by Lee Stephen
Neither did Scott.
“But it works for her. She is happy. I think.” He pointed to Ju`bajai’s chest. “This material is Kevlar spandex, not too different from what you might find with someone in the Olympics. The problem with her is that she is not very physically strong, so she cannot support very much weight. This means true armor is impossible. And though I tried to make something for her head, she did not like the idea of that.”
In other words, she threw a fit.
“So this is the best I could do.” As if happening upon a realization, he touched Ju`bajai on the shoulder and turned her around. “There is also this, here,” said the forge master as he pointed. There, on the back of the Ithini’s collar, the number “14” was etched into the fabric.
And that was what did it. Genuinely surprised, Scott stared wordlessly at the number. She’s one of us. Ju`bajai is really one of us. Deep beneath his human exterior, a small wave of pride swelled. Of all the unexpectedness that had accompanied Ju`bajai’s little makeover, it was that little number that meant the most. The Ithini was a part of their team. Unsure of what exactly to say, Scott rubbed the back of his neck and released a soft chuckle.
“Is that acceptable?” Artur asked.
To Scott, it was. But Scott’s opinion wasn’t what mattered. “Is it acceptable to her?”
Ju`bajai angled her head toward him. The mental pathway opened, and the Ithini responded. It is what I requested.
What she requested? Wow…
“I believe so,” answered Artur, oblivious to the mental exchange that took place.
“In that case, I like it.” How could Scott not? If Ju`bajai’s desire was truly just to be included—if this was what she’d chosen with her newfound freedom—it would be foolish for Scott to complain. He would gladly accept her. “Welcome to the Fourteenth, Ju`bajai.” As expected, the alien offered no visible response. Motioning toward the V2, Scott said, “Go on aboard, then.” With the faintest tilt of the head, Ju`bajai acknowledged the order. Sliding past Scott, the Ithini made her way toward the indicated transport.
Crossing his arms, Artur watched as the alien walked away. “You are quite a unique team.”
That didn’t cover half of it. Patting the forge master on the shoulder without looking, Scott simply said, “Thank you, Pashkov.” He wasn’t sure where else to go with all this. Stepping away, Scott made his way toward the V2 in Ju`bajai’s wake.
At the front of the V2’s troop bay, Esther was checking over her weapons and equipment. With a pistol in each tactical gear holster and an assault rifle over her shoulder, just in case, the big challenge for the scout became finding places to hold ammunition. With train security expected to be heavy, and after everyone’s experience in Krasnoyarsk, there became no such thing as too much ammo. Next to Esther and checking over his sniper rifle was Jayden. The Briton and Texan were almost synchronized in the speed of their preparation. Like they were one in the same.
“I have M-19 ammo I can’t carry,” Esther said, holding it up for Jayden to take. “Do you need it?”
The Texan didn’t answer.
“Jay, do you—” Looking in Jayden’s direction, the scout’s brown eyes blinked. Everyone in the troop bay was gone. Jayden, the operatives around him, Valentin’s slayers. They’d all vanished without a trace. As her senses of clarity and familiarity sunk in, Esther went still. Even without looking, she could feel a presence behind her—in the direction of the V2’s open rear bay door. Though she turned in its direction, there was scarcely the need. The scout knew who she was going to find.
There, standing alone on the ramp with her arms crossed and with a satisfied smile, was Ju`bajai’s ponytailed construct of Esther, clad in the same hexagonally-patterned bodysuit she’d worn while entering the hangar. Esther watched as the construct uncrossed her arms and strolled toward her. “Oh, Esther. We’ve been on quite a journey, haven’t we?”
With narrowed eyes and her breath almost held, Esther managed to ask, “What do you want?”
Ju`bajai halted her approach at the question. “We haven’t spoken since your marriage—and congratulations, by the way. I thought it only proper to give you and the hubs a little time to yourselves.”
“How incredibly gracious.”
