Enemy One (Epic Book 5)

by Lee Stephen

  Once more, his focus went to their own transport and the direction Javon had disappeared off to. There was no way the soldier was going to get Jakob out on his own—not with Vector closing in like this. Firing a brief burst of suppression toward the EDEN soldiers, Scott turned to the transport and ran as fast as his busted leg allowed.

  By the time Javon made it around to the cockpit of the V2, Jakob was already crawling out of the blown-open canopy. Though wounded, the pilot was still in one piece. “I got you, man!” the soldier yelled at him, reaching up to grab the German before he slid off the nose of the transport onto the ground.

  “Two ships!” Jakob winced as Javon propped him on his shoulder. “V2 and Superwolf!”

  “We know, man!”

  Shaking his head, Jakob said, “No, but you must listen. That Superwolf—that is not any pilot! I saw his identity before he fired.” Grabbing Javon firmly by the collar of his slayer armor, Jakob looked at him and said, “Mariner.”

  Javon blinked in horror. “Mariner? John Mariner? Aw, come on!”

  “Ja! If he is here—and if he thinks the situation on the ground is under control…”

  The American finished the statement for him. “Then he’ll go after Tiff.” Cursing under his breath, Javon hoisted Jakob against him tighter. “Come on, let’s get you out of here!”

  It only took several seconds of sprinting for Scott’s adrenaline to overshadow the pain in his thigh. As he circled widely around the burning V2, he glanced briefly in the direction of the approaching transport as it settled down into the mud. There was no doubt in his mind that the V2 was Vector’s. For an ambush this under-the-radar, EDEN wouldn’t have sent anyone else.

  As the V2’s engines whined down, its rear bay door opened, the light from it barely distinguishable behind the wall of rain. If there was any good news in this, it was that there was still plenty of distance between him and them. If he could get around his own transport before they left theirs, he could avoid being immediately detected. Looking steadfastly ahead, he lowered his chin and sprinted harder.

  The figure came out of nowhere, first appearing as a shadow in the storm before charging straight for him with frightening speed. It was a person, coming from the opposite direction of the V2 and the wrecked car. Where had he come from? There was no time for Scott to ponder the question. Adjusting his course to avoid a blindside collision with the new attacker, Scott pulled his fist back in preparation to swing.

  What happened next stunned him. The figure slid feet-first toward Scott just as he swung his fist, catching nothing but air. The stranger’s ankles coiled around Scott’s own, twisting and sending Scott falling helmet-first in the mud. As Scott scrambled to his feet, he was grabbed by the back of the neck and spun around violently. Rain battered his face as his helmet was twisted off and flung away. Just as the shockingly cold blast of wetness struck his face, a stepping side kick caught him square in his chest—and hard. Lifting off the ground completely, Scott landed flat on his back in the mud. Shaking water from his face and scampering backward in the slippery mud, he pushed up to his feet to stare his adversary down.

  Standing helmetless beneath the downpour was a man roughly Scott’s size and build. A soaked mane of wavy black hair dripped about the man’s long face, at the bottom of which was a neatly-trimmed mustache and goatee. He was not wearing the armor of an EDEN operative. Quite the contrary, the tactical gear he was wearing was even scantier than that of Lilan and the women—as if the man had no intention of getting hit at all.

  Who in the hell was this?

  There was no time for pleasantries. Casting a quick look to the V2 to see if he could spot Javon anywhere, Scott’s focus returned to the stranger. Wherever Javon went, it was nowhere near where Scott was now. Scott’s assumption that the soldier needed help was in error—and Scott was the one paying for it.

  The stranger darted toward Scott. His defenses up, Scott prepared to deliver a table-turning counterattack—a spinning grapple move he’d learned from Dostoevsky. A move he knew like the back of his hand. One that never failed. Pulling back his fist in preparation to withdraw it and spin, Scott thrust out his foot to halt his forward momentum. He knew the attacker would hesitate. Scott’s foot would pivot him around. He’d emerge at the man’s backside with an open shot to attack.

