Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (44 page)

I’m gonna find you, girl.

The waiting for things to happen was going to be hard. It was also unavoidable. For as much as Scott loved forward motion, until Antipov gave him a plan about
Nagoya
, Scott was stuck going sideways. But that would end. The trick was to be ready when it did—and to be prepared for forward motion again, particularly if it happened right away.

Time would tell, as it always did.

Location: Unknown

Time: Unknown

STANDING FRONT AND center in the Noboat bridge, Nagogg clanged the end of his chieftain’s spear against the vessel’s metal floor. As his crew turned their heads to regard him, he spoke. “Lu-kash tah kaitol,” the alien said in his unmistakable lipless rasp. “U`vash kutaaree, Khuldaris.”

Still clasped to the floor beside Nagogg’s chair, Svetlana could only listen as Nagogg addressed his crew. Though she couldn’t understand his words without an Ithini connection, which there hadn’t been since her emotional discussion with Kraash-nagun via Ed’s connection, she could tell by his tone that he was issuing a new command. She distinctly heard the word
Khuldaris
at the end of his statement. Whether or not that meant they were bound for the Khuladi homeworld now or in the near future, there was no question in her mind that it was their next destination.

The time spent on the bridge had done little to quell the sense of hopelessness that had overcome her since communicating with Kraash-nagun. Since the blinded elite had called her inconsequential. Inadequate. Despite having no emotional attachment to Kraash-nagun, his dissertation of her shortcomings had been among the most brutally honest evaluations of her, not only as a human being, but as an organism that lived and breathed. Even the canrassi, towering over her as a vulture would its meal, seemed of greater value. There were fewer words that could be spoken that Svetlana could ever envision cutting her more deeply. Kraash-nagun’s verdict was not the result of passion. It was clinical—a statement declared in the aftermath of objective observation. It was scarring.

The Bakma rose from their various consoles about the bridge. Even the canrassi was being prepped for some sort of disembarking, as the giant Gabralthaar took the reins of the animal. All Svetlana could do was observe as best she could, her clasps not even allowing her to push up to her knees to get a proper view.

Her hair was still sticky with canrassi drool, which seemed never-ending in its slimy christening of her. Thankfully, the beast had made no more efforts to mark her as part of its property. Though she’d grown mostly accustomed to the cold against her bare skin, goose bumps still occasionally broke out across her body, usually followed by a bout of brief, but intense, shivers. At the very least, the open skin where her nose had been no longer hurt, her nerves there having long given up on warning her of impending doom. It was the scarcest of comforts, but she would take what she could get.

Gabralthaar yanked hard at the canrassi’s reins, causing the massive beast to yelp—a sound Svetlana had never heard before from the animal. “Ein-kish,” the Bakma commanded as he pulled it along.

Not even your pets are safe from your anger
, she thought. Her attention was averted as the other member of Nagogg’s personal guard, Ka`vesh, approached her. Unlocking her clasps with a small cylindrical device, he grabbed her under the arm and pulled her violently to her feet. Ed’s Ithini connection emerged in her mind, and she and Ka`vesh were linked.

“Time to eat, rat,” Ka`vesh said, tugging her along. “Even animals like you need a meal.” He shoved her forward, the medic stumbling before reaching out to snag one of the bridge’s support railings. Ka`vesh grabbed her behind her neck. “Walk or be dragged.” His gnarled fingers tightened, the squeeze causing the top of Svetlana’s spine to burn with fire. She was forced ahead.

Ahead of Svetlana, the rest of the Bakma troupe walked single-file toward the dining hall. Every Noboat possessed one. The rooms were simple and practical, with several benches built around a pair of tables, all of which was attached to the floor. Various compartments, half of which were refrigerated, were set about the room atop the equivalent of counter space. Svetlana had no reason to believe this Noboat’s dining hall would be any different. It appeared, however, that while the dining hall was the destination of the Bakma before her, it was not
her
destination. Ka’vesh yanked her neck sideways as she passed the first Noboat chamber on her right, shoving her inside it.

The room was dark, and unlike the other rooms, possessed a smell that was both unique and utterly foul. The acetic, vinegar-like odor was still present, but it was layered beneath something much more gamey and muskier. It was the smell of a canrassi.

