Varvara stuck him with a needle and applied gel to the wound.
“ You ain’t hurt to the bone,” Varvara said. “Stop crying like baby.”
Max gingerly hobbled over to them, favoring his left leg. “How is he?”
“ I’m bloody hurt , how does it look like I am?”
Varvara gave Max an admonishing look. “He will live, even if he thinks he will not. Show me your calf.”
“ Calf’s fine,” Max said, ignoring her request. The armor in question had been blown off, exposing an area of burned skin beneath. He limped away before she could examine it.
A woman of small stature approached them. Her face—masculine but not entirely unappealing—stared sternly through the blue tint of her EDEN visor. Pigtails dangled behind her helmet.
As soon as she was within speaking distance, she placed her hands on her hips. “Are you ready to move upstairs, or is your unit too injured to continue?” There was no hint of joking in her voice.
“ Of course we can continue. Who can’t continue?” Max answered, then he murmured to Becan, “Get up, Becan.”
“ But I’m bleedin’ hurt!”
“ Get up, Becan!”
The Irishman bit his lip and rose up.
Brunner took charge. “Shavrin, take Kaligan and Sokolov up the far stairwell. I will lead Axen and his demolitionist up the near one.” No room was allowed for Max to argue. “Everyone else, remain at the front entrance of the lobby and monitor the movement of Captain Ulrich.”
“ Captain Ulrich, eh?” Becan asked. “Tha’s just brilliant.”
Brunner scrutinized the Irishman. “What is your name?”
“ Becan McCrae.”
“ And you?” She turned to Oleg.
“ Strakhov, lieutenant.”
“ The two of you will fortify the back door from which you came. Your medic will stay with you until needed. We have a medic with us already.”
“ Uhh…” mumbled Becan, glancing at Max.
“ Do what she says,” Max said in frustration.
“ Righ’.”
“ There is a safe room on the second floor of this building,” Brunner said. “We must assume there are humans inside. We cannot wait—we move now.”
The operatives around her affirmed.
“ Max,” she said, lowering her tone, “are you hurt bad?”
“ I’m never hurt,” he answered, readying his weapon.
“ Good. Then let’s go.”
* * *
Back at the warehouse, Viktor neared the corner of the stairs to the roof, the alien weapon still in his hands. He stopped just before the corner, scanning the hallway a final time. No one was present. No Bakma. No teammates.
No witnesses.
The Nightman listened to Jayden’s sniper fire from the radio tower. He listened closely as the Texan did his job. A minute passed, then the time to listen came to an end.
Placing the plasma rifle against his shoulder, the Nightman medic rounded the corner. His eyes narrowed as he searched for his target. He pulled the trigger without a moment of pause.
The white bolt struck Jayden from behind. The Texan’s sniper rifle flew from his hands as he toppled from the tower.
Viktor didn’t see the sniper fall, but he heard the impacts—over and over as the Texan careened against metal crossbars all the way down. Lowering the plasma rifle from his shoulder, Viktor glanced down the hallway once again. He was still alone. He tossed the alien weapon back down the hall, where it slid to a stop by the fallen corpses. He reclaimed his assault rifle and mounted the stairs.
At street level, Esther had been running when she heard the blast. Her nimble steps skidded to a halt in the snow as she turned her head to the tower.
She gasped as she watched Jayden plummet. She screamed through the comm. “Jayden’s been hit! I repeat, Jayden’s been hit! He’s fallen from the tower!”
* * *
At the rear entrance of the federal building, Becan and Varvara went rigid, as if Esther’s words failed to register. When they finally did, Varvara completely lost her composure. “Esther, what happened?” she asked frantically over the comm. There
“ You ain’t hurt to the bone,” Varvara said. “Stop crying like baby.”
Max gingerly hobbled over to them, favoring his left leg. “How is he?”
“ I’m bloody hurt , how does it look like I am?”
Varvara gave Max an admonishing look. “He will live, even if he thinks he will not. Show me your calf.”
“ Calf’s fine,” Max said, ignoring her request. The armor in question had been blown off, exposing an area of burned skin beneath. He limped away before she could examine it.
A woman of small stature approached them. Her face—masculine but not entirely unappealing—stared sternly through the blue tint of her EDEN visor. Pigtails dangled behind her helmet.
As soon as she was within speaking distance, she placed her hands on her hips. “Are you ready to move upstairs, or is your unit too injured to continue?” There was no hint of joking in her voice.
“ Of course we can continue. Who can’t continue?” Max answered, then he murmured to Becan, “Get up, Becan.”
“ But I’m bleedin’ hurt!”
“ Get up, Becan!”
The Irishman bit his lip and rose up.
Brunner took charge. “Shavrin, take Kaligan and Sokolov up the far stairwell. I will lead Axen and his demolitionist up the near one.” No room was allowed for Max to argue. “Everyone else, remain at the front entrance of the lobby and monitor the movement of Captain Ulrich.”
“ Captain Ulrich, eh?” Becan asked. “Tha’s just brilliant.”
Brunner scrutinized the Irishman. “What is your name?”
“ Becan McCrae.”
“ And you?” She turned to Oleg.
“ Strakhov, lieutenant.”
“ The two of you will fortify the back door from which you came. Your medic will stay with you until needed. We have a medic with us already.”
“ Uhh…” mumbled Becan, glancing at Max.
“ Do what she says,” Max said in frustration.
“ Righ’.”
“ There is a safe room on the second floor of this building,” Brunner said. “We must assume there are humans inside. We cannot wait—we move now.”
The operatives around her affirmed.
“ Max,” she said, lowering her tone, “are you hurt bad?”
“ I’m never hurt,” he answered, readying his weapon.
“ Good. Then let’s go.”
* * *
Back at the warehouse, Viktor neared the corner of the stairs to the roof, the alien weapon still in his hands. He stopped just before the corner, scanning the hallway a final time. No one was present. No Bakma. No teammates.
No witnesses.
The Nightman listened to Jayden’s sniper fire from the radio tower. He listened closely as the Texan did his job. A minute passed, then the time to listen came to an end.
Placing the plasma rifle against his shoulder, the Nightman medic rounded the corner. His eyes narrowed as he searched for his target. He pulled the trigger without a moment of pause.
The white bolt struck Jayden from behind. The Texan’s sniper rifle flew from his hands as he toppled from the tower.
Viktor didn’t see the sniper fall, but he heard the impacts—over and over as the Texan careened against metal crossbars all the way down. Lowering the plasma rifle from his shoulder, Viktor glanced down the hallway once again. He was still alone. He tossed the alien weapon back down the hall, where it slid to a stop by the fallen corpses. He reclaimed his assault rifle and mounted the stairs.
At street level, Esther had been running when she heard the blast. Her nimble steps skidded to a halt in the snow as she turned her head to the tower.
She gasped as she watched Jayden plummet. She screamed through the comm. “Jayden’s been hit! I repeat, Jayden’s been hit! He’s fallen from the tower!”
* * *
At the rear entrance of the federal building, Becan and Varvara went rigid, as if Esther’s words failed to register. When they finally did, Varvara completely lost her composure. “Esther, what happened?” she asked frantically over the comm. There
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