDEN!”

  Slowly, Scott’s stomach fell.

  * * *

  NOVOSIBIRSK

  BACK IN ROOM 14, Dostoevsky rallied the Fourteenth. “Everyone here and on channel, listen! The four main turret towers have been destroyed, as hasNovCom. Multiple units have confirmed the presence of Captain Faerber and Vector Squad on the surface, and emergency stations have verified radio traffic from Jon Mariner and his squadron, the Flying Apparatus.”

  “Why the hell would EDEN attack its own people?” asked Becan frantically.

  Max answered over the roar of explosions near the infirmary. “This is retaliation, Becan. Why do you think Faerber’s here? You and I are collateral damage.”

  Before anything else could be said, Travis chimed in. “Guys, I just got a comm from Scott in Cairo asking for immediate evac!”

  Svetlana answered from the infirmary. “Evac? Why?”

  “I don’t know—I didn’t have a chance to ask!”

  Raising his hand for silence, Dostoevsky adjusted his comm for Scott’s channel. He placed the call on speaker. “Scott, this is Yuri. Come in!”

  * * *

  CAIRO

  SCOTT WAS RUNNING full speed toward Cairo’s hangar when Dostoevsky came through. “Scott here! Talk to me, Yuri!”

  “All of Novosibirsk is under attack. Faerber is here with Vector Squad. This must have something to do with his son.”

  Scott restrained the urge to slam his comm to the ground. “We’re in serious trouble here! Esther just got found out—she’s somewhere in Confinement. We need to get out of here ASAP!”

  Over Dostoevsky’s speaker, Becan shouted, “Wait—come again?”

  “She got caught,” Scott said again. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know the details, but all hell’s about to break loose.”

  * * *

  NOVOSIBIRSK

  “I HEAR YOU,” said Dostoevsky. “Get Esther out—we will organize a pickup.”

  “Will do,” Scott answered.

  Without hesitation, Dostoevsky addressed Travis. “Can the Pariah fly in its current condition?”

  “That’s about all it can do,” answered the pilot over the frenzied sound of the hangar. “This ship has nothing. No on-board nav systems, no chaffs, no satellite link.”

  Max cleared his throat loudly over the channel. “No trackability.”

  There was a moment of dawning comprehension before Travis spoke again. “You’re right! Without all those systems, it’s just a hunk of flying metal. It’s completely detached from EDEN’s satellite network.”

  “I’m getting a comm from Tanneken,” Max said. “I’ll be back online soon.” The technician disconnected from the conversation.

  Dostoevsky addressed his crew while Max was off-comm. “We have two priorities: surviving and getting to Scott. If we can get to the Pariah, we can accomplish both. Travis, are you sure the ship can fly?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Everyone, get ready to move to the hangar!”

  Max reentered the group talk. “Yuri, Tanneken is gathering everyone from the Thirty-ninth—they’re parked on the other side of the base, away from the main hangar. She thinks this place is a sinking ship—they’re buggin’ out. Sveta and I can’t get to you, but we can get to them.”

  “Go,” said Dostoevsky. “Evacuate with the Thirty-ninth. We will meet up afterward.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  Shouldering his assault rifle, Dostoevsky motioned to the door. “Everyone, move! Time is critical, for us and for Scott.” The group affirmed.

  Together and amid the rumble of explosions, they abandoned Room 14.

  * * *

  CAIRO

  MEANWHILE, DEEP in Confinement’s hub, Esther was entrenched in a firefight with a team of guards. She’d managed to make it out of Hell, but only just in time to discover that Cairo’s plan to deal with her hadn’t been limited to only four men. Guards were swarming to her; ammunition was already running low.

  She’d succeeded thus far in keeping most of the guards at bay in their tram, her gunfire suppressing them from actually stepping into the hub. However, it was a limited solution to a terrible reality. They were between her and where she needed to go.

  All of a sudden, just as her magazine was nearing empty, Boris’s voice emerged over her comm. “Esther! Are you there?”

  “Not for long, Boris!”

  THE RUSSIAN TECHNICIAN was running down the hallway, his technician’s kit propped opened awkwardly against his arm. Having unlocked Scott’s door remotely, Boris’s focus was now solely on Esther. “Auric is on his way!” he yelled into his comm without abandon, prompting odd looks from several passersby. “What do you need me to do?”

  “You bloody tell me!” she answered.

  Tapping buttons frantically, Boris keyed up Cairo’s administration console. “I have blocked out command from their guardian. For the moment, I have full control!”

  “I don’t give a crap about guardians, just get me out of here!”

  Boris was breathing frenetically. “Okay, okay! Umm. Okay!” Though Cairo was unaccustomed to needing genuine security on their admin system—at least against other humans—it was inevitable that they’d regain control at some point. The time Boris had in their system would be directly related to his ability to keep hiding his gateway signature. “They have ordered guards to your position through the tram system!”

  “Oh sodding really?”

  Mumbling to himself, Boris said, “Okay, this you already know.” His fingers tapped the keypad relentlessly. “All right, I am going to try something. Here we go!” He pressed the input button.

