Chapter Eleven
Thursday, March 29th, 0012 NE
1311 hours
EDEN Command
TIFFANY’S EYES burst open—a sharp, noxious odor surged up her nostrils. Releasing a shriek, the watery-eyed Valley Girl lurched her head backward to escape it. It burned like ammonia.
Thrust out of her unconsciousness, Tiffany blinked and looked in every direction. Despite the water in her eyes—a reaction to the smell—she could see that whatever kind of place she was in, it was well-lit. Recoiling once more, the fire gripping her nose and throat still, she angled her head down to see an open pack of smelling salts being pulled away from her. Attempting to reach up to rub her nose, she found her arms unable to move from their position behind her back. What the? The world around her came into focus as she registered the chair she was sitting in and the clasps on her wrists and ankles. She was completely bound.
Her head hurt where she’d been struck by the guard. Still coming out of her daze, she focused her eyes ahead to see what kind of room this was—and more importantly, who was in it. Much to her surprise, it wasn’t her captors that she caught sight of first—it was another person, strapped onto an inclined bench barely two meters away and directly facing her. It was a man, and he was a mess. His face was battered, busted. One side of it was so swollen, she couldn’t even see his eye. Dried blood coated his lips and matted his hair. He looked like he’d been trampled by a mob.
When recognition came to her, she almost couldn’t believe it.
“Scott!”
He was nearly unrecognizable. Despite his appearance, he was awake and alert. At the very least, this told her one thing: her friends had indeed not all been killed in Japan. Jaya had been lying, as Tiffany had figured. When Scott’s good eye made contact with hers, the heaving soldier said, “Don’t tell them anything.”
Before she could reply, another voice—this one male and British—interrupted from behind her. “Oh, I have a feeling you’ll change that particular tune very, very quickly.”
Upon turning her head as much as she could, Tiffany saw a slender man wearing the same style of wardrobe worn by Judge June. Beneath neatly combed, champagne blond hair were amber-colored eyes that were locked wholly on her.
“I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you, Miss Feathers, so please, allow me to introduce myself.”
He didn’t need to. Even without recognizing him, she knew exactly who he was. Like coming face to face with the villain at the end of a movie, there was only one person this could possibly be. “Archer,” she said lowly.
Eyebrows raising, he nodded his head in genuine surprise. “Very well. Very cognizant. I am flattered.” Gesturing to the other side of the room, he said, “I believe you’ve already met our new chief of security, Mister Oleg Strakhov.”
After turning her head in the indicated direction, she froze when she saw Oleg. It was the bearded man who’d been with June. The one that’d hit her in the head with his weapon. Two other security guards flanked him on the far side of the room.
“I’m sure you must be quite concerned at present,” Archer said, “but I assure you, there is no need for you to be afraid. Despite what you may believe, we hold no ill will toward you or any of your friends from Falcon Platoon. We wish only to resolve this unfortunate situation as swiftly as possible.”
Truly taking in the room for the first time, Tiffany saw that it was a confinement cell, just like she’d been in at Sydney. The chair and inclined bench that she and Scott were strapped to were the only objects in the room. Both were bolted to the floor.
Clasping his hands behind his back, Archer walked past Tiffany. “I appreciate that you informed us of the Ceratopian recording device. That was something we didn’t know existed.”
He was so brazen, so open with his words. Were they still at EDEN Command? He was making no effort to maintain a guise. The thought that he might be that unafraid was terrifying.
“I also appreciate that you informed us of Northern Forge, though none of us are familiar with such a place—not even Mister Strakhov, who came to us from Novosibirsk. I can only assume that this is a secret facility somewhere in Russia. A command center for the Nightmen, much as this place serves as one for EDEN.”
Squirming in her chair, Tiffany fought to free herself. It was no use. She was fighting against metal clasps.
Archer continued. “The thing we need to know—the thing we hope to learn from you—is the location of this secret base. Being a pilot, I’m sure you can tell us exactly where to find it, perhaps better so than Mister Remington, who, quite frankly, has been stubborn with the disclosing of information. But you,” he said, pointing briefly at her, “will not be as tough a nut to crack. That’s because you’re a smart person. You understand that cooperation is the means by which you can have some semblance of a life back. We are prepared to offer you—and your friends—a full pardon should you help us. As I stated before, this situation is not one of your doing. You were merely caught up in it.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Scott said, voice groggy and weak. “This man is your enemy.”
