Shadows of the Son

by E L Strife

  A group of children giggled as they chased each other across the rows and tumbled into a pile among the blossoming crops. One let out a yelp.

  Rimsan stopped and reached down to the tangled boy. Paramor paused with him.

  Freeing his leg from a bush, Rimsan ran a hand over the brown plates of cartilaginous skin, realigning his carapace. “Fold your armor down when you’re running. It will make you faster. And when you fall, you won’t get bound up.” He helped the boy to his feet and was thanked in return with a click of the boy’s tongue.

  Rimsan clicked his encouragement back, sending the children weaving through the fields again.

  Paramor smiled to himself as he and Rimsan headed for the bay doors. “What of Piper?”

  Violet tinted Rimsan’s indigo color. He continued as if unaware. “She assists crews Azure wanted ready for guarding transport docks. I have three guards raiding prior Warruk dens and Linoan bunkers for weapons. But many are bio-locked. She is monitoring those working on this while I am away, resting.” He said the last word as if it were salt on his tongue.

  Paramor adjusted the fabric grating into the chafed ends of his wings and released a quiet breath through his nose.

  They are hurting again, aren’t they? Rimsan asked, leading them down the stairs.

  Am I hiding it so poorly?

  Rimsan looked back at him. I felt it, sir.

  Paramor gave him a sidelong glance. Most Primes here do not open themselves to Ether or use their Kilavi, because of fear the Suanoa will single them out.

  Amianna says I am reckless. Rimsan peered around a corner, checking the hallway before continuing their descent. I saw the dream too, felt the darkness upon waking.

  The burden of Elites. The large steps jarred Paramor’s back, where his unbalanced wings attached to his spine. He clenched his teeth and continued knowing many of his workers had endured more discomfort.

  Do you think they will survive? Or are we on our own again? Rimsan asked, reaching the level with Healer Cutashk’s sector. Saema Miush had temporarily taken his place while he assisted teams in Propulsion Maintenance.

  “The ones we need will be safe.” Paramor stopped.

  Rimsan’s shoulders hunched. His flumes bowled forward around him, creating a spherical shield. Bold indigo light zipped out from his back through the strands as he stormed the hallway, his diete gathering together before him. The charge-up of his Kilavi whirred through the hall.

  Three blasts crashed into something Paramor couldn’t see.

  A rocket of orange knocked out Rimsan’s light.

  Paramor heard a grunt and two hard knocks on the floor. Feeling for the sword between his wings, he peeked out from the shadows. Two Linoans laid dead the direction Rimsan had headed. Approaching the Primvera from behind was another Linoan wielding a Warruck’s gun.

  Rimsan’s shield smoked and sagged. Holding an arm, he lifted his flumes for another attack. They quivered, and the light faded again.

  The Linoan casually covered the ground between them, all gangly sinew and arrogance. It spun the weapon in practiced hands—a hematite oval with fiery orange death dancing in its center.

  Paramor closed his eyes, channeling what remained of his energy. The world slowed around him, the hall painting in a white-gold glow. He folded his fingers around the grip, drawing the blade from its scabbard.

  Rimsan did not deserve to be executed.

  Steadying his hands, Paramor kept his bare feet soundless as they carried him out into the hall. With one sweeping arc, the blessed metal scored up the Linoan’s spine, sending the creature sputtering and collapsing at Rimsan’s feet.

  Exhaustion tugged at Paramor’s muscles like hot lead as time synced with reality again. He dropped to a knee, shaking. The tip of his sword pierced the floor with a heavy clank.

  Hobbling to his side, Rimsan looped an arm around Paramor’s waist and helped him back to his feet.

  Together, they staggered to the door of Cutashk’s sector. It screeched and groaned in protest as the two fought it open.

  Paramor stumbled inside and fell to the dirt. For a breath, his body wouldn’t move. He hated to admit what he felt. His broken wings had atrophied. Without them, he was mortal. And no mortal he’d known ever lived to his age.

  Choking back the pain, Paramor got himself to his hands and knees.

