Shadows of the Son

by E L Strife

  “What do you want us to do about it?” Miskaht asked.

  “I don’t— I don’t know! But you left teens in charge of Earth’s survival!”

  “There was no one else,” Miskaht replied.

  A young man’s voice broke the tension. “Commander, the agricultural containers have left the surface and are repositioning in space.”

  Confused remarks cluttered one another into an indistinguishable mass.

  Bennett sighed and pushed into the room. Eleven of the original twenty-one Command members were gathered around a small rectangular glass table, several screens lit beneath its surface. Miskaht stood at the far end, Hope’s Commander—in speckled, gray BDUs—by the door. Behind both stood a pair of Assistant Shepherds with tablets.

  “I recalled them.” Bennett laced his hands together behind his back and stopped beside Hope's commander, looking down the table at the gathered members.

  “What? Why?” Mavene slung a hand at the radiant planet floating outside the window. “There are civilians around there. You could’ve caused unnecessary deaths!”

  “No.” Bennett circled the table and gazed out the wall of glass upon Earth—whole, skies free of smoke and fire, orbiting the sun unaware of what lay ahead. “There are perimeters set up around the sectors. If anyone gets hurt, it’s on them for not obeying the postings.” Looking back at Command, faint blue-white reflections of the planet’s light crisped their edges, and Bennett slowed time to hold on a bit longer.

  The only thing he cared about was protecting life. Command stood together at the brink of disaster. He just wanted to see it one last time—the unity.

  Bennett twisted to linger over the luscious blue and green bubble of life and released his hold on time, letting it speed forward again.

  “What’s your plan?”

  Bennett turned around. Evami’s hair was in two long charcoal braids crisscrossed over her head. Still, she refused to show her Xahu’ré skin and thermo-stripes. She was true to UP’s cause even as it came to an end.

  “Forgive me if I’m blunt.” He scanned the members, some scowling, others fidgeting. “But my trust in Command had been running a little thin as of late.”

  Balie’s peach flumes drifted in graceful wings behind her. “We’re not the ones you should be concerned with.” Her cheeks glowed, betraying the composure of her face.

  “No, but the people you have around you might not be trustworthy. I won’t risk it.”

  Omut scoffed. Today, she stood with spirals of cartilage exposed on the sides of her head instead of hair, sooty-green eyes and skin, and the body dimensions of a battering ram. “But you trust the people on Agutra?”

  “Yes,” he said with confidence.

  “You're being unreasonable, Sergeant.” Gruégon’s Xahu’ré stripes were on full display, framing blazing blue eyes.

  Bennett leaned back against the wall, staring down Command. “That home is all they have. It is a confined space, a prison, a place of torture and fear. Their families are on that floating island from hell, and every single one of them knows they have to work together to survive. They don’t rely on anyone but themselves. They hold their own and help each other. Always. Without hesitation. Nothing matters more than life and love.

  “They do not have possessions to sway them. They have no concept of money. You want to talk about being a selfless Universal Protector? That’s them, not us.”

  Either the Command members realized what he said was true or a cold draft he couldn’t feel had swept through the room. Each hunkered forward and glanced anywhere but at him—all but Miskaht and Krett, whose faces bore satisfaction.

  “You’ve made up effective rules to govern humans on Earth. Buthey don’t work for the kiatna of Semilath. They have different priorities. In this instance, I think the right ones.”

  “Ma’am.” One of Miskaht’s attendants walked up and tapped the tabletop, illuminating a feed of shepherds communications. “Nalli is receiving a lot of incoming calls about shepherds unskinning.”

  Miskaht turned to look. “Ones not on serum?”

  The young man tapped his screen. “Mostly, but not entirely. Maria is relaying CENA readouts in Rio’s absence. She believes serum has lost its effectiveness.”

  Miskaht covered her mouth with a hand and paced a circle at the end of the room.

  “Let them have freedom,” Krett said with a shrug, his strands following him like illuminated green seaweed in an ocean current. “Let them be who they are. It’s high time.”

