Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-seven

Friday, April 13th, 0012 NE

2004 hours


EDEN Command




“HOW IS THIS possible?” asked Klaus Faerber as he stormed around one of the consoles to approach Archer. “How could the Nightmen have found this place?”

“Because of your bloody friend!” Archer answered.

The captain shook his head. “What friend? Who?”

“Todd Kenner!”

“What?”

Glaring as he ran to the communications station, he shot a look back at Klaus. “He’s been working with the Nightmen this entire time! We didn’t know to what capacity, so we let him alone to observe him. A little too much, it seems!” Turning back to the console, he shoved the communications operator out of the way as he queued into the base-wide channel. “All personnel, we are under attack, I repeat, we are under attack! Move to your muster points immediately!” Switching the frequency to the security team, he said, “All security forces, you are to find Todd Kenner at once. Don’t worry about taking him alive—put a bullet through his bloody brain!”

“This is a mistake,” said the captain. “He is here because I asked him to help!”

“He booked his plane ticket, captain, before you even contacted him. He’s working with the Nightmen. You were used like a buffoon.”

For several seconds, Klaus just stared at him, the hardened warrior’s mouth hanging in disbelief. Then slowly, his jaw set. Turning around with a reddened face, he stormed toward the War Room’s exit and lifted his comm to his lips. “This is Captain Faerber to all Vectors. Find Kenner and kill him on sight.” Slinging his chaos rifle from his shoulder, he marched out of the War Room and into the halls.

Archer watched as Klaus exited the room. Eyes narrowing, he walked through the frenetic masses and spoke into his comm. “Mister Strakhov, you know who these Nightmen are here for.”

Through a burst of static, Oleg replied, “Yes, my judge.”

“Remington and Feathers cannot be rescued alive. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my judge.”

Archer continued. “Get to Confinement and eliminate them. While you’re there, ensure that two of our specimens, Ceratopian No. 12 and a Bakma identified as Nharassel, are eradicated. They know vital information pertaining to our goal. If they are captured by the Nightmen…it would not be good.”

“I understand.”

“Get it done. Archer out.”


TIFFANY WAS FRANTIC. She’d heard the announcement; she knew that this attack was indeed real, as the voice she’d heard had claimed. As her breathing intensified, she repeated the voice’s words in her head. Fight with all I have left, fight with all I have left, fight with all I have left...

They were coming to kill her. The voice had said as much. There was no reason to doubt its truthfulness now.

They’re going to come for me. Fight, Tiffany, fight. Fight with your life!

There was no reason to hide the fact that she’d slipped her restraints. All personnel had been ordered to evacuate. She knew that meant the ones watching her, too. Reaching around the chair with her freed hands, she yanked at her ankle restraints. They were locked tight.

Key—I need a key! Where can I get a key?

The guards carried them. They carried access cards, too. She would need both to get to Scott before they got to him first.

There was no use struggling. She was never going to free her legs without the key. What she needed to focus on was putting herself in a position to pull off a surprise attack against whoever walked through that door first. Whoever it was that was on their way to kill her.

What if they go for Scott first?

“Oh, no,” she said aloud, her voice shaking. “Come for me first, please, please come for me!” What if they put a bullet through Scott’s head while she was sitting there tied to a chair? What if…

The cell door—it was opening! Whipping her hands behind the chair to hide them, Tiffany looked up to see who was about to enter.

It was a guard! She had never seen the man before—not that it mattered. What she could see was the key attached to his belt and the security access card hanging from his lapel. As the guard rushed toward her, her body went rigid.

This is it. This is my time. Rock star up, girl! Gripping the loose cuff in her left hand like a set of brass knuckles, she steadied her breathing and prepared to strike.

The guard slid to the side of the chair. He reached down to claim his magnetic key from his belt. When he had it, he reached for her hands.

Tiffany didn’t wait for him to realize that she was already free. Swinging the full weight of her body around in the chair, she brought her shoulder flying around like a haymaker. The guard flinched back—but not quickly enough. Tiffany’s handcuff-clenching fist slammed into his cheek beneath his visor. The guard stumbled backward.

Leaping from the chair with her ankles still attached, Tiffany crashed her body into his. As she fell forward to the floor, so too did he. Groaning in pain, the guard fought to wrench his body from under hers.

Reaching for his belt, Tiffany yanked his combat knife from its sheath. Upon bringing it up and around and screaming like a serial killer, she plunged it straight into the guard’s shoulder. Rearing his head back, he howled in agony as she jammed it in.

The guard relinquished his grip on the magnetic key. Their writhing caused it to be flung across the room and out of the cell. Upon tearing his security access card from his lapel, she propelled herself from him with a violent push. She crawled for the door.

She had to get out of there! The longer she tried to fight, the faster these tables would turn. The guard was bigger, stronger, quicker, and most importantly, his ankles weren’t tied to a chair. As she maneuvered across the floor toward the cell door, he rose to his feet behind her, bloodied knife that he’d pulled from his shoulder in his hand. She looked back as he clutched his bleeding shoulder and glared. Gasping, she turned to the cell door again. It was still two meters away.

She wasn’t going to make it.


THE V2S’ NOSE-mounted cannons fired, the three transports pumping their rounds into the hangar floor. There were several aircraft parked—all V2s and Superwolves. What ones were in the center of the room exploded with gunfire as the Nightmen’s transports cleared the way.