  Except the attacker didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even slow down. Lowering his shoulder and hitting Scott like a football linebacker, he once again knocked the fulcrum clean off his feet. Scott’s finesse had been countered by brute force. Driving Scott’s shoulder into the ground, the stranger literally rolled while holding Scott in his arms, popping back up and using the momentum of Scott’s own weight to fling him toward the woods. Scott landed in the most uncontrolled roll he’d ever experienced. Reaching out his hands to slow himself down, he snatched a tree root and quickly righted himself.

  Not quick enough.

  A clean jab caught Scott square in the mouth, followed by another—then another. Disoriented by the flurry, Scott barely had time to figure out what direction he was facing when the heel of a spinning hook kick smacked him in the side of his head. Stumbling backward, he lost his footing and fell on his rear end.

  Stars. All he could see were stars. He was getting his tail whipped. Only one thought entered his mind now: run.

  The moment Scott caught sight of the stranger ahead of him, he bolted the opposite way. It might not have been heroic, but in the midst of this desperately-spiraling situation, it was his only means of escape back to his crew, wherever they were. With a full dose of adrenaline masking his pain, his legs propelled him ahead with the speed of a professional athlete. The stranger might have had his number in combat, but there was zero chance he’d beat Scott in a race. Of all the attributes Scott had, running speed might have been his strongest. The only thing Scott had to figure out was how to work his way around Vector’s transport without getting—

  Oof!

  Scott’s senses were jolted as he was snatched from behind, the stranger’s hand grabbing his golden collar and yanking it backward in the combat equivalent of a horse-collar tackle. Before Scott knew it, he was once again flat on his back.

  He’d been caught. He’d actually been caught. Hurrying again to rise to his feet, he was upended by a sweep of his legs that sent him spinning face-down in the mud. In the next second, before he could even lift his head from the muck, a knee pressed against his back, followed by the barrel of a handgun against his neck. With his face and half of his head depressed into the mire, Scott was hit with a horrible realization.

  It was over. Even if he did somehow manage to break himself free, to wriggle away from his new adversary, there was simply no way for him to escape. He was thoroughly out-skilled.

  His teammates…if they stopped to look for him, they’d be overtaken. He wanted to warn them—he needed to. But his helmet and its internal comm system was gone. Ju`bajai’s connection was a thing of the past. He had no way to tell them he’d just been captured.

  Turning his head sideways just so he could breathe, he waited for the man to say something. In a chain-smoker-deep redneck accent, the stranger finally spoke. “Don’t resist.” In his peripherals, Scott saw the stranger lift a comm to his lips with his free hand. “Vector Command, this is Kenner. I’ve got Remington.” He paused. “Bringin’ him to you.”

  Kenner? Todd Kenner? His muddied eyes blinking, Scott angled his head a bit more to look up. Could that actually be…?

  Before Scott could think on it any further, the man grabbed him by the back of his collar and jerked him to his feet. With a handgun keeping him in check, Scott was forcibly moved through the downpour toward Vector’s transport.

  * * *

  Bullets zinged past Natalie’s head, blowing apart pieces of tree bark as she ran, slid, and occasionally dove across the rain-slicked forest floor to avoid them. Slamming her back against the trunk of a large tree, she whipped her wet hair out of her face and raised her commandeered chaos rifle. P
ivoting around the corner, she fired blindly at her pursuers before ducking back again and looking across the forest battlefield.

  The entire ground op team was scattered. Jayden, Esther, Tom, Ju`bajai, Pyotr…she had no idea where any of them were or what direction they had run. The only ones who’d stayed in her sight range were Becan, Feliks, Mark, an already-wounded Colonel Lilan, and the slayers, all of whom had been in the train with her. The unit was split in two.

  Several trees over and doing the best he could to keep up was Javon, carrying the wounded pilot, Jakob, over his shoulder. Grimacing as more bullets zinged past, Natalie scanned the battlefield behind Javon then yelled in his direction. “Move ahead, we’ll cover you!”

