by Lee Stephen
Leaning back against the V2’s inner hull, Scott closed his eyes. It wasn’t fatigue—just a momentary escape from the visual world. Time alone to seek clarity of purpose for an operation that demanded it. Physically, he was ready to go. It was time now to get his mind right. Japan was just over the nighttime horizon.
The destiny of the Fourteenth was right there with it.
35
Tuesday, March 27th, 0012 NE
2209 hours
Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan
ANY TIME NOW.
Those were the words Jakob had spoken to Scott only minutes earlier. For the past fifteen minutes, the transport had glided through a mountain valley in Japan’s Nagano and Yamanashi Prefectures, cutting straight through the crescent-shaped country toward the Izu Peninsula. Beyond simply being the most direct route to the peninsula, the Nagano Prefecture offered the advantage of being highly mountainous and sparsely populated. If this operation went awry, it wouldn’t be because they came into it recklessly.
As the forecast predicted, a violent rain was falling outside the transport, tattering hard against the windshield and hull as the transport rocketed onward. Scott understood that there was a benefit to this, but it was hard to not shake that ominous feeling that accompanied the weather.
“Shizuoka,” Jakob said.
The Shizuoka Prefecture. Their target region. Inside Scott’s fulcrum armor, his palms were sweating.
Blowing out a nervous breath, the pilot looked sideways at Scott. “Three to four minutes.”
That was Scott’s cue. Turning out of the copilot’s seat, Scott stepped through the troop bay door. Beneath the dark red glow of the V2’s nighttime running lights, the operatives turned their heads to look at him. “Three to four minutes,” he said simply. There was no need to raise his voice or hype the moment. The crew knew what was about to go down. Scott slid his fulcrum helmet down over his head with a click. Behind the camera-fed visor, the red hues of the hull were replaced by TCV illumination. Silently, the others began doing the same, clamping on helmets and standing with readied weapons. Turning back to Jakob, Scott said, “I’m shutting this door.” The pilot nodded, and Scott closed the door between the cockpit and troop bay.
The truth was, Scott didn’t want to see the approach. He didn’t want the full scenery to come into view. He wanted to hear that clunk, to see that bay door come down, then to open that hatch that led into the train. He wanted surgical focus.
A swell came to Scott’s mind. Judging by everyone’s sudden pause and curious looks, it had come to them, too. Scott raised his hand to catch their attention. “It’s all right. It’s just her.” At the far end of the troop bay, Ju`bajai was sitting silently, her opaque eyes widened with focus. Narrowing his eyes hesitantly behind his helmet, he thought, That is you, right?
Affirmative. All participants are connected.
And there was their solution to radio dark. Scott was thankful he’d had the opportunity to get everyone connected with the Ithini leading up to the mission, else the whole of the cabin might be keeling over and passing out. From what Ju`bajai had explained to Scott, she would be able to not only relay information through a wide-area connection, but also to ascertain who the messages’ intended targets were. That was important. Scott definitely wanted to be able to communicate with the alien privately if need be.
The V2’s velocity shifted abruptly, prompting Scott to grab hold of the support rail again to stop himself from falling over. They were making their move to intercept. Scott closed his eyes. Let us do this, God. Let us get this thing and get out with no one hurt. Keep Tiffany safe wherever she is, too. If the Valley Girl had stuck to the plan, then she’d already appeared on EDEN’s radar screens and was drawing their fighters away. Despite the confidence he had in her, he was worried sick—as he was certain the others were, too. If they made it back to Northern Forge and there wasn’t a Superwolf there waiting for them…
…he didn’t want to think about that.
Another shift in velocity came as the V2’s forward speed slowed dramatically. Its nose swung.
“Veck, man.”
The words were uttered by Tom, who was staring out of the porthole window nearest him.
“Here it comes,” Tom said.
Scott didn’t want to see it. Closing his eyes and holding the support rail with an iron grip, he waited for the landing. Another shift came, this one upward and accompanied by a burst of descent thrusters. Everyone in the troop bay was rocked in the same direction, but they held their own. Beneath them, muffled behind the hard tattering of rainfall, a new sound emerged like a mechanical roar. The train.
Close enough. Opening his eyes, Scott stormed through the troop bay to the back door, weaving through operatives with his hand on the rail to support him. This was his mission. He wanted to be the first outside when that door came down. Settling in between the pack of slayers—the first of the operatives going through the hatch—he waited for the clunk.
Another person fell in line beside him, jostling into him slightly as the V2’s vertical thrusters adjusted themselves. Natalie. Her chestnut ponytail dangled behind her tactical helmet as she glanced at him through her ballistic goggles before setting her sights on the door. Her assault rifle over her back, she waited with equal fervency.
His mission? She would probably challenge him on that one. That was all right with him.
The vertical thrusters disengaged. The transport dropped. Cl-clunk! Holding his breath, Scott waited for the jostling to stop. They were down.
“All right!” Scott was trembling. He hoped it wasn’t evident in his voice. “Let’s go!” Reaching out, he slammed the bay door button.