“Everyone,” shouted Dostoevsky, “hold on!”

White-knuckling a support rail, Natalie held on as the pilot sent the back end of the transport whirling around for a landing. It was almost enough to fling the occupants of the troop bay—necrilids and Centurion included—against the wall. The rear bay door began lowering before the transport even touched down. From outside, bullets peppered the aircraft’s hull as EDEN forces in the hangar opened fire. Centurion grabbed a pair of soldiers that were in front of him and shoved them toward the back of the bay. The hulking beast took up position between the bullets coming from outside and everyone inside, acting as a massive, living wall. Shots dinged against his armor and whizzed through his helmet plume.

“When he goes, we go!” shouted Dostoevsky.

Cl-clunk.

The V2s touched down. Centurion leapt from the troop bay to the hangar floor. Jolting his arms forward, he extended the pair of neutron blasters, roared, and unleashed a tidal wave of neon into the hangar.

Necrilids bounded from the back of the transport. Soldiers stormed out behind them. With Esther and the Falcons in tow, Natalie charged out of the troop bay with her weapon raised.


ROLLING OVER ONTO her back, Tiffany shrieked in rage as she cocked her feet back then thrust them and the chair at the guard, her efforts in vain as he grabbed the chair and yanked it and her back into the room. Raising the knife, the guard thrust it downward toward her head. Raising her hands to grab it as she contorted her head to the side, she succeeded only in saving her life. While her left hand managed to snatch the knife’s handle, her right curled around the blade itself, getting sliced open as the tip of the blade touched her scalp. She screamed and shoved the knife to the side, causing it to cut across the top of her head as it slipped off her and struck the floor. Reaching up with her left hand, she jabbed her fingers into his eye sockets and pushed with all of her strength.

The guard screamed; he let go of the knife handle. After prying her hand away from his eyes, he rolled over onto his side as Tiffany’s bleeding right hand grabbed the knife handle. She lifted it above the guard’s neck, then she slammed its blade straight into his throat. The guard gurgled; he grabbed the wound with both hands. His body spasmed for several seconds before it lay still.

Tiffany’s whole body shivered. Blood covered her eyes from the wound on her head. Keeping the knife in one hand, she once again rolled over to crawl for the door.


BULLETS ZIPPED PAST Natalie as she slid behind the cover of a damaged Superwolf. This was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. The number of rounds shooting back and forth dwarfed the worst combat situations she’d been in. It was relentless.

Angling her body around the corner of the aircraft, she aimed her weapon at a pair of security guards at the far end of the hangar and pulled the trigger. The bullets struck both their targets, knocking them backward. Within seconds, the two men were pounced upon by necrilids.

Accessing her heads-up display, Natalie brought a map of the base to the forefront of her vision. The Nightmen had been supplied the layout by Todd Kenner, who was presumably still somewhere in the base. His whereabouts, however, were not her concern. There was only one place in EDEN Command that Natalie wanted to go. As the preprogrammed route to Confinement loaded, a series of yellow nav points appeared in her vision.

Esther slid next to her, the scout firing her own weapon as she leaned around the opposite corner of the aircraft. Briefly, the two women locked eyes, each knowing what the other’s mission was.

“You ready for this?” Natalie asked.

Esther nodded. “Good luck, Natalie.”

“Same to you.” Getting on her comm, Natalie rallied her troops. “My team, let’s move out! You all have the nav points.” Over the comm, Javon, Tom, and Mark acknowledged. As the three men made their way to her, she said to them, “Use your weapon as a deterrent. Don’t fire unless fired upon. Everyone understand?” They did. “All right, let’s go!” With their E-35s ready, the foursome pressed in along with everyone else.


As the Nightman forces continued their advance, EDEN security found themselves being violently pushed back by the multifaceted nature of the assault. When their attention was on Centurion, the necrilids blindsided them. When they focused on the necrilids, the methodical approach of the Nightmen took advantage. When they reacted to the Nightmen, Centurion charged through them like a bone-frilled wrecking ball. There was no one way EDEN could look, no one threat they could prepare for. Within minutes, the hangar had been cleared, allowing the different strike teams to branch off in their assigned directions.

Leading the primary charge was Saretok himself. The towering fulcrum colonel—his own mission the capture of EDEN high officials and recovery of documental evidence—led an entire platoon of Nightmen into the massive main transit hub of EDEN Command. What resistance they encountered from EDEN Command’s security team, known by the moniker Com-Sec, never stood a chance. The attacking Nightman force was simply too varied, skilled, and motivated to be hindered. As the EDEN body count piled up, the Nightmen marched forward like a machine.

Branching off from the main force were Dostoevsky and his team: Rashid as XO, Esther, Varvara, Egor, Feliks, and Pyotr. Their objective was twofold: plant a series of high explosives at several key structural points and recover Becan McCrae from the medical center. The former objective would ensure that the destruction of the base was complete. The latter was purely personal.

That left Natalie and her team to head for Confinement. Under normal circumstances, they would expect to find it among the most heavily guarded sections of the base. But with EDEN Command under attack—and the bulk of its security forces responding to Saretok’s advance—the hope was that resistance there would be thin. With that mindset, they slipped away from the primary wave to follow the backroad waypoints to Confinement.