  Colliding into a tree opposite Natalie, Becan raised his weapon and fired into the veil. His deep Irish accent resonated through his amplified helmet. “I know I wasn’t the only one who saw tha’ V2 land!”

  Natalie had indeed seen it—as had everyone else. “If we keep at this pace, we can stay ahead of them!”

  “Keep pace to where?”

  Once more, a wave of bullets flew in their direction, forcing both Natalie, Becan, and the others participating in the defense effort to hunker down. Motioning to Feliks, who was several meters away, she pointed him in the direction of Javon. “Stay with them! Keep EDEN off their backs!”

  “Da, captain!” Feliks replied.

  Natalie’s focus shifted to Mark. The cadet was huddled down behind a smaller tree behind Natalie. She removed her sidearm from its holster and flung it in Mark’s direction. It landed with a splatter by the mud-stained youngster’s feet. “Hey—start using that!”

  Off to Natalie’s left, Feliks was closing the gap between himself and the team escorting Jakob. As the captain’s emerald eyes narrowed on the three of them, she relented from combat to survey the area. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she shouted, “Where is Remington?”

  “What?” Javon shouted back.

  “Remington! Where is he?”

  Easing Jakob down, Javon looked behind him, in the direction from which they’d been running. Even from a distance and obscured by the storm, his body language spoke of confusion. Turning back to Natalie, he answered, “I thought he was with you!” Next to the soldier, Lilan stopped and looked their way.

  Natalie’s teeth clenched. “Veck!”

  “Wait,” said Mark breathlessly from behind her, “are you guys saying Scott’s missing?”

  “Fire your gun, soldier!” Turning away from Mark as he flinched back, Natalie shot a look to Becan from several trees over. “McCrae!” The Irishman looked her way. “We have a problem!”

  * * *

  Combat boots resounded in unison as the whole of the V2’s fighting force touched down, their rhythmic trot down the rear bay door a total contrast to the dynamic splashing of rain and cracking of thunder. At the front of the procession, Lieutenant Chiumbo Okayo barked orders for the strike team to spread out. Intermingled with them were Marty Breaux, Sasha Kireev, Lisa Tiffin, and Pablo Quintana. The four Vector operatives hit the mud with their weapons raised, clustering together as soon as all troops were outside to wait for their specific orders.

  Marching down the ramp side-by-side and looking more in sync now than at any previous point in their mission were Leonid Torokin and Logan Marshall. The Australian ex-mercenary looked nothing short of enraged, staring into the downpour in the direction from which Todd Kenner was supposedly approaching. Torokin, having forsaken his judge’s garb for his old set of Vector battle armor, looked equally agitated. No sooner had they set foot in the mire than Kenner appeared, shoving a drenched Scott toward the two men.

  Logan wasted no time. Face twisting in rage, he stepped swiftly in Scott’s direction, slamming his fist across Scott’s jaw so squarely that it dropped the outlaw leader like a sack of bricks.

  Before the Australian could strike again, he was grabbed from behind by Torokin as Kenner quickly stepped between him and Scott. Groaning woozily from the ground and unable to stand, Scott pressed his forehead into the mud then rolled over. “What the hell did you do with Natalie?” Logan bellowed.

  “Enough!” Stepping between the two adversaries, Torokin held his palm out to block the Australian from attacking again. “We have him! That is what we were tasked to do.”

  Beneath his visor, Logan was red with fury. “I’m going to knock your vecking teeth out,” he said to Scott, sucking in and spitting across the ramp in Scott’s direction.

  Turning his focus from Logan to Kenner, Torokin’s own expression narrowed angrily. “What are you doing here? How did you know this operation was taking place?”

  “How do you think?” the deep-voiced redneck answered.

  “Klaus,” Torokin snarled. “He told you. How did you even get here?”

  Wiping back his soaked locks, Kenner answered, “I took a train.”

  “Bigger fish to fry, y’all!” The declaration came from Marty, who was still clustered with Sasha, Lisa, and Pablo and waiting for orders.

  Glaring at Kenner, Torokin pointed at Scott. “Put him in the transport and watch him. Your involvement with this operation is over.”

