by Lee Stephen
* * *
It seems almost peaceful, thought Scott for the first time that night. Sounds of explosions still rang in the distance along with the echo of projectile and plasma. There was even the frenzy of fire trucks tending to the church. To anyone else, it’d have been anything but peaceful. But Scott saw it all in different light.
None of it involved him.
He and Nicolai had been guarding the street for some time. There were no signs of Bakma, and aside from the lone canrassi that Egor had destroyed, there’d been nothing at all. Scott found it ironic that amid the chaos of a war and a raging fire, he could find serenity. It put his life in perspective.
Svetlana hadn’t returned from the residence. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He’d watched her go through the door he’d kicked through. Thankfully, she’d escaped any shotgun blasts.
He knew he’d be bruised from the shot he’d taken to the chest. But it was better than being pounded by plasma bolts. A shotgun wound, he could survive.
For the first time since her arrival, Scott was glad for Svetlana’s presence. He didn’t know anything about the priests’ conditions, but he knew they were in capable hands.
His thoughts stopped right there. How did he know they were in capable hands? He didn’t know if Svetlana was a capable medic—he’d never actually seen her in action. All things considered, he barely knew her at all. It all was so paradoxical. He felt as though he knew her so well.
Nothing ever makes sense.
Turning back to the residence, he watched as the battered front door opened. Svetlana emerged and approached him. His thoughts churned again.
Of course she was capable. She was more than capable. She was a professional. Why else would she have been chief medic? She had even held authority over Galina.
I had just one good conversation with her. Just one, that night in the lounge. Did that really mean so much?
Apparently enough to convince her to return.
“How are they?” he asked.
Svetlana sighed. “They will be fine. The family knew more about hypothermia than I do. If you live here, I suppose that you must.”
Silence settled between them. Scott could tell before she spoke that he was in trouble.
“Scott, if Jayden had not been shot and there was no need for the Pariah to leave, would you really have left this church unprotected?”
He didn’t know how he should answer; the question made him uneasy. Finally he said, “Egor had it right. A church can be replaced. People can’t.”
She shook her head disapprovingly. “You are wrong, Scott. A church is not just another building. It is a house of God.”
If it’s a house of God, where is God? Where has He been all this time? Where is He now?
The comm channel crackled, and Max yelled over the airwaves. “We need a medic to the federal building now!”
Clarke was the next voice they heard. “The Pariah already left with Trooper Timmons.”
“Max, what’s wrong?” Scott cut in.
“We’re in the middle of a trashin’ war zone! Some guy from the Thirty-ninth got hit bad! Among other assorted emergencies!”
Scott felt his heart sink. With the Pariah already gone, there was no way to fast-track it to the building. “How bad is ‘bad?’”
“Like ‘he’s gonna die’ bad!”
* * *
Back on the warehouse roof, Esther was listening to the conversation unfold. She’d stopped doing everything else.
“Do we have any other transports in the area?” Scott asked through the comm.
From his position on the rooftop, Clarke shook his head. “Negative, lieutenant. Jurgen’s been trying. Every other unit’s overwhelmed.”
Esther listened for several more seconds. Then she turned and walked to the edge.
“Max, how far are Remington and Svetlana from your location?” the captain asked.
It was a while before the technician answered. “About a kilometer, maybe more! But it’s not a straight line, and there’s a half-meter of snow the whole route.”
Esther began scanning the streets of Krasnoyarsk below. She scanned the corners and alleys. She scanned the sidewalks and curbs. She scanned everything in a five-block radius.
“We’re going to run it,” Scott answered through the comm. “Svetlana wants to know how he got hurt.”
Becan’s voice came moments later. “He got shot through the chest. He has a hole!”
All of a sudden, Esther stopped searching. Her eyes focused on a sidewalk in the distance.
Meanwhile, Clarke growled in frustration off-comm. “I shouldn’t have let both medics leave. Stupid, worthless Yudina.”
David frowned.
