The Glorious Becoming (Epic)

by Lee Stephen

  His bulging eyes narrowing at the view screen, Tauthin addressed Oleg. “Vacha`shnna du Setana zoch-taar?”

  “He wants to know why the woman is alone,” said Petrov.

  Oleg answered, “Tell him to shut up and watch the sky.”

  SVETLANA’S BODY shivered. The temperature was already cold—the drenching downpour made it worse. Dodging her way through sticks and shrubs, she waded through at times waist-high swamp water. Though deep spots could have been anywhere, she was yet to succumb to one. Maintaining a course as straight as possible, the medic kept on.

  All of a sudden, the rain above her stopped falling. Looking down and around at the water beneath her, she saw a distinct absence of droplets hitting the surface. Slicking back her hair with both hands, she squinted skyward. There was nothing visible blocking the downpour. In that moment, she realized what it was. “Thank you, Tauthin,” she said quietly to herself. Looking ahead through dripping lashes, she wiped her face and moved again.

  The Great Dismal Swamp was living up to its name. Barren trees with little to no leaf cover jetted up from the ground, their roots spread out like tentacles, often completely disappearing under the surface of the mire. An earthy, slough-like stench wafted through the air, despite the hypothetically cleansing rain. There were no signs of life anywhere.

  Though Svetlana’s first ten minutes of walking seemed to drag on forever, the minutes that followed consistently went faster. Dry from the waist-up from the shelter of the Noboat, she trudged ahead through the waters of the swamp. Occasionally she glanced behind her for a sign of the First, but there were none. She could only trust they had her back.

  Snap!

  It was as loud a sound as one could have heard amid the fury of a thunderstorm. Svetlana went rigid. Eyes searching ahead, the blonde inherently reached for her sidearm, only to realize that she had none. She muttered in disgust.

  The patch of swamp she was in was indistinguishable from the patches whence she’d come. She was standing in shin-high water, surrounded by muddy islands and stark gray trees. Nothing stood out visibly.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  Nothing answered. Resisting the urge to look behind her and give away the First’s cover, she took another step forward.

  Snap!

  The snapping was louder and more distinct. Freezing in place, Svetlana pinpointed its origin. It was coming from ahead and to her right. The environment was far too wet for branches to snap like that without heavy pressure being applied. There was no doubt in her mind that something alive was causing it.

  “I hear you!” she called out, hesitating again. “Please come out. I am not here to hurt you!”

  Suddenly, she heard something. It was stifled, yet audible just the same. Whimpering. Female whimpering, coming from the same direction as the snapping. Her heart rate increased.

  Chernobyl. This exact same thing had happened in Chernobyl, except the whimpering in that case had been from a necrilid. Just the same, she was once again being lured. Very slowly, Svetlana took a step back. “I am not coming closer!”

  Nothing moved.

  Svetlana’s body tensed as raindrops drenched her again. The Noboat—her umbrella of protection from the weather—was drifting somewhere else. Maybe Tauthin or Oleg saw something she didn’t. Swallowing, she held up her hands and addressed her unseen adversary. “I am no fool—I will not come closer!”

  From just beyond a large tree ahead of her, a male figure stepped out. He emerged so quickly, Svetlana actually flinched back. With what appeared to be a rifle raised against his shoulder, he said through gritted teeth, “Just hold it right there.”

  Svetlana’s hands slowly raised. “I am not with the ones who shot you down.”

  “Bull.”

  “My name is Svetlana Voronova. I am from Novosibirsk.” Squinting through water drops, she focused on his rifle. It wasn’t a rifle at all. It was a conveniently-shaped branch. Slowly, the blonde shook her head. “That is not a gun.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Yes. I will bet. Shoot a round to prove it.”

  The man remained still. “I bet you’d like that. For me to waste my ammo. Nice try.”

  “Tiffany told me where to find you,” Svetlana said.

  At mention of the pilot’s name, the man lowered his “gun.” With his attention garnered, Svetlana wasted no time in continuing.

  “Her ship came to us on autopilot,” she said. “I am from a unit called the Fourteenth. The ship she was aboard, it was stolen from us several months ago.”