  THERE WAS A whir above Esther’s head. Flinching, she pulled out of the firefight and stared up in bewilderment. A small black device lowered from the ceiling. They were lowering everywhere. “Umm, Boris?” The devices hissed in unison. Esther gasped as water rained down.

  BORIS SKIDDED TO a stop. He stared up as water pelted his face. “Okay,” Boris said, “that is not what I was trying to do.”

  NATALIE HAD BARELY made it out of the Anthill elevator when the sprinklers kicked in above her. Tensing her shoulders, she cringed as her gray shirt darkened. Closing her eyes and looking up at the spray, the quickly-saturated captain exhaled in disgusted defeat.

  “WHAT THE HELL, Boris!” Esther screamed, shaking dripping hair from her face as she resumed firing at the guards in the tram. “Did you just set off the sprinklers?”

  “I made a mistake! Just wait!”

  “I don’t have time to wait!”

  The door to the Hell-bound tram whizzed shut, locking the EDEN guards inside. Across the hub, the door to Heaven’s tram slid open.

  “Please tell me that was you,” Esther said.

  Boris answered immediately, “Yes, get in the tram!”

  “That leads to actual Confinement, Boris.”

  “Yes, I know. But it is like, the only choice you have. You need
to buy me some time.”

  Dashing from the safety of her cover, Esther splashed across the hub into the Heaven-bound tram. On the other side of the hub, the main tram slowly began to back away.

  “I am sending them back home,” Boris said. “There is a network of tracks throughout this place. You can take another one once you get into Heaven. We will have to play the cat and mouse game.”

  “Well in the meantime, can you turn off the bloody sprinklers?”

  “I am uhh, still working on that one.”

  She snarled, “Wonderful.” Shivering, she grabbed one of the tram’s inner railings. “I’m inside, get me moving.” Slowly, her tram began to leave the station.

  CAIRO’S SPRINKLER systems were going off on every wing of the base—Auric’s was no exception. The soaked German was galloping through the halls of the Anthill toward Esther’s comm signal.

  The German’s comm display flickered. Sliding to a halt on the slippery floor, he watched as a photograph cycled across the screen. It was the Calliope Lee version of Esther. At the bottom of the images, the words Armed and Dangerous scrolled. It identified her location as Confinement.

  Scott shouted through the comm, “Are the rest of you guys seeing this?”

  “Yes,” answered Auric. “Esther, can you leave Confinement?”

  “Leave Confinement?” Esther asked. “Boris has me going deeper in!”

  “Veck!” Scott shouted. “Is anything not dismally failing? Jay!” The Texan acknowledged. “Please tell me you found that paper.”

  There was a pause before Jayden gravely answered. “Man...I dunno how to tell you this, but, the ink on the paper’s soaked. I can’t read nothin’.”

  ON THE SURFACE by the hangar, Scott lowered his head in defeat. Without that frequency, they had no way to contact the Nightmen reinforcements—or the pilot—in Cairo. Their help wasn’t coming. They were sitting ducks.

  BY THE TIME Natalie reached Esther’s room, she was drenched. Digging furiously in her fatigue pockets, she pulled out her officers’ keycard. She reached out with it to unlock the room, only to discover that as soon as she applied the slightest amount of pressure to the door, it moved. It wasn’t even latched shut.

  “What the hell, Brooking?” Pushing Esther’s door open, she marched inside. “Brooking!” No answer came. “Esther Brooking! Damnit!” Whipping up her comm, she queued up Esther. “Brooking, where the veck... are...” Natalie’s words trailed off as she saw the image on her comm display—the image of a young black woman with a bob haircut and glasses, and a face that looked strikingly like the scout she was there to assist. She took her finger off the talk button and stared at the display in a stunned stupor. “No way...” Her mouth fell; she stood still for several moments before shifting the frequency to someone else. “Logan, come in.”

  “Here,” the lieutenant said grittily. “What the hell’s goin’ on, Nat? My whole bloody room’s soaked.”

  “Join the club. Did you see that photo on your comm?”

  Logan answered, “Lookin’ at it now.”

  “Now imagine her with a ponytail and no glasses.”

  There was a distinct pause before Logan replied. “Oh, hell.”

  Grinding her teeth, Natalie flicked her wet ponytail back angrily. “Go find Confinement. You’ll find her.”

  “Will do, Nat. Am I waitin’ for you?”

  “Negative.” She glared. “I have someone else to talk to.” As soon as the connection was closed, Natalie queued up Scott.

  “Scott here.”

  She gathered her composure. “It’s Natalie. I unlocked Brooking’s door—she should be fine whenever she gets here.”

  “Great, great,” he said distractedly. “That’s good.”

  “I’m sorry about tonight.”

  His tone was unfazed. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Absolutely.”

  Natalie’s eyes narrowed despite her inflection. “You still outside?”

  He could be heard rummaging around. “Yeah, still out here by the hill. Just...taking it all in.”

  She faked an audible smile. “All right, Scott. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow sounds good.”