Clarke was back on the comm. “Traverse it as well as you can, Remington. Axen, have you contacted Ulrich?”
“Piece of scat’s ignoring my signal.”
“Bloody hell!” Clarke said, tearing off his helmet.
David sighed heavily beside him. “Because of Khatanga.”
“Clarke to Captain Ulrich.” Silence. After several moments, he attempted again. “Clarke to Captain Ulrich, bloody come in!” He shook his head in disgust and turned to find Esther. But Esther was gone. “Where…?” Clarke’s question trailed off into silence as he and David surveyed the roof.
On the snow-covered street far below, Esther’s feet churned furiously forward. When she finally came to her goal—a snowmobile parked on a side street—she knew what to do. In a matter of seconds, the snowmobile roared to life and Esther was gone.
* * *
Scott ran as hard as he could. He knew it instinctively: someone’s life depended solely on them. It went even beyond that. Max had said they were in the middle of a war zone. There was no telling how many people were hurt—and were likely desperate for additional help. Behind him, breathing laboriously and struggling to keep up, Svetlana plodded through the snow-covered street. Nicolai had stayed behind by the church—someone had to stand guard.
Curse you, Ulrich. Scott was fuming. We didn’t pull Khatanga on the Eighth on purpose. You’re so close to where they are now. Just go get them!
Scott could tell by Svetlana’s labored breathing that she was worn out. This was her first mission back since her time away, and she wasn’t in mission shape. The lull with the priests had probably hurt more than it helped. Her adrenaline was gone.
“Scott…” she panted behind him. She said nothing else, but her intention was clear. She wasn’t going to make it.
“We have to run,” Scott called back to her. “Sveta, we can’t stop!”
She fell on the ground and vomited.
Scott slid to a halt. I’ve had enough. His face flushed behind his helmet as he screamed in the comm. “This is Lieutenant Remington of the Fourteenth to Captain Ulrich of the Eighth. We need immediate assistance at the federal building. We’re not the only unit in trouble!” It wasn’t someone in the Fourteenth Ulrich was punishing. It was someone from an innocent squad.
“I can make it,” Svetlana heaved. She wiped her mouth and stood up.
“Captain Ulrich!” Scott lost any shred of composure he might have had left. “Don’t let them die!” This was vengeance at its worst. This was an innocent error being repaid with betrayal. All because a scared rookie forgot how to work her comm in Khatanga. All because of—
The mechanical whine came from nowhere. In the moment it took for Scott to whip around, it was already upon Svetlana and him. They dove to the ground as a tidal wave of snow doused them both.
The snowmobile skidded to a stop, its lone rider straddled brazenly on its seat. For a split second, Scott didn’t recognize who it was. Then Esther pulled off her helmet.
She stared at Scott with borderline cockiness, her brown ponytail swaying. With a one-handed flip over the bars, she was off the snowmobile and crouched in the snow. “Get them back.”
Scott leapt on the snowmobile immediately. He didn’t even wait to ask questions. “Hold on to m
e,” he said to Svetlana, sparing her a moment to climb on. She wrapped her arms firmly around his waist. Scott curled his wrist, and the snowmobile surged through the snow. In seconds, it was gone.
Esther stood alone in the center of the street, staring at the fresh snowmobile tracks. Snowflakes had collected on her face and hair, creating a faint shine as they melted. She didn’t bother to wipe the moisture away.
Placing her helmet back on her head, she turned and walked to the church.
* * *
Max jumped as a plasma bolt struck his assault rifle. It spun out of his hands and fell down the stairs.
“Veck!”
Beside him, Brunner and Maksim fired. Maksim’s hand cannon, set to armor-piercing, consistently blew holes in the walls. But few Bakma were struck.
“I do not understand!” Brunner yelled. “Why does Ulrich not answer us?”
“Because Ulrich is a worthless sack of scat!” Max spat. “To hell with the Eighth!”
Rising from her crouched position, Brunner fired off another round. Two Bakma toppled to the floor far below. She dropped back as Maksim took her place.