  As Kenner yanked Scott to his feet and shoved him inside the ship, Torokin approached Logan and the others. “The outlaws are split into two groups, one heading east-southeast and one following the train north-northeast. They are not organized.” He looked at Logan, Marty, and Sasha. “I want the three of you to head straight east and surpass Chiumbo’s strike force. Curl around and intercept the east-southeast-bound outlaws. Use your speed—go!” Casting one another a glance, the three men set off into the storm.

  “Lisa, our secondary forces are landing to the north and will cut off the outlaws following the train. When the outlaws turn back around, I want you waiting for them.”

  “Prisoners, sir?” the sniper from Essex asked.

  Behind his visor, Torokin’s eyes narrowed. “We have the only prisoner we need.”

  Lisa nodded. “Understood.”

  As the sniper took off on her own, Torokin’s focus shifted to Pablo. “Get on the comm and make contact with every Japanese law enforcement agency on the peninsula. When the outlaws run out of forest, I want them to hit a wall of flashing lights.”

  Offering a thumbs-up, Pablo knelt down to do as told.

  It was coming together—the round-up of the outlaws. Remington had already been bagged. All the rest of them needed to do was fall. Clasping his hands behind his back as he stood beneath the torrent, Torokin lowered his chin and waited for the first update to come.

  Shoving Scott down at the front corner of the V2, Kenner withdrew a handcuff, securing one end to Scott’s wrist and the other to a guard rail in the troop bay. Settling down against the wall opposite him, he kept quiet, stone cold vigil.

  From the cockpit, his own voice subdued, Minh said simply, “Hello, Todd.”

  “Hello, Minh,” the former Vector stoically replied.

  From the cockpit radio, a new American voice crackled through—one as frigid and unsympathetic as the weather itself. “There are no more airborne threats here. Breaking to intercept Feathers.”

  “Affirmative,” Minh answered with resignation. “Vector wishes you luck.”

  From his temporary prison attached to the guard rail, Scott closed his eyes. His shoulders sagging, the beaten fulcrum lowered his head.

  * * *

  “We need to double back!” sputtered Esther, sliding to a stop in the mud just alongside the train. Turning to face Jayden behind her, she said, “If the rest of them had gone this way, we’d have met them by now!”

  “I could’a swore I saw one of ’em boltin’ this way,” Jayden said.

  Esther shook her head adamantly. “Then you must’ve seen a ghost.” Whipping her head to the side, she called out to Tom and Pyotr. “You two! Get over here!” Lagging far behind but doing her best to keep up, Ju`bajai trudged exhaustedly toward them, too. As soon as Esther saw the alien, she gave it her attention. “Ca
n you pick up anything? Can you connect us to anyone from the other team?”

  Without a word, the Ithini slumped to her knees. She was thoroughly enervated.

  “Fan-sodding-tastic,” Esther said. “One of you two is going to have to carry her.” Her eyes focused on Tom. “You’re a strapper. Pick her up.”

  “Look,” Tom said, “I don’t—”

  The scout cut him off sharply. “I said pick her the bloody hell up!”

  Grumbling, Tom did as told.

  In the midst of Esther’s commands, Jayden pointed to the sky far ahead of her. “Look!” The group’s focus collectively turned, where the spotlight of a second V2 split through the rain.

  “Veck!” Esther pointed to the woods. “Everyone, go! Get in the woods!”

  Ju`bajai’s voice, frayed and frazzled, entered Esther’s mind as the group ran into the forest. Someone is approaching from the other side of the train.

  Slip-sliding to a halt, Esther turned and knelt low to the ground, straining to see the train. “Is it someone from the ground op team?”

  “What?” Jayden asked, slowing to regard her.

  “Shh!”

  The Ithini’s voice came again. I am attempting to identify. It is difficult. I am sorry.

  “I know you’re tired, sprite. I believe in you. Give me something.”

  It is a female. She is unfamiliar. Attempting to… A brief pause came, followed by a small swell of understanding. She is as Jayden.