Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (37 page)

“Scott Remington’s love interest.” At that, Rath looked interested. Oleg went on. “A woman he could kill for—and believe me, he would kill for the right woman. But more importantly to you,” he said plainly, “she is a woman he would turn himself in for. I was sent by Thoor to retrieve her for the very purpose of holding leverage against Remington.”

Leaning forward, Rath asked, “If you were sent to retrieve her, where is she?”

Oleg allowed a huff of bitter laughter to escape his scruffy lips. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but things on my end did not exactly go according to plan.” The Russian went on with his story. “I found Svetlana with Max. This was when I shot him. I had Svetlana in my custody until someone attacked me from behind.” He released a heavy sigh. “I didn’t see who it was, and there were so many Nightmen moving about, it would be futile to try and remember who had struck me. But it
was
a Nightman.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows against his knees. “You want to know why I am siding with you so quickly? Because I was betrayed. A Nightman would not have attacked me had they not been instructed to, and only a handful of men knew where I was and what I was doing.” He leaned back again. “Have you ever heard of a man named Iosif Antipov?”

Rath shook his head.

“Antipov is the leader of the eidola—the man responsible for the underside of
Novosibirsk
. In many ways, he is a more capable and dangerous man than Thoor ever was. He and I have not always seen eye to eye. There is no question in my mind that he sent someone to attack me because he did not trust me.”

“Does he have reason not to trust you?”

Very faintly, Oleg smirked. “Of course.” The smirk faded. “But that does not mean I will forgive him.” Leaning forward, he said, “We are yet to discuss the terms of my employment. I understand that you are not the primary decision-maker in this little…effort of yours. That title falls to Benjamin Archer.” Though Rath looked less than pleased with the statement, he remained silent while Oleg spoke. “But it would be a benefit to
me
if I had some sort of assurance from you that my well-being will not be a concern while I am with you. Archer knows you, and he obviously trusts you. I need you to be my advocate to him.”

The judge opened his mouth to speak, but Oleg continued before he could.

“I am going to offer something to you. A gift, if you wish. It is information that, if nothing else, will assure you that my loyalties to the Nightmen have been severed. I only ask for protection in return—and the assurance that, wherever you and your comrades are going, I will be invited to follow. It should…” he paused as if weighing his words, “…prove my value as a former member of Antipov’s eidola.”

Clasping his hands together, Rath waited for Oleg to continue. His countenance revealed a man who was, while intrigued to a degree, mostly humoring Oleg’s request for an ear. “Go on.”

Quietly and simply, Oleg said, “Chernobyl.”

The Canadian judge looked at Rath oddly. “Chernobyl?”

“It is where they are going. The Nightmen who fled
Novosibirsk
.” As Oleg said the words, Rath’s eyes slowly widened. “Even now, the surviving Nightmen, Antipov included, are fleeing to the forgotten city. It is their rallying point—a place that has already begun the transformation from ruined power plant to second headquarters.” Lifting his chin deliberately, he said, “Wait a few days, maybe a week. Give them time to arrive, to believe that they are safe from you there. Then destroy it and rid yourself of the Nightmen for good.”

Stroking his chin with his hand, Rath asked, “How established is Chernobyl now?”

“Grigori Saretok, Thoor’s second-in-command, was sent there to oversee the facility’s development. Whereas Antipov is the leader of the eidola, Saretok is the leader of the fulcrums. They are like two branches of government, and in a few days, you will be able to kill them both.” He leaned back. “But be warned: though still under development, Chernobyl is a dangerous facility.”

“How so?”

Oleg answered, “It is the home of a necrilid hive.”

Blinking, Rath asked,
“What?”

“A necrilid hive was discovered there by the Fourteenth. I was present during that mission, which was led by Remington. Apparently necrilids had escaped a Ceratopian crash site and fled to the plant, where they flourished.” He paused. “Thoor saw the benefit, if you will, of possessing a necrilid hive. Necrilids are highly trainable, as I’m sure a man of your position is well aware.” Rath crossed his arms in thought as Oleg continued. “If you attempt a ground invasion, you will be met with a force of necrilids. But in the air,” he mimicked a bomb drop, “
boom
, with no casualties for you. You will easily be able to pick off the survivors on the ground.”

