by Lee Stephen
The Nightmen on the bridge flinched as the lights changed again, this time from red to dark blue.
The metallic arms began to orbit the crystal as a loud hum emerged from every direction. Wuteel’s arm muscles tensed. “Vish kin-dar, Uman.”
A sensation like electricity filled the air in the bridge. The humans’ hairs stiffened.
“He says to prepare ourselves!” said Petrov.
Tauthin continued on the controls. “Dunishni Nish-ta gen.”
“Grounding discharge!”
The humans’ hairs fell limp again.
Svetlana’s heart pounded. She clutched a guard rail next to Tauthin’s console, darting her eyes in every direction as the bridge—and the rest of the ship—came alive. Her breathing intensified.
In the engine room, the metal arms had spun to the point of blurring. Inside them, the crystal was glowing blindingly white. The humans in the room shielded their eyes; Wuteel scrutinized the display. “Valasha zaan.”
“Established!” shouted Petrov over the hum. “Something is established!”
“Raag-nech ta-vech!” said Tauthin.
“Generating rift!”
“Raag-nech ta-vasch!”
“Rift Generated!”
Oleg rose from his chair. “Rift? What rift?”
Tauthin’s whole body tensed. “Kor-eeshna mag`ahn!”
“Beginning dimensional shift!”
“Dimensional?” asked Oleg, his eyes widening.
There was a deafening crackle, as if ten thousand lightning bolts had suddenly struck the bridge. For a fraction of a second, everything flashed white. Svetlana clutched the rail with both arms.
There was a second flash, as vibrant as the first, as the crackling sound of voltage subsided with a sizzle. The acidic smell of the ship grew sharper. Then, stillness.
In the engine room, the brightness of the crystal subsided. The mechanical arms continued to spin, their pace slower. The Nightmen and Petrov, all gripping whatever sturdy object was nearest them, slowly unshielded their eyes. Unaffected, Wuteel stood by the console.
As collective breathing resumed in the bridge, Tauthin glanced at Svetlana. “O-ver.”
Her heart was pounding, her skin paled. She looked at Tauthin with terrified eyes. So did half of the Nightmen. Looking back slowly at Oleg, Tauthin spoke loudly.
Petrov translated again. “He says we are in the Zone.”
Even Oleg had been affected by the happenings. Chest moving up and down, the fulcrum stared wide-eyed at the alien. Surveying his stillrecovering crew, he took a centering breath and adjusted his uniform. “Are we invisible?” Several moments later, he answered his own question. Looking at the view screen at the front of the bridge, he could clearly see the Nightmen in the hangar pointing and searching. They were trying to find the ship. “What happened?” he asked, looking at Tauthin.
Several harsh words escaped Tauthin’s mouth. Petrov translated moments later.
“He says your simplistic mind would not comprehend.”
Snarling, Oleg pointed at the pilot’s seat. “Go back to your station.”
Tauthin didn’t obey at first. Turning to Svetlana gently, he placed his gnarled purple hand over hers. It took a moment for her to recognize the simple reassurance. But when she did, she found a moment of relief. Rising, Tauthin walked back to the pilot’s seat.
Oleg shifted in the Bakma-designed chair. “Take us in the air. We have a mission to complete.”
Despite the significance of mankind’s first human-controlled liftoff in a Bakma vessel, it was impossible for the Noboat’s launch and subsequent flight to rival the exhilaration and terror of the “dimensional shift,” as Tauthin had called it. Shortly after the Noboat rose from the hangar floor, the crew found themselves soaring through an underground tunnel which ended on an angled ascent to the surface of Novosibirsk. The hole was so gaping and obvious that it must have been plainly visible from the surface, lending those inside to conclude that the hole must have been covered until just before liftoff in order to keep it hidden. As to how the hangar came to be in the first place, that topic was never discussed. There were more important matters at hand.
Gliding through the overcast sky, the Noboat moved slightly more sluggishly than the typical EDEN Vulture, a result of the Noboat’s superior mass. Just the same, it took virtually no time at all for the occupants to get accustomed to the ship’s movements.
