by Lee Stephen
“No, I must. I will be living here. I cannot live in mess.”
The irony in her words didn’t escape him. If she didn’t want to live in a mess, why had she come back? The Fourteenth was more than a mess, it was a disaster.
His thoughts returned to the circumstances of her arrival. She somehow knew about him and what he had become. She was prepared to see him as a Nightman. And if she knew he was a Nightman, she must have known why. She knew he was a murderer.
She placed a pile of clothes on one of the beds. “I will make sure to give them clean room code. This is too much to live in.”
“I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.”
The urgency in his voice captured her attention, and she studied him with her intense eyes. “As you wish. Let us talk.”
There was no need to beat around the bush. “Why are you here?”
“Can I not come back? Is that not my choice?”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Oh, really. There is?”
“Yeah, there is.” One of the last things she’d told him was not to let Novosibirsk change him. That was exactly what Novosibirsk had done. “I’m a Nightman, and you’re not even surprised. How did you know?”
She looked away. “Can I not just be here? Can I not just come back to the war? Why must I—”
“Tell me the truth, Sveta. You owe me that much.” She did. He’d saved her life in Siberia at the outpost, and in doing so had risked his own. He’d leapt for her. The truth? He deserved at least that.
Her expression fell solemn, and she brushed at a strand of her hair. When she finally sighed and looked up, her invulnerability had collapsed. “Because three months ago, I received a letter. I received a letter in Vilnius, where I lived with my mother. It was from Varya.”
Scott felt his face when it flushed as betrayal burst in his heart. Varvara—she’d gone behind his back to do this. It was all staged.
Svetlana caught him as he tried to look away. “Look at me, Scott. Don’t turn away.” When he turned back, she went on. “She told me what happened. She told me about you, and about Galina.”
“She had no right.”
“She had every right. This is her unit. She was medic here. She did what she believed was the best.”
“She dragged you back here—for me. I could kill her.”
She pointed her finger firmly. “No. I don’t care if you are not serious, you do not ever say that.”
He could have killed Varvara right there. “This wasn’t her business. This wasn’t her call. To guilt you back here is disgusting.”
Svetlana grew fiercely defensive. “Varya did not ‘guilt’ me to come back here. I am adult. I chose to come back here myself.”
“So she didn’t have anything to do with your coming back? Her letter didn’t affect your decision?”
“Of course it affected my decision! To know that my friends are living in nightmare, yes, it affected my decision. Scott, what do you want to hear?”
“I want to hear that you didn’t come back here for me.”
Her mouth hung open, but nothing came out.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.
She raised her hands in defense. “If you let me explain—”
“You came here for me? Are you serious? Of all the millions of legitimate reasons, you came here for me?”
Her shoulders sunk. “Scott, please. I did not come here to fight, okay? I just want—”
“What?” he asked viciously. “What do you want?”
She was silent. Her blue eyes settled nervously on his. When she finally answered, her once-confident voice turned to pleading. “You are my friend, Scott! To know what happened, and what you did for me, how can I do nothing? I know what you are going through—”
“You don’t have a clue what I’m going through!” His outburst caused her to recoil. “You can’t even begin to imagine! Veck, Svetlana, did you even stop to think?”
“Scott…”
“I don’t want to hear it.” The anger in his voice reached new heights. “This place damns everything it touches. I don’t know what you thought you’d find here, but I promise you it’s not what you left.”
“Scott, please. I am trying to be calm…”
“I don’t want you to be calm. I want you to take the next flight back home.”
“Scott, why did this turn so different?” she cried aloud. “Five minutes ago, we were fine! Everything was fine! Why now must it be so different?”
Scott couldn’t believe her lack of rationale. She wasn’t there for the war. That alone made all the difference in the world. Without answering, he turned to walk out.
“Scott, please, wait!” She grabbed him before he could go. “Varya didn’t mean it this way, please do not be mad with her. Blame me. Blame me for leaving here in the first place!”
Blame Svetlana for leaving in the first place? He could never do that. “You had every reason to leave. You had every reason to stay away.”
She didn’t reply. As her face fell, he turned and stalked out the room.
Scott went directly back to his quarters. Not once did he stop along the way.
5
Sunday, November 6, 0011 NE
0925 hours
Two hours had passed since Scott had abandoned Svetlana in Room 14. The process of unpacking took longer than it might have otherwise, as the burden of sunken spirits weighed on her. Every motion of folding or hanging clothes took every ounce of effort she could muster. When she finally finished, she was too exhausted even to have a shower that might have soothed her. And she was too distraught to relax.
The letter—Varvara’s letter—lay on the tile floor beneath her. She’d reread it several times from her bunk, before her fingers relinquished their hold.
She was still on her bed when she heard a trample of footsteps from the hall. As she strained to turn her head, the door swung open.
“That’s bull, man,” said a shirtless Jayden. He threw his towel to the floor. “If you’re gonna drive a girl three hours to see some dumb movie, you better get a kiss when it’s done.”
