Epic: Book 02 - Outlaw Trigger Read online

  David picked up the dead Bakma’s plasma rifle. The gray contraption fit in his hands well. Plasma rifles consisted of two barrels, one atop the other, and a trigger system that worked startlingly like human technology. If EDEN wanted to, they could have easily confiscated and replicated the alien weapons. In fact, high officials had at one time tried to experiment with Earth-made plasma guns. But the willingness to experiment stopped right there. EDEN soldiers flat-out refused to use them. Plasma was for the Bakma. Humans liked their projectile weaponry just fine.

  From behind them, Max ignited a sprig. He inserted the end of the small metal cylinder into his mouth, and sucked in a deep breath. When the blond-haired technician exhaled, a misty plume of cinnamon scented the air. “Ship looks pretty clear to me.”

  Scott kept his eyes on the bodies. “Max, has anyone ever relayed to you the number of false surrenders we’ve received from the Bakma?”

  “Nope.”

  Scott turned to face him. “None.” He stared at Max. “Don’t ever kill a Bakma when he’s calling grrashna again.”

  “Not ever?” Max asked, exhaling a cloud of cinnamon.

  “Not ever.”

  Varvara greeted Scott as he stepped outside. “All clear?”

  Scott nodded. “Ship’s clear, no injuries.”

  She smiled.

  Becan was seconds behind Scott. As soon as he passed Varvara, he cupped his hands over his mouth and let loose an obnoxiously over-dramatized sneeze. He flung a handful of calunod on her breastplate, where it splattered against the bottom of her chin.

  “God bless me.”

  Varvara stared at him in disbelief, as the brown substance dripped from her neckline. She wiped it off and flung it down. “You are disgusting.”

  Becan ran before she could sling it at him.

  As Scott walked back to the hill, Jayden’s voice came over the comm. “Aw man, that’s it?”

  “That’s it, Jay.”

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  “He watched Varya through his scope the whole time,” Galina said.

  “I did not!”

  “You trying to take out your girlfriend?” Scott asked.

  “No, man, I wasn’t doin’ it to kill ‘er.”

  “So you were watching her,” Scott said with a smile.

  “Man…veck.”

  The Fourteenth took care of the initial cleanup themselves, packing not only the twenty-three Bakma corpses into the Pariah, but a small cache of weapons and equipment. The rest of the Noboat, including the engine components and foodstuffs, would be taken care of by cleaning crews later. Right now, it was time to go home.

  The flight back to Novosibirsk was typical. Jokes were exchanged back and forth as a jovial air filled the ship. The Fourteenth had become accustomed to that. Despite being undermanned, they were one of the most reliable units at the base. They knew it. Thoor knew it. Everyone knew it. From Bakma crash sites to necrilid bug-hunts, they were the only unit that could launch with ten operatives.

  It didn’t hurt that one wore a golden collar.

  When they returned to the base, Clarke met them. After a brief retelling of the mission, they were dismissed. As usual, it was their only call that day. It was rare to be called out more than once. The rest of the afternoon was spent in rest and relaxation, with alcohol and banter in the lounge. Though Scott didn’t drink, he still hung around. There were too many good reasons not to leave.

  When the nine o’clock curfew came, the Fourteenth retired to their bunks. As an officer, Scott had the luxury of his own room. For that, he thanked God every night. There was nothing quite like a quiet room to put the day’s events in perspective. Another successful operation. Another day with a purpose.

  Another day done.

  2

  Monday, August 1, 0011 NE

  0520 hours

  The next morning

  Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

  Scott squinted beneath the covers. His entire body tensed. As he slid the topmost sheet over his head and rolled to face the wall, he grumbled under his breath.

  Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

  It wasn’t the sound of a comm. It was the tone of an alarm clock poised on his nightstand. As it pulsed through the silence of his private quarters, his mind returned to the realm of the conscious world.

  Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

  “I’m up,” he mumbled hoarsely. “Zatknis.” He flung the sheets from his body and eased himself upright, his brown hair a tangled mess. His hazel eyes peered through the darkness; blood rushed up to his brain. He groaned and closed his eyes, then pressed his palm to his forehead.

  Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

  He turned to the alarm clock, slamming his hand down on it.

  Beep! Beep! Be—

  Silence. The only reasonable thing to wake up to. He slid from the warm comfort of his bed, winced as he stepped on the icy tile of his floor, and removed his jersey from its closet hanger.

  It was a beautiful day in the city of Novosibirsk. Puffy white clouds migrated across the light blue sky as the sun cast its yellow hues down to Earth. The Russian summer was balmy. Far in the distance, wild birds awoke with the break of day. Scott smiled as he listened to them sing. Once he was fully awake, he loved morning. The birds must have loved morning, too.

  So much had changed in the months that followed the Assault on Novosibirsk. The massive hangar had been reconstructed, even larger and with a new stock of aircraft. A new garage was built, furnished with a fleet of six brand new Grizzlies.

  The infirmary had just been rebuilt, and the patients in the gymnasium-turned-hospital had recently been transferred there. It wasn’t as large as the structure that once stood in its place, but it was something that the original had never been: state-of-the-art.

  The research center, the main building, the cafeteria—they all stood as proud and ugly as they always had, the marks of the assault growing less defined with each building that was repaired. Novosibirsk—The Machine—was alive again. Though memories of the attack were etched in his mind, the newer state of Novosibirsk brought Scott a small degree of comfort. Of normality. The improvements were welcomed.

  The base itself was not the only thing to change. Much had changed in the Fourteenth as well. In the wake of Ivan Baranov’s death, Dostoevsky had become their new commander. He took to the job with the aggression expected of a Nightman fulcrum—one of their leaders. Galina was promoted to epsilon, where her serious approach made her a valuable asset. Varvara climbed to the rank of gamma private, as did Boris Evteev, the scruffy-bearded technician. Scott’s friends from Richmond—David, Becan, and Jayden—all had scaled to the rank of delta trooper. Scott was proud of them all, but especially David. The 14-year nypd veteran was finally at a level he deserved. He could still stand to go higher. But delta was better than nothing. The only operatives who remained at their former ranks were Clarke, Max, and Travis.

  The assault left the Pariah—the Fourteenth’s cursed Vulture transport—with a new coat of scratches and dents, but she was nonetheless able to fly. She’d also managed to completely avoid any repairs. Somehow, that part didn’t surprise anyone.

  After their losses, the Fourteenth found hope with a new soldier—Oleg Strakhov. The Russian delta trooper was a perfect blend of professionalism and humor, and he quickly fit in with the unit’s pranksters. Oleg was transferred to the Fourteenth from the First, to act as a temporary replacement for their operatives lost in the assault. After a month of pleasantly surprising company, Clarke was assured Oleg’s stay would be permanent.

  Then there were the newcomers. The today-comers. The ones who were yet to arrive. Philadelphia‘s class would graduate today, and their new stock of alpha privates would be distributed to the ends of the Earth. No place was closer to the end than Novosibirsk. Its stock of rookies would arrive that evening, and the Fourteenth would get two of them. Scott had no idea who they were, but they were numbers. That was all that mattered to a short-
handed squad.

  Every time Scott stepped into the barracks, he was reminded of just how much he loved his new private quarters. Everything about having his own room was marvelous. The storage space alone was enough. He could house all of his possessions, and sometimes even more. His closet was big enough for his armor.

  The Fourteenth had fallen away from its traditional approach, which was for all unit members to sleep in the barracks. Now, it was rare for more than two officers to sleep there at the same time. Their shifts were a weekly rotation. This week, it was Max’s turn to stay.

  It was Scott’s turn to awaken them.

  Scott took hold of Room 14’s door handle. It was five minutes to six o’clock. That was close enough. He shoved the door open, clapped his hands, and burst on the light. “Wake up! This is your wake up call!”