TODD KENNER WAS sprinting through the halls of EDEN Command. He had been prepared for the operation and had thus readied his weapons in his room long before the V2s from Northern Forge had landed. No guards had paid him mind so far, a clear indication that their focus was on the base attack and not him. In fact, with others rushing about in a panic themselves, his running through the crowd almost completely fit in. More than halfway to Confinement already, he was yet to encounter any resistance to him at all—until he rounded the corner that led to Research and Development.

Todd skidded to a stop, his boots sliding on the slick, white floor. Standing motionless, but with his weapon at the ready, he stared at the line of warriors before him. Warriors he knew all too well.

Leading the pack and scowling behind his purple-tinted visor, Klaus Faerber bared his teeth. Six Vectors stood ready beside him. The captain took a step forward.

Angling his head, Todd said in his thick, hick’s drawl, “Now don’t be doin’ that, friend.” His fingers tensed on his chaos rifle trigger.

“I am not your friend,” Klaus said without stopping. “You will come with us now, or we will shoot you where you stand.”

“Ain’t you seen the big picture? Don’t you realize there’s more goin’ on here than you ever thought?”

The German stopped. “Did you help the Nightmen find this place?”

“Is that all you care—”

“Did you?”

Todd said nothing. He and his former captain simply glared at each other, each pair of eyes burning through the other man’s. Both men immovable.

It was all the answer Klaus needed. “You are lucky I found you first. I ordered the others to kill you.” He looked at his soldiers. “Take him into custody.”

His finger twitching again, Todd said, “I’ll drop four of y’all before y’all even draw y’all’s guns. Don’t make me do it. I know every single one of you.”

“You heard me,” Klaus said to his Vectors.

“Their blood’s gonna be on your hands.”

Slowly, Klaus’s eyes narrowed. “The Nightmen murdered my son. No amount of blood affects me anymore.”

“Klaus, they didn’t murder your—” It was all Todd bothered to say. Cutting himself off before any of the Vectors could fire their weapons, he dashed to the left toward the corner of the intersection—the only cover in any direction. One-handing his chaos rifle in mid rush, he aimed it toward the line of Vectors and pulled the trigger.

Three of the Vectors were struck, toppling backward as the chaos rounds tore through their purple and white armor. The others, flinching back, quickly took cover in Research and Development’s lobby.

Todd pressed his back against the wall as weapons fire erupted against the corner. Armorless, the Type-3 scout blew out a breath as he shielded his eyes from the explosions. After readying his chaos rifle, he ducked low and angled his body around the corner at knee level. His Vector adversaries were spread out about the lobby; two of them had taken cover behind corners opposite him. All he needed was a second’s worth of their poking their heads out.

They gave it to him.

Rat-tat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat-tat!

Two quick bursts—two Vectors felled. The corners were cleared.

Part of the wall behind Todd’s head exploded. He ducked and rolled away. Looking up with wide eyes, he watched as a new cluster of Com-Sec soldiers emerged behind him.

Todd wasted no time. Flinging up his chaos rifle, he shifted from target, to target, to target—each felled in mid-run by lightning-quick pulls of the trigger. He heard bootsteps behind him. One of the Vectors was moving in for close combat.

A mistake.

In a fluid motion, Todd tossed his chaos rifle from his right hand to his left, and then his right hand reached down to pull his pistol from its holster. Crouching low, he looked behind and lifted his pistol to aim for the Vector’s exposed chin. Both weapons—the chaos rifle in his left hand and the pistol in his right—were fired at the same time. Both found their targets—one a soldier from the small security squad, the other the Vector, who was knocked off his feet to the floor, writhing and clutching his neck.

A bullet struck Todd in the neck—a glancing blow. Grunting, he slapped his pistol hand over it as he fired on with his left, sending a barrage of chaos rounds toward the Com-Sec soldiers. Scampering to the bleeding-out Vector, Todd retrieved a grenade from the man’s belt, activated it, then flung it around the corner toward the Research and Development lobby.

“Grenade!” someone yelled. The boom came shortly after.

It was all the diversion Todd needed. Bolting around the corner, he charged the lobby, chaos rifle raised as he abandoned his pistol on the floor behind him. Once more, the rifle barrel flashed orange, and once more, a Vector was struck—the last one other than Klaus himself.

Which left Klaus himself.

The German captain didn’t hide from view. Emerging from behind one of the many pillars spread about the lobby, Klaus raised his chaos rifle in Todd’s direction. Todd aimed his weapon right back. It was then, in that moment, that Todd did something he hadn’t yet done in that fight.

He hesitated.

Pulling the trigger without mercy, Klaus sent a barrage of chaos rounds streaking Todd’s way. Though Todd dove behind the relative safety of a reception desk, it was not without injury. A chaos round found his leg, ripping through the flesh of his left calf. Snarling in agony, Todd leaned his chaos rifle around the desk and laid down on the trigger. Bullets zipped Klaus’s direction—he relented and found cover of his own. Farther, just beyond the lobby, Com-Sec soldiers emerged from the corridors.

Grunting in deep, heavy breaths, Todd slammed his head back against the reception desk. “Veck!” He glanced down at his left leg, where his calf was a mangled mess. After shaking his head and grimacing, he called out, “All right, all right, all right!” Reaching up, he touched his neck where the other bullet had grazed. Warm, fresh blood was still oozing from it.

Slowly, Klaus Faerber and Com-Sec circled around him.