What Scott saw in the seconds that followed was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. They were on a bullet train. They were literally on a bullet train. Rocketing at a speed that had to be close to two hundred miles per hour, what little scenery Scott could see was blurring past them at frightening speed. This was not a smooth ride. Whether it was due to the rain or the V2’s presence, the entire train felt like it was inches away from shimmying off the track. The shape of the transport was cutting into the rain, leaving a virtual tunnel of dry air behind it.
Lightning flashed as Scott’s eyes focused on the hatch. It was right where it was supposed to be, mere feet behind the transport. Their landing had been spot-on. It was time to move.
It took all of two steps to make Scott rethink the whole plan.
Even with the pocket of air created by the transport, walking atop the bullet train was not simply difficult—it was terrifying. It felt as if at any second, he’d go flying off the train onto whatever terrain lay below. If not for the V2’s wind-blocking presence, he’d already be airborne. Sinking into a crawl and with his heart in his lungs, Scott made his way slowly toward the hatch with Natalie and the slayers in tow.
This is crazy. This is totally crazy. We’re going to die.
Try as he might, courage was giving way rapidly to common sense. There was no question in Scott’s mind, already, that this would take longer than any of them had thought. Getting everyone into the train would take ten minutes by itself. Finally reaching the hatch, Scott carefully maneuvered himself around it until he was on its far side. Opposite him and with every intention of opening the hatch with him, Natalie was engaged in a constant battle with her sopping ponytail, which was slapping her hard in the face in the rocketing wind and rain. Using Ju`bajai’s connection, he asked Natalie, You good?
She flinched slightly, the emergence of Scott’s voice in her head seeming to catch her off guard. Through rain-soaked ballistic goggles, she nodded at him.
Scott curled his fingers around his side of the hatch. Thankfully, the hatch wheel was merely a mechanism and not actually attached to the hatch itself. Any attempt to actually lift the hatch up would have either struck someone in the face or sent the hatch snapping off in the wind. With their hands on both sides of the wheel, Scott and Natalie turned. After a small amount
of required umph, the wheel turned, locking itself into a new position, ready for the hatch to be slid open. Looking at Natalie again, Scott thought, Come over to me so the slayers can drop. The Caracal captain followed through, easing her way around the wheel and to Scott’s side. At the very least, the tops of the train cars were plenty wide enough for them—and the transport, for that matter—to fit with ample space. As Natalie turned around, her ponytail ceased its slapping on her goggles and face and streamed behind her in the wind. Looking at Scott, she nodded her head.
Ready, she relayed to him.
Drawing in a deep breath, Scott lifted his head to look at the slayers, all of whom had gathered on the other side of the hatch, waiting for it to open. With one tug of the hatch back, one sliding motion, all hell would break loose. Let’s find the device, he said to the group at large. A sensation of group acknowledgment was returned to him, and his hand gripped the hatch’s bar.
This was for everything. Earth. Their redemption. Their purpose.
One…
Everything he and the Fourteenth had ever done had led to this.
Two…
Travis’s death. Donald’s death. This was for the honor of them both. Time slowed. Looking down, Scott zeroed in on the hatch bar. One pull. One exertion of effort. Go time.
Three.
Pulling back with as much might as he could muster amid the rushing of wind, Scott slid the hatch open. The inside of the train car was revealed. The heist had begun.
The slayers’ action was instant. In the same second that the hatch was opened, a pair of flashbangs were hurled down. A second later, they popped. Sliding through the hatch one after the other, the six slayers dropped through as Scott and Natalie gave them space.
Come on! Let’s go! Let’s go! With his free hand, Scott waved the other members of the team on. As Javon and Tom neared with the other pairings behind them, Scott looked at Natalie. Let’s drop!
Right behind you, Natalie answered.
Holding onto the hatch wheel, Scott brought himself around until he was in a position to drop down. Though he couldn’t hear the firefight between the slayers and security beneath him, he prayed that the slayers had dropped into a favorable position. It was impossible to know how the train’s security was laid out. Scott released the hatch wheel and dropped in.
The moment he landed, Scott whipped his assault rifle from around his shoulder and pointed it ahead to find the nearest target. Seeing only slayers in front of him, he spun around to scan the opposite way. His heart racing, he froze as it became suddenly clear why he hadn’t heard a firefight.
There was no security on the upper level at all.
As Natalie dropped in behind him, Scott aimed his assault rifle down and scanned every direction. Though there were crates placed sporadically throughout the car’s top floor, there was no presence there to be combated.
First floor! First floor!
The slayers responded through the connection, and Scott followed them to the back of the train car, where a short, sideways stairway led down to the car’s lower section. Once again, Scott waited for the sound of weapons fire. Once again, there was nothing. As he followed them down with Natalie at his heels, Scott drew to an eerie halt upon reaching the lower level. Stepping through the slayers, all of whom were standing around awkwardly, he surveyed the various crates that were present. Just like the floor above, they were scattered sporadically about, totally unprotected. Looking back at the slayers, he motioned for them to start working. “Open them up!” he said, forgoing Ju`bajai’s connection to prod them along. It went against their original plan of divvying everyone up into pairs, but so did this situation. There was supposed to be resistance there. Even Antipov had expected it.