  Groans emerged from every bunk. Operatives covered their heads.

  “Everyone’s dressed and on the track in fifteen minutes!” Scott clapped again. “Two laps, then we’ll kick workouts off!”

  “I’d like to bloody kick you off,” grumbled Becan.

  Max pushed himself up and dragged out of bed. “Isn’t there something in Scripture about letting people sleep?”

  ”’Celebrate God in the morning,’” Scott quoted matter-of-factly, “‘and His blessings shall follow your day.’”

  “Yeah, whatever.” Max stumbled off.

  David and Galina were already in the lounge when Scott walked through the door. They sat at a table in the center of the room, hot mugs of coffee cupped in their hands. Both were dressed and awake.

  “You let them sleep in today,” David said sarcastically. “That was nice.” He kicked out a chair.

  Scott smiled and sat down. The aroma of the coffee caressed his senses. “Six o’clock call starts at 5:55. Didn’t you know that?”

  David chuckled in response.

  “Did you sleep well, lieutenant?” Galina asked, smiling beneath her dark brown, cropped hair. There was actually a tinge of red in there, too. It had brightened during the warm months of summer.

  “Yes I did. I slept very well.”

  “You have earned it. That was good day yesterday.”

  “Yes it was. You two been up for a while?”

  “Yes,” Galina smiled. “You know how we are.”

  Scott’s smile broadened. It was true. David and Galina were the early risers of the group. Scott was too, to an extent, but the two over-forty operatives had him beat. “You guys know what today is, right?”

  David smiled. “It’s rookie day.”

  “I can’t wait. I have no idea who we’re getting.”

  “Units usually do not know until the day their new ones arrive,” Galina said. “That is how it has always been done. You four were the exception, of course.”

  “Of course,” said David, nodding sagely.

  “I’ve had today circled for a while,” Scott said.

  David leaned back and grinned. “I thought you had this Friday circled for a while.”

  Scott laughed. “No, I’ve had this Friday circled forever.” And he did. Friday, August fifth. The end of that same week. It had been circled for months, long before rookie day had been even a thought in his mind. And for good reason. On Friday, he would see someone far more important than any rookie they would ever receive. Friday, he would see Nicole.

  She was coming to Novosibirsk to visit.

  “Friday can’t get here fast enough.”

  Galina sipped her coffee. “We have heard so much about your love for so long. You had better let us meet her.”

  David laughed. “Are you kidding? Do you actually think we’re going to see them? They’re going to spend the whole week in his private quarters, up close and personal.”

  Scott clasped his hands behind his head and winked. “You know it.” David knew exactly how the young couple felt. And exactly how they planned on spending their time. “I’ll only keep her locked in the room for a few days. You guys can meet her next weekend.”

  Galina laughed. “I am sure we are all looking forward to it.”

  Jayden sauntered into the lounge and scanned the counter. “Aw man,” he said. “You guys always drink all the coffee before we get up, and you never put another pot on.”

  “Morning to you, too,” David said. “Remember when you didn’t like coffee?”

  “Y’all got me hooked on that junk,” Jayden said. “And now I don’t have time to make any.”

  “You got it tough, Jay.”

  “I know. I oughta quit.”

  Becan slipped inside. “Top o’ the mornin’ to yis.”

  “What are we doin’ today?” Jayden asked.

  “We’ll run two laps, then hit a typical workout,” said Scott. “It’s beautiful outside.” It was. It was cooler than usual. Still warm, of course, but that was normal for the middle of summer. Even in a city like Novosibirsk.

  “Why can’t we go to the pool?” Jayden asked with a frown.

  Scott shook his head in amused disbelief. Jayden was both the most lackadaisical and the most bellyaching person he knew. And probably the only person who could pull it off. “Because I said we’re going outside.”

  “Man…you always make us go outside.”