TIFFANY PRESSED THE tip of the magnetic key to the clasps on her ankles. They unlatched with a beep, and she wrestled her legs free. Pushing blood-soaked hair from her face, she stumbled back into the room to the body of the guard. Kneeling beside him, she cut off a strip of his uniform with her knife. With shaking hands, she wrapped the cloth around her right palm, covering the bleeding gash that was underneath. Removing the guard’s pistol from its holster, she rose to her feet.

She had freedom of movement. She had a weapon. She had a security access card. All that was missing was Scott. Her head was spinning, the blitz of activity making her feel as if the room was uneven. Reaching up, she felt the warm, thick fluid oozing from her head. That surely had something to do with it, too. But there was no time to feel affected. The Valley Girl needed to move.

Trotting toward the cell door, she eased her head around the corner. The hallway was shiny and well-lit with floors and walls made of marble and plaster. Everything screamed clean. That was about to change.

Far ahead, a trio of guards emerged. Tiffany ducked behind a cell partition—small half-walls that divided the space between cells. Though not large, they were enough to hide her mostly from view.

Mostly.

Tiffany knew that this was not a fight she could sit out. These were not enemies she could sneak past. Fighter pilots were not regarded for their battlefield prowess, but today, if she wanted to survive—if she wanted Scott to survive—she would have to fight like EDEN’s best. Closing her eyes, she drew in several fast breaths.

Go.

Stepping from the partition, Tiffany raised her pistol. None of the three guards were looking at her; they were moving to the far side of the cell block with purpose.

They’re after Scott.

Tiffany pulled the trigger. As the shots ricocheted down the hall, she ducked back down the next partition closer to them. Despite the small barrage, only one of the guards fell. The other two, no longer oblivious to her presence, ducked behind partitions of their own. Now it was the Valley Girl whose side of the hallway was being pelted with bullets. Pushing as tightly against the partition as she could, she winced as flicks of plaster rained upon her. Reaching around the partition with her handgun, she fired several blind shots before pulling the weapon back.

What do I do? What do I do? Her heart pounded. She had to get to Scott—if that was even where Scott was, if he was even who they were heading to. More shots were fired. She could hear the guards talking on their comms—alerting the other security guards that a prisoner had escaped. Getting help.

Where was her help?

That guy whose voice I heard said he was going to help me! Where is he? Did he forget? Did he die trying to reach me? Reaching around the corner of the partition again, she fired off more shots. Miracle shots, until her miracles ran out.

Click-click-click.

Out of ammunition. Pulling her hand back, she clenched her teeth. “Help me. Please, God, help me. Send someone to help me!” But she had no one. No comrades. No friend. No mysterious voice. Tiffany had no one but herself.

Boom!

Flinching, she opened her eyes and looked at the cell she was sheltering beside. Staring at her from the other side of the glass wall was a towering, five-horned behemoth—its lean, sepia-streaked body rippling with the most refined muscles she’d ever beheld. Its deep brown eyes stared down at her from where he’d just slammed his fists against the glass. Slowly, the Ceratopian pointed to the door—right to the security card reader. Above the reader, printed out on a door label, were the words Ceratopian 12. In a low, guttural, and shockingly understandable voice, the Ceratopian said, “Let me fight, human.”

Pop! Zing! Ping!

Tiffany ducked her head down as bullets peppered the partition. Her eyes stayed on the beast—the answer to her prayer. There was no hesitation. Upon grabbing her security card, she skedaddled toward the cell door, whipped her hand up to the reader, then quickly pulled it back before the bullets could tear through it. The light above the reader went green.

The Ceratopian strode for the door. “Stay down, little one.”

Without thinking—without hesitation—Tiffany shook her head. “Not today!”

Pausing at the door’s precipice, the Ceratopian turned its horned head to look at her. For the faintest of moments, she thought she saw it smile. Reaching out with its massive claw, it grabbed the nearest partition and with a violent yank, pulled it straight off the wall. Bursting from the cell, it leapt forward, spun around, and flung the entire partition down the corridor. Lifting her eyes above the partition she was hiding behind, Tiffany watched wide-eyed as the pair of guards leapt to avoid getting pummeled by the flying piece of wall. The Ceratopian closed the distance between her and the guards in seconds. The Valley Girl watched in horror as it grabbed them and ripped them apart like straw dolls. Covering her mouth as their entrails spilled out on the floor, she fought back a gag reflex.

The Ceratopian reached down, picked up one of the guard’s assault rifles, and slid it all the way back in Tiffany’s direction. She watched it as it stopped just past her. Mouth agape, she said, “Ho-ly veck.”

“We must move,” said the behemoth.

Somewhere between the gruesomeness of what she’d just witnessed and the fact that she was speaking English to a Ceratopian, Tiffany found herself lost for words. Finally snapping out of it, she cleared her throat and snatched the weapon. “Yeah—hell yeah!” No, wait. “Wait!”

The Ceratopian turned to her.

“I have to find somebody! I have to find my friend.” Scott—she had to find his cell!

“We do not have time. More will arrive soon.”

She knew that. She’d heard the guards radio for help. But there was no chance—no way in hell—that she was leaving without Scott. Rushing past one cell after the other, she looked in each in search of her friend. At one point, another extraterrestrial, this one a Bakma, banged on the interior glass of its cell as Tiffany hastened by. It was distinct enough—purposeful enough—to prompt Tiffany to stop. Looking back at the Ceratopian, she said, “This guy looks like he wants out!”