As the slayers began tearing open crates, Natalie approached Scott from behind. “What the hell is going on?”
Scott shook his head. “I don’t know.” He stared at the nearest slayer who was bashing open a crate. As soon as the crate broke, its contents were revealed.
Nothing.
Everyone hold, he relayed to the drop team. No one else drop.
Becan’s voice emerged in Scott’s mind. Are we in the righ’ car?
That was a good question. This is the car, right? he asked Jakob.
Yes, captain. This is the car Antipov indicated.
Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. “Tell them to open the crates,” Scott said, looking at Natalie and pointing to the stairs. Who’s up there, Becan?
Just me an’ Feliks.
The two of you start opening crates, now! Scott watched as crate after crate on the lower level was bashed and broken in by the slayers. Inside each one, there was nothing. A horrible feeling emerged in Scott’s stomach.
Sending the butt of his assault rifle down atop a crate, Feliks cracked it open. Prying it the rest of the way, he peered inside it to examine it. As had been the case with every crate beneath them, it was empty. Shaking his head in confusion, he looked back at Becan, who was stepping away from an empty crate himself.
“This doesn’t make anny bleedin’ sense,” said the Irishman.
A whoosh emerged above them. Both men flinched as they looked up at the hatch door, which suddenly slid shut with violent speed.
“Hey!” Becan said.
Gasping from atop the train, Esther leapt back from the hatchway, where her fingers had been mere inches from being sliced off. “Good God!”
“What’d you do?” Jayden asked from behind her.
“I didn’t do a sodding thing! The door closed by itself.”
Why the hell did yis shut the door? Becan relayed to the topside crew as he and Feliks stared up in bewilderment.
Esther answered, We didn’t!
If yeh didn’t, then who did?
Scott could hear the commotion going on up top. What’s happening?
Someone shut the door! Becan answered.
What do you mean, shut the door? What door? The hatch?
The Irishman addressed him desperately. Aye, the hatch! We’re sealed in.
Ju`bajai’s presence emerged, interrupting he and Becan’s mental discussion. I am sensing numerous life forms, all human.
All human? Scott whipped his head in both directions. Where are they? What are they doing?
They are approaching your location now.
The doors on both sides of the lower car opened. As Scott, Natalie, and the slayers whirled around—some to the left and some to the right—a squad of EDEN operatives stormed into the car with weapons raised. Scott and his comrades raised theirs to match.
Scott’s heart pounded as the EDEN operatives surrounded them from both sides, a weapons-drawn stalemate emerging from them and the ground op team on the lower car. Surrounded and outnumbered what looked like three-to-one, Scott waited for the first shot to be fired. Instead, he heard only a voice.
“Hold your fire!”
The accented voice, though elevated, was calm. While the slayers kept their weapons raised in both directions, Scott and Natalie faced the voice. Emerging from the clustered EDEN operatives, an olive-skinned man emerged.
All of the people who surrounded them wore unfamiliar armor. They were EDEN designs, unmistakably, but they looked darker. Sleeker. These were not run-of-the-mill soldiers. Scott’s focus shifted to their weapons, where he saw the same kinds of assault weapons they’d faced in Hami Station. The same kind Vector had been using. But who were these people? At that same instant, another realization came to Scott’s mind, causing his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach.
Rubber bullets. Every single member of the ground op team was packing rubber bullets. These attackers don’t know that. Standing his ground, Scott relayed a message to the rest of the team as he waited for the officer to address him. EDEN is here. They knew about the whole thing. We just walked into a trap.
We’re comin’, Remmy! Becan said.
No! So adamant was Scott’s response, he flinched, causing several of the EDEN soldiers to tr
ain their weapons. Quickly, Scott froze and continued calmly. You and Feliks stay up top. Everyone above the train, hold your positions.
Pressing down the weapon of the soldier beside him, the officer spoke. “Hello, Remington. My name is Hector Mendoza, chief of security for EDEN Command.”
EDEN Command? Scott breathed heavier.
“There is no need for violence, here. Please, lower your weapon, and we will talk like civilized men.”
What is this? Natalie asked from behind Scott. How did they know we were here?
Scott had no clue. Not even Antipov had expected this. When Scott and those around him kept their weapons raised, Mendoza frowned and continued on.
“You have put up a good fight, Remington, but it ends here. Surrender, and we will avoid additional bloodshed.”
“How did you know about this? Who sent you?”
Angling his head slightly, Mendoza answered, “Please lower your weapon, and we will continue this discussion.”
Their weapons were the only things keeping them alive right now. There was no chance Scott would give up that leverage. Saying nothing, Scott and the slayers held their ground.
What do yeh want us to do? Becan asked through the connection.
Just wait.
Mendoza’s neutral expression downturned. Sighing heavily, he stepped to the side. “As you wish, Mister Remington.”
The crowd behind Mendoza parted as two new people stepped forward. The instant Scott locked eyes with the taller of them, his face fell.
Oleg.
No…how is he…how is this possible?
Smirking beneath his EDEN helmet’s visor, the bearded operative took his place at Mendoza’s side.
EDEN had Oleg. If EDEN had Oleg, that meant…
