Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (76 page)

“Who did you ever think that you were?” Svetlana asked her reflection. “Were you always satisfied being
this
?” It was no mystery now why Nagogg held her in such disregard, even before she’d been taken by Tauthin into the Noboat at
Novosibirsk
. Svetlana didn’t blame him. This woman she was looking at was a punch line.

No.

Shaking her head, Svetlana slowly backed away from herself. This could not be who she was destined to be. This woman—this coward before her—was too willfully weak. There was more to Svetlana Voronova than that.

…or was there?

A new sensation began to brew deep inside Svetlana’s heart. An anger, a burn. How had she fallen so far? Had she not, she might not have needed to be rescued by Tauthin in
Novosibirsk
in the first place—she might have fended off Oleg, done something courageous. She might still be on Earth. She might
be
something.

Her gaze returned to herself. Her true self, stripped of her dignity and with her face bludgeoned, with the stink of saliva and urine in her hair. This was what she was going to return to when this dream ended. To utter humiliation, chained to the floor and helpless next to Nagogg’s captain’s chair.

Do not approach what you do not wish to bring back with you.

She wanted to bring back no part of this woman. No part of this inferior creature before her. She wanted to kill her.

Looking to her hand, Svetlana saw that firmly in her grasp, appearing from a place unknown, was Nagogg’s chieftain’s spear. Her fingers were curled around it; her knuckles whitened. She was ready to thrust. Raising the spear, she aimed its pointed tip toward her reflection’s throat.

One strike. That was all it would take. One strike, and this shell of a woman would be gone forever. One strike, and Svetlana Voronova as the universe knew her would be dead.

This is wrong.

For almost sixty uninterrupted seconds, Svetlana stared into her own ocean blue eyes. Those scared eyes, those shimmering eyes stared back at her all the while, the stammering whimpers of terror and surrender escaping her self’s quivering lips. Everything in Svetlana wanted to strike her down. But that wouldn’t be fair.

To reprogram herself—to wipe away the only her she’d ever known—was to break the rules. That wasn’t growing. It was wiping a life clean and starting anew. What was one ever supposed to learn by doing that? While it was true that this woman represented the body she would return to, it didn’t have to represent the woman she would become. That was an area in which Svetlana held total control.

She didn’t want to forget this woman. She
came
from this woman. It was time to own up to it. Svetlana, missing nose and all, was there to stay.

But someone else wasn’t.

Turning her head down the row of species, Svetlana saw that all of them had disappeared save Nagogg, who was once again standing in reverence despite the fact that the Khuladi and Annihl had also disappeared. Walking away from her self-reflection, Svetlana walked toward the Bakma rider. Her blue eyes saw red.

This
was the one that didn’t belong there. This was the intruder. Svetlana didn’t hesitate. Thrusting the spear forward, she sent its tip piercing into Nagogg right through his throat. Nagogg didn’t fight back—he simply gurgled blood and fell to his knees. Pulling the spear back out, she watched as the rider fell face-first into the bog. The execution was complete.

There was a crackle of thunder from the skies above as dark clouds formed and gathered together, blocking out Svetlana’s view of Vasvuul. One by one, fat raindrops began to fall on her scalp. The droplets increased in size and quantity, and within ten seconds, the bog was blanketed with a sheet of heavy rain.

Svetlana didn’t need someone to interpret this for her. She had just slain Nagogg’s presence in her mind. The Bakma’s world and Khuldaris were falling apart. For a moment, she embraced the water on her skin. This was more than a symbol—this was a cleansing. Through dripping lashes, she turned her head to her true reflection, still standing at the end of what once had been a row of species. Her reflection was staring back, unfazed by the storm over her. For a moment, they simply locked eyes.

Behind Svetlana, the bog opened up, its muddy bottom giving way to a hole of water. The gulf. It was time to return.

There was no hesitation from the blond medic. Dropping the spear, she walked into the water until she reached the precipice of its depths, turning around only to bid the surface of Khuldaris a final farewell. Closing her eyes and holding her breath, Svetlana sunk down until her head went underwater.

Svetlana’s eyes opened. Blinking several times, as if coming out of a trance, the blonde turned her head to take in her surroundings. She was on the bridge of the Noboat, shackled to the floor beneath Mishka’s salivating maw. Inhaling a breath out of instinct, she looked in Ei`dorinthal’s direction. The Ithini was staring at her. The connection was still in place.