This was a pen.

Some Noboats possessed them and some didn’t. The forward chambers were always somewhat customizable, able to be fitted for whatever purpose that particular crew required. This Noboat apparently had a pen and a brig, which was a rare combination, but not unheard of.

Thrusting Svetlana to the floor, Ka`vesh stepped aside to allow Gabralthaar and the canrassi to enter. As soon as she looked back and saw the massive beast approach, Svetlana’s heart pounded. “Wait!”

“All animals eat in the same room,” said Gabralthaar. The giant Bakma shoved the canrassi in hard, then pointed to a metal trough at the far end of the room.

Svetlana’s head whipped back to the trough, which was filled to the brim with the most disgusting brown slop she’d ever beheld. She would be
far
more appetizing to the canrassi. She leapt to her feet, but a turn in her direction by the canrassi locked her in place.

Gabralthaar angled his head. “Call upon your Earthae god. Surely he will save you.” Without another word, the giant stepped back. The metal door sealed shut.

“No!”
Svetlana screamed, making a quick and instinctive half-step in the door’s direction. The moment the move was made, the canrassi’s jaws spread widely. A deep, threatening growl emerged behind the animal’s glistening teeth. Even in the low light of the pen, she could see the saliva dripping down. Her breathing growing shallow, she pressed back against the wall.

God, save me.

No movement came from the beast. It simply stared at her, its pair of black spider eyes fully dedicated to her body.

What little Svetlana knew of the animal’s actual nature, she’d learned in the Academy. If facing a canrassi without a weapon, remain calm and hold your ground. It was the same concept applied to bear encounters. Except this wasn’t a bear. This was an alien carnivore with thick hind legs and almost vestigial-seeming forearms. A tyrannosaurus rex with fur. As technically “correct” as standing one’s ground might have sounded, with her heart beating out of her chest, it was easier said than done.

The canrassi remained motionless in the center of the room, its stare unwavering. The only movement from the beast at all was the slow and steady motion of its chest as it breathed through its baseball-sized nostrils. As if it was waiting for something to happen.

It had felt so differently on the bridge, despite the fact that she’d been literally a foot away from the creature. On the bridge, she’d been surrounded by Bakma, including Nagogg, the canrassi’s master. However it viewed her, there was no doubt it was subservient to him. It exercised obedience and restraint. But here, there was nothing between her and it.

Her eyes had been locked on the beast almost the whole while she’d been there and it hadn’t advanced. She dared not take her eyes away at the risk that something might change. If she had to stare at this beast for ten solid hours, she would do it to avoid being eaten alive. Of all the fates that potentially awaited her, she could think of nothing more terrifying than the thought of the beast’s teeth clamping down on her leg, or her stomach, or her head. In her mind, she heard the sound of her bones snapping, her organs rupturing. She could almost taste the blood in her throat.

Suddenly, the canrassi huffed, its throat inflating as its whole body seemed to grow. It was about to lurch for her. Everything Svetlana had learned about canrassi nature at the Academy went right out the window. Closing her eyes, Svetlana drew in a sharp breath.

The shift happened instantly; even with her eyes closed, she could feel it. There came a sound like the rushing of a great wind, followed by a silence that itself was almost deafening. The strands of her hair—clean strands, untouched by the stain of canrassi saliva and urine—swayed under the gentle caress of a breeze. In her hand, held fast by the grip of her fingers, was the spear.

Svetlana opened her eyes. The metal walls of the brig were gone. She was standing on a grassy hill under the light of a Siberian moon. It was a hill she knew well. It was her uncle’s. He owned a farm in Zenkovo, a dwindling little town in the Kemerovskaya Oblast. Svetlana had spent many a summer night there in her childhood, chasing his chickens around their pens and watching the horses in his stable. Though she was far from a country girl, those memories had stayed with her throughout her adult life. But this was not that life, and that farm had long since been sold. What she was seeing was not real.

Behind her, the sound of a large animal’s gait emerged. Turning her head, then her body, Svetlana beheld a canrassi as it charged straight for her. The moment she made eye contact, the animal’s charge shifted into slow motion, and she was able to take in everything about it. Its massive paws as they kicked up dirt and grass with every gallop toward her. Its gaping maw as it breathed in, then out, then in again. The bristled furs on its back. In that moment, in the midst of what she knew must have been a dream, she found herself caught up in the animal’s beauty.

