Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (23 page)

The only problem came in regards to the workers themselves. With the world declaring war on the Nightmen, would the citizens of Norilsk disclose the location of the base to the authorities? While there was no way to know, it
was
encouraging to see a total lack of concern among the workers. They ate and laughed amongst their company as if this was a normal day at the mine. Perhaps they didn’t know what was going on in the rest of the world. Perhaps they didn’t care. At some point, it would certainly become an issue, particularly when the inevitable financial crash of the Nightmen occurred. These people surely weren’t working for free, and with the Nightmen falling apart, the sect’s ability to pay wouldn’t be far behind. How long would their secrecy there last? Fortunately, in that moment at the breakfast table, it didn’t matter.

Breakfast consisted of simple ham, eggs, and toast, all of which seemed to be cooked decently enough, not that Scott would have complained about any kind of hot meal at this point. With his tray of food being carried by Esther while he was on crutches, Scott sought out a seat in the eating area. The room itself wasn’t comparable to cafeterias like in
Richmond
and
Novosibirsk
, but it was still quite packed. There were six long tables in all, each surrounded by chairs that were mostly occupied. It didn’t take Scott long to find a seat, however, as Rashid Faraj had been watching Scott the whole time in line. As soon as Scott noticed him, Rashid nodded, then glanced at some empty chairs across from him. Message received. Quickening his pace as best his crutches could allow, he sat down across from the Turkish fulcrum, followed by Esther, who sat at Scott’s right with a tray of food for both of them.

Rashid’s arm, which had been shot in Krasnoyarsk, was wrapped tightly in a sling. Scott didn’t know the extent of the damage or how long the Turk would be out of commission, but at the very least, it wasn’t going to be an injury that would keep him out of the loop. That he was sitting there eating breakfast one-handed said enough. The veteran fulcrum would tough things out.

Suddenly, a third party member rushed to the chair at Scott’s left, clumsily plopping his tray down as he slid into the chair. It was the young slayer who’d invited himself along with them in Krasnoyarsk. As Esther sighed and rubbed her face, Scott stared at him. “Would you please tell me who you are, and why you’re even here?”

Extending his hand and grinning like an idiot, the blond-haired teenager said, “Pyotr Alkaev, at your service! I helped Esther escape from Krasnoyarsk.”

“Of course you did,” Esther murmured, hand covering her face.

“I am here to help you with whatever you need me to do!”

Looking more than mildly annoyed, Rashid observed the exchange in silence.

“Look,” Scott said to Pyotr, “I appreciate it, I appreciate whatever it was that you did in Krasnoyarsk, but we’re fine. You shouldn’t have come with us.”

“No, but I needed to,” Pyotr said, “and you needed me to. I am very good with all things, I can be big,
big
help to you. Anything you need, right? You tell Pyotr, and he will get it.”

This kid didn’t get it. “We don’t
need
anything, Pyotr. Just—”

“We have a dog, and he needs to be walked,” said Esther, still in the same position. “He’s in my room. Go.”

Pyotr looked at her, confused. “A dog?”

“Yes, a dog. Go, quickly. He’s going to spiz all over my sheets.”

Opening his mouth as if verging on a question, Pyotr swallowed then said, “Yes, umm. I will walk the dog. Umm.” He looked at his tray. “Can I eat first—”

“No.”

Frowning, Pyotr stood up, leaving his tray abandoned on the table. “Very good. Pyotr is happy to walk your dog. I will do this for you, beautiful Esther!”

Scott raised an eyebrow. Esther did not. Turning away from the table, Pyotr hurriedly walked away from them. Casting a sidelong glance at Esther, Scott asked, “‘Beautiful Esther?’”

The scout eyed him flatly. “Do not even.”

“You’re going to let him go to your room like that?”

Shaking her head, Esther answered, “My room is locked. I have the key in my bra.”

“I feel like we should tip him.”

“Everyone has chores.”

Across from Scott and Esther, Rashid cleared his throat loudly. The two looked his way. “Sorry,” Scott said. “What’s up, man?”

“We have been discussing our situation,” Rashid said, motioning to the man sitting next to him.