  The man’s posture tensed. “Stolen? By who?”

  “By EDEN.”

  “Like hell.”

  She grew sterner. “Your name is Lilan, isn’t it?” He didn’t respond. “You had a soldier named Remington, correct?” That got a reaction. Even from a distance, even with torrential rain falling between them, the change in his expression was obvious and clear. “Scott Remington is a part of my unit,” she went on. “You sent him to Novosibirsk, yes? He came to us. David Jurgen, Becan McCrae, Jayden Timmons. They are all part of the Fourteenth.”

  For the first time, the man seemed to be listening. “You know Scott Remington?” He asked the question as if to reaffirm the statement.

  Wiping back her wet bangs, she nodded. “Yes. He is my commanding officer.”

  For several seconds, the man did nothing. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak. He simply stared at her. Finally, he lowered his guard completely. “Get outta here.”

  All of a sudden, several black men emerged from the surrounding tree cover. All of their hands were in the air. As soon as Lilan saw them, he shouted blatantly, “Hey! Get back to your cover—”

  “Uhh, coach?” one of the men tactfully interrupted him. “We kinda didn’t have a choice.”

  No sooner than the statement was made, the Nightmen made their presence known. There was one behind each of the survivors of Falcon Platoon, their collective assault rifles lifted and ready to fire. Spinning around, Svetlana saw Krylov approaching from behind her, the sniper’s rifle aimed at Lilan’s head.

  “Lower your stick,” Marusich said to Lilan as he emerged with his brethren.

  Lilan’s eyes gleamed. Hurling the stick into the water, he spat, “Why don’t you just kill us now and get it over with?”

  “If we wanted to kill you, you would already be dead.”

  Fuming, Svetlana shoved the barrel of Krylov’s rifle another direction. Whipping her head to the Nightman collective, she went off on them in Russian. “You want to earn their trust, yet this is what you do? You ignorant oafs!”

  “Shut up, woman,” said Marusich. “We just got what we came for.”

  She turned back to Lilan, speaking English again. “Forget these men, listen to me. Everything I told you is true. Tiffany did come to us, and she told us where to find you. She has a friend, her name is Cat. She has a broken leg. I know this because Tiffany told me.”

  Lilan said nothing.

  “I am a medic. I can help her.”

  “I don’t want you touching her,” he said back.

  Growling, Marusich lowered his rifle and stepped forward. “This is wasting time. Take them into custody.”

  Grabbing her shoulder, Svetlana rolled her head back in frustration. Leveling her gaze at Lilan, she glared bitterly. “Just do what he says. I will explain when we board the ship.”

  “What ship?” Lilan asked.

  Behind Lilan, one of the survivors looked skyward. “Hey! It stopped rainin’ over here!”

  Lilan looked back at the operative, then at Svetlana. They were both still getting saturated. Setting her hands on her hips, the blonde offered a look that screamed brace yourself.

  “Your operatives may want to move!” Marusich shouted.

  The Nightmen within the void of rainfall pushed the captive survivors forward until everyone was back under the storm. Moments later, the branch snapping began, descending through the trees until it reached the mire’s surface. As the
Noboat’s shape pressed into the water, the Falcon survivors stared wide-eyed and speechless. There was an arc of electricity, and the ship materialized.

  Oleg screamed over the comm. “Everyone, board, quickly!”

  Lilan was awe-struck. “What the hell is this?”

  “We must go!” said Svetlana, urging him forward. “Hurry! Someone carry the girl with the broken leg!”

  In the bridge, Tauthin shouted loudly.

  “He says EDEN fighters are approaching!” translated Petrov.

  Oleg ran to the antechamber to frantically wave on the away team. “In! In! Come in now!” The Nightmen ran full speed into the vessel, the hostages in their midst. “Dematerialize!” As the last of the away team entered, the antechamber ramp lifted.

  Her damp hair tossed wildly, Svetlana was bustled forward with the throng.

  “Put them in the brig!” someone shouted.