“Take him.”

The voice, once again, was her own. Without needing any further prompt, Svetlana found herself extending her hand forward, her open palm facing the oncoming beast. All fear of the creature—all uncertainty as to its intentions—melted away.

So did the hill. The first thing to disappear was the moon, its illumination fading from the night sky as it was replaced by a dull, all-encompassing blue hue. Then the grass beneath her feet, drawing into the ground until nothing remained but dirt, then metal. Then the breeze, then the stars. Then everything that was not real.

She was back in the Noboat’s animal pen. Ahead of her, as it had been in the dream, the canrassi was charging as if in slow motion. And just like in her dream, her palm was extended forward. The word just came to her. Flatly, in a voice that was as monotone as it was authoritative, Svetlana issued the command.

“Do`shaan.”

The canrassi’s gallop slowed; its heels dug into the metal beneath it. It drew to a stop barely a foot from her hand. Angling its head curiously, almost like a dog uncertain of a sound, its spider eyes watched her.

Svetlana barely thought before the word came again. “Do`shaan.”

The canrassi puffed out a breath. Its hind legs shifted. The massive beast sat.

The moment of realization was hair-raising. The canrassi had just listened to her command. Not her suggestion or her pleas for mercy. Her
command
. A command she had no business knowing.

The dreams she’d been having, the visions…they were more than just that. They were relaying knowledge to her that she hadn’t possessed beforehand. They were revealing. Nothing about it felt spiritual—this didn’t
feel
like a series of revelations from God. This felt…

…natural.

“Ein-kish,” she said, lowering her hand. It was the Bakmanese command for a canrassi to rise. The beast obeyed. “Do`shaan.” It sat again.

Tauthin had said that during her first vision, the one in which hands had reached out from the darkness and grabbed her, Svetlana had screamed in Bakmanese. That shouldn’t have been possible. Svetlana didn’t
know
Bakmanese. Of course she knew the basics, such as
grrashna
, but that was a far cry from the commands she was issuing now, with both the confidence and correctness for a canrassi to obey her without the slightest hesitation. That wasn’t
her
. But if that wasn’t her, who was it? There was no connection in place to relay this knowledge to her, at least not one that she felt. This was all coming from her own mind. But where had her mind learned it?

The canrassi continued to sit in subservience, waiting for her to issue her next command. A flood of commands came to her.
Orrakish
. The command to follow.
Tu-kaash`nakon
. The command to wait.
Sho-kai-chaw
. The command to attack and devour. For the time being, she settled on a more docile one.

“Iv’rrish,” she said, motioning to the trough of slop. It was the command allowing the canrassi to eat. Snorting, the beast’s knees straightened out, bringing it to its feet. It trundled over to the trough, where it began to lap up the vile slop.

It was not necessarily a surprise that a human was
able
to give this canrassi commands. After all, it had come from
Novosibirsk
Confinement. The beast had spent more time around humans than Bakma as of late, and though it obviously had an affinity for the species that had trained it, it no doubt had the capacity to learn and adapt to new masters. Even with that being said, she had a hard time imaging the scientists at
Novosibirsk
addressing the animal with the calm she was addressing it with now.

As she watched the canrassi eat, Svetlana’s mind sought out answers. On three occasions now, she’d experienced the visions. The first time, it had been during the amputation of her nose. The second, when she was thrust on the bridge in front of the canrassi. This was the third, after having been left alone with the beast, seconds before its charge reached her. Each time had been a time of intense emotional trauma. Each involved, to some degree, missing or displaced time. She knew from her studies what those symptoms pointed to. They were textbook disassociation.

But if she was disassociating—detaching from her own sense of the here and now as a coping mechanism for fear—how was she gaining knowledge? It made sense that she would be able to pick up
some
things, even in a disassociated state, simply due to the fact that, disassociated from traumatic experiences or not, her mind was still physically present for them. But those things would fall along the lines of seeing the knife, or whatever Nagogg used, when he cut off her nose. Or hearing his raspy, lipless insults. Or some other aspect of what had been physically experienced. Not Bakmanese canrassi commands.