“Shavrin,” Brunner said through her comm, “what is Kaligan’s condition?”
“Kaligan is dead.”
Brunner swore in Dutch. “We cannot hold this building.” She spoke through her comm once again. “There is a second-floor exit in the rear corridor. It leads to an outer stairwell. Do you know this?”
“Yes, lieutenant,” Shavrin answered.
“Fall back to muster point Bravo. Take the civilians. We will follow your retreat.”
Max grumbled, pulling out his handgun to fire. He unleashed several shots into the lobby. “Maksim, go with her.”
Brunner shot Max a cold stare. “You say that as if you are staying.”
“I got a man down on the lower level, too, Ann. I’m not leaving him here.”
Maksim reloaded his hand cannon. “I will stay with you, lieutenant.”
Brunner gritted her teeth. After a second of indecision, she reloaded her gun. “Shavrin,” she said through the comm, “we will not be following you. Continue to Bravo alone.”
“Lieutenant?”
“Do not question me, gamma private! Fall back to the muster point now!” She knelt next to Max and fired a round. “Come together, go together.”
Max reloaded his gun.
* * *
Scott decelerated as he reached the federal building. The snowmobile skidded to a halt by the rear entrance. The moment Svetlana disembarked, Scott brandished his assault rifle and took the lead.
A map of the federal building had been transferred his way. He already knew what to expect. The metal door—the one they were approaching—opened into a wide hallway. That hallway opened into a lobby. That’s where the Bakma were. His ExTracker would be useless now. He could hear the chaos on the other side of the back door. It sounded like hell.
An outer stairwell rose above the back door. He looked up, where three operatives from the Thirty-ninth were in retreat. They appeared to be protecting several civilians. They began to fall back down the stairs into the alley.
Those operatives have citizens to tend to. We’ll be on our own to help the others. He jerked the metal door open and went inside.
Gun exhaust choked the corridor. Ahead, he could see two EDEN operatives firing through the smoke. Then he spied Becan and the fallen soldier.
The armorless Irishman turned and saw Scott. His eyes were reddened with pain—he was holding back tears. Scott saw why. There was a scorch mark burned into his chest. But the fallen soldier from the Thirty-ninth was worse off. He didn’t have a scorch mark, he had a hole.
Svetlana rushed to Jacobsen’s side.
Scott turned his focus to the battle. Charging past Svetlana and Becan, he joined Oleg and the remaining soldiers from the Thirty-ninth. “Strakhov, how many are there?”
“I do not know, lieutenant! Too many!”
Scott laid down cover for the wounded behind him. “Max, where are you?”
“On the second floor, above the lobby! Are you here?”
“I’m downstairs, Svetlana’s with me.”
“Did you find Becan and half-dead guy?”
“Yes.”
“Can they be moved?” Max sounded relieved.
Scott turned to Svetlana. She was already answering. “Becan will live, but we must move Jacobsen. We have no choice. He will die here.”
A plasma bolt whizzed past Scott’s shoulder. He heard it crash into the metal door behind him. Retaliating with suppression fire, he barked out his orders. “Strakhov, escort Svetlana and Jacobsen outside. Get Becan out of here, too!” He had no idea if the injured man could be transported on a snowmobile, but there were no other options available.
“Yes, lieutenant.”
Taking Oleg’s position in the hallway, Scott opened fire at the Bakma ahead. He was helped by the two remaining soldiers from the Thirty-ninth—both capable men. Though the smoke made it difficult to see, he still fired on.
“Max,” Scott said through the comm, “we’re getting them out of here. Are you in a position to fall back?”
It wasn’t Max who answered. It was a woman. “This is Tanneken Brunner of the Thirty-ninth. We have a muster point not far from here. Some from our unit are already en route. If we meet you outside, can you follow us?”
“Yes,” he answered. Anything to get out of there. Though he could scarcely see them, he could sense the Bakma getting closer. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he heard something that sounded unsettlingly like a canrassi. “We’re falling back now!”