The Ceratopian strode to the cell, where he looked down upon the Bakma behind the glass. When the Ceratopian came into view, the Bakma stepped back and seethed. Tiffany swore she saw the Ceratopian smirk. “Leave that one. He cannot help us.”

“You know him?”

“His name is Nharassel. He is not good. He should be left.”

“Yeah, but—”

The Ceratopian looked at her. “This Bakma stays.”

She was going to say the more, the merrier. Back to the search for Scott. Ahead of the Ceratopian she again ran, until at long last, she found what she was looking for: the lone cell in Confinement with a human occupant.

Scott was chained to the back wall of the cell, his arms outstretched like he was crucified, and each wrist handcuffed to pins in the wall. He was shirtless—his pants were stained with blood. Crisscrossed on his chest were gaping cuts, like his body had been used to sharpen knives. Puncture wounds were in his shoulders, his stomach. He looked dead. “Oh my God.” Dashing to the security reader, she flashed the access card in front of it. As soon as the light was green, she bolted inside and toward him. “Scott!”

Scott offered no response. His eyes were swollen and purple. His head hung limply.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God. Please be alive, please be alive!” Placing her hands on his chest carefully, she felt around for any warmth—any beat of his heart. When she felt both, she exhaled. “Okay, Scott, hang tight there. I’m gonna get you out of here!”

Weapons fire emerged from the hallway. The Ceratopian grabbed one of the fallen guard’s assault rifles and ducked into the cell. Holding the undersized weapon awkwardly, he fired a series of scattered shots down the hall. “Hurry, little one.”

“I’m hurrying!” she said breathlessly. Holding the magnetic key against his handcuffs, she unlocked them. When both his hands were freed, she braced his fall with her body. Grimacing in pain, she slung one of his arms over her shoulder. “God, you are heavy!” Gritting her teeth, she repositioned him as best she could then trudged for the door. On wobbly knees, she grabbed her assault rifle with her one free hand. He was so heavy. He was so incredibly heavy. How could she possibly do this? The blonde stumbled forward. She and Scott both fell to the floor. Lowering her head and with her bloodied tendrils dangling, she closed her eyes. You got this. You got this, Tiffany. You…okay, like, right now, you don’t got this, but you really need to get this.

She knew what she had to do. It was the only way she would ever get him out of there. Dragging him alongside simply wasn’t going to work. The pilot was going to have to lift.

Repositioning him again, she put him facing her then slid her arms around his waist. Bending her knees, she counted, “One, two, three.” Screaming with every fiber within her, she propelled herself up and forward. In a single, strained maneuver, Scott came off the ground. Her grunting intensified as she stumbled to regain her balance with Scott’s legs hanging forward over her shoulder and his upper body down over her back. With a slide and a shimmy, she maneuvered him into a fireman’s carry.

Tiffany howled. She couldn’t help it. This took everything—every ounce of strength she had in her. Her legs burned. But she could do it. Glaring with intensity, she tromped forward one foot after the other. God, how she wanted the Ceratopian to carry him. But she needed him to fight. Whipping hair from her face, she screamed at him, “Bust us out of here!”

The Ceratopian didn’t reply. Still staring at her despite the rounds erupting around him, he angled his head and asked, “What is your name, little human?”

Oh come on, can it wait? Huffing a breath, she answered, “Tiffany!”

“You are fierce, Tiffany,” he said, his alien accent nearly butchering her name, though he got it out.

Her hair was in her face again. “I’m kinda dying here, big guy!”

Picking up the partition he’d previously flung, he held it up with one hand like a shield. “Follow me.” He marched forward, the partition in one hand to block EDEN’s projectiles as he fired the assault rifle recklessly with the other.

She trudged with gritted teeth behind him as she carried Scott onward. “So what do I call you?”

“Henkatha.”

That was a pleasant mouthful. “All righty, Henkatha. Lead the way.”


SLIDING AROUND THE corner of a column just outside of EDEN Command’s inner plaza, Dostoevsky leaned his body around its far edge and fired. The smoke of weapon exhaust saturated the air—even behind his fulcrum’s helmet, he could smell it.

It had taken Dostoevsky’s team little time to reach the community wing of EDEN Command. With the bulk of Com-Sec already dispatched, there was sparse resistance there. Small as they were, his Nightman team of Rashid, Egor, Feliks, and Pyotr was cutting through EDEN’s defenses like a red-hot blade.

While the Nightmen cleared the way, Esther kept her eyes peeled for any sign of the base’s medical center. Despite seeing directional signage for it everywhere, she was yet to see the medical center itself. A bullet zinged past her, forcing her to take cover behind the various square columns in the plaza. After ducking her head down as pieces of the column exploded above her, she shook her head and shouted, “If that’s the cafeteria over there, the medical center should be close!”

At the next column over—a larger one and one of the identified structural vulnerabilities—Egor Goronok knelt to attach a high explosive. Dostoevsky shot a look at Esther behind him. “This is but one of many charges we must set! If you wish to find Becan now, I trust you to do so on your own.”

That was good, because she trusted herself. “I’m up to it, commander!”

“Varya, go with her.” He nodded in the medic’s direction, and she acknowledged. He then turned his head to Pyotr. “Alkaev, you as well.”

The teenage slayer looked Esther’s way.