“Now, now,” said Ju`bajai, holding up her palm. “I’m not here to fight. Quite the contrary. I’d like to thank you, Esther.” Ever so faintly, Esther angled her head. “I am happier than I’ve been in a very long time. Long before Cairo, even before I was taken captive by the Khuladi. For the first time in many, many years, I’m a part of something because I choose to be.” Stepping forward again, she drew close enough to angle her body away from Esther and point to the “14” on the back of her collar. “Look at that, ey? Not too shabby, if I may say. Artur is quite the seamstress.”
Voice totally flat, Esther said, “So you’ve got a ‘14’ etched on your back and suddenly you’re part of the team? Is that how this works?”
The construct’s eyes met Esther’s, where they lingered. Ju`bajai’s joyous expression faded. “I can tell you’re upset. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you had to go through what you went through.”
“Had to go? Do you even hear yourself?”
Ju’bajai looked down and sighed. “Esther, please understand.”
“It’s you who needs to understand!” said Esther, raising her voice for the first time as she pointed. “Do you really think you can waltz back in here and undo everything you did to me? That you can sprinkle your mental fairy dust and suddenly all is forgiven?”
“I consider you my friend, Esther.”
The scout’s jaw hardened. “I consider you my mortal enemy.”
Again, silence fell between them, until Ju`bajai released a long, drawn out sigh. “That makes me sad. I wish I could change your mind. Honestly, I mean.” For a moment, the alien paused. “But I suppose one reaps what they sew.”
“Yes, they do.”
Ju`bajai’s eyes lingered on Esther after the scout’s answer. They squinted with intent. “Spoken like a woman who has sewn much.” Though Esther stared back, she offered no reply. Smiling crookedly, the construct said, “There will be a time when you need me, Molly Polyester. I just want you to know that when that time comes, I will be there for you, as you were there for me. Thank you, Esther, with sincerity.” She raised a simple hand of farewell. “Until we speak again.”
Pressing her palms against her eyes in frustration, Esther growled. “Why do you have to make every sodding thing so vecking—”
“I’ll take it,” Jayden said.
Lowering her hands from her face, Esther blinked at the sound of his voice. The Texan’s hand was extended with expectation, as all around him, the operatives in the troop bay continued their gear-up. The silence of her connection with Ju`bajai was replaced by the sounds of lockers opening and weapons being handled. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do.
Jayden stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “You gonna give it to me or not, babe?”
“Uh.” Snapping out of it, Esther looked at her hand, where she was still holding the M-19 magazine she’d extended to Jayden prior to the construct. Instinct kicked in, and she held it out again for him.
As soon as Jayden took it, he eyed her with his good eye. “You all right?”
Esther’s focus drifted over Jayden’s shoulder, where she caught sight of Ju`bajai at the far end of the troop bay, standing in the midst of the organized chaos around her. The Ithini’s opaque, oval eyes were fixed right back on her. For a moment, the scout’s mouth hung open. “Yes,” she said finally. “Yes, I’m fine. Just caught a little dizzy spell.”
Looking at her with concern, Jayden said, “Do you need to—”
“I’m fine.” A smile was offered to compensate for the abruptness of the interruption. “I mean it. I’m fine.” Readjusting her E-35, she snagged onto a support rail. “Just ready for this bird to fly.”
“I hear you, there,” the Texan said, his
attention returning to prepping his equipment.
Trotting up the V2’s rear ramp, Scott scanned the activity in the troop bay. Everyone was gearing up. Everyone was readying themselves. This was truly it. Making his way through the crowd, Scott shouted, “Get ready, people! We’re about to kick this thing off!” Snagging Javon on the shoulder as he passed him, Scott said, “You ready for this, man?”
The black soldier smiled and hit Scott’s fist with his. “We got this, captain.”
Craning his neck past Javon to see Tom behind him, Scott addressed the shorter, feistier soldier. “Tom King! You ready?”
The look Tom gave Scott was striking in its sternness. “I’m ready,” he said quietly.
Nodding his head, Scott gave Javon a look as soon as Tom’s focus left him. “He’s gonna be all right?”
“Yeah, man,” answered Javon, his voice lowered. “He’s gonna be all right.”
