by Lee Stephen
“I fully expect him to, because that is the kind of person Chiumbo is,” Torokin answered. “Chiumbo is one of our best. You know that. He would not raise any issues—”
The German cut him off loudly. “Then I will raise issues!”
”Captain...” said Blake.
“Chiumbo has been a lieutenant in Vector for years, and you wish to place him under the authority of a child?”
This time, it was Torokin who glared. “Logan Marshall is anything but a child. He is a former mercenary—he could probably give anyone in Vector a run for their money.”
“Marshall has not been a lieutenant for two weeks, and he will be issuing orders to the best we have to offer. I will not allow Chiumbo to endure such a disgrace.”
Hands clasping behind his back, Archer spoke flatly. “With all due respect, captain, this isn’t your decision.”
Torokin raised an eyebrow and shot Archer a look. That was either one of the boldest or most foolhardy comments he’d ever heard. Either way, it was not the way to win over Klaus Faerber.
Growling loudly, Klaus turned away. Torokin called out for him. “Comrade, please! If Marshall is a capable mercenary, he may have resources that we do not. He may have resources comparable to the Nightmen, and they were able to infiltrate Cairo Confinement.”
“Take my Vectors,” Klaus said, angling his head just enough to glare at his ex-Vector counterpart. “Take whoever you wish. I will not stop you.” Without another word, the German captain turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving the door swinging in his wake.
A knot formed deep in Torokin’s stomach. He had seen Klaus angry—he’d seen him brooding. This was much, much worse. Torokin shook his head. “He has no intention of leaving this alone.”
“I think that much is obvious,” said Archer.
“Do you think he’ll try to interfere?” Blake asked Torokin.
The Russian answered, “With an operation led by Marshall? No. With the apprehension of Remington? There is no question.” He looked back at the other men. “And if you want my advice, I would let him.”
“He would kill Remington the moment he sees him,” said Archer.
“And would that not be good enough?”
Looking at Torokin harshly, Archer said, “No, it would not be. What if Remington isn’t working alone? What if there’s another terror cell waiting to strike? Capturing Remington and his band of merry men alive is critical to attaining that information.” Realizing his abruptness, he paused briefly and softened his tone. “He also escaped with a Ceratopian and an Ithini. It would make sense to find out why, would it not? Remington may be the only one who can provide us with answers.”
Speaking up, Rath said, “A conspiracy between human and alien forces could be catastrophic, even if Ignatius van Thoor is dead. What if there are other Remingtons out there waiting to carry out plans of their own? By capturing Remington, we may be able to find out the full scope of whatever it is they’re doing, and maybe more importantly, why.”
“Who from Vector do you think would be suitable for this operation?” Blake asked Torokin.
The Russian answered, “Marty Breaux comes to mind, and obviously we’ll need a pilot, so I would suggest Minh Dang. Beyond that, I need to speak with Vincent. I believe this operation would be best handled small. No more than five, maybe six.” After a moment, he raised a hand. “Pablo Quintana, as well. And I may just take Sasha, um, Alexander Kireev, my nephew who is here,” he corrected.
“There’s your five or six right there.”
“I suppose it is.”
Blake hesitated for a moment as he drew a breath. Then he said, “I feel we’re at the very least obligated to mention Todd Kenner, even if only for the probability that Captain Faerber will attempt to contact him.”
“One hundred percent,” Torokin said, eyeing the president. “That probability will be one hundred percent.”
Silence prevailed as the four men exchanged looks, until Blake said, “Then, it seems there’s nothing more for us to discuss. Leonid, contact Commander Hill and make the arrangements.”
“Yes, Mister President.” Bowing his head cordially, Torokin turned away and stepped from the room.
Once Torokin was out of earshot, Blake said, “It sounds as if there’s little doubt in Leonid’s mind that Faerber will contact Kenner.”
“That would be a catastrophe,” said Archer.
Rath raised an eyebrow. “Why would that be a catastrophe? We’d be adding a capable hunter without the burden of being held liable. Wouldn’t that be a benefit?”
“We’d be adding more than a capable hunter, Jason. We would be adding one of the best hunters humanity has ever known. We would be adding a man who is supremely intelligent—a man who would miss nothing.” He angled his head back to the others, allowing them a moment to process his words. “Not even from us.”