Archer eyed the beaten soldier. “Coming from a man who’s committed numerous acts of terrorism and treason against his own species, those words should be taken with a granule of salt.”
Scott’s one good eye was focused on Archer. Though his breathing grew heavier—more emotional—he offered no response.
The judge spoke on, looking between them. “I’m going to cut right to the chase. I was obviously pleased to have Mister Remington taken into custody, but you,” he said, gesturing to Tiffany as he looked at her, “you offer a unique opportunity. You see, there are things I need to know. Namely, what you know. Now, I know what you’re thinking.” He paced as he spoke. “You’re thinking that you’ll never cooperate—that I’m some dark overlord secretly working to betray humanity in some cosmic conspiracy. To that I would ask, why? Why would I do such a thing? I’m as human as the two of you. Why would I work to the detriment of my own species?”
Tiffany set her gaze upon Scott briefly. He didn’t seem to be listening to a word Archer was saying. Eyes closed, his head was turned in the other direction as if he’d already heard enough.
“What you need to understand is that the work I’m doing is good, and that your efforts are actively undermining it. Unbeknownst to you, you’re playing a pivotal role in humanity’s imminent destruction.” He leaned closer to Tiffany as he spoke to her. “Your friend here, Mister Remington, has done more damage to the future of the human species than any tyrant in humanity’s past. He doesn’t believe this. He has set in his mind that I’m simply…bad. Not to be trusted. Evil through and through.” He stood upright again. “He’s heard this plea from me before, so I already know he won’t listen. And so I turn to you, Miss Feathers. I want you to know that the singular goal I’ve been working toward is the survival of humankind. And I have been working—tirelessly—day in and day out, for years now. Years, it has taken us to get to this point, at the precipice of our deliverance.
“What you must understand, Tiffany—and you truly must understand it if we’re to gain any ground here—is that I’m in a position where I am privy to more information than you. And on the total opposite side of the spectrum,” he said, pointing to Scott, “this man knows remarkably little. Do you realize what has gotten him all the way to this point?” He stood directly in front of her. “A Ceratopian spoke gibberish and he took it for German.” A loud, disbelieving laugh escaped him. “Do you realize that? He misheard a terrified alien on the battlefield and made it his life’s work. And there went his brain, connecting imaginary dot to imaginary dot, all the way down the path of conspiracy. This man is not your friend, Tiffany. This man is not a hero. He’s mentally unstable.” Angling his head, he asked, “Were you even aware that before they died, his parents had him checked for schizophrenia?”
For the first time, his words garnered a reaction. Schizophrenia? Blinking several times, she leaned her head to the side to look across at Scott.
“No, they didn’t,” Scott said, shaking his head from the bench, though he didn’t look at her. “None of that is true.”
“Would you like to see the papers? The recommendation from his doctor that he be further evaluated? A recommendation that was ignored, by the way, by his religious fundamentalist family. I’d be happy to show you a copy of the report.”
Disgust laced Scott’s voice. “They can make up any report that they want. None of that ever happened.”
Could that actually be true? Part of Tiffany hated that that question even emerged in her mind. But it had. No—Archer’s totally lying.
“Let me ask you a question,” the judge said, folding his arms as if deep in thought. “Has he ever—ever—given you a shred of evidence of this supposed conspiracy? Of course he hasn’t. He just takes you from one diabolical act to the next, with the assurance that on the next one, you’ll have all the evidence you need. Right?” He began to pace as he spoke on. “He infiltrates Cairo. He destroys Hami Station. He attacks a train bound for Tokyo. And after all of that, he has only the promise that next time, things will be different.”
She didn’t want to hear this. She rejected it outright. “No. What he’s doing…” Not knowing what to follow up with, she said only, “No.”
“You were caught up in the delusion of a charismatic schizophrenic who says all the right things.” Widening his eyes supportively, Archer held out his hand and said, “Now, please don’t feel bad for that. He is very convincing. Just ask the Fourteenth.”