  Workers shouted at one another in different languages. Several kiatna ran over and shut the door. Rimsan helped him up. Three children grabbed the sword Paramor had dropped, lugging it behind them as the gaggle made their way to the hut.

  Cutashk rushed out from between the trees. The man slipped himself under Paramor’s other arm and shouted directions to workers. “I heard the attack. Glad to see you’re both alive.”

  Miush came out and paused. Even in drab robes, her hair a frazzled mess, she could spring hope in others with one smile. He never admitted how much of a relief it was to see her. Like Bennett, Paramor had an innate contract with the universe, and Miush wasn’t part of it—a hollow dream in distant stars.

  She guided them both to the last, empty cot. Three children struggled to drag the sword in the open archway, scraping a deep trail in the dirt. They dropped it by Paramor’s feet, sending a thunderous pulse through the soil, before scattering back out to the orchards.

  Rimsan’s flumes spiked in shock. He grimaced and braced his arm. “Stupid instinct.” He squinted down at the golden symbols for a long breath before looking up at Paramor. “How did you get that past inspection when you were collected?”

  A tug on his cloak made Paramor reach up and stop Miush from exposing him. He flashed his eyes Rimsan’s direction. I will wait. Care for him first.

  Her shoulders slumped, and she frowned. “It is the burden of your kind. Every Lead Guard has known. It is time you let him see.”

  Paramor set his jaw and released her. It had been years since anyone had been witness to the carnage attached to his back, except her. “Can’t see the sword when they’re whole, folded, and strapped, as is the custom when amongst the Terran kind,” he said, not looking Rimsan’s direction.

  Freeing the thick fabric from his shoulders, Miush hummed a soft, sad tune. Paramor had never asked her about it because the pain in her eyes said enough.

  The cold air of Agutra sectors made the ache worse as she exposed his chest and the scarred knots of bone and mangled feathers stretching up from his back. But her healing hands graced his body with heat, combing the feathers straight and easing the pain beneath.

  “If I could heal myself, I would,” he said, feeling ashamed for visiting her again so soon.

  Miush’s breath fell over his shoulder. “I enjoy your visits.”

  There may not be many more, he replied. I fear mortality is upon me.

  I feel it. Miush’s hands heated his back to a depth that warmed his lungs. I will be with you until the end.

  A child—dirt smudged on his translucent face, eyes as dark and lonely as space—proudly lifted a bowl of milky liquid before Paramor. “Izanot.”

  The mixture was precious, something stolen from Suanoa. Paramor looked up at Cutashk, who had taken up his usual post in the doorway, arms crossed. “Please, have him give this to someone else. I am not worth such sacrifice.”

  Cutashk’s eyes dipped to the boy then back up at Paramor. “Do not take this honor from him.”

  Accepting the bowl, Paramor thanked the boy, gracing his forehead with a thumb and leaving a kiss atop his head. “Shanom kaloe arvour nasome.” Bless you for kindness.

  He drank what he had to, to convince the boy, and then handed the bowl to Rimsan. Leave a little.

  The heat from Miush’s hands and the chalky medicine in Paramor’s stomach sent a relaxing high through his brain.

  Rimsan took two sips, then crouched beside the boy and offered the bowl to his parched lips. The child gave him a confused look but drank the liquid down. Before Rimsan could stand, the boy hugged him and ran off.

  Rimsan traced the scroll
work on the weapon at his feet. “You’re of the Elemental Order?”

  Paramor rolled his head and felt Miush’s hands pause before continuing.

  “Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Rimsan asked, surveying Paramor’s marred skin.

  Leaning forward, Paramor picked up the blade and slung it into the scabbard between his broken wings. “Why? So they focus unnecessary hope on me when I can do nothing? It’s wasted energy, Rimsan. I have to hide so I can live to fight the days I must.”

  “The four are getting stronger. It won’t be long until we have the pieces back in place.” Miush spun in front of Paramor, taking his hands in hers. “Thanks to you.”