Rath’s expression fell solemn. He nodded his head. “I understand, sir.”
Facing his fellow conspirators, Archer said, “We must overcome this, gentlemen. For the sake of us all.” Bowing in farewell, he left the room.
8
Location: Unknown
Time: Unknown
THERE WAS NO WAY for Svetlana to tell how much time had passed since she’d first awoken and discovered herself chained to the wall of a Bakma Noboat with metal clasps. Beyond there being no sense of day or night to reference in the spacecraft, her internal clock felt in complete disarray. Despite her situation, she had fallen asleep—unintentionally—after a long silence between her and Tauthin, who was chained several meters to her left. This only added to her uncertain sense of time, as she didn’t know whether she’d slept for two hours or twelve.
She had long gotten accustomed to the vinegar-like smell of the Noboat’s interior, the acetone odor having layered itself upon her nostrils like a sour blanket. She only knew that if the vessel stunk, she must have stunk, too, an attribute that mattered little in her current predicament. At the very least, the sensation of nausea had subsided to a degree, weightlessness settling in as a strange, new normal.
In the time that Svetlana and Tauthin were both awake, interpersonal communication was almost nonexistent. It wasn’t for a lack of effort, at least on Tauthin’s part. Despite the loss of their Ithini connection much earlier, before she’d fallen asleep, Tauthin’s attempts at broken English had been met with a cold silence from Svetlana.
Reality had set in. The shock and horror of her awakening had quickly transformed into numbness, and over time, that numbness had become focus, not on a plan, but on her situation. The suddenness at which her panic and confusion settled surprised even her. Past dramas—loves, rivalries, the trivialities of daily life—were now wholly insignificant. Nothing she had ever done, nothing she had ever felt, mattered any longer. It was a past life erased. It was a new mindset for her, and necessity demanded a quick acceptance of it. And so accept it, she did.
But on her terms.
They could take away her hope and render her past insignificant, but they couldn’t change who she was. The last time she’d checked, she was still Svetlana Voronova. Tauthin had warned her that if she failed to submit to Nagogg’s demands, to denounce God for Uladek, she would suffer. Trade the truth for a lie. That just wasn’t something she was prepared to do. And so suffer, it would be. She was afraid, but she was determined to be strong.
Her determination came just in time. The door to the chamber whooshed open, and the familiar click of an Ithini connection tapped into her mind. Entering through the door, propelling himself with a gentle push in microgravity, came Nagogg. The lipless Bakma’s opaque stare settled on Svetlana. Beside her, Tauthin tensed.
Nagogg wasted no time. Hovering in front of Svetlana, he rasped through his exposed teeth, “The time has come for you to choose. Do you denounce your false Earthae god and submit to the one master, Uladek, bringer of Order and Chaos?”
“I do not denounce,” she said defiantly.
Taut
hin quickly interjected. “Setana, you must denounce!”
“I will never denounce!”
Snarling angrily, Tauthin turned his focus to Nagogg. “She is useless to you, Nagogg. She does not possess the capacity to understand.”
Svetlana glared at Tauthin.
“She does not fear because she does not know. You cannot hold this ignorance against her!”
Speaking clearly, firmly, and with narrowed eyes, Svetlana said to Nagogg, “I. Do. Not. Submit.”
Tauthin’s shoulders sank.
His focus returning to Svetlana, Nagogg angled his head and scrutinized her, the emaciated rider’s bulbous eyes surveying her from top to bottom. Then he looked out of the chamber door, where his makeshift crew observed. Nagogg’s eyes came to rest on Kraash-Nagun, the foot soldier elite with the gouged eyes. Seeming deep in thought, Nagogg clicked his own teeth together, each click loud in the absence of his lips. He looked back at Svetlana, his eyes narrowing faintly as he examined her face. Beyond discoloration from the bruise on her cheek, it was perfect. Unblemished. His choice had been made. Silently, Nagogg raised a finger to the observers. With an unaffected tone, Nagogg said simply, “Take her.” From outside the chamber, Gabralthaar the titan and Ka`vesh the soldier floated toward Svetlana.