“If none of it’s true, why did Judge June talk about a conspiracy in EDEN Command?”
Covering his eyes with his hands, Archer laughed quietly. “My dear girl, Carol said that because she needed you to cooperate. She was admitting to nothing. She was playing a role.”
And so are you. There was no way to prove or disprove anything that Archer was saying about Scott being schizophrenic. If he showed her papers, that didn’t mean they were real. There was, however, an event that Tiffany had been a part of that was undeniable. One that she, more so than anybody else, had seen unfold from a unique vantage point. “EDEN attacked us,” she said firmly. “In the Great Dismal Swamp. How do you explain that?” She wanted to hear their explanation. She wanted to hear what they would say to justify it. To see if it could, by any stretch of the imagination, pass muster.
Clearing his throat from the other side of the room, Oleg said, “That was not EDEN that attacked you.” Tiffany turned her head to look at him. “That was the eidola. It is a special part of the Nightmen that disguises itself as EDEN to infiltrate its ranks. Everything you saw was designed to make you believe what you believed—specifically to make it look like EDEN was trying to set up Novosibirsk.”
“You have to understand,” said Archer, “how elaborate their deceptions are. They leave nothing to chance.”
And here came the test. “Even the energy signatures in the swamp that got us called out in the first place?” Tiffany asked.
Without hesitation, Archer nodded. “Yes, even those. It was remarkable.”
Busted. There’d been no energy signatures in the swamp. Not one. It was the very first thing that’d struck Tiffany as odd, even before the Vindicators showed up to shoot them down. So disconcerting had it been, she’d called Lilan to the cockpit to tell him about it. The smoothness with which Archer could lie told her everything she needed to know—about his intentions, the attack in the swamp, Scott’s supposed schizophrenia…everything.
“My God, Tiffany,” said Scott from the bench. “This is all such a joke.”
Oh, she knew. She knew to her core. From the very beginning of her time with the Fourteenth—even meeting Scott—they’d given off a vibe that made her feel good. One that she trusted. Archer’s slipup only affirmed what she already knew in her heart. This was dirty all the way to the top. The only question was, what was she going to do now?
Inhaling as deeply as she could without making it look obvious, she tightened her jaw and said in a voice laced with as much desperation as she could pull off, “We were shot down by EDEN aircraft.” Let your voice tremble. Start to get mad. “That’s what happened!” Play along.
Sighing softly, Archer said, “You were shot down by aircraft that were registered at Novosibirsk. It was all part of an endgame that we may never fully understand in light of Thoor’s death, but that Remington has been trying to fulfill like the programmed machine that he is. This man,” he pointed at Scott again, “was exactly what the general wanted. Someone with an undiagnosed mental condition and delusions of grandeur. He was the perfect instrument for a madman who depended on blind allegiance.”
Lifting his head in a way that looked painful for him, Scott looked at Tiffany eye to eye. “Nothing they are saying is true. None of it. They’re trying to make you think I’m crazy so you’ll talk.”
“We’re not trying to make you think anything,” said Archer to her. “You’re perfectly capable of thinking for yourself. And that’s all we’re asking you to do. Just think.”
Fall for it. Play the dumb blonde. Eat every word.
“Everywhere Scott Remington has gone,” Archer said, “there’s been a trail of death. Like his mentor, Ignatius, he believes that the ends justify the means. Well, we’ve seen the means. He runs in guns blazing, completely unconcerned with collateral damage. Success is defined only by the outcome.”
Interrupting again, Scott said, “They’re trying to turn you against me.”
“Listen!” Archer almost laughed, shaking his head in what looked like wonderment. “Hear his words, Tiffany, and ask yourself if this sounds like a stable man. Everything is a conspiracy, everything is a rallying call against his enemies. This is who he is. It’s who he’s always been. Even in his Academy records, his training officers noted a craving for purpose and attention. One even used the word zealot to describe him.”
“Not once has that word been in my records,” Scott said.
Tone growing harsher, Archer took a step toward her. “He will lead you nowhere with the promise that the answer to the great conspiracy is right over that next hill. Except time and time again, you find out once you cross it that there’s nothing there. It was a hill he built himself.”