  Paramor loved staring into the energy sparking in her eyes. She had many of Chamarel’s features, but let go of the past far easier. He wished he could feel her hope. He knew they weren’t ready to hear what he’d seen, not when the excitement of freedom still sung in their veins. They needed to know. It was Paramor’s job to protect Bennett and to warn them.

  “I’m sorry, Miush.” Paramor saw Rimsan hang his head, knowing what words came next.

  The hopeful glints in her eyes faded. “Don’t say it.”

  “It is my obligation. You know this.” Paramor squeezed her hands, begging for a little more strength. “The real war has just begun.”

  Part 2

  —Abyss—

  Chapter 20

  COMMAND WAS PACKED with shepherds when Atana and Azure squeezed inside. Tanner and Amianna discussed Slashgate functions with several members of Command while two Field Teams chatted about maneuvers on Earth at the far end with the Coordinator.

  Before the mutiny on Agutra, Command would’ve had security escort any shepherd approaching 1-CR away before they even saw the door. Today, Atana stood in delighted disbelief. They were working with their people.

  Looking up to Azure, she found him studying her, a pained expression on his face.

  “Nothing is changing,” she offered.

  “Except everything.”

  Cutter walked over to them, eyes wrinkled with exhaustion. “Amianna, Krett, and Balie have designed a unit to control these slit-shaped wormholes. They’re heading up to Hope today to install it on Lunar One.”

  “Teek’s made a lot of progress with the help of the Electrical Integration Specialist crews,” Bennett said, joining them from the door. “Almost all of the collectors are ready.”

  “It’s good you have such a large meadow up top so we can cycle them as needed. Your dock pads aren’t as big as Semilath’s,” Azure remarked acidly.

  Atana stopped listening to the male egos fighting beside her. “What is the duration of travel time through a Slashgate?”

  “A few minutes to months,” Amianna called out from across the room. “Depending on our speed and the number of universal folds we fall through.”

  Krett waded through the conversing shepherds to their position. “Amianna and I have been tracking the Kyras via a link with Agutra. They will be here by the end of the week. That’s three days.”

  Atana stood in heart-pounding silence. It wasn’t enough time.

  “We need to know we can count on these modifications you’re making,” Krett warned, scanning the group.

  “I’ve got crews assembling the last parts,” Bennett cut in. “Teek said we need a synzer unit to create commands so when we do disconnect them from Semilath with the modifications we’ll be able to add our formations and charts to the onboard programs like a flash drive.” He glanced at Atana. “Units were sent up to Station Hope for the 501 ArcStrings. Simulations and plans are in the works, fine-tuned as more data comes back from our practice runs.”

  Atana studied him. He’d accomplished too much in that short time, considering his nap with Kios.

  Sergio looked up from the H.Co. bunker maps between him and Renae. “Azure has Agutra. Bennett has Hope. You, Sergeant Atana, have Earth to guard. We need you protecting us. You’re the only one who can fly multiple UAVs simultaneously.”

  Every muscle in Atana’s body went rigid with anger. “There are plenty of qualified individuals who can do that. Why do you demote me to this?”

  The hatchet-faced member of Command, Gruégon, straightened from his place in the middle of the Xahu’ré members gathered around his desktop screen. Ronux, Evami, Klézia, and Hyras looked on with him as he spoke to her. “We cannot lose you. You are safest here.”

  Atana couldn’t help but wonder if this was another vague way of Command telling her some piece of the Prophesy still included her, and she was still their pawn. “And what if I have my own plan? Do I have to almost die again to get you to listen to me? I’ve done and seen more than any of you. None of you have had your brains wired into a Suanoan computer database, have you?”

  The entire room fell dead silent.

  Atana glared at the Command members in the room. Here we are again, fighting over my role. Such a waste. “I will not sit while other kiatna die. I am going to fight. And you can follow, or get out of my way.”

  Klézia pushed up from her seat. “I think you don’t give Atana enough credit. Stop worrying about her and be concerned about the millions of others.”

  “What she does affects the millions,” Evami calmly countered. “She is the symbol of our joining worlds. If anything happens to her, Earthlings will relate it to the bond of Agutra and Earth.”

