Chapter Fourteen
Thursday, March 29th, 0012 NE
1902 hours
EDEN Command
TIFFANY’S EYES HAD only just closed when the door to Confinement slid open. Oleg Strakhov, former Nightman and now security chief of Benjamin Archer, stepped inside. Eyes shooting back open as he entered, Tiffany watched the door close behind him. No one else had stepped inside with him. Not Archer, not another guard.
Nobody.
Oleg’s eyes shifted between Tiffany and Scott, whose back was to him on the inclined bench. Tiffany’s heart raced as the eidolon walked toward them.
The expression on Oleg’s face was one of trepidation—uncharacteristic of what Tiffany would have expected upon the discovery that her tale of Northern Forge’s location had been a tall one. Quite the contrary, he looked like a man conflicted. Tiffany wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.
As soon as Oleg came into Scott’s view, Scott inhaled as one does when bracing for a blow. Even still, Oleg’s face remained the same, looking between the two with a certain level of what looked like fear. But why, of all people, would EDEN Command’s security chief be afraid? Surely, by this point, Archer and his fellow conspirators knew that Northern Forge was not in a warehouse in Norilsk.
Scott’s breathing remained purposeful. In, then out, then in, then out again in guttural huffs. All the while, his eyes remained solely on Oleg, while the eidolon’s shifted between the two of them. At long last, after the uncomfortable silence between them had fully festered, Scott addressed him. “What do you want?”
Please don’t be mean, Scott. Despite Tiffany’s actively fraying nerves, the desperate hope manifested that they might somehow talk their way out of this. Please don’t say anything nasty. Maybe, just maybe, playing nice would keep them alive—or at least, with all of their body parts intact.
Dark eyes settling on Scott, Oleg answered in a low, monotone voice, “There were no Nightmen in Norilsk.”
In Norilsk, Tiffany thought. Did that mean they were now discounting the Siberian city completely from their search? If so, that’d be a best-case scenario.
“Maybe you didn’t look hard enough,” Scott snapped back with a measure of sarcasm.
Tiffany couldn’t help it. “Scott, stop.” Don’t make this worse, I beg of you!
Oleg extended his open hand in Scott’s direction. “I am not here to argue.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Don’t sound like a jerk!” Tiffany pleaded.
Scott’s good eye narrowed spitefully as he responded to Tiffany’s pleas with bluntness. “Some people have something worth saving. This is not one of them. Don’t trust a thing—not one thing—that comes out of his mouth.”
“But Scott, if we just—”
“There is no, ‘if we just,’ Tiffany. Not with him.”
For what it was worth, Oleg’s demeanor had not shifted once from his entry into the cell. Even amid Scott’s outbursts, the chief didn’t so much as bat an eye. Tiffany had no doubt that Scott was telling her the truth about Oleg. Regardless, there was no part of Tiffany that wanted to test this man.
“Where is Northern Forge?” Oleg asked.
Scott spat at him. “Go to hell.”
Had Tiffany not been restrained, she’d have marched to that bench and slapped Scott across the face. “Oh, come on!”
“Tell me, Remington,” said Oleg, before looking over to Tiffany. “Or you, if you can be more reasonable.”
“I already told you,” she answered. “It was in a warehouse in Norilsk. If they didn’t find it, I don’t know why. Maybe they moved!”
Slowly, Oleg shook his head. “They did not move. And they are not in a warehouse in Norilsk.”
“I don’t have any explanation for that other than what I told you. That’s where they were, I swear to God. Why would I lie to you?”
“For so many reasons.”
He had her there.
“Archer is not here,” Oleg said, “but he will be soon. The cameras are off. No one is watching or listening. It is just the two of you and me.” He paused. “I know the two of you are collaborating together.”
Fear gripped Tiffany tighter.
“Oh, yeah?” asked Scott, his tone still mocking. “How’s that seem to be working out for us?”
The eidolon shook his head. “I don’t yet know.”
“Well, how about this? How about you tell Archer to come here and do his dirty work himself?”
“He does not know I am here.”
Scott shook his head. “I find that highly unlikely.”
“My God, Scott, will you please shut up?” She and Scott were in no position to mess with anyone, let alone this man. What if he was telling the truth?