If Javon said it, Scott believed it. Offering the soldier a final pat on the shoulder, Scott continued past him toward the cockpit. All the while he slid through the crowd, he made eye contact with the soldiers he passed. Feliks and Pyotr. Becan. Jayden and Esther. Lilan, Natalie. The six slayers on-lend from Valentin. He was searching for that look in their eyes that would tell him they were ready. He was looking for their game faces. It was present in each and every one of them.
Stepping through the cockpit door, Scott lowered into the copilot’s seat. Looking at Jakob, Scott asked, “You ready for this, man?”
“Ja, captain,” the German answered. “Ready to go.”
Through the cockpit glass, Scott saw Tiffany working the controls of her Superwolf. He had intended to give her a final thumbs-up before takeoff, however her sole focus seemed to be on the fighter—as it should have been. The time on the V2’s dashboard read 1911, one minute until zero hour, local time. One minute until those two aircraft lifted from their perches, drifted out of Northern Forge’s hangar, and took off toward the Land of the Rising Sun. One minute.
1912.
Go time.
“Let’s do it,” Scott said. Reaching up for the cabin mic, Scott pulled it down to his mouth. “Hold on, everyone. We are launching now, I repeat, we are launching now.”
Jakob blew out a breath. It looked like nerves. Pressing a button on the console, he set the rear bay door to close. Seconds later, the V2 was rising from the hangar floor as the sound of landing gear retracting whined beneath them. Tiffany’s Superwolf was doing the same. Once again, he looked at the fighter. This time, the blonde was looking back. A thumbs-up was offered, and she returned it.
That thumbs-up was going to be the last bit of communication between them until the mission was over. Wherever Tiffany was and whatever she was doing would be a total unknown. Whether or not she survived would be a total unknown. The same applied to her as it pertained to them. This entire operation hinged on timing and trust.
The V2’s nose swung toward the open hangar; the nighttime flurries of Norilsk’s neighboring mountains came into view. Tiffany’s Superwolf hovered into open space ahead of them, then pivoted and set off. His heart pounding, Scott leaned back and tried to stay calm.
Easier said than done.
The nighttime troop bay lights kicked in, illuminating the operatives beneath a deep, red glow. And just like that…they were off. The V2 drifted out into the night, settling into the low valley formed by the mountain ranges. With the transport’s TCV screen activated, Scott could see everything outside in false color, despite the darkness. A feeling of motion kicked in and the transport flew ahead.
There was a two-hour time differential between Norilsk and Japan, which meant the flight would last almost an hour, on the dot. It was more than enough time for everyone to get mentally prepared, but not quite enough for them to settle down. That was for the best, Scott felt. Just like having them experience the frigid blasts of snow from the mountains, Scott didn’t want any semblance of comfort to touch this operation. He just wanted readiness. To that end, Scott rose from the copilot’s seat to keep his own blood flowing. Stepping back into the troop bay as the ride smoothed out, he began the process of checking over his gear.
Scott had never fought with nonlethal rounds before, and there was something inherently disconcerting about loading them into his rifle. Just the same, he knew they were the right decision, and he credited Natalie for her adamancy in using them. Glancing Natalie’s way as she entered his mind, he was surprised to see her already staring at him and making no attempt to hide it. Rising from her seat, she gripped one of the handrails and walked to him. Though Scott assumed it was to say something, he was somewhat caught off guard when she didn’t. Eyes averting away from him as she came to his side, she simply scanned the rest of the troop bay in silence.
She and I are the commanding officers for this thing—she wants to make sure she’s seen with me.
Clearing his throat a bit, he broke the silence and asked, “How are you feeling?”
The captain inhaled softly through her nostrils. “Like I don’t know nearly as much as I used to think I did.”
He knew the feeling.
Looking Scott’s way again, Natalie said, “You do know that if we get there and nothing’s there to be found, I’m going to kill you?”
There was zero casualness in the statement—not a trace of jest. This was more than a threat. This was her giving him her word. He respected that. “If there’s nothing there, I won’t stop you.”
Her emerald eyes remained stoic.