  “They need to use their emergency doses. Agutra is counting on us to be a strong force, to defend them,” Dequan suggested. His red hair was askew in tufts, his eyes a brighter shade of green. “We cannot leave our posts in the sky to help.”

  “The survivors are more capable than you give them credit for,” Hyras offered with quiet confidence. Bennett pegged him for one of the older members.

  Evami gestured in the direction of Semilath. “Their nutrition has been so poor most are just skin and bones. It is unfair to ask them to do what we do!”

  Lifting a mediating hand, Bennett called for silence. “I fought alongside them before they had our support. They performed the same tasks we did on less energy and sleep.”

  Glato rested an arm on Miskaht’s shoulder. “It is too late in the game to worry about the shepherds.”

  “They will not have enough time to adjust! We have to pull them!” Mavene countered, the lacework hoop of skin over her head flushing red.

  “No!” Miskaht and Hyras said together.

  Gruégon cursed, his stacked body tensing so abruptly Bennett expected the warrior’s shirt to split. “It’s gotten out of control!”

  Hyras covered his face with a hand. “And yet, the planned attack on serum facilities was your idea. You did that to the team we sent up.”

  Now Bennett was confused. “The serum shortage, the one that almost cost us the Agutra infiltration mission—was planned?”

  Miskaht rolled her eyes in exhaustion over the matter. “Yes, but we can’t do this right now.”

  Crossing his arms, Hyras exposed thermo-stripes on his wrists. Veins bulged in his neck and forehead. “How can you contradict yourself now when you pushed so hard for it, went behind our backs, and did it anyway? You fucked everything up, Gru. How is this any different? Huh?”

  Gruégon threw his arms in the air.

  A dividing silence spread between the members. Bennett couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It wasn’t a mistake. They knew he and Atana and his team would all lose control.

  “Then this situation isn’t any different,” Bennett said, pushing his frustration aside. “They will be forced to use their blooming emotion in battle against the Kyras. We’ll just have to hope the unskinning is beneficial like it was for Atana and not destructive like it was for me.”

  “And what if they are like Bennett?” Balie asked gently. “What if they accidentally blow up a ship with Kilavi like he did the Jesiar fields and kill their teammates? Or with spikes, like Nephma has?”

  “None of them can transition that abruptly,” Glato stated coolly. “There are no other—”

  “Humans won’t know what the fuck to do when they start shooting electricity from their fingers and forehead,” Omut interjected.

  Glato’s eyes threw daggers at her.

  “You don’t understand the change,” Krett rubbed his middle finger up the ridges between his brows. “Kilavi develops twelve to twenty-four hours after flumes unfurl, but it is still gradual.”

  “Krett!” Balie scolded.

  He arched a brow and cocked his head. “She has no right to talk like she understands us.”

  “No, but I hear everything.” Omut snorted, directing her middle finger to the circular ridges on her head. “So Sergeant Panton isn’t in the hospital because he was emotionally invested and compromised in a fight? What about Sergeant Cutter? He’s not human, but we all know he fell for Esmerella as expected.”

  Bennett wheezed out
a curse and ran a hand down his face in exasperation. “Wow, do you leave anyone alone?”

  Evami glared at him then dragged her eyes to Hyras. “How else were they supposed to save their species?”

  “Real great how it worked out,” Glato muttered. “We were never supposed to play gods, just direct the flow of energy to make what must be, efficient in the eyes of the universe.”

  Hope’s commander licked his lips and tapped the muzzle of his SI on the glass table, sending a sharp plink cutting through the air. “Everybody, calm down. We need to focus on the upcoming conflict. I have people who need me. I’m going to return to my job, as should all of you.”

  Bennett caught up with him outside. Command continued bickering. “I would like to review a few plans with you before the shit hits.” He felt his eyes bulge. “I apologize for cursing, sir.”

  The man glanced back at the blurry colors of Command through the milky glass. “I don’t mind. But why trust me when you don’t them?”

  “Because Atana does. And they’re falling apart,” Bennett said, tilting his head toward the room.