How long had she been out in real time? Judging by the fact that no one seemed to be paying her any mind, she couldn’t believe it was very long. A minute? Seconds, perhaps? Had everything in her head been done in an instant? Aware of her thoughts, Ed answered the question for her.

No time has passed for this crew. The mind is not restricted by the confines of reality.

That was good to know. Gathering her senses, she opened her mouth to ask the Ithini if everything had worked—until something strikingly different captured her ears.

“Beginning sweep of the gateway, lord,” said Ka`vesh from his navigation station. The Bakma soldier faced Nagogg’s chair. “There are numerous systems with multiple planets in their habitable zones.”

Nagogg rasped in response, “Focus on them and be prepared to jump.”

“Yes, lord.”

She could understand them. She could understand every word that they said. Eyes widening, she lifted her head to look at Ka`vesh as he operated the Noboat’s navigational controls. The warrior’s gnarled fingers flew over the control panel. “We are prepared to jump upon your order,” the Bakma said, his head turning to view the bridge’s main screen.

She understood it all, down to the inflection of every syllable. The nuances of the Bakma language—everything. Deep in her stomach, something swelled.

Ed’s thoughts interrupted her epiphany.
Something has changed in you.

Something had indeed changed. She had figured out her inadequacies and vanquished them. She had taken everything from Nagogg then put a spear through his throat.

I sense it
, the Ithini added.
Nagogg has been removed.

The whole while Ed addressed her, her focus was on the bridge. She watched Gabralthaar, the titan, as he stared at a computer screen that seemed to show a system of planets. She watched Uguul, the starved warrior, seeming to have nothing better to do at his station than wait for something to happen. Her ears picked up Nik-nish, the pilot, relaying information about approach vectors to Nagogg. She not only knew their words, she knew
them
. Every single one of them. She knew them as well as Nagogg did. She knew them as if they were her crew—their weaknesses, their vulnerabilities. Every means by which she could exploit them. She knew it all.

You are altered beyond the removal of Nagogg
, Ed said to her.
I detect subtle changes to your core identity.

In that moment, a feeling came over Svetlana that she’d never experienced before: that of being underestimated. She knew something about the Bakma that they didn’t know about her. She could speak their language, spy on them from right there in front of their faces. They wouldn’t have a clue.

Everything Svetlana had seen in the vision stayed with her. The Nerifinn, the Dishan, the Annihl. The Khuladi. All of it was in her head, ready to be accessed like any other piece of common knowledge her brain had stored in life. Everything was there.

Her mind began racing, even as Nagogg barked out the order to Gabralthaar to take her and Mishka back to their pen. Her eyes flickered to the titan briefly as Gabralthaar’s partner in crime, Ka`vesh, released her clamps with his magnetic key. As soon as Svetlana was free, Gabralthaar grabbed her by her blond roots and yanked her to her feet. Despite her new sense of strategic power, she couldn’t stop herself from yelping in pain. Through watering eyes, she was forced ahead with a solid push.

“Time to go, rat!” Gabralthaar shouted. She and Mishka made their way out of the bridge and into the hall. Her connection with Ed was lost.

Prior to the vision, Ed had warned her about the dangers of manipulating her own psyche—of inadvertently taking something back with her. The warning had resurfaced in her mind the whole while she was on the surface of Khuldaris, beneath the violet glow of Vasvuul. For the most part, she felt she’d adhered to the advice well. There was no denying, though, that something felt different.

She was still herself. That was the most important thing. But beneath the many layers of Svetlana Voronova, a seed of defiance had been planted. Even as Gabralthaar forced her oppressively down the hallway and back to the pen, she could feel its tiny sprout emerging. To feel that wasn’t like her. Svetlana was many good things. She was compassionate, charitable, and dedicated to being a professional. She was even willing to evolve, taking calculated strides to soften her serious side to the point where she was actually okay with being an object of self-depreciation for the sake of garnering a laugh. But one thing she’d
never
been was a fighter. Not in the angry sense. There was no chip on the shoulder of Svetlana Voronova. It wasn’t in her nature. But
something
was stirring, now. Had she felt the way she felt now back when Esther slammed a bowl of porridge in her face, she’d have leapt across the table and ripped the scout’s ponytail clean out of its roots. This was beyond anger. She was feeling retaliatory.