“What if you find out everything I’ve said is true?” he asked.
Natalie hesitated. For a moment, she seemed to be searching him. Peering into him. Trying to figure out how she was going to answer. At long last, she did. “Then I guess I’ll apologize for what I did to your face.”
A soft laugh escaped from Scott’s lips. Feeling his cheek, where her fingernails had scarred him on the banks of the Suez, he said simply, “I look forward to it.”
“This an open meeting, or is it invite only?” The question came from Lilan, as the colonel made his way toward them.
Of all the people going on the operation, Lilan, Natalie, and Esther were the only ones not donned in Nightman armor. The fact was purely circumstantial, as Lilan couldn’t wear the black, full body armor with his arm in a sling, and there was simply no Nightman armor fitted for women. Instead, the three wore black tactical gear from Norilsk law enforcement.
“All visitors welcome,” Scott said in response to the colonel’s question.
Lilan nodded his head quietly. “Actually, umm,” he said, glancing at Natalie before casting his full attention on Scott. “I was kind of hoping to have a minute with you before everything goes down.”
A minute for what? “Sure thing,” Scott said, looking at Natalie briefly.
“Sure,” Natalie said with more resignation than resolve. “I’ll be here if someone needs me.” Stepping away from them, the Caracal captain returned to her seat, leaning her head back against the hull and closing her eyes beneath the red lights.
Scott’s focus returned to Lilan. “What is it, colonel?”
“I never really got a chance to talk to you, son—not since you bailed us out of Krasnoyarsk. It kind of feels like you’ve been avoiding me a bit.”
Unable to look Lilan in the eyes, Scott looked away and sighed. He didn’t even know how to answer.
“So, have you been?”
Looking back at Lilan, Scott said, “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been meaning to talk with you, I just honest to God haven’t had time.” But there was a granule of truth to Lilan’s words. “With that said, though, yeah…maybe a part of me feels a little ashamed.”
“Son…”
Shaking his head, Scott said, “I’m not your son. And I’m not your Golden Lion. The task you gave me—to uphold whatever it was I was supposed to uphold—I’ve failed.”
“I’m gonna beg to differ with that assessment. What you’ve done, and I’m not talkin’ about t
he killing—that’s life, and that stuff happens when you get dealt a bad card—is to be highly commended. In spite of what happened to you and what you went through, you serve as the captain of a damn fine unit. And you are the only,” he pointed at Scott’s chest for emphasis, “the only man on God’s green Earth who could put together an operation like this, pulling together people like this, getting this all planned out. I mean, hell,” he said, looking back at Natalie, “it wasn’t too long ago when you took that girl as your hostage, and now she’s fighting for you.”
Scott wouldn’t go so far as to say that. But he caught the colonel’s drift.
The colonel looked at him again, just as Scott lifted his head. Sternness emanated from the old veteran’s steely eyes. “I am proud of you. What you’re doing, right now, is everything a Golden Lion would’ve been expected to do. You’re doing the hard thing. And whatever comes out of it, you’ve earned my respect.”
Hearing Lilan tell him that felt better than Scott thought it would. At the end of the day, Scott wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to make a difference in the right way. Though he’d failed more than he felt he’d succeeded, having the colonel tell him that gave him reassurance that there was hope for him. The world didn’t see that now—they saw a terrorist. But maybe someday that would change.
As the colonel patted Scott on the shoulder then returned to his seat, Scott looked at the golden horns of his fulcrum collar. Svetlana had done that for him to remind him that he was still someone whose heart was good. That he was still capable of good things. He would always be a fulcrum. He would always be a murderer. The taking of a life was too serious to simply write off and forget about. But he didn’t have to define himself as just a Nightman anymore.
Sitting back down in his seat, Scott mulled over the colonel’s words as the V2 continued to soar. It was time to stop living with the guilt. It was time to stop apologizing for who he was and what he’d done. It was time to be who he was capable of being—not only in deed, but in the heart. He wasn’t who he’d always been, but who he was now wasn’t bad. Sometimes he just needed to be reminded of that.