  A short laugh slipped the man’s lips. He held out a hand. “Former Team Leader Cev Lioh. You can call me Lee. I know good and well who you are, son.”

  They shook with tenacity. Commander Lee grabbed his shoulder and dipped down to meet Bennett’s gaze. Scars peppered the skin around the man’s lighter denim-blue eye. “Go straighten them out and get them back on task, future Prospector, then come find me on the bridge.”

  With a terse nod, he headed for Command Central. Bennett watched the man stalk down the hall and glance one last time at the glass, muttering under his breath. “Like tryin’ to herd feral cats.”

  Bennett chewed a laugh into submission. He had a feeling he was going to like working with Commander Lee. He slipped back inside the room.

  “And what about Earth?” Mavene challenged.

  “I think when they see those ships in the sky, see the battle going on, they will realize the truth of the situation,” Krett offered. “Agutra was not some other zone’s making. It is too big with advanced technology compared to ours. We’ve warned Earth. We have to trust in their ability to improvise for the matter of survival.”

  “So we have to wait this shit out? Hope the people catch on; hope they have the courage to stand up because they will need to?” Gruégon growled and headed for the door. “This is a waste of time. I have a ship to prep.”

  “Sit down,” Miskaht directed. “We need to agree before we part.”

  “Make me!” Gruégon snapped.

  “You are acting like a child!” It was the first time Bennett had seen Ronux lose his bearing. He was also the first Xahu’ré he’d seen with Kilavi light shining through crags on his face. Ronux took a daring step toward the man twice his weight in muscle. “A warrior does not run from his duty to protect his people.”

  “What do you know about honor, half-breed?” Gruégon sneered.

  A scuffle broke out between the two. Dequan and Omut tried to pull them apart, but the fighting spread. Evami was knocked over, inciting Balie to step in and attempt to place herself between the men. Glato helped Evami back to her feet only to catch Ronux as he was thrown back.

  Hyras groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “Damn Xahu’ré stubbornness.”

  Miskaht closed her eyes. Her arms lifted as her body disassembled. A puff of peach light floated into the center of the room, shimmering with a mist of red and clear and iridescent lime. The vapor shifted and gathered again in beaded strands like ever-morphing tentacles.

  “Enough!” Her voice pulsed out in skin-crawling waves from every drop of what was once her body. The windows thundered, and a wisp of dust puffed out from the ceiling, peppering the clean glass of the table below.

  Ronux and Gruégon, having tumbled to the ground, now clambered back in shock. Only Hyras, Krett, and Glato stood their ground while the others gave her space. Bennett shoved his hands in his pockets, watching the members cower before the vehement cloud. Little surprised him anymore with unskinning.

  “All of you will apologize,” her essence commanded.

  They mumbled a few words.

  Miskaht’s mist coalesced into her body once again. “That was immature of all of you, but I will tolerate it because we are all stressed. Bennett, do you have any last words for us?”

  Two weeks ago, having Command’s undivided attention was unnerving. After seeing their disorder, Bennett realized his self-control was greater than theirs. “We’re all piss and vinegar and fire right now.” He glowered at the command members straightening their jumpsuits. “But we can’t fight like shepherds. We have to fight like Agutra survivors.

  “It doesn’t matter how we feel or what we think. The only thing that matters is what reality is and what we choose to do about it. Fight alone or fight with us. Curse our decisions and complain, or fight for the one who’s fighting next to you. It’s your choice. But you’re the leaders. Lead or get out of the way.” Saying he was disappointed in Command was an understatement.

  “Please be safe out there. I want to see you all back here afterward. Dismissed,” Miskaht said quietly.

  The members exited single-file, the Assistant Shepherds leaving with them. Only Miskaht, Glato, and Bennett didn’t move.

  “I hate it when she does that,” Omut whispered to Evami as they passed Bennett.

  The Coordinator’s voice popped out of the screen, flickering to life behind Miskaht. “We are ready.” He shifted the camera to show the computer station he sat at in the empty Technical Integration lab. “Sergio is monitoring ground forces as requested. UAVs are up and running.”

