by Lee Stephen
It was the most eager Jayden had looked in as long as Scott could remember. But this mission wasn’t for him. “You don’t want to come on this one.”
“I can be packed in five minutes, man, just five minutes!”
“No.”
“Please!”
“Jayden—you can’t.”
The Texan’s face fell, but Scott couldn’t allow himself to care. This mission didn’t call for a sniper. Jayden would be a needless risk both to the mission and himself. “These guys need you. Keep them safe.” Stepping back and turning around, Scott resumed his trek to find Esther.
Jayden was left behind in the hall.
The first place that came to Scott’s mind in his quest to find Esther was the pool. The running joke was that the scout had gills—if she needed to work off stress or escape the rigors of EDEN life, she typically went in the water.
For the duration of Scott’s trek, the only thought that lingered in his mind was how am I going to tell her? They’d just taken part in arguably the most uncomfortable conversation he’d ever been a part of. She’d confessed her love to him. He hadn’t reciprocated it. Now he had to approach her and ask for her help. He’d called her a “consummate professional” back in the lounge. He hoped he was right.
When Esther wasn’t in the pool, Scott knew the situation was bad. The only other place Scott could think to look was the gym. Esther was almost as much of a workout machine as he was, and while her forays in the water were far more frequent, the gym was also a part of her routine.
It took Scott only a single step into the gym to prove his second guess right. He could hear the furious sound of gloves on a punching bag as soon as he entered. And as sure as his ears had indicated, Esther was there.
She wasn’t punching a bag; she was destroying one. With every strike, mists of sweat exploded from her taped hands in liquid bursts. The soaked hairs above her forehead bounced wildly across her face. Glaring through the bag with clenched teeth, the scout let loose a shriek of adrenaline. Then she saw Scott. The flurry ceased; she swayed away from the bag. Through dangling strands, she stared straight at him.
Silence.
There was no appropriate way for him to start. What was he supposed to do, open with humor? She didn’t quite seem in the mood for that. So, Scott did the only thing he could do: just come right out with it. “I need you.”
The scout slammed a fist against the bag. Turning away, she walked to a small collection of bottled waters at a nearby bench. Finishing off a half-empty bottle, she screwed the lid back on and slammed it to the floor. She said nothing.
“I said I need you.”
Esther still didn’t answer. Grabbing a towel, she passed it over her head then rubbed her face with her hands. She was completely ignoring him.
That was all Scott could take. “All right, that’s enough.”
Pushing her hair from her face, Esther’s anger was unleashed. “I can’t even summon the dignity to look myself in the mirror, and the first words I have to hear today are you telling me you need me?”
“Esther—”
“You call me into your private quarters at ten o’clock at night, an hour past curfew, just so you could tear into me? Is your rage fetish that strong that it couldn’t wait till morning? It couldn’t wait till you heard a bloody explanation?”
“Brooking—”
The scout rose to her feet. “You didn’t even give me a chance to prepare! You called me to your room and completely cornered me.”
“Enough!” This was wasting their time. “I’m sorry last night happened, but that’s not why I’m coming to you now. We have an assignment.”
She looked away in disgust.
“Thoor just informed me that he’s sending me and three others from the Fourteenth to Cairo. He wants us to retrieve H`laar. It’s a covert operation. We’re supposed to get in, get H`laar, and get back home. I need you for this mission.”
“Un-bloody-believable.”
She was testing his patience. He was testing hers, too. “Auric and Boris are coming, too. We’re going under the pretense of a transfer to a new unit. Our flight leaves tomorrow morning.”
Looking at him deadpanned, she said, “I’m not going.”
“You don’t have a choice. I’m ordering you.”
“Why in the hell are we going on a spy mission? Thoor has the eidola, tell him to send them! This is the last kind of assignment we’re suited for.”
He was losing his patience. “Thoor wants it to be us. We made contact with H`laar, we investigated on our own, this mission is ours.”