Tauthin erupted. “Do not harm her! She is innocent!” he shouted, rattling his clasps violently but to no avail. “She is innocent!”
Svetlana’s heart raced faster as the Bakma drew nearer. By the time they reached her, it felt like it was pounding out of her chest. “What are they doing?” she asked, looking frantically to Tauthin. Her chained counterpart looked almost dazed—he was taking in Svetlana’s face with borderline obsession, as if seeing it for the last time.
Gabralthaar and Ka`vesh unclasped her hands and feet. The moment she was freed, she wrenched her body violently from side to side in an effort to escape. They restrained her with ease. Nagogg said nothing as the two Bakma led her to the door. Spinning her head in Tauthin’s direction, Svetlana’s scared blue eyes locked onto his for the briefest of moments.
Tauthin’s face fell grave. All the while Svetlana resisted, all the while she screamed—at Nagogg, at her two handlers, at Tauthin himself in irrational desperation—Tauthin watched her. She was thrust into the hallway, past Ed and the blinded Kraash-nagun, where Gabralthaar and Ka`vesh slammed her back against the wall. Nagogg exited the chamber, and the door slid shut.
Through the metal, Tauthin heard Svetlana screaming in vain for her captors to release her. But the tussling continued. Tauthin listened as the rending of clothes began. There were rips, violent tears. The total stripping of dignity. Though she pled for them to stop, the tearing continued until there was nothing left to be torn. Then he heard them move her.
Svetlana’s voice, the reverberations of her useless kicks and punches, grew more distant down the hall of the Noboat. They became muffled behind metal, fading away until there was no sound at all.
His chest heaving, Tauthin hung forward in microgravity, ears acutely listening. Waiting for the inevitable. When it came, his jaw set, and he closed his eyes.
Svetlana screamed—she pled. He could hear her panicked words through the wall, words repeated over and over, hysteria growing with every syllable. Begging them not to proceed. But proceed, they did.
Screams the likes of which he’d never heard from a human echoed through the hallways, bouncing off the lifeless metal of the Noboat’s hull as if broadcast for all to hear and take heed. Lung-tearing screams. Life-altering screams. But they did not last long. Svetlana’s screams morphed into wails of pain, mingled with realization, mingled with disbelief. Tauthin fought to ignore them, to no avail. This was torture that was meant to be heard.
Tauthin’s veins pulsed with fire. He continued to breathe fervently, his inhalations and exhalations akin to that of a predator listening for prey, but powerless to pursue it. Sweat seeped from every pore on his body.
The chamber door opened and Nagogg hovered past its threshold. With a backhanded fling, he threw something at Tauthin’s face. Tauthin flinched as it deflected off his forehead with a wet squish, then drifted in front of him. His violet eyes sought it out and it came into focus.
It was a nose.
Angling his head wickedly from the precipice of the chamber, Nagogg addressed Tauthin through his lipless smile. “Now, she knows. Now, she fears. Now, she will obey.”
No time was allotted for Tauthin to reply. Drifting backward and out of the chamber, Nagogg’s eyes stayed fixated on Tauthin’s until the chamber door sealed shut. The Bakma captive was left alone.
During the half hour that followed, Tauthin heard no sounds from beyond the chamber—no screaming, no scuffling. Only the faint, distant hum of the Noboat’s engine room could be distinguished, and even that was barely audible at all. The only sounds of movement came from Tauthin himself as he occasionally moved his hands and feet in their clasps.
Though there was nothing distinct to hear in the Noboat, there was change in the vessel’s lighting. Not long after Nagogg had left, the deep blue light near the chamber door was replaced by an equally dark red, only to have the dark red replaced by a simple white contour light. The Noboat had materialized. This indicated that the Noboat was in full fuel-replenishment mode. Though fuel cells could be recharged while the vessel was in the Zone, the name given to the temporary dimension the Noboat’s crystal was able to create, charging went much faster when in what the Khuladi called real space.