Esther wouldn’t turn down the help. Kneeling, she waved for Pyotr to join her. He dashed through the weapons fire around them then knelt by the two women. “Listen,” the scout said, her eyes on both of them, “we might be rolling a bed back to the hangar, so we can’t afford any injuries.” Her dark eyes focused on Pyotr. “I take point, you watch where I’m looking, then you look the other way. Protect my blind side. You have a slew of ammunition—use it.”

The slayer nodded eagerly.

“Varya, you watch our six. Linger behind and let us know if anyone approaches. You’re the most important person on this team. That sound well and good?” Through her tinted visor, the medic nodded. Esther held out a fist. “Let’s go, girl.” Varvara punched it, and the scout turned ahead. Together, the three set off through the backend of the plaza.



NATALIE AND HER team had encountered little resistance on their trek through the corridors of EDEN Command, hitting each nav point in their route almost in stride. What little opposition they encountered, they were able to dispatch or avoid entirely. All of Com-Sec’s forces seemed to be rallying to the base interior, where Saretok and his squads were storming. With ammunition still plentiful, the small team was only a few turns away from Research and Development.

It was there, however, that all smooth sailing came to an end. As they rounded the corner leading to the final corridor, they hit their collective brakes. Ahead of them and moving toward Research and Development was a sweeper team of Com-Sec guards. As soon as Javon and Tom, clad in Nightman armor, appeared in the open, a member of the sweeper team spied them. The guard pointed in their direction and shouted, as Natalie and her teammates raised their weapons to fire. Barrels flashed as an exchange of orange streaks erupted in the halls.

A bullet broke through Tom’s armor as he was moving toward cover. The soldier screamed, toppling backward and scampering out of the firefight while Javon laid down suppression. Natalie and Mark ended up taking a position around the corner opposite them. Natalie, Javon, and Mark all engaged from a distance as the EDEN soldiers clamped down on R&D’s entrance.


Still sheltering behind the reception desk, Todd Kenner poked his head around as the sound of weapons fire emerged from the hallway. As the collective focus of everyone around him—the Com-Sec guards, Klaus himself—shifted to face the new threat, he slammed a fresh magazine into his chaos rifle and aimed. The German captain wasn’t even looking at him. For a second time with Klaus in his sights, Todd hesitated.

Then he fired.

Chaos rounds tore through Klaus Faerber’s back; the German stumbled forward then collapsed. Todd quickly pivoted his gaze to find another target. One found him first. The black sheep of Vector never even saw the soldier who hit him. His head was struck by a bullet the moment it turned.


Flashing a look to Tom across the hall, Natalie shouted, “Where’s he hit?”

Grimacing, Tom felt around his abdomen, where dark red blood was oozing. Leaning his head back, he cried in agony. Above him, Javon shook his head. “Somewhere in the stomach! Shot tore through his armor like butter!”

Chaos rounds. It didn’t necessarily mean that Vector was there—chaos rifles weren’t used exclusively by them. But it most certainly meant they were about to go toe to toe with some harsh weaponry. Leaning around the corner, she fired off a volley to keep Com-Sec at bay. “Can you walk, King?”

“No,” he answered, his voice shaking in pain.

Glancing at Mark, Natalie said, “Javon, let’s lay down some suppression so Remington can get to him.” She’d had no intention of relying on Mark as a medic for this mission, but she was sure glad she had him, now.

“You got it, Vee!” Swinging around the corner, the tall soldier joined Natalie in sending a cascade of weapons fire down the hall.

“Move, move, move!” she shouted at Mark. The cadet scampered across the hallway, sliding out of the line of fire and next to Tom as he reached for his medical kit. “He’s yours!” Natalie said to him. “Stabilize him so we can move on.” She had no choice but to trust the cadet—and hopefully use that trust to fill him with confidence. When the medic-in-training affirmed, she shifted her focus to Javon. “We’ve gotta make a move! You ready?”

Javon nodded. “Ready when you are!”

“Go!” Bolting from cover, Natalie moved forward as she aimed her rifle at the corner. The moment a Com-Sec guard appeared, she and Javon opened fire, forcing the soldier back before he could attack.

There was no time to waste. There was no telling how many soldiers would be around that corner—the longer it took for Javon and her to clear it, the more time the guards would have to get better position on them. Up until that point, Natalie had tried her best to avoid taking the life of any soldiers from EDEN. What shots she had gotten off, she’d tried to shoot for incapacitation and not death. But with the heat of battle now facing her, that luxury of a clean conscience was coming to an end. What had to be done had to be done.

Turning the corner with Javon, Natalie fully expected to see a fortified force awaiting them. Instead, what she saw was bloodshed in every direction. Bodies were sprawled out—both EDEN and Vector. To be sure, the soldiers at the corner whom they’d pushed back were there, though they had now taken cover in a lobby, where more bodies—all clad in purple and white armor—could plainly be seen.

What in the hell happened here?

She barely had a second to entertain the thought, as the guards engaged, firing upon Natalie and Javon as they stood at the precipice of R&D. Natalie made a quick count of four guards before their firing forced her and Javon back to the previous intersection. “I got four!”

“Roger four!” said Javon, retreating around the corner after firing a volley of his own.

Two on four. They have chaos rifles. We’ve got this. Drawing a deep breath, she looked across the corridor at her comrade. “Move in fast, make your aims count! Don’t miss.”