  The two shared a heated look, something beyond the argument. If Atana had been on serum, she might not have noticed. The two women were more than fellow Command members.

  “We survived the invasion because of her,” Klézia reminded them. “And if you all remember, you expected her to sacrifice herself because of that stupid prophecy.”

  Several members in the room gasped.

  Evami leapt up from her seat, rage darkening her eyes. “Klézia, nigh! Ahna verson!”

  Klézia’s stripes looked darker this morning than the last time Atana had seen them. “Sim sutannes. But I cannot believe we still doubt her, still use her like a tool. She is above this organization, us.”

  “I agree,” Nephma cut in, throwing Atana a knowing look. “But let’s discuss this after we send them back to work, yes? We have collectors in need of munitions, a few F201s which still need modifications, and I’m sure you all have your own projects you need to complete.” Her spiked skin shimmered under the fluorescent lights as she shifted to recline back in her seat. “Azure, if it’s all right with you, we want to send Libesh to assist you on Agutra.”

  The woman with the bright white braid, her boots on the desk, lifted a casual hand. Every light in the room disintegrated like dust and siphoned into her palm.

  “Damn it, Libesh!” a member shouted as the room fell into darkness. Only the lights of their screens and wristbands countered the radiant, white globe the woman now held.

  “What?” she asked, tossing the ball of light up and down as if it were a toy. “I don’t get to play much anymore. So many damn rules.”

  Beside Atana, Azure laughed in delight. “Forbiyon or Malchrees?”

  “Malchrees from the fourth moon of Ontressa.” With a flick of her wrist, Libesh returned the light to its sources.

  “A TresKnight?” Azure asked.

  Libesh nodded. “I will swear my allegiance to Agutra upon my arrival.”

  Atana raised her eyebrows at Azure as Command continued through the designations. What are you so excited about?

  He canted toward her despite their nonverbal communication. We can telekinetically move metal and create light, like stars. She is the opposite of us. TresKnights can create darkness in the middle of day and absorb attacks from bullets and plasma, releasing the energy in like-form any direction. But they also have the power to manipulate minds of the enemies, persuade them to retreat or turn on one another.

  Atana eyed Libesh, fearing the answer to her question. “Why were there none on Agutra?”

  “Suanoa had their heads. Primvera helped those left escape their homeworlds before the planets were te
rraformed.”

  Bloodyhell. She wished she’d picked Libesh. Making brief eye contact with Terson, Klézia, and Nephma, she noted each returned her acknowledgment in their subtle way.

  “Can we please discuss why we’re not on lockdown?” Cutter asked from his place between Bennett and Atana. “We’ve had more than one breach of security.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Sergeant,” Jorjan, one of Command’s pale twins, remarked. “We have a bigger issue at hand.”

  Cutter nodded to himself and wiped a hand down his face.

  “What’s up?” Atana asked.

  Bennett and Azure gathered closer around Cutter with her as Krett watched.

  “Early this morning, a shepherd in munitions storage noticed a block of C4 was missing. He’s asked everyone on duty and checked every locker. No one saw anything or knows anything. We’re apparently not following lockdown procedure because of the Kyra threat. So Command—”

  Krett politely coughed.

  “Some of Command assume it’s for a personal project.” Cutter’s silver eyes danced among the three. “Have any of you taken it?”

  Atana inspected the sedate angles of Krett’s face for any sign of betrayal. She needed her plans to be silent. She also needed an insider with Command to pull a few supply strings. Hyras was on Azure’s side, and Azure couldn’t know. Miskaht could be unreasonable for no reason. “I always follow protocol, even when working on a private job. You know that.”

  Krett gave her a covert shake of his head. He hadn’t told anyone. “Please, head back to work. Dismissed.”

  “Yes, Command.” Atana avoided Hyras’s inspection as the three of them slipped out. His order had screwed up more than she felt like it helped.

  Descending the stairs outside Command, Azure stopped at the bottom, hanging his head.

  Bennett held a hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. Since we’re in this together, when you’re gone, I’ll step in, like you did when I was out of control in the Jesiar fields. That’s how this partnership works.”