Though humans referred to the vessels as Noboats, to the Bakma and Khuladi they were dubbed Zone Runners. Zone Runners were neither Bakma or Khuladi technology. They were the brainchild of the Subjugated Ithini—the portion of the Ithini species that had been captured and placed into servitude by the Khuladi. The Ithini who had escaped Khuladi rule, long before the Bakma had ever encountered the Khuladi at all, were known as Free Ithini. It was a common misconception that the Free Ithini were more intelligent than the Subjugated Ithini, but it was far from the truth. Quite the contrary, the Subjugated Ithini were capable of far greater technological achievements—just not in the realms of their choosing. The Khuladi were masters in every regard, directing all of their subjugates in the manners in which they saw fit, Ithini included. The Subjugated Ithini had been ordered to create trans-dimensional technology, so they had, focusing all of their intellect in that direction and only that direction, with no space allotted for free thinking. With that kind of forced focus, the Ithini were dangerously capable, but only as a collective. On an individual basis, the Subjugated Ithini often appeared less apt in most areas.
To the best of Tauthin’s knowledge, the Ithini were the only species to have ever been split, with some falling under subjugation and some escaping to other parts of the galaxy. This was also due to Ithini jump-drive and skip-drive technology, technology that allowed for space travel over vast distances without affecting time. The Khuladi had essentially captured this technology from the Ithini they’d initially encountered, using it to bolster their military and advance. It was due to this that the Ithini were speculated to be the first species to fall under Khuladi subjugation. The only other species to possess jump-drives and skip-drives was the Golathoch, who also inherited it from the Free Ithini who’d made contact with them. It was a rare and exceedingly valuable technology, essentially turning the galaxy from an expanse too vast to be traversed into a freeway.
Humans, or Earthae as they were often called, were light years away from this technology, figuratively speaking. They were, for all practical purposes, a proto-civilization, yet to colonize any bodies outside of their homeworld. A species like humanity had no chance of repelling the Khuladi.
From outside the chamber, the sounds of movement emerged. Tauthin raised his head, his vision focusing on the door as he waited for it to open. Once again, the Bakma’s breathing grew heavy. The door whooshed into the ceiling and several silhouettes appeared in the white contour light. Gabralthaar, Ka`vesh…and her.
&nb
sp; Svetlana was stripped down to her undergarments, any and all illusions of invulnerability having been removed with prejudice. The shame was important—at least to a zealot like Nagogg. For his authority to be complete, she needed to be humiliated. Dominance began in the mind. But Nagogg hadn’t stopped there.
As Gabralthaar and Ka`vesh led Svetlana in, her face became visible to Tauthin for the first time since she’d been led away. Tauthin had prepared for something horrible. The reality was worse. Red stains of blood splatter surrounded the mutilated pair of cavities that had once been Svetlana’s dainty, upturned nose. Tauthin had never seen a human look like that. Her nostrils were like those of a skull. It was horrifying.
Once again, the blood burned in Tauthin’s veins. This was religion. This was worship. Disfiguring a creature once considered beautiful by her own kind, enforcing their beliefs through the humiliation and mutilation of all who chose not to believe. Nagogg and his kin would boast about this as if they’d accomplished something noble.
Snarling, Tauthin fought to wrench himself free from the clasps, and again, he met futility. He could only watch. Svetlana said nothing as she was floated toward the wall beside Tauthin, turned around, and clasped in place. Her blue eyes were despondent. They almost looked drugged. But Tauthin knew better. It was disbelief. As soon as Svetlana was in place, Gabralthaar and Ka`vesh propelled themselves away. They disappeared through the door just before it closed.
“Setana…” said Tauthin quietly.
She made no outward indication that she’d heard him. She made no outward indication that she was aware of anything at all.
Breathing heavily through his own nostrils, the Bakma enunciated as clearly as he could in the absence of a connection, “Palees saab-mit. It caan gecht waarse.”
Once again, nothing. Svetlana simply hung there, lifeless and limp, hair floating in microgravity before her disfigured face.
“Thaar is no reesistaance, Setana. Thaar is no ree-sun to hoop. Buht yu caan leev in saab-mishun, aas I haaf leeved, saab-mitting buht baa-leefig nuuthig. A Gaad yu canaacht see is nacht waar-thee to be waar-shipped. Ree-moof blind-aars ahn see waat is real. Thaar ees no Gaad herre tu sahv yuu. Saab-mit to saar-vive.”