Though they spoke little, Svetlana remained glued to Tauthin’s side. It was a telling irony that in a ship full of human beings, it was the alien that made her feel safest. Tauthin was at least willing to ease her nerves whenever possible—nerves that showed despite her obvious attempts to hide them.
Within only ten minutes of flight, the Noboat was nearing the east coast of North America. Despite the fact that they were in an alien ship reading alien gauges and looking at alien displays, Earth was Earth, and the shape of North America was easily recognizable on the Bakmanese version of a digital map. From the pilot’s seat, Tauthin once again began speaking. Petrov translated through the comm. “He says he is detecting numerous human assault craft. Vultures and Vindicators.”
“I think I see them on this display,” said the slayer at navigations. “There appear to be many ships, captain.”
“Any sign that they detect us?” asked Oleg.
“I don’t even know how to tell.”
Tauthin spoke again. “He said he needs to be directed on where to go,” said Petrov. “He does not know our terrain.”
Rising from his chair, Oleg folded his arms and stared out the view screen. He grinded his jaw in contemplation.
“The American pilot told me that they were heading to the east side of the lake there,” Svetlana said, looking back at Oleg. “She thinks they will continue east. One of them has a leg injury, so their movement will be slowed.”
The slayer at navigation pointed at the view screen. The bridge followed his indication, where a wall of dark gray appeared on the horizon. “It must be a storm, captain.”
“What does the radar say?”
Looking at the display, the slayer rubbed the back of his neck. “I have no idea.”
“Bakma,” said Oleg, “what can you see about this storm?”
“His name is Tauthin,” snapped Svetlana. She turned to the alien and spoke in English. “Tauthin, the weather ahead of the ship. Can you tell me about it?”
Pressing several buttons on a console next to the pilot’s seat, Tauthin caused a layer to overlay on the map screen by the controls. Bakmanese flowed as Petrov once again translated.
“He does not recommend entering the storm, captain. The conditions are too severe.”
Marusich, standing beside Oleg, leaned toward the fulcrum captain. “It is not too severe for us, captain.” Krylov, standing in the back, said nothing.
“Take us to the lake,” said Oleg. “Low altitude. Keep us away from all EDEN vessels.” As Petrov translated for Tauthin, Oleg sat back down in his chair. The Noboat descended, entering the wall of the storm.
The ship was still almost fifty kilometers from the coast, though their speed was closing the gap quickly. The bridge grew eerily quiet as its human occupants scanned the ceiling and walls, almost as if they expected to hear a crash of thunder or feel rain pounding against the hull. But almost nothing could be felt.
It was as black a sky as Svetlana had ever seen. The downpour completely blanketed the view screen. Visibility was zero.
“Tish`naa volo-aash gad, Uman deklan vish. Nokuun`a.”
“He is detecting the remains of several human vessels, one of which is in the lake.”
The slayer at navigations turned to Oleg. “That is where the highest concentration of EDEN vessels is, captain.”
Elbows propped on the chair’s armrest and fingers interlaced, Oleg hesitated before speaking. “Take us east of the lake. Keep us low.”
“As you wish, captain,” said the slayer. “We are approaching the EDEN patrols.” He wiped sweat from his
brow.
The atmosphere in the bridge grew noticeably tense. Though no one said it aloud, it was more than clear by the crew’s fixation on the view screen that everyone was thinking the same thing. They were approaching EDEN vessels in a dematerialized Noboat. They were doing exactly what the Bakma had been doing to them for years.
“Do you know how many ships we have lost like this?” asked Marusich quietly.
Almost synchronized with Marusich’s words, the first pair of Vultures appeared before the Noboat. Their outlines were barely visible through the deluge, but they were there. And they were completely oblivious to the alien craft coming at their rear.
Tauthin remained perfectly quiet, despite the constant eyes upon him. Even Svetlana, standing next to him, kept constant vigil over him. It was as if everyone expected the alien to open fire at any moment. That was what his species did.
“Should we look for the survivors’ heat signatures in the swamp?” asked Marusich.