It wasn’t until that moment that Scott realized the man next to him was Feliks Petrukhin—otherwise known as Four. It was the first time anyone besides Rashid had seen one of the slayers from the
Cairo
extraction team outside their armor. Sensing that his surprise was obvious, Scott said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize who you were.”

“It is good to meet you face to face, captain.” Feliks wore an expression that could have been mistaken for disinterest had the slayer not been looking directly at Scott, obviously putting effort in his focus. He had orange-red hair that was almost Becan-like in its wildness. Light facial hair and droopy gray eyes completed a face that would surely not be forgotten. There seemed some roguishness there, buried beneath Feliks’ Nightman exterior. Rashid, the dark-brown-eyed, olive-skinned elder, couldn’t have been more of a contrast.

Continuing where he’d left off, Rashid leaned forward on the table and said, “At this point in our operation, we are no longer bound to remain with you, as per Antipov’s instruction. However, as is obvious, we are all in this situation together. We are specialists—we do not have a designated unit. If it is desirable for you, even if for the time being, we will join the Fourteenth as a part of its crew.”

It wasn’t exactly a decree of undying loyalty. It sounded more like a mix of necessity and convenience. “Well, the first question I’d have,” Scott said, “is, is it desirable for
you
?”

No answer immediately came from the two men. They simply exchanged a brief look before Rashid went on. “It is neither desirable or undesirable. It is a matter of logic. We are here. At this time, we cannot go home. Therefore, it only makes sense that we would join your unit in an official capacity, though obviously that choice is yours.”

Esther asked, “What happens when an opportunity to leave us presents itself? More than numbers, right now we need trust.”

“Trust, you will have,” answered Rashid. “Any departure on our part would not occur without discussion. You are on a critical mission—we recognize that, even if we are not privy to all of its details.” The Turk’s attention returned to Scott. “But only you can decide if having us would be a benefit.”

“It would absolutely be a benefit,” said Scott without pause. “We need you guys right now. I don’t know what we’d have done without you. We’d be dead back at
Cairo
.”

Rashid’s expression remained stoic. “You would. But
Cairo
was not your assignment to give us. It was Antipov’s.”

None of that mattered to Scott. “Well as far as I’m concerned, you’re a part of the team. What do you need from us in order for that to work?”

“Nothing,” Rashid answered. “I do not require a share of your unit’s command. I will serve as your counsel when it is requested.”

“You’d just give up your right to leadership?” Esther asked. “You’d give up your power as a fulcrum? Color me skeptical.”

Shifting his dark eyes to her, he said, “It may provide context to know that this was to be my final operation. Upon the return of your team and the Ceratopian to
Novosibirsk
, I was to be granted retirement.”

Scott’s eyes widened somewhat.
Well, that’s certainly new information
.

“I am as capable as any fulcrum,” Rashid said, “but I will not try to deceive you. My bones hurt, Captain Remington. A change in the weather causes pain in my joints, and I cannot imagine this new bullet wound will make things any easier. I have lost the ambition of youth to lead soldiers into battle. I am content to simply do my job.” Very faintly, he tipped his head toward Scott. “You will not have chain-of-command issues with me.”

It was honesty that Scott appreciated, especially now. He extended his hand to the Turk’s good one. “Then we won’t have any issues at all. Welcome aboard, Faraj.” He looked at the other man. “Feliks.” As Rashid shook Scott’s hand, Feliks nodded expressionlessly.

“What is our first order of business?” Rashid asked.

“Not repeating Thoor’s mistake,” answered Scott. When Rashid looked at him curiously, Scott went on. “The late general had Lilan in his custody for days when
Novosibirsk
was attacked. I think he wanted to let EDEN hang themselves—to let them talk about
Novosibirsk
’s guilt over and over, then to drop the survivor bomb on them.” He glanced at Esther briefly. “I don’t think anyone thought EDEN would actually attack The Machine.”

Rashid nodded his head—he was following along. “Then we must prepare Colonel Lilan for a statement immediately. We must expose him to the press and show the world that EDEN was lying.”

“They’ll have a hard time whitewashing that,” said Scott.

Canting her head his way, Esther asked, “But don’t you think they’ll find a way to anyway? Think of how they managed to set the Nightmen up with Falcon Platoon. Surely they went into that with a contingency plan in the event Lilan survived.”

“Not if they were overconfident,” said Rashid, “as was General Thoor.”