The pair dashed around the corner, weapons raised and ready to fire. Time seemed to slow down. A soldier poked out from the right-hand corner ahead. Javon dropped him before Natalie could aim. Another emerged, this one from the left. A shot to the midsection from Natalie put him on the floor. Still, onward they charged. Bursting into the lobby with their weapons in search mode, they quickly became targets themselves. In the same second that Javon found a target sheltering behind a pillar in the corner, he was clipped in the right side of his chest. Though he stumbled forward, he managed to get his own shot off. It found its target, and the soldier behind the pillar fell. So did Javon, who quickly scrambled behind cover, clutching the side of his chest and heaving.

The last target was Natalie’s alone.

There was no way she could fall back into cover—not with Javon injured. If she wanted to take out the final guard before the guard took out her friend, she’d have to fight less like herself and more like Scott Remington. So be it.

Natalie charged the corner that led into the reception area with abject recklessness. There was no doubt the last guard was waiting for her—a fact that would put Natalie at a distinct disadvantage. She’d have to make sure the guard missed her first. Drawing close to the corner at an all-out sprint, Natalie bent her knees and slid forward like she was aiming for home plate.

She went just low enough. The Com-Sec guard swung the butt of her weapon where Natalie’s neck would have been, missing her completely. Whipping her head back to Natalie, the guard quickly reoriented herself. By the time Natalie aimed her own weapon and pulled the trigger, the guard was already diving and rolling out of the way.

Natalie did the same. Scrambling behind one of the many decorative planter boxes that were scattered about the area, she nearly lost her head when she lifted it to find her target. Bullets exploded against the corner of the planter, dirt flying as Natalie rolled to the other side of the box. Popping up, she fired a burst of suppressive fire in the general direction of the attack—just enough to stave off her assailant. The Com-Sec guard ducked back behind her own cover. Natalie ducked, too. For a second, all weapons fire ceased. Angling her head to the corner of the planter, Natalie shouted, “Just you and me, sister! You want to walk away from this, you just let me know!”

The guard was on the move—Natalie could hear her sprinting in the direction of the reception desk. Rising to fire, Natalie managed to get off a single burst before the woman disappeared.

Press in!

Adrenaline took over, and before Natalie knew it, she herself was charging for the same reception desk. The Com-Sec guard emerged from the far corner—barely five feet away—and laid down on the trigger. Once more, a rain of weapons fire was sent Natalie’s direction. Natalie slid behind a pillar then poked out to fire a return volley. The Com-Sec guard ducked behind the desk again.

This close-quarters game of cat-and-mouse wasn’t going to work. Natalie needed to end this fight now. With the other woman in momentary cover, now was Natalie’s chance. Bolting for the desk, she dove over it just as the Com-Sec guard rose to fire. Natalie collided into her, and the two women in EDEN armor went toppling over.

No sooner had they hit the floor than Natalie felt the hammering impacts of an elbow in the center of her visor. The hits came one after the other, rocking Natalie’s head with each blow. Upon wrapping her arm around the woman’s neck, Natalie rolled over and slung her onto the floor. The hit was hard, and Natalie heard the woman audibly react to it. But the fight wasn’t over. Too close to fire with an assault rifle, the Com-Sec guard reached down to grab her pistol from its holster. So did Natalie. Bringing the weapons up at the same time, each woman directed their pistols at the other’s head while simultaneously trying to push the other’s away. The result was a barrage of ear-splitting blasts as the two women rolled, literally wrapped up in each other, firing shot after shot just past their ears. Abandoning her efforts to fire, Natalie slammed her fist into the Com-Sec guard’s solar plexus. The guard oof-ed and buckled forward.

This fight had to end. Natalie headbutted the Com-Sec guard square in the visor—the woman fell back, her helmet jarred loose as Natalie took a truly advantageous position for the first time. Her ponytailed assailant lifted her head to look at her; the woman’s almond eyes widened. Natalie aimed her pistol at the Com-Sec guard’s head.

Then she saw it—that look she hadn’t anticipated seeing in someone so close to EDEN Command Confinement. In someone she was prepared to outright kill. She saw fear. Genuine, life-flashing-before-her-eyes fear. Something far more human than she’d expected—even wanted—to see. For the slightest of moments, Natalie hesitated.

Kicking her leg into Natalie’s, the guard shouted with vehemence as Natalie was nearly swept off her feet. Fortunately for Natalie, the reception desk was close enough to reach out and grab to stop her fall. After whipping her head back to the woman with a scowl, Natalie reached down, grabbed her assault rifle on the floor where it’d fallen, and swung it toward the guard’s chin with all of her strength.

Smack!

The butt of the weapon hit true, and the guard was knocked off her feet, her dark ponytail flailing as she landed flat on her back. Bringing the reclaimed weapon around, Natalie stood over the woman and aimed the barrel at her head.

The guard was out cold, her head lying limply to the side. There was no need to pull the trigger. Natalie knew how hard the woman had just been hit. This fight was finished. Bending forward and propping her hands against her knees, Natalie exhaled a breath.

“Veck, man!” Javon said from the corner far behind her.

Natalie spun around, where she saw Javon clutching his chest. She turned to make her way toward him, only to stop when she saw the crumpled-over body of a man behind the reception desk. His head, facing away from her, was lying in a pool of blood. His outfit wasn’t EDEN’s or Vector’s, though he had to have been felled by them, as there was no one else in the room who could have killed him. A chill came to her when she realized who it must have been.