“Unless you’re lying to me,” said Rath, prompting the former eidolon to look at him curiously.

Faintly, Oleg’s eyes narrowed. “If I were set out to do you harm, I would have done so with you in this transport. I am alone with you in this cabin. There is literally nothing to prevent me from killing you at any point during this flight.”

The remark was countered with a
harrumph
. “Except the knowledge that such an action would be a death sentence.” After a moment, the Canadian went on. “I will have Chernobyl observed for surface activity. After all, time is not exactly of the essence now, is it? We have at least a few days to determine whether or not you’re telling the truth.” He crossed his legs and leaned back. “But if you want my personal opinion? I believe you for no other reason than you want to survive, and you’re smart enough to know that won’t happen with the Nightmen. Sometimes integrity needs to be compromised for the sake of the greater good.”

The subtle snideness was not lost to Oleg. “Is that a philosophy you agree with?”

“Yes,” Rath answered without pause. “Yes, it is.”

“As do I. So we are not all that unalike, you and I.”

At that, Rath shook his head firmly. “Oh, no, Mr. Strakhov. I assure you, you and I are
very
unalike. We’re just both able to recognize a good thing, and as it turns out, the best thing that’s happened to both of us in this situation is each other.”

A second passed, then Oleg dipped his head. “I would drink to that were I able.”

“I’m afraid that will have to wait,” said Rath. “As will the full offering of my trust. But at the moment, until you’ve given me reason to believe otherwise, I’ll count you as an ally. As to Archer? That’ll be his choice to make.” Settling in his chair, the judge closed his eyes. “We’ll be landing in about an hour. I recommend you get as much sleep as you can before we land. It’ll be in short supply once we touch down.”

His eyes remaining on Rath, Oleg said nothing in response, though his expression—were the judge in a position to see it—was one of mild satisfaction. Settling in his own seat, Oleg, too, closed his eyes.

EDEN Command was over the horizon.

*
      
*
      
*

Novosibirsk, Russia

A short while later

HE’D BEEN BRACING for it. From the moment Torokin learned he’d be traveling to
Novosibirsk
, he had been bracing to see the devastation that EDEN had wrought upon the former Nightman facility. But no amount of bracing could have prepared him for the magnitude of what EDEN had done.

Novosibirsk
had been laid to ruin.

The base was no stranger to all-out attacks. It had survived the
Assault on Novosibirsk
handed to it by the Bakma not even a year earlier. But this wasn’t collateral damage caused by plasma fire and high explosives. This was destruction on a wholly different level. Entire buildings were flattened, including the massive communications tower that’d been known as NovCom. The hangar, only recently rebuilt, looked like it’d been hit by an earthquake. The infirmary, the barracks, the main building—they were all in shambles.

Torokin was not the only one to be affected. From the moment Minh saw the base appear in the cockpit window, the Vietnamese pilot had been slack-jawed. Beside Torokin and looking through the same window, Chiumbo asked, “How many EDEN operatives who were stationed here died in this attack?”

The Russian judge didn’t know—the numbers had yet to come in. But one thing was clear: keeping friendly-fire injuries to a minimum had apparently
not
been a priority. It was supposed to have been. But this looked more like a revenge killing than a surgical strike. The Machine had been hit by a maul.

“I’m taking us down,” said Minh, craning his neck for a clear patch amid the rubble. As the V2’s nose pitched upward for descent, the occupants of the troop bay grabbed hold of the hand rails.

With a
clunk
, the Vulture touched down, its rear bay door lowering and inviting in a blast of frigid Siberian wind. Wincing inherently at the temperature drop, the occupants of the hunter team proceeded down the ramp onto what was left of the airstrip. As soon as their boots touched concrete, a Russian officer was there to greet them.

“Greetings, Judge Torokin,” the man said, nodding to the Russian judge as well as those behind him. “And members of Vector.”

Torokin caught a partial smirk on Logan’s face, the only member of the group not among the list of greeted. It didn’t look like the Australian mercenary was offended. His expression merely seemed to say, “Typical.”

