Shadows of the Son

by E L Strife

  The sides of the catwalk packed with Linoans, all ebony eyes, glinting blades, and gamazets. Some Linoans had guns that fired plasma, like Suanoa. Blasts skipped off of the shields she’d build for the team. The transparent blue barriers muffled several nervous murmurs as the team repositioned after every blow.

  Atana closed her eyes and felt the vibrations in the floor, the air, Ether—the way she had long ago, caged in the dank, lightless cells of Suanoan Testing. Fight. Kill. Take. Just like you’ve always done to us.

  Envisioning a whip of spiked chain links, one of the imperials’ favorite toys, the handle of the ArcBow grew heavy in her hand. Looking down, she admired the glowing coils with devilish satisfaction.

  Atana took a long step toward the closest Linoan, building potential. Time slowed. Her body stretched. She slung the weighted chain over her head with all her might. A grunt slipped her lips as the whip uncurled its fury on the Linoans packed in on the narrow bridge.

  Eleven collapsed. Atana tugged sharply on the handle sending the chain flying back her direction. The barbs slew six more and filled their air with heavy red mist.

  A shot rang out from Terson’s e-rifle, exploding one of the transformer towers. The plasma system dimmed then flickered back to normal.

  Several Linoans stopped and turned around, rushing to the source of the disturbance.

  Knots of blue-green fire blazed through the metal latticework of the catwalk floor, hitting Linoans below. “They’re firing up at us!” Nephma shouted. “Get on with it, T!”

  Terson took another shot. The same dimming and relighting of the plasma chambers occurred.

  Atana turned and slung the whip down the other end of the bridge as Linoans hopped bodies of their brethren. But their concentration had dropped, and she managed only five, three more with a tug. A few took to climbing the underside of the bridge.

  Closing up and holstering her ArcBow, Atana pulled her SI and fired, rapidly advancing along the bridge as Linoans fell, pushing the tide back. One avoided her onslaught and clambered on toward the team. Hooking the back of a knee on the lowest bar of the railing, she hung over the side and took the shot. It swung loose, caught by a wrist. Atana shot again, severing the arm, and the Linoan fell.

  A shadow moved above just as a pair of blades bit into her thigh. Rasping a groan, Atana drew the ArcBow again, forming a spear and thrust it up and into the Linoan’s chest. Using the body for leverage, Atana hoisted herself back onto the bridge.

  Imara made a move to break formation, her eyes falling on the wound.

  “Not until he gets another shot!” Atana commanded, directing her back into place as plasma bullets streaked toward them from above.

  “You’re bleeding!” Imara’s retort sounded hollow as she hunkered behind the shield.

  “And alive. Stay!” Atana raised her SI to the levels overhead, returning fire upon Linoans above. Hot liquid ran down her thigh and shin.

  A crack rang out, and another column fell into darkness. The plasma drive dimmed, flickered three times, and dimmed again.

  “All right, let’s go! Reclosers have broken open. There’s too much load on the system. That should buy us enough time!” Atana shouted, urging the team to keep pace with her. The group stood and repositioned their shields, following her deeper into the ship.

  With the plasma drive offline, few Linoans paid attention to them. Imperials would be demanding resolution.

  “Why do we want a ship without plasma capabilities?” Lavrion asked, adjusting his helmet.

  “Don’t touch.” Atana pointed at his forehead. “That telepathy blocker isn’t perfect.”

  He grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “They are itchy,” Imara admitted, stepping out to shoot a Linoan leaning over a railing above them. Its weapon fell, plinking off the floor below and sending a loose shot skittering through the first level. “Aye, diete. They breed like japous here!”

  Stopping the team at a corner, Atana peeked around it. Finding the hall clear, she aimed for the doors leading inside.

  “Sahara, please explain,” Lavrion begged, rubbing a singed patch on his shoulder. “You asked us all to be on this ‘Infiltrate and Secure’ mission, but didn’t provide much detail.”

  Seeing a group of Linoans bounding at them from an adjacent hallway, Atana shot the front two. “It’s not about us having a weapon; it’s about them not having it.” Her shield absorbed a hit. “There was never a set plan, only the goal. Too many variables.” Atana shot the last pair before looking back at him. “I trust you six to improvise and keep your cool.

  “When we get inside, there will be Suanoa. Don’t give yourself time to think, just act. I don’t care if you shoot or swing. If they have time to watch you, to be exposed to you, they’ll figure you out. Right now, I want a link to the network. Then you’ll all get the details. I just had to be sure nothing would get leaked to Command or Earth and indirectly the Kyras through Linéten traitors. It’s hard to believe we’ve got them all.”

  When Atana returned to her intended path, a knot of fire ripped over her shoulder. A straggling Linoan fell to the floor in front of her. She caught a bashful smile on Yari’s face. “Thanks.”

  They pushed through the doors and found themselves in a shallow alcove of a wide hallway that ran bow to stern. Atana encouraged the team toward the rear, the most likely position for the propulsion systems. Their boots made sounds of soft rain on the metal floors. Getting them out of the main hall was critical. They couldn’t risk Linoans following them.

  Through a doorway, they entered a collonade of obsidian pillars. In the center was a cylinder of glass three meters in diameter. A translucent black stalactite the size of an average human pierced down from the ceiling. The apex of the spine glowed carmine like a drop of blood about to drip from a dagger.

  Weapons at the ready, Atana and the team crossed the floor to a view of the propulsion galley below. Engines and generators large as troop transports whirred at damaging volume. A small observation room sat in the middle of the mezzanine overlooking the systems below. Its windows glowed a digital blue. Sticking to the shadows, Atana led them toward it, hoping to find access to the Kyra’s network.