Answering Scott calmly, Oleg said, “I have already withheld from Archer information I have learned from you. You should know me well enough by now to know that I am on no one’s side but my own.”
“Yeah, you got that part right.”
With every snippy word that Scott spoke, Tiffany died a little more. “You’re just not gonna listen, are you?” she asked him.
“Everything that comes out of this man’s mouth is a lie,” Scott answered her. “Whatever he says, don’t believe it—especially if he claims to be withholding information. He wouldn’t withhold anything. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s got nothing on me, or you, or anyone.”
For the first time, there was a shift in Oleg’s countenance. Angling his head, he said, “Pelican Squad.”
Silence. Scott’s defiant expression fell to the wayside as Tiffany went into panic mode. He knows! Oh my God, he knows! How could he possibly…? Play it off, play it off, play it off! “Uhh, what?”
Oleg’s eyes remained solely on Scott. “It was during the rescue of Pelican Squad that your friend, Becan, decided to out me as an eidolon—a mistake he has suffered for. I remember every detail about that mission, including the names of every person we rescued. Names like Reginald Custer.”
“Reginald, who?” asked Tiffany.
“Do not play foolish, girl. I know full well that you communicated with them while you were at Sydney.”
All she could do was shake her head and hope he’d buy it. “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of anyone called Reginald Custer.”
“Really?” He looked at her with disappointment. “Says the woman who went to a place called Reggie’s Custard?”
We’re busted. Feigning shock, Tiffany widened her eyes and said, “Oh, wait a minute…did you…? Did you think…?” She had nothing. “Oh, I see! Custer, custard. Custer sounds like custard, right? But no, I mean really, there’s really a place called Reggie’s Custard! I really used to go there all the time.”
“With your friend, Sydney?”
Crap. “Uhh, yeah…oh wait! Did you think I was talking about the base of Sydney?”
“Tiff,” said Scott, defeat evident in his voice for the first time, “it’s over.”
For a man who’d argued with Oleg every step of the way, Scott sure gave up at the drop of a hat. “Okay, maybe you two thought I was speaking in some kind of code, but I totally was not. I had a best friend named Sydney growing up, and we went to a place called Reggie’s Custard literally every day of the summer. Look the place up if you don’t believe me.” Please don’t look it up.
“And what was Sydney’s last name?”
Her hazel eyes widened. For almost five full seconds, she just stared at Oleg blankly. Her mouth hung open, as she uttered the word, “…Syd…nies?”
“Sydney Sydnies?”
“I know, it’s weird, right?”
Even Scott seemed embarrassed at this point. “Please stop. Please, just…stop.”
“I knew what you were doing the moment I reviewed the recording,” said Oleg. “As security chief, I have access to everything here.”
Scott laughed under his breath. “Security chief. How long have you had that gig?”
Oleg answered, “About one day.” No response came from Scott, and Oleg continued, looking at Tiffany. “I know, with no doubts, that you communicated with Pelican Squad in Sydney. This does not surprise me—not with the history that Captain Gabriel has with the Fourteenth.”
I really need to learn about this history, thought Tiffany. The Fourteenth has been through so much! How in the heck did they get mixed up with a team of Australians? How do Scott and Oleg know each other? Why is there so much hatred here?
“I have not reported this to anyone, nor do I intend to if you cooperate.”
“So, in other words, you’re going to blackmail us,” said Scott.
“Scott,” said Oleg, the use of Scott’s first name seeming to garner him more attention, “you need to give Archer the information he wants. The Nightmen pose a real danger.”
From his bench, Scott shook his head. “How can you talk like such a hypocrite? How do you have the gall?”
“EDEN bombed Chernobyl during the Japanese mission. I assume you heard this at some point.” The lack of a reaction from Scott insinuated that he did. “It was an attempt to squash the Nightman resistance once and for all. To clear the way for what had to be done.”
What had to be done? Tiffany’s brow quirked, and she angled her head. Was he privy to the big picture, here? Could they possibly glean something from him?
“A cleanup team was sent to inspect the rubble, only to discover that there were no bodies in it. No bodies, no armor, no necrilids.” When Oleg said it, a surprised look crossed Scott’s swollen face. The eidolon seemed to catch it. “This surprises you.”