  “Wait!” the medic turned around. “Let me go with them.” Weaving though the Nightman traffic, she followed the survivors into the brig area. There was a loud crack like thunder as dematerialization happened again. The interior lights returned to dark blue. None of the survivors were talking. They looked wild-eyed.

  Oleg’s voice emerged over the comms. “Brace for evasive action!”

  The crew barely had a chance to grab onto something. The Noboat’s thrusters engaged at full power, ramping the vessel skyward then spinning it to the west. The motion threw nearly every person inside off their feet. In the next second, the vessel burst forward.

  The chaos lasted for almost two minutes before it subsided, distance and invisibility putting the Noboat safely out of harm’s way. For the first time, stillness came for everyone. Except for Svetlana. The medic sought out Catalina immediately, and while the other survivors observed, she began the process of treating the Canadian’s broken leg, at least as best she could in the brig of a Bakma Noboat.

  “It’s Svetlana, right?” Lilan finally asked after several minutes of nearsilence. The only sounds that had emanated in the brig prior to then were those of whimpers and brief screams from Catalina as Svetlana tended to her. Strapping a splint to Catalina’s leg, the blonde nodded in response to Lilan’s question. Observing her for several moments longer, Lilan said, “This is my crew—at least who’s left.” He nodded toward each person. “Javon Quinton, Donald Bell, Tom King, Catalina Shivers.”

  Looking up from Catalina’s leg, Svetlana smiled weakly.

  “I got about ten thousand questions right now,” Lilan said quietly, “but I guess I’ve gotta start with this one. Why’d they shoot us down?”

  Leaning against the wall—her first comfortable moment since leaving Room 14—Svetlana propped her elbow on her knee. Her fingers disappeared beneath her damp strands. “We think EDEN is framing us.”

  “‘Us?’”

  “Novosibirsk.” When Lilan said nothing, she went on. “One of the ships that attacked you used to be ours. My unit’s, the Fourteenth’s. It was damaged several months ago and sent off for repair. We were told it was too damaged to be fixed.” She lifted her fingers blithely. “Obviously, it was not.”

  Lilan seemed to contemplate the explanation. “So EDEN attacked us, in your ships, to make it look like you?”

  “I know how it sounds,” she said.

  “It sounds nuts.”

  Svetlana sighed. “The questions you have, we have, also. This caught us all unprepared.”

  Silence hung again, until Lilan moved on. “And you said Feathers is okay?”

  Tilting her head, Svetlana asked, “Feathers?”

  “Tiffany.”

  “Yes,” she smiled softly. “She is fine. She is with the rest of my unit.”

  “And Remington’s your commanding officer?”

  Smile lingering, she nodded her head.

  It took a moment, but a small grin escaped from Lilan, too. “Well, hot dog. I thought Novosibirsk would be the end of him. How’s he doing? Are we about to see him?”

  “He is on assignment now,” she said. “But I am sure you will see him soon.”

  “On assignment?” asked Lilan scrupulously. “How does an EDEN operative go on assignment?”

  Looking down, she played awkwardly with her fingers. Her mouth opened for a full five seconds before anything came out. “I do not want to lie to you. It may be best for you to know before you see him...”

  “Know what?”

  She lifted her eyes. “Scott is a Nightman.”

  The look on Lilan’s face revealed every emotion. Shock. Disbelief. Nothing at all good. His expression was mirrored by Catalina.

  “He was lured in by them. They...forced him to make a mistake. Now he wears their armor.”

  Tom raised his hand. “What the hell is a Nightman?”

  “They’re good-for-nothing murderers, that’s what they are,” answered Lilan. “And if Remington’s one of them, he’s a good-for-nothing murderer, too. There’s no other way about it.”

  A defensive glare appeared on Svetlana’s face.

  “He’s a Nightman?” Lilan asked again. “He’s really a trashing Nightman?”

  “It is not how you think,” she said.

  Lilan was red-faced. “When I had Remington, he was something special. He was the best young soldier I’d ever had. I knew that place would kill him.”

  “Please, listen—”

  “What the hell is a Nightman?” Tom asked again.

  Lilan answered, “You kids are too young to even remember. They’re terrorists. Instigators, a fanatical cult.”