  “At least two of us don’t have our heads up our asses,” Miskaht remarked, adjusting her robes. “Thank you, Zembahki. Sergio.”

  Harsh peeps blared out in rapid succession from every active screen. Bennett looked down at the table and swiped open the closest active surface.

  Kyras have reached the last gate.

  Travel Time: 1 hour.

  Bennett pulled up Command’s main menu and selected the station-wide alarm. He tapped Red Alert. Sirens warbled and screeched. Warning lights flashed in red and white along walls and above doors. Shepherds picked up their paces, rushing by in teams of two and four.

  “Time to get everyone in position.” Bennett waved for Miskaht and Glato to follow as he burst out of the room, sprinting for Command Central.

  Chapter 42

  RED WARNINGS FLASHED on every screen in Agutra’s imperial ring. Paramor watched one as its digital wireframe schematic tracked the Kyras’ movement through the Slashgate. They had an hour left.

  Amianna screeched her translations of the warning over an intercom system as she and Azure shared the responsibility of monitoring Agutra.

  Beside a window, Libesh sat cross-legged, floating mid-air, uttering her prayers. Her white braid and skin brightened as her hands lifted above her head. “Give me the strength to defend your innocent. This cause is just. I ask for your blessing, that I may serve as you have served me. Grace be to the universe and peace to those I cannot save. I honor the lives of Semilath Agutra with the promise of my body, my mind, and my spark.”

  Standing slowly, Paramor stretched his stiffening back and placed the Home Station Communicator in one of the large pockets in his robes. Slipping out of the door, he made his way to the nearest Suanoan dock site to check on the assigned crews of perimeter guards.

  The circular hallway connecting the imperial Suanoan residential spires contained five dock sites for their luxury ships. Ten guards paced outside the docks, armed with e-rifles, Warruk’s guns, and two Linoan ArcBows they’d found. He gave the group of workers quick remarks of affirmation, then asked, “Are our doku ready inside?”

  One of the Primvera members pointed through the airlock door. “Two in each ship. Weapons are functioning and on standby.”

  “Good.” Paramor hurried down the stairs. Linoan collectors would be harder to fend off. Their doc
ks were all empty, the collectors reassigned to the Earth-Agutra Defense Fleet.

  Descending three levels, he walked out to the first floor of landing pads for collectors—ones encircling Plasma Engineering. To Paramor’s relief, nearly a thousand workers filled the level, armed with crude knives made from strips of jagged metal to Warruk’s weapons.

  A familiar Primvera approached him from the side, indigo flumes drifting behind him. “We are ready.”

  “Higer, is every level like this?” Paramor asked, looking out at the mix of kiatna below.

  Shouting up from the floor, Piper waved. “Yes. Every kiatna able to stand and swing or shoot has volunteered. We have no one in any of the sectors. We won’t make that mistake again.”

  “I have checked every dock point on all fifteen levels.” Higer rested his forearms against the metal rail, the hexagonal tessellation of his skin cells stretching to reveal a lighter violet color beneath. “Azure has a few of us on reserve. I’m not sure why. Do you know anything?”

  Paramor swayed between his feet today, the weight of his broken wings throwing his weakening body off balance. “Always good to have a backup plan. Likely something to do with Sahara.”

  “I heard she took Rimsan for her crew.”

  “Yes.” Resting a comforting hand on Higer’s shoulder, Paramor squeezed it. “Fight strong for the future.”

  Higer bowed, his elongated flumes mimicking his movement.

  On his way back up to the imperial ring, Paramor stopped by one of the small viewing windows on the sector’s maintenance dock. The small blue planet, Earth, glowed like the light in Sahara’s eyes. Tiny dots of red and blue and white blinked inside the debris ring. Others lifted and fell around it as the ships took their places.

  Out there, Paramor could see the empty containers released from Earth—some scattered with the other broken satellites and shredded metal, and others disbursed as if Siphon Status had shut down mid-drop. Bennett had planned well, accounting for the rotation and orbit of the planet compared to the changing positions of the Slashgates.