For several seconds, Scott continued his silent resistance. Slowly, though, familiarity between the two men—as antagonizing as it may have been—appeared to be prevailing. “That’s where they were going,” Scott said. “The caravan left, containing all of the Nightman remnant. I heard it straight from Antipov’s mouth.”
“Anti-who?” asked Tiffany.
Ignoring the question, Oleg said, “So did we.”
Scott cocked his head.
“We heard the two of you talking,” Oleg said, prompting Scott to blink. “How do you think we knew to catch you in Japan? It was all in a single intercepted conversation that we heard.”
“How in the world did you hear it?”
Clearing her throat, Tiffany asked again, “Hello? Looking for a little elaboration, here.” Seriously, who is this Antifreeze guy?
Once more, she was ignored. “Because we found an abandoned helmet in Hami Station, which we used to tap into the frequency that Antipov was using.”
Antipov. At least Tiffany had his name, now.
Looking away from them, Oleg angled his head down, as if in deep thought. At long last, after almost ten seconds of silence, a thin smirk crept out, and he laughed under his breath. “He set us up.”
“How?” Scott asked, his tone of voice already indicating that he might actually believe it.
“Could he have?” Oleg asked himself. “Could he have really?” Inhaling a long, deep breath through his nose, he looked at Scott and said, “What if he had the helmet left on purpose? What if he meant for EDEN to find it, knowing that they would tap into the frequency and overhear him? What if he aimed to use that to provide false information?”
Shaking his head, Scott said, “That’s a plan with a heck of a lot of assumptions.”
“None of which are unlikely. Obviously, EDEN would search for clues at Hami Station. They would no doubt find a Nightman helmet. Would it not be natural for them to use it to their advantage and attempt to tap into the Nightmen’s comm chatter?” He seemed to think. “And that conversation was the only one intercepted. He made it clear to you that there would be no more communication and not to use that channel again.” Oleg seemed a man who was putting things together. “He left his trail of breadcrumbs, then he disappeared.”
“Yeah,” Scott said, “but that was also the conversation where he told us about the train—” Scott’s words dropped off sharply, as a blank expression came over him. Turning his head away from Oleg slowly, he stared up in deep thought—deep realization—at the ceiling.
Oleg was realizing things, too. Slowly, the most sinister of smiles crept up from his lips. “And now, this starts to make sense.”
Wait a minute. Tiffany’s own brain was racking, trying to make sense of this herself. So, if this guy started talking about Chernobyl with the purpose of EDEN overhearing it, like this Oleg guy thinks happened, does that mean…? No. It couldn’t be. Holy snaps, did he want them to hear about Japan, too? Had the outlaws been set up by their own people?
“No,” Scott said, shaking his head as he looked at Oleg again. “That’s not possible.”
He was in denial. Even Tiffany could hear it.
“There’s no way…” Scott went on. “He wouldn’t…” Seeming to struggle for words, he found none.
Oleg filled the void for him. “Would he not really? The man who arranged for the Cairo operation? The man who is ten steps ahead of everyone around him?” Half shaking his head, he said, “General Thoor was a threat right in front of your face. But Iosif Antipov? He is the one you never see coming.”
“Are you telling me this whole mission was a lie?” Tiffany asked, her heart starting to simmer. “That the Nightmen set us up to be captured? But why? Why would they do that?”
“You cannot guess why a man like Antipov does what he does. You can only rest assured that in the end, it will work out for him better than it will for you.” Returning his focus to Scott, he said, “And now you know why I have no loyalty toward the Nightmen. They have shown that they have none toward me.” He pointed at himself fervently. “I did my job when I was assigned to you. I was there to guide, not to destroy. I was there to make sure leadership of the Fourteenth was in the right hands: yours. And how was I repaid? Demoted to fulcrum. Fulcrum may be a high position to you, but it does not compare with the eidola. I was among the best.”
From the chair, Tiffany could see Scott’s good eye shimmering. It was rage. Pure, burning rage. She felt it, too.