“Lieutenant…”
The troubled words came from behind him. Scott fired a quick burst then turned around to find Oleg standing awkwardly by the door. Scott saw the problem before Oleg could explain.
The door was completely welded shut.
Scott felt his stomach invert. His eyes locked onto the metal door, where the plasma bolt that had whizzed past his shoulder only moments before had hit the door’s metal frame. The seam had melted together.
This just got bad.
Turning back to the fight, he rejoined the EDEN soldiers from the Thirty-ninth. “We have a problem.”
“Battering ram!”
The booming words made Scott jump. It wasn’t Brunner at all. The lobby of the federal building erupted as a Grizzly crashed through the wall. Even through the gun-smoke fog, its giant metal hull was impossible to miss. As Scott stumbled back, the ground trembled.
“Y’all call for backup?” asked a second voice over the comm. Scott knew it the moment he heard it. It was Derrick Cole of the Eighth. The first voice became clear.
“Hey guys,” William said, “where y’all at?”
The emotional rush Scott felt could scarcely be contained. The adrenaline alone caused his eyes to well. “We’re at the back of the building. How many of you are there?” Thank you, Ulrich, Scott thought. You came through for us after all.
A moment of silence passed before William answered. “Umm…well…two.”
Scott’s face fell.
Max interrupted the chat. “Did you just say two?”
“Yeah…” William said. “Me and Derrick just kinda broke orders.”
Scott lowered his head. I take it back, Ulrich—you’re still trash. The question then struck him. How’d they get a Grizzly? No time for that. He opened his comm. “Strakhov, we need you back up here! Max, Brunner, we’re going on the offensive into the lobby. Do you have a way out of here?”
“We still have access to the outside from the second level,” Brunner answered. “We will stay to cover you while you run for the Grizzly.”
That was all Scott needed. Oleg hurried to his side. Further into the smoke, Scott could hear William and Derrick engaging the Bakma. Scott flashed a look back to Svetlana. The injured soldier, Jacobsen, was angrily fighting her off. Scott recognized the look in his eyes right away. He looks just like Galina did. A knot formed in his gut. Becan, th
ough hurt himself, was holding Jacobsen as best as he could.
“We are behind you, Scott,” Svetlana said.
Scott wasted no time. Bursting forward through the exhaust and debris, he dashed straight into the lobby—straight into the enemy force. His boldness was met with hot plasma. Two shots ricocheted off his shoulder armor, thrusting him backward to the ground.
Assault rifles exploded behind him. Oleg charged through the fray, diving, tucking, then coming to a crouch next to Scott. The soldier fired until his final clip was gone, at which point he flipped out his pistol.
Scott didn’t have time to check his shoulder for damage. He saw the canrassi he’d heard—the massive spider-eyed beast towered just meters away. It spewed saliva as it lurched his direction.
William fired his hand cannon from the top of the Grizzly. On the second floor of the federal building, Maksim did the same. Their armor-piercing rounds blew holes in the canrassi’s back. The war beast succumbed.
Without a second’s delay, Scott thrust himself once again in the midst of his enemies. Three Bakma converged on his position.
Suddenly, Oleg was there. The bearded Russian slid beside Scott, handgun blazing as a melee ensued. One of the Bakma cut a backward flip as Oleg shot it in the face. The former member of the First felled a second with a hard, sweeping kick.
Scott’s Nightman instincts took over. He focused on the third Bakma, grabbing it and wrestling it to the ground. Several more were suddenly near him. Some were gunned down by unidentified soldiers. Others, he took aim at himself. Bullets and plasma flew in every direction.
The men from the Thirty-ninth fired frantically. All the while, they pressed farther into the lobby toward William and Derrick’s Grizzly apc.
“Man down!” Max yelled from above.
Scott knew it was Maksim without asking. But he didn’t have time to look up. His E-35’s ammunition ran out, and with no time to grab his sidearm, he had no choice but to engage hand-to-hand.
A plasma bolt struck an operative from the Thirty-ninth. He fell to the ground.