“The general was a blusterer,” she said. “Bluster is easily thwarted by action. I’m not saying we shouldn’t get the news of Lilan’s survival out there as quickly as possible. Obviously, that’s the right course. I’m just saying be prepared for a counter. I don’t think EDEN will be as easily caught off guard as the ‘Terror of Amsterdam.’”

She had a solid point. If EDEN managed to somehow deflect the blow of Lilan’s survival, the Fourteenth needed to be able to respond to it. They needed as much evidence of wrongdoing on EDEN’s part as they could find.

“Hmm,” Esther said.

Scott looked at her. “What is it?”

Her gaze trailing to the tabletop in deep thought, she answered, “H`laar, and by association Centurion, were obviously important for something they
knew
. I wonder if Ju`bajai knows what that might have been.”

“Ju`bajai? The Ithini? But I mean, she wasn’t a part of it, right?”

Shaking her head, Esther answered, “No, but she’s a clever little sprite. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she poked around in Centurion’s head—particularly if she thought he might be dying and whatever he knew might be lost.”

Another solid idea. “We’ll talk to her.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Esther corrected. “She may be more keen to listen to me than to you—no offense.”

He half-frowned. “Some taken.”

“I’ll find out what she knows and let you know. She knows Centurion is of value. I’m sure she must’ve at least wondered
why
at some point.”

Sitting upright in his chair, Rashid said, “So we speak with the keeper about bringing Lilan into the public, and she will speak with the Ithini about the Ceratopian. Are these our only tasks at present?”

No.
There was another task on Scott’s heart: he hadn’t heard from Antipov about Svetlana, yet. He was hoping to have received an update sometime during the morning hours, but none had come. Scott still had no idea where Svetlana was. But was that even appropriate to bring up when so many other big-picture issues were on the table? Fortunately for Scott, Esther brought it up so he didn’t have to.

“There are several members of our crew who are missing,” the scout said, her brown eyes on Rashid. “Matthew Axen and Svetlana Voronova, primarily. Those names may not mean much to the two of you, but they do to the Fourteenth.”

Esther referring to Svetlana as meaningful? Scott was impressed.

“It’s critical to us, if not to the mission, that we find out where they are.”

Looking briefly at Feliks, Rashid’s focus returned to the two across the table. “I am not sure there is a practical way to find out that information.”

Esther didn’t disagree. “There may not be. But just know that it’s something we’re dealing with. Any solutions would be greatly appreciated should you think of them.”

“Thank you, Ess,” Scott said quietly.

Eyeing him coyly, she smirked. “I’ve got your back. And yes, that tart of yours, too.”

Rashid arched one of his pointy eyebrows, but said nothing.

“And,” Esther said, “we need to be restocked.”

Now that, Scott could chime in on. “We’re actually already working on that. Dave and I went to the forge earlier. We’re pretty confident we’ll be able to snag armor for everyone, we just need to talk to the forge master.”

“Oh…my God,” Esther said.

Scott blinked, until he realized the scout wasn’t responding to what he’d said. Her gaze was aimed straight across the dining hall, to the doors. It was Pyotr. The teenage slayer was walking awkwardly into the dining hall, with Flopper in his arms. Half of the room turned to stare.

“I walked him in the showers!” Pyotr said, only moments before Flopper’s paws flailed in an effort to escape. The teenager stumbled and fell as the pooch scrambled from his grasp.

Scott asked Esther sidelong, “I thought you said your door was locked?”

“It
was
,” she said through her teeth. “Did he break into my room?”

Flopper scampered out of the dining hall, his paws digging out as he fled down the hall. Scrambling to his feet, Pyotr gave chase, disappearing as the doors swung shut behind him.

Rashid turned to Scott. “That one concerns me.”

Scott sighed. “Yeah, you’re not the only one.” Glancing at Esther, who was staring slack-jawed, Scott nudged her in the side. “You going to go get him, or what?”

“If you make it a question,” she said, “the answer’s going to be—”

“Go get him.”

The scout narrowed her eyes. Pushing back from her chair, she abandoned their table to chase Pyotr and Flopper.

After several seconds of silence, Rashid looked at Scott and said, “You have a very interesting unit.”

Shaking his head, Scott said, “You don’t know the half of it.”