Shaking her head defiantly, she said, “We didn’t make contact with H`laar. You did. So pardon me if I’m not exactly euphoric over the idea of risking my neck to satisfy your little side quests.”
“I don’t think you understand how rank works, Esther.”
“Do you know what I understand?” she asked bitingly. “I understand that I put my heart on the floor for you, and you stepped on it. That I exacted revenge on someone so that you wouldn’t have to, and you berated me for it. That I have done every sodding thing you have ever asked from me, for nothing in return!” She slung down her towel. “Wait, let me correct that. I have gotten things in return. A punch in the head in Khatanga. Porridge and a pie in the face courtesy of your favorite tart. Just for the record, that’s more than she got.”
“Look, an order is an order whether you like it or not.”
Eyes narrowing, she leaned forward. “There’s something I think you’re forgetting. An order is an order in EDEN. Take a look around. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they’ve been transferring EDEN operatives out of here for months.” She cocked her hips. “What are you going to do, court martial me wearing your fulcrum armor?”
Scott exhaled in frustration, looking away.
Esther wasn’t finished. “I could walk out of this base right now and to the rest of the world it’d be like I’m defecting. And do you honestly think Novosibirsk would stop me from leaving? They’re as anxious to cleanse themselves from EDEN as EDEN are to pull themselves out. So bluster all you want. Unless you’re planning on dragging me to a torture chamber, I’m quite certain I don’t care.” She stepped back through the door. “Good day.”
“Doggonit, Esther, stop!” Everything she said was completely true. In The Machine, Scott had all the power in the world. But if she walked out, no one would stop her. With him being a Nightman, she had more on him than he had on her, regardless of whether or not she’d killed a man, too. That couldn’t be proven. Scott’s black armor proved everything. Every card was in her hand. “I need you to come on this mission. Please.”
Halting by the doorway, Esther settled her hands on her hips. She turned around and stared at him. “What happens if I’m not on this mission?”
“It fails.”
“Then what happens if it fails? We don’t have a new Ceratopian? We don’t uncover a conspiracy? What’s the bottom line?”
Looking down, he drew a long breath and placed his hands on his own hips. How was he going to say it?
“What?” she asked.
Just say it. “Thoor is using Sveta as leverage against me. If I fail, he’s going to kill her.”
There were a dozen possible reactions Esther could have given him. Shock, an explosion, disbelief. But the reaction he received was the one he feared most: a total lack of one. Slowly, deliberately, she folded her arms. “You’re asking me to put my life on the line to save Svetlana.”
She hadn’t posed it as a question. It was a revelation. Glancing away, Scott braced for what he knew was coming.
Easing her way back toward Scott, Esther said, “You are asking me, Auric, and God bless him, Boris, to put our lives on the line for Svetlana.”
“This is bigger than Svetlana.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
Staring at her in silence, he didn’t know what to say. What did she want to hear?
“Do you realize
that the four of us could die because of her? That because of that,” she bit her lip, “that silly little bimbo, four operatives who are actually worth something could have their lives ended?”
“Okay, that’s enough.”
Dipping her chin slightly, the scout said, “I just have one question for you, Captain Remington: would you do the same thing for me?”
That wasn’t a question he’d expected, but it was one he could answer. “Yes, I would. I hope you know that.”
For almost ten full seconds, Esther just stared at him, silent and emotionless, as if her cold gaze alone could convey as much as words could. It told him she was angry. And jealous. It told him she hated Svetlana to her core. Perhaps worse than all of those things, it told him she was thinking. Approaching Scott by a single step, Esther asked, “If I refuse this mission, will Svetlana die?”
Svetlana’s death was a certainty. This was a mission suited for the covert, and she was the only remotely covert member of the Fourteenth. Thoor had made it fairly clear that Scott was going in alone. No additional operatives from Novosibirsk will be accompanying you. The general’s own words. This was both a mission and punishment. “Yes. If you don’t come, this mission fails. When it does, Svetlana’s going to be killed.”