Oleg shook his head. “That is what they would have been doing.” He indicated at the Vultures. “They are patrolling, looking for anything. If heat signatures would be working, the survivors would already be apprehended. The rain is interfering with thermal imaging.”
“Then they will have men on the ground.”
“Yes,” Oleg nodded. He looked at his executive officer. “And so will we.”
A slanted grin curved at the corner of Marusich’s lips. Turning to the other Nightmen, he said, “Prepare yourselves, slayers! We drop.” The bridge came to life, as the multitude of slayers readied their weapons. Krylov shouldered his sniper rifle as the metal plate of his helmet slid over his face. Marusich looked at Svetlana. “You are coming, Voronova.”
She glanced at Marusich before looking down at Tauthin. The Bakma’s focus was squarely ahead. Everything else was ignored. Inhaling deeply, Svetlana left him to join the away team.
“Give me your helmet,” said Oleg emotionlessly as Svetlana passed him.
She looked at him strangely. “What?”
“It is trackable. They will be searching for any sign of EDEN survivors. We don’t need them coming after you.”
Svetlana stared at the helmet attached to her side. Eyes narrowing, she removed it and gave it to Oleg. Opening a panel at the helmet’s rear, he deactivated its tracker. He gave it back to her. “You remember how to use a pistol, right?”
She yanked her hair into a short ponytail then put her helmet on, unholstering her sidearm and cocking it loudly. Her glare lingered on Oleg before she turned for Marusich.
Tauthin spoke on as the Noboat descended.
“He says in order for soldiers to leave the craft, it must materialize on the ground. This can be done after the door has opened, but before any soldiers can step out.”
“Kiish-ni glaashv`ga ton rekkan. Plaash-na-vin.”
“It will take five to ten seconds before the ship can dematerialize again. It will be detectable during this time.”
“I understand,” said Oleg. “Bring us down three kilometers east of the lake.”
Past the bridge by the antechamber, Svetlana and the First’s away team prepared for touchdown. The medic’s sidearm was firmly in her hands, pointed at the floor.
Beneath the mechanizations of his helmet amplifier, Marusich chuckled. “You look cute. Very fearsome.”
“There is something you are not thinking about,” she said, eyes ahead despite his presence behind her. She tightened her grip on her pistol. “One should never make enemies with the medic.”
Readjusting his shoulders, Marusich looked ahead at the door.
Things outside cracked and snapped—tree limbs being broken. They were on their way down.
Svetlana closed her eyes, inhaling a deep, focused breath.
Crunch!
They were down.
Oleg’s voice emerged over Marusich’s comm. “No one step out until the ship has materialized. He says anyone who exits prematurely will die.”
Ahead of the away team, the antechamber ramp door lowered down. The outside world came into view. The rain was torrential. Droplets hammered the already standing swamp water. Despite the fact that it was daybreak, everything was dark.
A loud electric crackle emanated from the Noboat, as it flashed back into visible existence. The interior lights returned from dark blue to white. “Go!” shouted Marusich. “Everyone out, now!” The Nightmen wasted no time as they dashed out of the ship into the swamp. There were a dozen in the away team.
As soon as Svetlana was under the rain, she winced in discomfort. Unlike Nightman armor, EDEN armor was not fully-contained. Though the cold rainwater never made it onto her uniform, the blast to her neck was more than miserable enough. It took her several seconds to fully get used to it. The Nightmen around her spread out in several groups until a stretched human wall of sorts had been created. “We are dematerializing,” said Oleg through the comm. “Communication will be lost. We will be following you.”
The Noboat arced with an array of blue bolts. After another loud crackle, the ship disappeared. Its impression was plainly visible on the ground.
“TUUSH NEVAA DON`REECE,” said Tauthin from his seat.
“He says the EDEN vessels shifted when we materialized,” said Petrov.
Oleg leaned forward. “Move us—now.”
OUTSIDE, THE AWAY team watched as the indentation in the water lifted away. The Noboat was leaving.
“All Nightmen,” said Marusich, “move west, quickly!”