Oleg continued. “There are no heroes here, Remington. Not Antipov. Not Archer. Not you or me. Our task is only to choose which villain to side with.” His mouth downturned. “I feel for you. You did not ask for any of this. But I have still sided with the villain who needs answers that only you can provide. If I must torture it out of you, then that is something I am prepared to do. Now that you know the truth, however—that the Nightmen only ever saw you as an instrument—I am hopeful that you will cooperate willingly.”
“Go to hell,” Scott seethed, face turning away, eyes still brimming with hatred. Though his words were for Oleg, Tiffany knew the object of his ire was someone else.
“Oh, I will, of that there is no doubt. But I will go to hell knowing that no one controlled me. No side of this war, no God. No one but me. There is a measure of dignity in that.”
There was no dignity in that whatsoever. Not in Tiffany’s book. This is a sad, sad man. The world was full of sad men, it seemed. What better time for a woman to step up to the plate? Conjuring up whatever tolerance she had left for games—for it seemed that everyone, everywhere, was playing them—she cleared her throat and looked at Oleg straight on. “You’ve been through a lot. I can tell.”
Chuckling, Oleg looked at her and smiled. “I would say nice try, but that would be too generous.”
“I’m serious.”
“You are not.”
Grr. “There’s time to do the right thing. Whatever that may be. But listen, if you let us go, we have friends who can help. Who can do…good.” She was swinging that bat blindly, for all it was worth. “The Fourteenth, Pelican Squad.” It felt strange to say their name out loud, but Oleg already knew. “If you let us out, we can get out of here together. Get me to a ship, and I can fly us all out of here.”
“And leave your other friend behind?”
Opening her mouth, Tiffany found no words. After a moment, she could only manage, “Uhh, what?”
Scott, too, looked at Oleg strangely.
“There was another survivor. He was brought here from Japan. Or she, I do not know. Their identity has not been made known to me.” He paused. “I only know that they were brought here badly injured. They are in the medical station now. The guards…” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. My guards are at post around it. But even they are not allowed inside to see who it is.”
Oh no! This was awful. Who could it be? Natalie? Becan? Esther? The mere thought that any one of them could be there at EDEN Command, suffering just like they were but without the comfort of a comrade to help them through it, was…
…it was terrible.
Don’t get distracted! Keep workin’ this guy. “We can bring them, too. If you can get us out of here, I know you can get whoever else is here. No one here has to side with the bad guys.”
“She’s right.”
Tiffany’s jaw wanted to hit the floor, and she looked at Scott as he spoke to Oleg. Was he joining Team Positivity? Yay! Let’s get this party started!
“Forget everything you’ve done, forget everything I’ve done,” said Scott. “You’re in a position to find the truth about all of this. You have access to Archer. All we need is to get that information out.”
“And to get out of here,” Tiffany said, nodding for emphasis. “That’s a major part of the plan.”
Nodding placatingly, Scott said, “And if it’s possible, to get us all out of here.”
A small smile of amusement emerged from Oleg’s lips. “This is cute. The star quarterback and head cheerleader joining forces to save the world. Are you sure you have your heart set on Sveta, Remington? You two would make a more fitting couple.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. Come on, dude, really? I was never head cheerleader.
“I appreciate the offer,” said Oleg. “I know how sincere it is.” His tone indicated he didn’t. “But that is not something I could consider.”
“Why?” She wanted to know. “Why wouldn’t you? What would be so hard about giving good a chance? Whatever you did, whatever you think you’ve done that’s so horrible, it doesn’t have to make you who you are now. You can change the narrative.”
Turning his head to look at Tiffany directly, Oleg canted his head. “Change the narrative? Why would I want to do that? In four hundred years, when we are all long dead, it is not you that history will look upon favorably. You can mark my words for that.”
“How can you say that?” she asked. “How can you look at what you’re doing—what Archer is doing—and believe in any part of your mind that the side you’re on is right?”
The question lingered in the cell as Oleg stared back, his eyes seeming to search for some way to answer—to convey understanding. “Would you sacrifice one life to save a thousand, even if it was your own?”
Blinking, Tiffany wondered if this was a trick question. There was only one answer that could possibly be construed as morally right. “Yes.” Of course, she would.