The officer continued on. “Judge Rath left only a few hours ago. I hope we are able to help you as much as we were able to help him.”

“I am sure you will be,” Torokin said. Stepping aside, he indicated the rest of his team. “We have some very specific goals, not all of which are in the same place. Do you have several people who can take us where we need to go?”

“Absolutely. Where do you need to go?”

Torokin answered, “The underbelly of Fort Zhukov, for one. I understand the Nightmen were using it as a base of operations.”

Nodding his head, the officer said, “The Citadel of The Machine. That is what they called it.”

That sounded about right. “We need to see any place in this ‘citadel’ that might house communications equipment. We would also like to see Remington’s quarters, as well as the room where his unit stayed. From what I understand about
Novosibirsk
’s layout, those two places will not be in the same location.”

“Correct, judge. There are barracks here as well as an officers’ wing. I can have your team taken to both.”

Logan raised his hand. “I’d like to see Remington’s quarters.”

“I’ll go wit’ him,” said Marty. “If ’dere’s anything to find, between the two of us, we’ll find it.” The Cajun looked at Logan as if to ask permission. After a moment of hesitation, Logan nodded.

It worked for Torokin. “I and Trooper Quintana would like to see Fort Zhukov, so, if the rest of you are willing to investigate the Fourteenth’s room?”

Smiling, Chiumbo said, “Of course, judge.” He glanced back to Sasha, Minh, and Lisa, indicating in his overly-cordial way that they were along for the ride whether they approved of it or not.

“Very well, then,” the officer said. “We will have you all escorted to these locations at once. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“We will let you know if there is,” said Torokin. “Let us get underway.”

As Torokin was led away, he continued to scrutinize the level of destruction around him. From one end of the base to the next, buildings were broken. Though he and the other judges at EDEN Command had been an active part of the goings on in the War Room, they’d been relying mostly on reports and relatively low-quality imagery to stay abreast of the situation. Had Torokin not been there witnessing this for himself, he’d have never believed the attack was so destructive. This was unnecessary—and that meant a lot, coming from him. If they as a Council were hoping to send a message, they could rest assured it’d been received. He just hoped the cost wasn’t too high.

“Do we have any reports on EDEN operatives injured?” he asked. “Specifically from those stationed at
Novosibirsk
?”

Frowning, the officer answered, “Not at this time, judge.”

At long last, after several twists and turns through the grounds of
Novosibirsk
, Torokin found himself and Pablo at the entrance to Fort Zhukov—the Citadel of The Machine. It was behind the barracks, through a set of rusty doors made of metal and wood attached to what looked like a shed. Inside was a dimly lit staircase that descended into darkness. It was among the most chilling things Torokin ever recalled seeing. It was like stumbling upon the lair of a serial killer or cannibal—a hidden, decrepit passageway that no one else in the world was supposed to find. Even Pablo’s characteristic smile was missing, replaced by a look of horrific wonder.

“Right down here, judge,” the officer said, slipping past Torokin to lead him and Pablo down.

As Torokin followed several steps behind, he ran his hand along the stone walls beside him. They were cold and wet to the touch. Passing by flickering torch lamps, the only lighting down the stairwell, he kept his gaze on the officer.

“Everything secret about the Nightmen is located down here,” the officer said as he led them along. “We have found everything from torture rooms, to secret stashes, to a tunnel leading to an underground hangar.”

“An underground hangar?” the judge asked incredulously.

“That is correct, judge.”

“What is in it?”

For several seconds, the officer hesitated. “At the moment, there is nothing in it.”

Catching the pause, Torokin asked the obvious, “But something was?”

“You could say that,” the officer said as they reached the bottom.

Stepping from the last step, Torokin found himself standing in a massive, inwardly curving corridor. EDEN operatives were going to and fro, carrying captured equipment in carts and surveying damage. The same chilling atmosphere existed here as had in the stairwell—the whole place reeked of an era long gone.

Pointing one direction down the corridor, the officer said, “The Citadel is circular, traversable by this long corridor that goes completely around the structure. There are various rooms and smaller hallways that branch off both inwardly and outwardly. Exploratory teams are mapping the interior out now.” He motioned to the two men. “If you come with me, I will take you to the hangar.”