Placing his massive hand on her back, Gabralthaar shoved her hard through the door of the pen. Stumbling forward, she fell to her knees on the floor, wincing as they scraped against the pen’s metal grating. Rolling over, she clutched them. Blood oozed past her fingers as she clamped her teeth together in an effort to hold back tears of pain, to no avail. That
hurt
. Her eyes shot to Gabralthaar, her brows narrowing into a glare. So vitriolic was the display, that it actually prompted Gabralthaar to angle his head from the doorway. After releasing a deep chuckle, the Bakma smirked.

“Cute.”

Seemingly satisfied with his one-word remark, the titan stepped out of the doorway and into the hall, activating the door mechanism and sealing Svetlana and Mishka inside.

The anger swelled again. “Cute,” she mocked. “It will be cute when I ram Nagogg’s spear through your genitals.” Almost as soon as she said it, she covered her mouth.
Shame, Sveta! What was that?
Even in the situation she was in, properness still had its place. But still…that thought was so satisfying.

Pushing herself up from the floor, Svetlana inspected her knees again. “Terrific,” she said in Russian, repeating the word in Bakmanese just for circumstantial emphasis. Every moment she spent on the bridge was spent on her knees. This was a wound that was going to linger. Just another battle scar.

Sitting on her rear end, Svetlana placed her palms on the floor behind her and leaned back on them. As she did so, Mishka lowered himself onto his haunches several meters away. The canrassi looked at her expectantly.

“Eat,” she said, waving half-heartedly at the trough of slop. “Don’t wait for me, trust me.” Glancing back at the trough, she blinked as she realized it was sealed shut—obviously a measure preparatory for microgravity in the event they were actually in it. Shoulders sinking a bit, she pushed up to her feet and walked gingerly toward it. “All right, come on.” She waved Mishka toward her. “I will get this off for you and you can eat.” Sliding the trough cover into its slot in the wall, Svetlana stepped back as Mishka charged the trough to eat. Burying his nose in slop, the beast chowed down with vigor. Making a face at the pungent odor of the slop, Svetlana stepped away to lean back against the wall.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Sliding down the wall, Svetlana ended up on her rear on the floor. “How are we going to take back this ship?” She smirked at the canrassi, just slightly. “I am open to your suggestions.”

There was no question that Svetlana was in a better position now than she’d been even only hours before. Just the same, she was still a captive who was, by all practical definitions, powerless in the environment. She couldn’t break free from her shackles—they held her firmly on the floor next to Nagogg’s chair. She couldn’t fight off the Bakma. They were almost all, with the exception of the emaciated Uguul, physically superior. She had no weapons.

How was she supposed to get out of this?

Pressing her fingers into her hairline, she thought. There were moments when she had freedom, though they were always when Gabralthaar was coercing her down the hallway. Overpowering him was a non-option; it just wasn’t going to happen. But Mishka was always with her.

Eyes settling on the beast as it ate, Svetlana pondered the canrassi’s loyalties, which had always existed blurrily in her mind. When faced with competing orders by her and its Bakma masters, which side would it choose to follow? There was no question that she had earned Mishka’s favor to an extent that none of the Bakma had even attempted to gain. The time might come soon to put the canrassi to the test. There was no better time to try that than when she and Mishka were being escorted by Gabralthaar, who would be forced to fight off the beast single-handedly.

The only other option Svetlana had for freedom was to somehow gain access to Ka`vesh’s magnetic key on the bridge and attempt to free herself there. For obvious reasons, though, this was the less desirable of the two options. For one, the bridge was the last place she needed to gain freedom. She’d be surrounded by Bakma on all sides. On top of that, she had no idea how she was supposed to get the magnetic key in the first place. She would have to rely on someone like Ei`dorinthal or Kraash-nagun to steal it for her, then somehow get it to her or free her themselves. That just wasn’t realistic. Of the two possibilities, getting Mishka to attack Gabralthaar while en route to the pen was the better alternative by leaps and bounds. Just the same, having two options was better than having one.