“Tha’s wha’ I said,” Becan followed in behind him. “But the problem was, tha’s exactly how I said it.”
The moment they saw Svetlana, their eyes lit up.
“Sveta!” the Irishman blurted, running full speed across the room. He wrapped his arms around her as soon as she stood. He almost bowled her over. “Sveta, yeh really came back!”
Svetlana laughed as she fought to stay upright. “Becan! You are sweaty—stop!” She pushed him away.
“Svetlana’s here! Svetlana’s here!” he sang.
“Becan, stop. That is good enough.”
“Yeh don’t understand, Sveta,” the Irishman said. “You’re the reason we’re in a good mood for the first time in months.”
“Welcome back, ma’am,” Jayden said as he approached. Behind them, several others trickled in.
Svetlana touched the Texan’s arm. “Please do not call me ma’am. You are same rank as me now.”
“Oh. Well, you’re probably still older than me.”
“Wrong answer,” Becan said, coughing indiscreetly.
“Hey, Sveta!” said Travis as he approached her. “It’s good to see you back. How was the flight?”
Svetlana turned her attention to the pilot. “Hello, Travis. I knew you would ask about flight. It was a good experience.”
Several steps behind the pilot was Max Axen. His own towel was slung over his sweat-drenched shoulder and an awkward smile quivered on his lips. He waited as Travis and Svetlana conversed until a brief pause occurred. “Hey Sveta—”
“Sveta!” Varvara exclaimed, pushing past Max to make her own greeting. “It is so good to see you!” She examined her own sweaty outfit then looked up again. “I want to hug you—is it okay?”
Svetlana gave her a hug. “Becan already got me gross. What more could it hurt?”
As the women embraced,
Max backed away.
“I’m so glad to have you back,” Varvara said, continuing their Russian exchange. “You have no idea what it’s been like here.”
“I have a feeling I do.”
Across the room, away from the conversation but not oblivious, Esther Brooking watched Svetlana greet her cronies. The black British scout pulled her hair into a ponytail as she continued to observe. Behind her, David placed dirty clothes in his locker.
“Did she really come back for the lieutenant?” Esther asked without turning around.
David looked across the room at Svetlana. He watched the blond woman with expressionless eyes. After a moment, he answered Esther back. “Yeah.” His voice was tired as he returned his attention to his clothes. “That’s why she came back.”
Esther said nothing in reply. She simply watched Svetlana in silence, her eyes narrowing as if summing up a competitor—and being left unimpressed. She resumed her own work.
The others continued to fawn over Svetlana. “Look at you!” Varvara exclaimed. “You look beautiful! I love your hair.”
Svetlana brushed aside the compliment. “Thank you. I wanted a new beginning, to start fresh.”
Becan cleared his throat and looked around. “Is it me, or is somebody missin’ from this scene?”
Varvara too scanned the room. “Where is Scott? Did he not meet you?”
“He met me,” Svetlana said, frowning, “but it did not go so well.”
“Wha’ happened?”
She hesitated for a moment, then looked at Varvara. “He knows why I am here. He knows about the letter.”
Varvara winced.
“We will talk about this later. Let us not think of that now.”
“We will speak soon,” Varvara said. “Captain Clarke wishes to see you, anyway. I will walk you to his quarters when you are ready, and we can talk about it then.”
As Svetlana looked away from Varvara, she saw David across the room. The older operative attended to his damp clothing in silence, placing them in bundles at the edge of his closet. He was the only man attempting to be neat.
Svetlana’s gaze lingered on him, and then she said to Varvara, “Excuse me.” She stepped away, leaving Varvara to change clothes behind her.
As she walked to the other side of the room, several pairs of eyes followed her. The slayers watched her, as did Oleg Strakhov. Esther scrutinized her more intently than anyone.
But David paid her no attention. He did not even acknowledge her presence. Alone, he attended to his towels.
“At least one person here is neat. Hello, David,” Svetlana said. Behind and unknown to her, the unit watched the conversation unfold—as if the outcome were already known.
Finally, David turned to face her. “I didn’t think you were this stupid.”
Suddenly the noise faded. Everyone seemed to expectantly await Svetlana’s response. She froze in place, staring, unprepared. When she finally did speak, her voice wavered. “What?”
“They’ve been talking about this day for weeks,” David said, “but I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Guess it just goes to show you—some people are dumber than they look.”
“David, what are you talking about?”
“About you coming back here—what do you think?” His voice, though low, filled the room. “About getting involved in something that’s none of your vecking business. For God’s sake, does your brain even work?”
“Don’t do this, Dave…” Becan warned.
David looked at the Irishman, then returned to the medic. “You’re wasting both your time and ours,” he finally said. “But I guess you’ll learn that for yourself.”
Svetlana looked despondent as David distanced himself toward the lounge. The rest of the room listened and waited. At last her defenses kicked in.
“You wait, right there,” she said. David kept walking as she marched after him. When it became apparent he wasn’t stopping, she halted her pursuit. “You are such a coward.”
David turned around.