  “Good bye.” A second later, she closed the channel. Glare still fixed, she radioed Cairo Command. “This is Captain Natalie Rockwell of the Caracals. I need the location of Commander Scott Remington’s last comm.”

  SCOTT STARED AT his comm for several seconds after Natalie broke the connection, only half done with his prep of the Caracals’ transport. Something about her call unsettled him. Esther’s alter-ego had just flashed across the base-wide comm network. Could Natalie have recognized her? There was no way for him to know, and nothing he could do about it anyway. Returning his focus to the ship, he continued its prep.

  * * *

  NOVOSIBIRSK

  BACK AT NOVOSIBIRSK, deep within the Citadel of The Machine, Thoor and his counsel spoke amid the vibrations of EDEN’s surface attacks. Garbed in his visor cap, uniform, and flowing cloak, the Terror stood with his hands propped over the war table.

  “Preliminary reports from the surface have casualties at fifty percent,” said Marusich hurriedly. “Our outer defenses are gone. We are struggling to keep the hangar area, but soon even the inner facilities will be breached.”

  Thoor listened silently.

  “Even if we call reinforcements from Krasnoyarsk, they will never make it in time. We were completely unprepared for this attack.”

  “This is not an attack,” Antipov said lowly. “This is an eradication.”

  “The eidola,” Thoor said, looking at him. “How strong are they at Leningrad?”

  “Not strong enough to provide adequate support, general. And just like Krasnoyarsk, they are too far away to make a difference now.” The building rumbled again. “We have but one option. We must evacuate Novosibirsk.”

  Thoor snarled defiantly.

  “We must leave—we must take the Noboat we have captured and go to Chernobyl. EDEN does not know of our presence there. Saretok has already established minor base functionality. Flee to Chernobyl and regroup, general. Leave the eidola in place here. We will monitor EDEN from within, infiltrate their ranks as we have been doing for years. When the time is right, we will take Novosibirsk again.”

  Turning to Oleg, Thoor asked, “Do you agree with Antipov’s assessment, Strakhov?”

  The fulcrum set his jaw. “There is nothing we could have done to combat this. The most watchful fox cannot repel a stampede of elephants. If we leave, we will show weakness to the world. If we stay, we will all die. Which fate is worse?”

  “How many Nightmen are at Chernobyl?”

  “Barely four hundred,” answered Antipov. “But there is room for a thousand more. They need only know where to go.” He looked Thoor in the eyes. “Take the Noboat and leave Novosibirsk, general. Claim Chernobyl as your new throne. To remain here is to die foolishly. Then what will our legacy be?” He leaned toward Thoor. “The look on their faces when we take Novosibirsk back will be worth any amount of shame we are dealt today.”

  Thoor’s eyes pored over the map of The Machine on the table before him. Inhaling deeply, he spoke. “Alert the eidola of your plan, Antipov, then inform Saretok of my impending arrival.” He looked at Marusich. “Send a message to all Nightmen on the surface. Instruct them to fight to the death—to bludgeon EDEN for their treachery. Their losses will buy us the time we need to reach the Noboat and Chernobyl.”

  Cocking his head, Oleg asked, “And what of me, general?”

  The Terror looked at him squarely. “Locate the woman—Voronova. We have an active operation in Cairo. I am not prepared to lose my leverage. Bring her to the Noboat.”

  “Yes, general.”

  Puffing out his chest, Thoor’s eyes narrowed murderously. “Tomorrow, the world will say that the Nightmen have lost The Machine. But I say now that our presence will never lea
ve. Keep the eidola in place,” he said to Antipov. “Prepare them for the instruction that is to come. EDEN has struck us from the shadows of night. But our night will come soon. Go!”

  Affirming the general’s orders, Antipov and Oleg departed.

  NOVOSIBIRSK’S CONFINEMENT was chaos. Amid the scrambling of scientists and staffers was the constant pounding of alien fists against their respective cell doors. The Research Center was already on the verge of being breached by EDEN personnel—only a single sentry remained to assist in Confinement, the others having been called to the defense effort. It was total pandemonium.

  Tauthin was banging against his cell like his alien brethren, his deep purple eyes searching the scientists for anyone willing to look at him. But they were too busy grabbing clipboards and discs. It was a full-fledged exodus.

  Bursting into the room, Petrov immediately began barking orders to the scientists. “The interrogations from last week, grab them! Who has the DNA samples?” He was running from station to station.

  Pounding harder, Tauthin shouted at the top of his lungs.

  “What are those papers! Take them. Wait, what are they? No, no, leave them behind! Do we have the system log?”

  Tauthin screamed on.

  “I want everything on necrilids—everything. They will need that information at Chernobyl. Who has contact with the Citadel?”

  Finally, Tauthin threw his body against the glass, rattling it loudly enough to make Petrov turn its way. “Caam! Caam!” said Tauthin frantically, waving and pointing at himself. “Taak mae!”

  The scientists nodded. Running over to Tauthin’s cell, he looked back at his scientists. “Bring me some cuffs! We will take some of the captives.” Fingers tapping blindly on the security pad by Tauthin’s door, he inputted the command for the door to open. As soon as it did, he turned to look at Tauthin.