The operatives of the First darted from their positions around the trees and headed in a westerly direction, past the place where the Noboat had landed and in the direction that would ultimately take them to Lake Drummond. Svetlana followed them. Water bombarded the medic’s visor, hindering her ability to see beyond the veil of rainfall. Her TCVs were on, but even their effectiveness was limited. Beyond ten meters, almost nothing could be made out.
“Keep moving,” said Marusich. “EDEN will be passing over this area soon.” Barely five seconds later, the sound of low-flying aircraft reverberated over the storm. “Cover!”
Nightmen dove in all directions—some into brush and some under the water. In their black armor, they blended in seamlessly with the darkness of the swamp. Except for Svetlana. The blonde was searching frantically for a place to hide, finally sliding behind a tree trunk and pressing her back against it as hard as she could.
A white spotlight illuminated the ground. It was a Vulture, hot on the trail of the Noboat that had appeared on everyone’s radar. The ship slowly passed over the trees, its massive light swaying from one direction to the next, occasionally passing over a Nightman but unable to distinguish any of them from the dark terrain.
“Nobody move,” said Marusich through the comm.
Closing her eyes, Svetlana pressed against the tree harder. The Vulture was still above them.
Suddenly, there was a crackle in the sky. Svetlana and the Nightmen looked up to see the Noboat materialize behind the Vulture. Plasma fire soared in the transport’s way.
The Vulture never stood a chance. Its desperate attempts to avoid the attacks were useless, as several blasts struck the tail of the ship. Orange plumes exploded.
“Move!” Marusich shouted. “Everyone move!”
As the Noboat disappeared again, the operatives in the swamp darted from their cover, running full speed in the opposite direction of the plummeting Vulture. Trees could be heard snapping in half as the ship slammed into the ground.
Huffing as she trudged through the mire, Svetlana asked, “Why would they do that?”
“Instead of hiding,” answered Marusich, “he is coming into the open! He is showing them that he is here, that it is dangerous to stay!” The fulcrum was already breathing heavily. “I believe he wants them to hold off their search!”
“That Vulture was full of innocent soldiers!”
Marusich growled. “For all we know, they helped shoot down the American unit in the first place.” After s
everal seconds, he dropped to a knee.
Bending over forward, Svetlana propped her hands on her knees, catching her breath. She tucked the wet tips of her ponytail back under her helmet.
“The survivors should be west of us, if they were at the lake before. If one of them truly has a leg injury, they will not have come this far. We should be on an intercept course.” The fulcrum looked at Svetlana. “You must lead. You must be visible, to lure them to you.”
Svetlana listened closely.
“If they see us coming first, they will not abandon their cover. But for you, they may reveal themselves.”
“What if they think I am here to kill them? How can they tell the difference between me and someone from the Vultures? I look like anyone!”
Marusich answered, “Remove your armor.”
“What?”
“That is how they will tell the difference. You will obviously not be here to hunt them.”
She shook her head. “What if they have weapons? They will shoot me on sight!”
“No, they will not. A defenseless woman in the swamp is not a threat. They will be curious and come to you.” He motioned to Krylov. “Krylov will shadow you from behind. He will kill anyone who puts you at risk.”
“I am bait to you,” Svetlana spat.
The fulcrum remained calm. “Then you tell me. What would make better sense?” Several seconds passed; she offered no answer. “Then proceed. We will support you.”
Glaring at Marusich, Svetlana unfastened her chest plate. Piece by piece, she removed the EDEN armor. Her helmet was the last part to go. Closing her eyes in the downpour, she stretched her neck and wiped back her hair.
“Doronin,” Marusich said, “carry her armor. We cannot leave it behind.”
Arms on her hips, Svetlana waited for her armor to be collected. She handed the man named Doronin her gun. “I have no comm!” she shouted at Marusich.
“You will not need one!” He motioned forward with his rifle. “Go!”
Cursing under her breath, Svetlana turned to the west. She trudged on armorless through the mire.
OVERHEAD, THE NOBOAT hovered above the Nightman away team. Even with the low visibility, they were close enough to the ground to make out Svetlana moving forward. There were no longer any Vultures in the vicinity, though a squadron of Vindicators had begun circling the area from high above over the new crash site.