Once again, Javon groaned. Natalie turned away from the corpse to trot in his direction, nearly stumbling over the corpse of another fallen warrior, this one clad in purple and white. Weaving through the carnage, she knelt next to Javon and examined his chest plate. The wound, much like Tom’s, was oozing with blood. He’d been hit solidly. “Can you walk?”

“I…” Javon grimaced, then he pushed himself up. “Yeah, I can walk.”

After adjusting her comm, Natalie addressed Mark on the other side. “How is King, Remington?”

The voice of the breathless cadet came back to her. “I’m…I’m workin’ on him!”

“Is he stable?”

“Yeah, he’s stable!”

Atta boy. “I’m sending Quinton to you. I want you to check him out then get them both back to the hangar.”

Javon growled and shook his head. “Like hell you’re sending me back.” Forcing himself to a stand, he readied his weapon as best he was able. “We in this to the end.”

“For you, this is the end.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

She looked at him sternly. “You don’t. Your job was to help us reach Confinement. You did that.” Without looking, she pointed in the direction of Research and Development. “There are only a handful of nav points left—everyone is evacuating. Whatever resistance we had to face, we just faced it. You get to the transports, I’ll get Scott and Tiffany, then we’ll all get back to Northern Forge and laugh about this over a six-pack. How’s that sound to you?”

Javon looked down. “I’m not gonna lie, that sounds pretty good—but I’m not leaving you behind.”

“I’m ordering you to go. You think Mark is gonna make it back on his own without help? Whatever you got left in the tank, he and Tom are gonna need it. Understand?”

Exhaling a tired breath, the soldier nodded. “Understand, Vee. But look, you better be careful.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on dying today.”

“We never do.”

“I’ll see you on the ship, Quinton.”

“We’ll be waitin’ for ya, captain.” Turning away from her and still clutching the side of his chest, Javon lumbered painfully back up the corridor.

Natalie turned toward the interior of the lobby. Trashed with bullets and blood, it looked like a gateway to hell. But if there was a hell to face, she was ready to face it. With her grip on her weapon secure and her emerald gaze burning a hole through her visor, Natalie stalked into R&D.


THE WAR ROOM at EDEN Command was in a state of total chaos. Communications operators shouted into their headsets to members of security, council staffers, and representatives from other EDEN bases across the globe. All the while, Malcolm Blake, Benjamin Archer, and the other members of the High Command that’d made it there stared at the holographic globe at the center of the room, where numerous lines connected incoming EDEN squadrons to the pulsating red blip that identified EDEN Command. It was the first time that anyone in the room—sans the very few people who already knew—saw where the base they resided at was located. The veil had been lowered for all the world to see. At another time, those in the War Room might have been awestruck at the revelation. But this was not that time.

“Mister President!” shouted one of the radar operators. “Nagoya has just launched another squadron. ETA is—”

“Too bloody long,” Blake said, cutting the operator off as he slammed his palms against the railing. “We’re measuring their response time in hours—this will be over in twenty minutes!”

From farther down the railing, Archer watched the globe—and Blake—with pale-faced stoicism. He’d spoken nary a word since tasking Oleg with the silencing of Scott, Tiffany, and his alien collaborators. But all that while, his mind had been churning.

This was a loss. He could see that now, as could Kang, who was sitting in a chair across the room. The emergency transports were already being prepped in the secondary hangar. The live feeds in the security cameras didn’t lie. The Nightmen had come with a force that was bigger and more fervent than anything EDEN Command had to throw at them. They’d brought necrilids, a rampaging Ceratopian in Nightman armor, Omega Fighters. Archer’s concern was no longer holding onto EDEN Command. His goal was to survive the flight out.

“Where is Mariner?” Blake asked. Archer’s eyes shifted to regard the president as he waited for an answer.

“Mariner’s ETA is forty-seven minutes,” the radar operator replied.

Mariner and his Flying Apparatus had been the first to be called out, abandoning their efforts to bombard Northern Forge to make a beeline for EDEN Command. Squadrons from several other bases were en route, too, namely Berlin, London, and Sydney. Cairo, though the closest base in proximity to EDEN Command, was yet to get a plane off the ground.

From behind, Jaya Saxena grabbed Archer by the arm. When he turned to look at her, the wide-eyed Indian girl asked, “What are we going to do?”

A stupid question with an obvious answer. “We’re going to leave.”

“But what about everything?”

“Everything will be fine. If we leave.” It was not necessarily true—but it was the only thing Archer could cling to. His eyes returned to the holographic globe, this time zeroing in on the dot that represented Northern Forge. How little that place seemed to matter now.

“Attention, my comrades!” The boisterous voice was Dmitri Grinkov’s. The large, Russian judge lifted his hand for all to see. “The emergency transports are ready! We must leave.”

Turning from the holographic globe, Blake picked up where Grinkov left off. “Everyone heard Judge Grinkov. Take your final looks at what you see here, and then walk away. Or preferably, run.”

At the entrance to the War Room, a section of Com-Sec guards readied their weapons to escort.

Once more, Jaya tugged on Archer’s sleeve. He turned again to regard her. “What does this mean?” she stammered. “I mean, for us?”

For them? “Opportunity,” he answered. She angled her head, puzzled. “See the forest for the trees, Jaya. There is always opportunity—if one is unafraid to act.” Putting his hand on her shoulder, he eased her away. “Now if you please. I would like to survive this.” Gesturing toward the door, he followed her as she hurried for the Com-Sec guards.

Person by person, the War Room was abandoned.


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