  That part of Jayden’s statement was true. Scott loved to take advantage of beautiful weather. Football weather. Maybe he’d run some passing drills later that week. It was a bit unorthodox, but Clarke let him get away with it. It was a change of pace, and it was still being physically active. Most importantly, it was a memory of fun. Even for Jayden. “We’ll go to the pool tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You say that every time.”

  “Dobry utro!” Oleg said as he entered the lounge. His black tuft was particularly unkempt. It matched the scruff of his beard to perfection.

  “Dobry utro!” Galina answered.

  “Good morning, Strakhov,” Scott said.

  Oleg grinned. “Good morning, my American lieutenant and friend! You have good news for us today, yes? We have easy day?”

  Scott slid his hands into his pockets. “Come on, Strakhov, you’ve been here long enough. My days are always the easiest days.” It was almost true. Clarke’s days were the easiest days. That was because with enough coaxing, the captain could be convinced of anything. Even a full day off.

  “You are best lieutenant in all of Novosibirsk. I always do whatever you ask.”

  Becan eyed Oleg from across the counter. “Jay already asked him. We’re not goin’ to the pool today.”

  “Chyort voz’mi!” Oleg blurted, then he looked at Scott. “It is okay, lieutenant. I still like you anyway.”

  The conversation drifted between the bunk room and the lounge, as it always did, about recollections of dreams, complaints about earliness, and comments on the weather. By the time the ten-minute rush of preparation had passed, the operatives were on their way out the door.

  Scott could scarcely wait for Nicole to meet them. She asked about them constantly, and he was always eager to share with her the latest from the Fourteenth’s rumor mill. The most recent rumor was that Jayden was pregnant. Becan was the originator of that one.

  Several units opened their days with morning workouts, one of which was the Eighth—the unit of William Harbinger and Derrick Cole. On some occasions the two units worked side by side, a spectacle that always resulted in taunting from William and Derrick. It was all in good humor, and it usually wound up with the two men joining the Fourteenth for breakfast. Light snacks were consumed before sessions began, though there was always room for a full meal once workouts were finished. Convenience placed the workout area right beside the cafeteria.

  “All right everyone,” Scott said as they came to the track. “You have ten minutes to grab a bite, then I want two laps out of everybody. Once we’re all done, I’ll let David run us through some drills.”

  David laughed with pleasure as he strode to the cafeteria. The rest of the unit followed behind him.

  “Good mo
rning, Mr. Remington!”

  The voice caught Scott’s ears just before he reached the cafeteria’s entrance. It was Captain Clarke. When it wasn’t the captain’s week to lead the morning routine, he was usually the last to arrive. “Good morning, sir,” Scott answered as he held the cafeteria door open.

  Clarke quickened his pace and stepped through. “Have you recovered from yesterday’s mission?”

  “Like clockwork. I’m not even sore.”

  The captain smiled. “Brilliant, lieutenant. That’s what I love to hear.”

  As soon as the captain was inside, Scott followed in step. “Did you get a chance to take care of some business yesterday, sir?”

  “I did,” Clarke answered. “In fact, you’ll be pleased to know that General Thoor entertained my request for more operatives.”

  “You mean beside the rookies?”

  “That’s correct. He’s considering our request as we speak. So for now, our job is to wait.”

  Scott smiled. That was very good news.

  “What’s on our agenda this morning, lieutenant?”

  “Two laps, as always, then I’ll let David work them a bit.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  It sounded wonderful for most people. Everyone enjoyed David’s morning workouts. They were intense, but David made them fun. “They’re itching to get wet, so I think I’ll let them hit the pool tomorrow.”

  “Also wonderful.”

  “Any word on our rookies yet, sir?”

  Clarke smiled as he claimed a piece of bread from a cafeteria basket. Scott did the same. “As a matter of fact, yes,” Clarke answered. “I’ve got names and positions.”

  “Am I about to be happy?”

  Clarke chuckled. “I believe you’re about to be more than happy, lieutenant.” He sat down at a table, where Scott joined him. “Are you ready for the good news?”