An unsettling quiet captured the air around them. Esther’s brown eyes stared straight at Scott, but her mind was churning fervently. She was calculating. When the calculations finally ceased, she uncrossed her arms. “I will do this mission for you, under two conditions.”
Scott was struck by both relief and fear. “What are they?”
“Upon our return, you will officially transfer me to London.”
As she’d threatened, she could have gone to London with little more than a tale of the horrors of Novosibirsk, and she’d have been welcomed with open arms and promptly reassigned. But an official transfer was much cleaner on her record. “Done,” he said. That she wanted to be transferred wasn’t a surprise. She and Scott’s relationship was damaged beyond repair. “What’s the second thing?”
Esther’s eyes narrowed purposefully. “You love Svetlana. So decide to love Svetlana.”
“What?” Scott asked bewilderedly.
“I want you to go to your quarters, take your photograph of Nicole, and put it away.”
It hit his gut like a hammer. He’d expected her second request to be a plethora of things. But none of them had been that.
“What’s wrong, Scott?” Esther asked. “It’s not a difficult request. Put away Nicole and commit to Svetlana. Nicole’s been dead for almost a year. Isn’t it time to move on?”
Scott looked away. What she was asking him to do cut him to his core. Nicole’s photo had been sitting on his nightstand since day one of his EDEN career. That beautiful, blue-eyed brunette, smiling with those glistening pearls. Telling him how much she loved him.
Damn you, Esther.
Slowly, she paced around him. “What’s wrong, Scott? Afraid of commitment? Not ready to spend the rest of your life with the Queen Dullard of Soviet Russia? Not quite prepared for Svetlana Remington?”
“Okay. You made your point.”
“Did I?” She stopped back in front of him. “Because I’m not quite sure.”
He knew exactly the point Esther was making: that Svetlana wasn’t Nicole. That he could never love her like Nicole. That Svetlana would always be the girl who came second—the one who wasn’t the love of his life. The Briton was no longer concerned with winning Scott’s heart. She was ensuring that Svetlana couldn’t have it, either. “Let me tell you something, Molly Esther Brooking. I know what you’re doing, and it’s wrong.”
“I’m so terrible,” she said. “Practically a murderer. Oh, wait. So are you.” She took a step back. “Make a choice, Scott. You can’t be loyal to Nicole and have Svetlana. Which girl will you dump?” Before he could reply, she held up a finger. “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. And you don’t have to worry; I’ll go on your mission. I think my point has been made.”
Yeah, it’s been made.
“Let me know if you want to meet tonight,” Esther said. “I’m sure there’s much to discuss.” Without another word, Esther stepped out the door, turned the corner, and was gone. Scott listened as her footsteps disappeared.
Crouching down on the gym floor, Scott cupped his hands together. It didn’t matter that Esther had played dirty. The question she raised was relevant, if not to the mission, to him. If he and Svetlana had any sort of future, it wouldn’t be with a photograph of Nicole sitting at their bedside. If there was ever to be a Svetlana Remington, a name he’d never even considered until Esther had said it, he’d have to let Nicole go. Break his commitment to her. Love someone else while Nicole was rotting in her grave. That thought made him want to vomit.
Scott went straight from the gym to his private quarters. He didn’t care that time was critical and that there was indeed “much to discuss.” For that small span of time, he wanted to be alone.
Upon entering his room, Scott’s eyes focused on his nightstand. Just like they always did. Nicole was smiling at him. Just like she always did Except she wasn’t there. She was decomposing in a casket. “Oh, my God,” Scott whispered, dropping to his knees and covering his eyes. That final image of Nicole, laying pale and lifeless on that very floor, was forever etched in his memory. And yet how she looked then was infinitely better than how she must have looked now. The thought of her body, the body he’d hugged and kissed and held, falling apart in a box under the dirt was nightmarish. That was his fiancée. That was his Nikki.
I let that happen to her. She’s falling apart because of me.
