40. Chapter 40
Chapter forty
Day 17 Petropavlovsk, Russia
Coming in hot, the pilot said through the Neealaho . Two minutes to skids down.
Wolf grunted an acknowledgement. Time to shift focus and get everyone outside to catch their ride home.
“Daniel, to me.” He sent the message through the comm as the young one had not yet gone through the binding ceremony and been connected to the neural net.
“Copy,” came Daniel’s quiet, confident voice over the comm.
Prior to taking part in the binding ceremony, a fledgling seeking induction into the warrior clans had to prove their spirit and skill in the heat of a true aggress. After skill testing, Daniel had been deemed worthy and allowed to join Aggress Two.
They stuffed Kuznetsov into his clothes as they awaited Daniel’s arrival. It seemed to take forever. But with his Caetanee stuffing one half of Kuznetsov’s body into his clothing while Wolf stuffed the other half, they finally got him ready to head outside.
“ Betanee.” Daniel stepped into the room with confident strides. “You called for me?”
Wolf nodded toward Kuznetsov’s mistress. “She accompanies us. Take her to the Thunderbird.”
As Daniel escorted the weeping woman from the room and Samuel force-marched the Russian out into the hall, Wolf hefted the silver box. It was heavier than he remembered, with sharp corners. His pulse sped up at the thought of what was inside the crate.
He addressed the four SEALs through the comm as he exited the room. “Prepare for evac. One minute to skids down.”
With the silver case cradled against his chest, he took the stairs down almost as fast as he’d taken them up. The hostages were lined up neatly along the wall, their arms and legs bound, butts on the floor. There were ten men total, most from the guard shed, all alive, mostly untouched. Although one had a white bandage around his forearm. Rawlings’s work. His healers saved their Hee-Hee-Thae gift for those they fought beside.
Outside, above the roar of the wind, came the shriek of the Thunderbird. For her to scream so shrilly, rather than chirp, meant Sky Warrior, their pilot, had dropped her hard. Wolf tensed at the realization. This was a man who babied their aircraft. To treat his newest toy so harshly meant their situation was grave and speed was essential.
“Load up,” Wolf ordered.
Daniel went out first, with Kuznetsov’s woman walking meekly beside him. Her bulging satchel was clutched to her chest, as though she were terrified of losing it, but at least she wasn’t tottering on those ridiculous heels. The woman was still sniffling, flinching, and teary-eyed. Wolf was pleased to see that the young warrior was unimpressed by her beauty or tears.
Samuel was at the front of the pack, half-dragging, half-carrying a staggering Kuznetsov out the door. The Russian was off-balance, still feeling the effects of the truth serum.
Wolf held back, keeping the weapon he carried as far from the others as possible. He’d wait until everyone was on board before approaching the Thunderbird and stowing the silver case in the metal box attached to the top of the skids. The outside box was new, an addition to the Thunderbird for just this purpose, to keep this weapon away from his warriors.
Once their captives and the last of his men had exited the house, he joined the exodus. As he stepped through the door, O’Neill emerged from the shadows and fell into step beside him.
“What?” he growled, irritation rising at the ever-present smirk on the jie'van’s face.
“Thought you could use some help with that box.” O’Neill’s gaze dropped, skimming over the silver case Wolf cradled against his chest. The smirk deepened. “You seem to be struggling with it.”
No way in Tabenetha was he struggling with the case, but Wolf sucked the retort back. Reaction was exactly what the jie'van was hoping for.
When Wolf didn’t answer, a frown flickered across O’Neill’s face. The smugness dissolved. He scanned the case again, only this time, thoughtfulness echoed in his voice. “You’re certain that’s the nanobot weapon?”
Wolf shrugged. “So Kuznetsov says.”
O’Neill seemed leery of the weapon. On this, Wolf did not blame him. After what had happened to Aiden’s team, and the visions the Taounaha had shared, Wolf was uneasy with the weapon as well.
“Did he spill all his secrets, tell you who created and manufactured this monstrosity?” O’Neill asked, his voice oddly intense.
Wolf shrugged the intensity off. The world itself was in danger, after all.
“No. We did not get that information, nor who he sold the missing nanobot canister to.” Wolf lifted his gaze to the sky, which was foolish, as his pilot would have warned him if the checkmates were within range. “We will interrogate him in depth when we reach home.”
“Fuck.” The word hissed through O’Neill’s lips as if he couldn’t hold it back. “You didn’t find out who made the damn thing? And there’s a missing canister?”
“No, and yes. You’d best board,” Wolf said tightly. “It is not wise to linger near me.”
While he clung to Benioko’s assurance that the weapon was safe, he had no intention of allowing his men, any of his men, close to the case or the contents it held. This was simply common sense.
O’Neill cast him an unreadable look. With an exaggerated shrug, he lengthened his stride and pulled ahead.
Wolf slowed his pace, allowing O’Neill to gain distance. Overhead, a cloud swept across Heemitia’s face , obscuring her shine. Wolf picked up his pace again. With the clouds came snow—and the low pressure ridge they’d been warned about. They needed to get in the air before the bad weather and the Russian fighters arrived.
Thanks to the Russian’s staggering, wandering, drug-induced state, Samuel and Kuznetsov had dropped from first out the door, to two of the last to board. Only O’Neill and Wolf walked behind them. If Wolf had been in charge, he would have grabbed Kuznetsov and tossed him into the cargo hold by now. His second was far too gentle.
The vision hit when he least expected it, as always.
It started with a loud, electrical buzz in his head. Not his ears…his head. The visions always announced themselves with an intense hum. Several seconds of blindness followed the buzz. When he could see again, it wasn’t through his eyes, it was through his mind, like a dream. A waking dream.
Everything looked…the same, yet different.
The same vista surrounded him, but not in color, in shades of black and white. The Thunderbird crouched before him, the view partially blocked by O’Neill’s broad, chrome colored back. Heemitia was a bright silver sphere in the sky, the tail of a cloud drifting off to her left. The snow-scraped ground beneath his boots writhed with shadows and light. The vicinity surrounding the Thunderbird was clear of warriors—except for Samuel and O’Neill, who was partially turned.
Whatever was about to happen would happen here. And soon. The Thunderbird, the moon, the incoming clouds, O’Neill—they were all things he’d just seen through his eyes, in color and true life.
He turned in a slow circle, scanning the night as seen through the vision for imminent death. Visions always heralded danger. Disaster. Death. Always.
What was this one warning of?
Off to the right, next to one of the small sheds strewn throughout the compound, a silver flare lit the night. A thick, percussive cough followed. He recognized both the flare and the cough. Although in true life, the flare was red, not silver.
An RPG launch.
The recognition had barely registered when O’Neill was swallowed by fire.
The vision vanished as suddenly as it had hit. Wolf released a choppy breath. It gusted out on the tail of a name.
O’Neill.
A quick look up revealed the Heemitia was clear, the cloud that wreathed her earlier drifting off to the left. His gaze shot to O’Neill, who was turning. He must have heard Wolf gust out his name.
The RPG was about to strike. O’Neill was about to die. Wolf launched himself forward. Shouting would do no good. It would take a second or two for O’Neill to react, to drop to the ground. And those seconds carried his death.
With the silver case anchored to his chest, he slammed into O’Neill, driving them both to the ground. The percussive cough sounded behind them. Beneath him, O’Neill lay still as the RPG whistled over their heads, striking the ground ahead. Wolf lifted his gaze and blinked grit from his eyes.
Fire clawed at the sky where Samuel and Kuznetsov had once walked.