Angling his head in the other direction, Oleg asked her, “Then would you not sacrifice one planet to save a species?” He paused. “Even if it was your own?”
Sacrifice a planet? Sacrifice Earth? “I…” She didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t get the context.
“You insist on knowing why we are doing what we are doing. How I or anyone could follow a man like Benjamin Archer. But what you do not know—what no one can know—is that Archer is the only man doing what must be done to save us all.”
Lying on his bench, Scott looked completely enthralled. “Is Archer sacrificing Earth? Letting it lose, letting it die?”
“You were in the same meeting I was, that day when Thoor called you into his Throne Room. I used the term to describe Earth myself. You know well what our planet is.”
A lump formed in Tiffany’s throat. Lips parted, she watched Scott to see his reaction to whatever it was that they knew and she didn’t. She swore that, even from a distance, she saw something in his face fall.
Scott’s good eye remained on Oleg as the anger—the desperation—on his face relented. Like a man realizing something for the first time. With a tone as defeated as Tiffany had ever heard it, he looked at Oleg and said, “We’re Interstellar Midway.”
Midway. An island in the middle of the Pacific. As a fighter pilot, Tiffany knew it well. It was the perfect staging point for a war across an ocean.
“Now imagine,” said Oleg, “if you could travel back in time and topple that little island to the bottom of the ocean. Imagine you could blot it out. Imagine if it was not there for the enemy to use.”
…oh God…
“That is what Archer has the courage to do.”
Slowly, Scott shook his head. “Oleg, don’t tell me…”
“I said it to you in the Throne Room. When God made the universe, He put us in a very bad place.”
It felt like Tiffany’s soul had been sapped out. She stared at Oleg in horror. “Archer is going to destroy the Earth,” she said, no trace of emotion in her words. Almost stated in disbelief.
“No,” Oleg replied. “That is not something that our species can do. But the Ceratopians?”
The chill in Tiffany’s spine got colder.
“Yes.” Slowly, the eidolon nodded. “That is within their capability.”
Earth destroyed. Not war torn…destroyed. A flurry of images flew through Tiffany’s mind. The Statue of Liberty melting. Mount Everest crumbling to pieces. The oceans evaporating away in an instant. All forbearers to the ultimate end—the only end Tiffany could envision when a word like destroyed was used for the only planet humanity had ever known. That green and blue jewel spread about the solar system in bits of rock and dust. With every second she fathomed it, her lungs breathed heavier.
“Tell me this can be stopped.” His voice trembling, Scott seemed as affected as Tiffany. “Tell me there is some other way.”
“Yes,” he answered quickly, “it can be stopped. Some believe that the Nightmen, should they marshal a force, could stop it. They tap into humanity’s greatest strengths: stubbornness and resistance. If they somehow spread this message—spread the word about what Archer intends to do—the rest of mankind would rally behind them. As to your second question? There is no other way. If Earth remains, the Khuladi will take it. Our species will be enslaved and used as the Bakma to conquer the rest of the galaxy. The Ceratopians are next.”
None of this addressed the question at the front of Tiffany’s mind. “If Earth is destroyed, what about us? What about everyone? Is he willing to just let us go extinct?”
“A great portion will be spared,” Oleg said. “They will be taken away from this world before the time comes. Brought to a new world, to start anew with technology like we have never seen. A place deep in Ceratopian space, where we can forge a new path with their guidance and protection.” Despite the promise of his words, a forlorn look crossed his face.
Scott seemed to catch it. “You’re not buying this. Oleg, I can see it.”
“I am part of this now.”
“Like hell you are. If you were all-in, you wouldn’t be telling us all this.”
It was exactly what Tiffany was thinking, too.
“You’re doubting,” said Scott. “You’re wrestling, you’re grappling on the inside. You’re telling us because you want to see how we react to it. To see if, to any degree, we buy into the notion that the only way to save humanity is to scuttle the planet, because that would in some way justify the side that you’ve chosen.” That defiance in Scott’s face returned. “Well, I don’t. I don’t buy into it, Oleg, not at all. Whatever the Khuladi bring, whatever force they wield, we can fight them off. We can fight like hell.”