It had been a long time since his emotions had poured out, but the tears came quickly now. They overwhelmed him. How could he have allowed that to happen to her? How could he live with the fact that, if not for his actions, Nicole would be alive and well? That they’d be husband and wife? That right now, they might be going to the movies or shopping for a house? That she was dead because he’d joined EDEN? Because he’d been transferred to Novosibirsk. Because he’d risked his life for a Bakma Carrier. Because Nijinsky had been setup to murder her. Because Scott had been noticed by Thoor. Because he’d leapt out of a transport...
His thoughts blazed ahead. The transport. The Bakma outpost. Svetlana. Had he not leapt. Had he not saved Svetlana’s life. Had he not had that conversation with her that night in the lounge. Had she not been there out of guilt. Had she not slept with Anatoly Novikov. Had she not given herself away like a slut, she would be the one falling apart. And Nicole would be Scott’s wife.
“I hate you, Esther.” The words seethed out between heaves. “I hate you for this.”
Svetlana was not the primary reason Nicole was dead. But she was one of them. The indirect nature of her involvement was undeniable. Svetlana herself had been grief-stricken upon that realization when she’d tearfully brought it up to him months ago. Scott hadn’t faulted her then. But it was so easy to fault her now, in the midst of his emotions. It was so easy to wish she’d been killed instead. But that very thought, and the knowledge that he was even capable of it, broke his heart as much as anything else could have—Nicole’s death included. What if Svetlana was standing there now? What if she knew what he was thinking about her? What if she knew that in his thoughts, he’d called her a slut? She’d have taken a rope and hanged herself, tear-stricken and heartbroken, because she’d ruined his life.
Because she loved him.
I’m so confused. God, I’m so confused.
How could he develop or even pursue a relationship with Svetlana with thoughts like the ones he’d just had? How could he ever look at her and not, in some small measure, believe he was staring at the woman whose weakness had gotten Nicole killed.
Your weakness got Galina killed, Scott. It got Sergei Steklov killed.
This was exactly what Esther had been aiming for. She couldn’t have cared less about what Scott did with Nicole’s photograph. She cared about tainting t
he way he viewed Svetlana—and she’d succeeded.
The day was only several hours old, but to Scott it already felt like a lifetime. In spite of the tiredness and emotional exhaustion he felt, he somehow managed to muster up enough focus to send a comm message to Thoor, informing the general of his selections for the mission. He even threw a desperation pass in the form of a request to have an eidolon take Esther’s place in Cairo, but as expected, the request was denied. Scott was informed, however, than an eidolon would be paying him a visit later that night: Antipov. Auric, Esther, and Boris’s presences were also requested for the meeting. Unfortunately for Scott, Thoor’s requests had to be granted. News of the meeting was sent to the relevant parties.
Scott also briefly commed Dostoevsky, simply to inform him that he would be in his quarters for the remainder of the day, preparing for the mission. It was half true. There was indeed much to prepare for, but Scott also wanted to spend some time alone. He sensed Dostoevsky read into this, as the more spiritually-attuned fulcrum implored Scott to spend time talking to God. To his own credit, Scott tried. He was just too emotionally drained to focus. There would be plenty of time for quiet time later. Later always seemed to be his option of choice in that aspect.
There was one call that came through to Scott shortly after his talk with Dostoevsky—one that didn’t at all surprise him. It was a prompt from Svetlana.
He never answered.
14
TUESDAY, MARCH 13TH, 0012 NE
1313 HOURS
LIGHT, TRANSPARENT BLUE. Of all the colored glasses Esther Brooking had seen the world through, it was that one she cherished most. It was the one that consoled her. Legs kicking gracefully beneath the water’s surface, the twenty-three-year-old Briton glided along the pool bottom like a ray along the ocean floor. Dark hair streaming behind her head, Esther’s eyes stayed forward; the ever-approaching wall ahead of her was the only motivation to alter her course. Torso bending upward, she eased her head back just enough to begin her ascension. The surface came into view moments before her face found it. With the weight of wet hair tugging at her scalp, she set herself adrift, hands reaching out to steady herself against the pool’s rim.