“There has always been something there.” There was fear in Scott’s voice—as if he was afraid she might actually believe this.
Good.
Pointing at Scott, Archer said, “Ask him, then. Ask him what he found in Japan. Do it.”
Tiffany turned to Scott, all the while being aware that he needed to be fooled as much as they did. That was, if this tactic that was still very much in development was to succeed. Arching her eyebrows just the faintest bit, she said to him, “Please tell me…” The look on Scott’s face answered everything. This next part was going to hurt to see. “Please tell me you found something.”
He stared back at her emotionlessly, as if numb or thoroughly disgusted. Inhaling a long, slow breath, he answered almost despondently, “There was nothing in the train.”
Closing her eyes, Tiffany whispered, “Oh my God.”
“But we think we know why. EDEN set us up. Somehow, someway, they set us up to be there. They must have gotten there first and found the device.”
Turning her head to look away from him, she let her lower jaw shake.
Exasperatedly, Scott said, “They’re feeding you these things to get out of you exactly what they’re getting right now. Don’t let them win.”
It was easy to channel all the contempt in Tiffany’s core, because it was visceral and real—just directed at Archer and his goons. She wished there was some way to tell Scott that. To drop a hint that only he’d pick up on that would let him know what she was doing. As much as she needed to fool Archer—if for no other reason, to buy herself time to figure out a plan—the thought that Scott felt as if he was losing her sucked.
“Northern Forge,” Archer said, leaning down next to her. His voice was gentle, assuring. As if he was her greatest friend in the world. “The only thing we need to know is where to find it.” He offered a hopeful smile. “That’s it. That’s it, and you’re home free. I have no reason to hurt you, Tiffany. You’ve been caught up in someone else’s fight, much as we, the human species, have on this planet. If you cooperate, there will be no harm to you. It’s such a universal concept, but one that’s so hard for people to accept. Don’t be one of those people.”
Leaning his head down as if to summon the strength to say anything else, Scott said, “Please, Tiff…please don’t do this.”
What do I do? What do I do? It was time for the choice to be made. The second that followed Scott’s words was already feeling like an eternity. She needed to answer. Whichever way she went—whichever way she decided to work it—the time to make that decision was now. Her heart pounded. Her pulse was soaring. It was time to make her play. “Norilsk.”
Scott slammed the back of his head against the bench. “Tiffany!”
I have a plan, Scott! I totally have a plan! “They’re hiding in Norilsk. There’s a warehouse district on the northwestern side of town. I…I don’t know the exact coordinates. I just know it was a blue building.”
Across from her, Scott remained silent and still. Surely, he was realizing now that she wasn’t giving them the exact location of Northern Forge. A half-truth could be more destructive than an outright lie. She was hoping that would be the case, here. Her plan was to send EDEN close enough to Northern Forge for the Nightmen to see them. To give them a heads up that EDEN was coming, and to allow them to rally whatever forces they could in the event their real location was found. A location she was not about to provide.
Archer’s face remained stoic, taking a step back and then glancing up and toward the corner of the cell, where Tiffany noticed a small, mounted camera for the first time. It was no surprise that there was a camera in there. Looking back at Tiffany, Archer said, “And you’re sure this is the place?” What it really sounded like he was asking was, are you lying to me?
Well, she certainly wasn’t going to change her tune now. “It’s there. You can’t miss it. It’s big enough to hide the transports—they fly in low from the east.” Specific enough to sound legitimate, but ultimately leading nowhere. Whether or not this had been the right call, the call had been made. There was no taking it back now.
“Thank you, Tiffany,” Archer said, offering a smile that seemed a little leerier than the ones he’d offered her previously. She wasn’t sure what that indicated—if anything—but it nonetheless stood out. “I’m sure you’ll understand if we keep you here until we get that location verified.”
“Yeah,” she said, trying her utmost to sound dejected and not like she was trying to deceive the most powerful organization on Earth. “Totally.”