As Scott spoke, a new look showed itself on Oleg’s face. Sympathy. “Oh, Remington,” he said, shaking his head. “You have no idea what the Khuladi will bring.”
“But you don’t want this. I can see it in your face, eidolon or not. You can’t hide the kind of fear you’re showing. Look, I don’t care what we’ve been through,” Scott said, “or what you’ve done to the Fourteenth, or what the Nightmen did to you. None of that matters now. This is bigger than all of that.” Swallowing a single time, he looked Oleg squarely in the eyes. “Help us. Help us find another way. There must be one.”
Turn him. Tiffany was praying like she’d never prayed before. God, let Scott turn him. Whatever this guy did, whoever he is, let Scott turn him to our side like we were able to turn Natalie. Her hazel eyes watched Oleg intently. The eidolon still hadn’t answered.
At long last, he did. “In appreciation for you not disclosing to Archer what we just talked about…I will not reveal Tiffany’s communication with Pelican Squad.”
“Don’t side with him, Oleg,” Scott said. “Don’t do it.”
“He will ask you for answers. The location of Northern Forge, the scope of what you know and who else knows it. When you do not provide them, he will instruct me to torture you.” That same, veiled countenance remained on his face. “For what it is worth, I will not enjoy it as much as I imagined.” Taking a step back, he said, “Good luck, my friends.” Turning around, he strode for the door.
Lurching up on the bench, Scott was held in place fast by its restraints. “Oleg!” He fought harder—with every ounce of strength he seemed capable of summoning in his weakened, injured state. “Oleg!” No words were given in response from the eidolon as he disappeared from view, the cell door closing in his wake.
Completely defeated. There was no other way for Tiffany to feel. It felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest and tossed to the floor to bleed out. This conspiracy, this plot…it was so much worse than she’d imagined.
She didn’t care if they were restrained. She didn’t care if there seemed no way out of this. All that mattered—the only thing that mattered—was that they got out of there to warn the rest of the world. Her voice shook as she spoke to Scott. “We can’t give up. We can’t.”
“What can we do?” His words didn’t sound so much defeatist as they did desperate. “If you’ve got something, please, let me hear it.”
“What would Esther do?”
Looking at her strangely, Scott asked, “What?”
“Esther! She’s a spy, right? Super sneaky, always thinking on her feet. How would she get out of this?”
“She wouldn’t have gotten into this.” Seeming to sense his answer’s uselessness, he said, “I don’t know. I don’t know what Esther would do.” He strained to lift his head and look at her. “But we are not her. We’re Scott Remington and Tiffany Feathers. A soldier and a pilot. Whatever we do, we have to do it ourselves. But Tiff…” The way he said her name prompted her to listen more closely. “I said it before, but I’ll say it again. It doesn’t matter what they do—not to you, not to me—we cannot, at any cost, tell them where to find Northern Forge.”
She nodded, gulping. “I know.”
“Do you know?”
“Yes.” His asking again wasn’t offensive. It was making the situation known. “I know, Scott.”
Eyes still on her, he said, “Focus. Focus hard. Because if we don’t find a way out of here fast…this is going to get very, very painful for us.”
That, she knew, too.
Archer was inevitable. Tiffany knew it. Scott knew it. And when he came, so would the demand for answers. Then, the torture. Tiffany had never experienced torture the way the conspirators would surely deliver it. She had, however, experienced the torture of losing her father. She hoped that, deep down on the inside, she might be able to tap into that sadness with which she’d grown so accustomed—which she spent every day of her life shielding from view—that it might make the physical torture just a bit more tolerable.
Neither said a word in the hours that followed. Hours that, slowly but surely, were bringing them closer to a confrontation with the man behind everything. If there’d been a clock in the room, she’d have watched it steadily, for no other reason than to make time move more slowly. With no such fixation, though, she found herself desperately clinging to every second that passed as if it might be the last one she had. At some point, those seconds would run out, and that cell door would open. Whatever awaited—whatever was coming for them—she was determined to resist it. To defeat it. To not give it the satisfaction of thinking, for one moment, that it’d won. In the quiet of the cell, such mental bravado was easy to summon.
Time would tell if it could survive in reality.