“Yes, you heard what I said. You are a coward, David. You say such hateful words to me, then you walk away before I can speak.”
“Save it for some other time—”
“Shut up. Now it is my turn to say something to you. You do not know me. You do not know anything about me. You do not deserve to know me.” Her eyes narrowed. “But you do know Scott Remington. And for you to say that I am wasting my time in trying to help him, that tells me a lot about who you are.”
Before he could speak she went on. “If you were truly a man, you would stand by your friend when he hurts. You would try to help him.”
“Sveta, he’s a murderer.”
“Shut up!” she shrieked. The whole room flinched. “Do not say that word! I never want to hear it—from any of you!” Her eyes flashed around the room. “I know who Scott Remington is. I know why he did what he did. Do you think I am a fool?” Before David could answer, she stopped him. “I know already what you think. And I do not care.”
“He’s a murderer!” repeated David. He continued before she could interrupt. “I don’t care if you like that word or not. It is what it is. Scott took what he did, and he embraced it!”
Svetlana shook her head emphatically. “You know that is not who he is!”
“Then why doesn’t he throw away that uniform?”
At that question, Svetlana was quiet. David took the opportunity to make his case.
“Why doesn’t he reject what they are? Why doesn’t he put in an order to EDEN for new gear? Why doesn’t he leave the Nightmen behind? Why doesn’t he do any of these things?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
“You chew on that for a while,” David said with contempt. “But in the meantime, don’t call me a coward. I’m not the one who tucked tail and ran.”
Max stepped in to block David’s path. “Watch your mouth, old man.”
“Save it for someone you’re trying to impress.”
Svetlana came to Max’s side and glared at David. “Who are you? You have changed more than Scott.”
“I woke up! I saw through the scat! I saw a holy man exposed for what he was. I can forgive a lot, Svetlana. I can forgive him for hitting a girl.”
Esther’s eyes sunk.
“I can forgive him for causing Galina to die. I can forgive all of those things. But Scott killed a man. He took an innocent life. Maybe you can forget about that in your idiotic little fairy-tale world. But I can’t. I have a soul. And so did the boy he killed.
“You think you know so much, Sveta. You think you can prance in here, wave your arms, and make this dung heap smell like red roses. It’s not like that. Life doesn’t work that way. Whether you choose to accept it or not, he is not the man you knew. He is someone else. If you haven’t seen it yet, just sit back and wait.”
Svetlana stood trembling beside Max, tears trickling down her face.
David didn’t wait for her to answer. Turning his back to her again, he walked into the lounge. Nobody got in his way.
Varvara touched Svetlana’s back. “We will go now, okay? Let us leave here.”
On the other side of the room, Esther looked away.
“How could this have happened here?” Svetlana asked Varvara in Russian. “I did not think it would be like this. How could a loving God allow this?”
Varvara eased Svetlana to the door. “We will talk about it. It will be fine. Everything will be fine. Let us go now. Let us talk and walk together.”
Max and the others watched as the women walked off.
Svetlana quickened her pace as she approached the hall door. As she turned the corner to make her escape, her footsteps grew faster. Then her exit came to a halt. She ran straight into Dostoevsky’s chest, just as he was about to enter from the hall. Their collision forced both of them to stop.
As soon as Dostoevsky saw her, he started back. He stared open-mouthed at her face, his eyes wide with surprise. “Sveta!”
Slap!
He was silenced by the force of her palm.
Slap!
Then she slapped him a third time. Then a fourth and fifth. They came one after the other so fast that the Nightman was unable to react.
When she finally paused, he tried to plead, his face flushed with red welts. “Svetlana—”
“You do not speak to me,” she spat, cutting him off. “You do not touch me. You do not say my name.”
His mouth hung open.
“For what you have done, you will never be forgiven. You are dead to me, Yuri. You are dead.” She pushed past him without saying another word.
The commander watched as the two women walked off and rounded a corner, out of view. His eyes fell despondently.
He never made it into Room 14. He didn’t so much as glance inside. He walked right past the door, retreating down the hall.
Svetlana hardly made it around the corner. The instant she was out of Dostoevsky’s view, she slumped against the wall, covering her face with her hands. “What am I doing?” Tears cascaded down. “What have I done?”
Varvara knelt by her side and patted her gently. “Sveta…”
“I cannot make a difference here. This is not me. No one liked me before Tolya died, what good am I now?”
“Be quiet. Do not say such things. Why do you say that?”
Svetlana lifted her head. Her eyes were red and puffy. “This unit does not need another medic, it needs a therapist!”
“Sveta, you are here because I asked you to come. You are here because I knew if anyone could bring this unit together, it would be you.”
“But this is more than I can do! This is not a little problem. This is worse than a nightmare. How was I so stupid to come back?”
“You just had a very emotional conversation,” said Varvara. “This is your first day back, and so far it has not been good. But you are here for a good purpose. You are here to get our lieutenant back. You are here for us all.”
“But Varya, I am not a comforter.”
“Did you not comfort him once already? Or did you make up what happened that night?”