Archer nodded, then looked over to Oleg. “Mister Strakhov, if you’ll come with me, please. Your guards may come, too.” Though Archer said nothing to Scott, Tiffany did see him offer the bound soldier the briefest of glances before he strode out of the room, Oleg and the two other guards in his wake. Seconds later and without a parting word, they stepped out of the cell and the door whizzed shut.
Tiffany and Scott were alone.
Ho-boy. This is awkward. But was it really? Strapped to the bench, Scott was saying nothing and looking away from her. Surely he realized what she was doing. He had to. They both knew how to find Northern Forge, so Scott knew as well as she did that she’d given them the wrong info. Now that they were alone, maybe she could tell him why.
Her eyes shifted to the camera. Whoa, not so fast! Keep those lips zipped, girlie. That must have been why Archer and everyone else had left the room so quickly. They were probably headed to some security room to see if she and Scott were about to divulge all secrets. To see if one of them would screw up and spill the beans. It was probably best if both of them stayed quiet.
“How could you do this?”
Or not. Upon turning her head in Scott’s direction, Tiffany could see he was looking squarely at her. Even at an awkward angle, she could see the rage in his eyes. The one eye that wasn’t swollen shut, at least. As she processed his words, her mind raced to figure out how to respond. Okay, he’s totally playing along. He knows we’re under surveillance, and he’s trying to sell this whole him-versus-me thing. And he’s like, a really good actor. Before she knew it, she blurted out the response, “How could you?” Yeah, back at ya! Take that, fearless leader.
“How could I what?” he asked. “Get to the truth?”
Hm—that’s a good counter. “You lied to me this whole time. There never was a conspiracy.” Bring it back down. Good, good.
Scott’s breaths were growing faster and harder. “You just killed everyone. Every single one of them. Your friends, my friends, the last hope to get to the truth of what’s taking place here. Any hope that humanity may have had.” He seemed so angry. His good eye was shimmering.
It was right then that the thought struck her. Wait, he does know what I’m doing, right? Was this anger real? As in, not an act? Did he really think that she’d betrayed him and everyone else? Inside, she began to panic. No, no, no, no, no, no! I think he’s really mad. That’s not what I want! Or was it? Was this selling the act even more? Argh, this is so confusing! She needed a hammer—something to relay to Scott, unequivocally, that she was doing what she thought was best for all of them and not just giving EDEN information. Something to assure him, even if he disagreed with her methods, that she was still on his side. It came to her immediately. “Do you remember what I told you before we left for this stupid mission?” She sure did. She’d told him that they were going to “totally rock” this.
It took a moment and a bit of a strange look, but Scott finally sucked in a deep breath and answered, “Yes.”
“I stand by it.” Without another word—glaring, in fact—Tiffany turned her head away from him. On the inside, though, she was dancing with pompoms.
Silence. The seconds ticked on as if going in slow motion, until at long last, he said simply, “We’re done.”
“Yeah, we’re done,” she said right away, nearly cutting him off. She wanted it to sound definitive. Harsh. Like the conclusion of a bad conversation. If he’d been acting along with her that whole time, that meant they’d been on the same page ever since she’d given EDEN false directions. But if he hadn’t, then he certainly knew that she was doing something purposeful now. She and Scott had never exchanged a bad word since they’d met. Even if Scott didn’t remember the exact verbiage Tiffany had used back in Northern Forge’s hangar, he would certainly recall that their brief exchange had been a good one.
A plan, and a means by which to communicate it. Those were the two things she needed now. Though she had no idea how to start with either, she was fully confident that—even if by a wing and a prayer—she could figure them out. Time and experience had shown that when thrust into emergency situations, such as their mad flight out of Krasnoyarsk in the Pariah, Tiffany was fully capable of pulling the proverbial rabbit out of the hat and doing what others thought was impossible. And while it was true that ground ops—or bust-out-of-prison-ops, for that matter—weren’t exactly her forte, she believed in herself. Much more so than most people did upon meeting her. That tendency to be underestimated, that weapon, would get both Scott and her to freedom. She refused to believe otherwise.
If there was going to be any escape—if there was going to be any future for them at all beyond torture and death at EDEN Command—then she had a lot of figuring out to do.
There was no better place to start than in the silence of the cell.