  “It’s those guys out there?” asked Donald.

  “Yeah, the ones with the guns to your backs. That’s what a Nightman is. And Thoor was the worst.”

  Svetlana gleamed murderously. “Do not even compare Scott to Thoor.”

  “He had to kill someone to get in, didn’t he?” Lilan asked. The other survivors raised their eyebrows.

  “Yes—” Svetlana said, getting cut off before she could continue.

  “He had to take an innocent life, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Lilan never backed down. “Who was it? An innocent woman? A guy down the street?”

  She slammed her palm on the floor and screamed, “The person he thought murdered his fiancée!”

  Lilan started back. He tilted his head.

  “Scott’s fiancée came to visit him, and she was murdered by a Nightman. They gave him a name and claimed it was the man who murdered her, but it was only the name of who they wanted him to kill. And because of his passion—his love for his woman—he naïvely took that innocent life.

  “He wears their armor so that he’ll never forget what he did. So yes, he is a Nightman, and yes, he is one by choice.” She pointed her finger at him. “But you will not judge him—I don’t care who you are. Scott knows what he did, and God knows his heart. And if you are going to Novosibirsk to bring more judgment upon him, I will throw you out of this ship right now, without regret. Are we clear?”

  No one else said a word—not a single person. They simply stared at the blonde who’d just laid down her law. Settling back down, Svetlana pushed her hand hard through her hair.

  “He’s more than just your commanding officer, isn’t he?” Lilan asked quietly.

  Her eyes gave her away.

  Nodding slowly, Lilan leaned back himself. He watched her for several seconds before speaking again. “I apologize, Svetlana. I didn’t know.”

  Looking away briefly, her fury simmered down. She closed her eyes again.

  For the duration of the flight, no one else spoke in the brig. Their only companion was the hum of the Noboat’s engines. And that was fine with everyone.

  Midway back to The Machine, word was given to Oleg and his crew not to return to Novosibirsk. Instead, they were instructed to fly to a safehouse in the Nightman recruitment city of Krasnoyarsk. There, Lilan and his surviving crew were to be hidden away, in order for EDEN to perpetuate the lie that all of Falcon Platoon had be
en killed in a transport crash over Lake Drummond. Only then would Thoor gain the upper hand. As typically, human lives were the general’s leverage. It was just as well to the Falcon survivors. They were alive.

  For the moment, that was enough.

  25

  THURSDAY, MARCH 15TH, 0012 NE

  2323 HOURS

  NOVOSIBIRSK, RUSSIA

  TIFFANY’S BROWN EYES narrowed at Travis in the bunk room. She leaned into his face from beside one of Room 14’s several shower curtains. “Okay. Repeat the rules.”

  Sighing irritably, Travis moved to place his hands on his hips. When her cuffed hand awkwardly followed along, he relented. “I don’t need to repeat the rules, I know the rules.”

  “Noooo, no, no, no, buster,” she said, “I am about to be—hello—naked behind this curtain. And whether I like it or not, your right hand’s gonna be with me. You are going to repeat the rules.”

  Travis cleared his throat harshly. “No touching—”

  “Ah, ah, ah! That’s not what I said.”

  “It is what you said! Verbatim!”

  “No, I said don’t even think about touching.”

  Irritably, he groaned. “Fine. I won’t think about touching.”

  “Continue.”

  “I will not walk away from the shower stall.”

  “Yes,” she affirmed, nodding. “That one’s important.”

  He went on. “I will not ‘enjoy’ this.” He scowled. “Which, by the way, is the stupidest rule of them all.”

  Ignoring the comment, she motioned for him to continue.

  “I will not look, and lastly, I will not adjust the temperature knobs... as tempting as that may be.”

  “Do it and die.”

  “I still fail to understand why you have to take a shower tonight.”

  She grabbed her hair with her free hand. “Umm...hello? Can you see this?” She motioned to her body. “Are you here on planet Earth, seeing what I’m seeing? I look disgusting.”

  Grumbling with disdain, he looked away. “Whatever. Just get it over with. This is retarded.”