  Peering through a corner of the glass, Atana counted five Linoans. A tap on her shoulder made her turn around.

  Imara lifted her brows and a set of throwing knives. “Silent,” she mouthed.

  Atana nodded, and the team stepped back. Resting her calibrator over the panel beside the door, Atana scrolled through the readout and found the command for Unlock. When the door swished open, Imara ducked and slipped inside.

  Three breaths later, Imara stepped out, blood coating her fingers and a grin on her face. “All yours.”

  Inside, two Linoans bled from their eyes, one from the side of its head, one the underside of its jaw, and the last through its obliterated nasal cavity. Atana silently thanked the stars she’d picked Imara.

  Hustling up to the front console, Atana hacked into the Suanoan computer system. Zephyr Station gave her knowledge of Suanoan systems and language at the price of pain, one she’d paid many times over. Today, that pain was power.

  Finding the emergency vent doors for plasma engineering, Atana opened them. Red boxes blinked along the bulkheads of the plasma core room.

  “No better way to ensure they don’t repair the system than kill all the workers,” Nephma remarked, glancing over Atana’s shoulder as she passed.

  “Exactly.” Tapping the video feeds, Atana linked them to her wristband and recorded the Linoan bodies flying out into space. Something to look at later.

  Lavrion knelt beside her, lifting a palm over the cuts in her thigh. The warmth was a relief but made focusing harder. She shifted away from him.

  He opened his mouth, a protest forming on his frowning lips.

  “Save your strength for when we need it. The hardest part will be taking down the imperials who fly this ship. I can’t vent them from their main bridge.”

  Atana continue
d to pull up schematics of the ship and programs for propulsion, environmental systems, and shields. Plasma was listed as offline due to power overload. She swiped the message away. There was something else to deal with. “Klézia, please come to me.”

  When the woman approached her side, Atana paused what she was doing to look over at her. Klézia wasn’t more than a decade her senior, but she stood like a recruit having witnessed their first bloody mission in the fray—what Atana called everything outside of UP’s protection.

  Atana knew she wasn’t the best with emotions, but she’d watched Bennett interact with his crew and Azure with the workers on Agutra. Taking Klézia’s shoulders in hand, Atana looked her in the eyes. “I am sorry you lost Evami. I know how it feels.”

  Klézia wiped a cheek dry with a hand. “I can still fight.”

  “I know. But your head isn’t where it needs to be.” Atana shook her gently. “Use this feeling as fuel, not as self-destruction. It is a choice. Make them pay for this, for taking her, for every bit of suffering they have caused you and others and Earth. Let it burn you inside until it becomes your purpose. Use it.”

  The woman looked up, her blue eyes rimmed with red capillaries. “This is why you never needed serum; isn’t it?”

  Atana didn’t know for sure. “Maybe. But it has always helped me focus.”

  “Hatred?”

  Atana drummed a finger on Klézia’s shoulder, thinking of Azure. “Love. I want you with me when I take the imperial’s command bridge. I want to see the fire back in your eyes, and I want to know how hot it burned for her.” Atana offered her hand. “Yanir niveriia.”

  Klézia straightened and extended hers. They clasped each other’s forearms in the custom of Xahu’ré women. “Until death.”

  Nephma gave Atana a wink of approval.

  Atana wasn’t sure what summoned her attention out the window—a gut instinct, movement, or a change in the drone of the engines. What she saw made her stomach churn with panic and regret. She let Klézia go and braced herself against the windows overlooking the propulsion structure below. “Did any of you see any kiatna other than Linoans in the plasma bay?”

  “No,” Rimsan said. The others quietly agreed with him easing a bit of her fear.

  Atana jerked her head at the glass and turned away. The team moved closer.

  She could no longer expel everyone into space as she’d planned.

  “They have slaves?” Imara gasped. “We have to find a way to save them!”

  “We need to focus on our survival. We’ve got company.” Nephma’s eyes were on the halls outside the doors. A team of four Linoans shouted and ran toward the room. She lifted her primed SIs beside her head. At some point, the woman had put a toothpick in her mouth.

  Returning to the control station, Atana commanded the door shut then scoured the schematics, trying to find another way to make their plan work without sacrificing more innocents.

  “I bet they’d fight,” Rimsan offered, ignoring the Linoans now pounding on the glass.

  Atana turned to survey him and the others.

  Imara nodded vigorously. “They would follow you. We did. And we won.”

  Me? Atana hung on the notion. Not the team? Not UP’s forces? “Why me, specifically?”

  “Because of Azure’s stories of Testing and your obvious Blue Bomb skills. The Elites sense your spark is of the ancient ones like Kios,” Imara replied with an air of disbelief.

  Atana waved her hands in front of her, wishing she hadn’t asked. “Fine. We’ll go through Interrogation, free those held there. It looks like they have designated sleeping quarters for workers.”

  “You need to tell them,” Lavrion cut in. “Show them. This is your chance to be a greater symbol of change.”

  “You already have been on Agutra,” Rimsan added. “There are paintings of you in the halls.”

  What? Atana’s shoulders fell. Everyone on the team had gathered around her as if awaiting a speech. She hadn’t asked to be such a thing. All she wanted was to work. She suddenly understood Bennett’s compunction over being put in charge of something he wasn’t interested in, without a say.

  “Don’t make me quote the Shepherd’s Oath, Sergeant,” Terson said, a hint of a smile on the man’s angled face. His dark eyes looked amused. She’d never seen so much emotion from him.

  Steadying herself over the computer, Atana opened a translation program for the communications network. The warships hadn’t been to Earth that she knew of, but they had been to Vioras. So she chose to speak Xahu’ré instead.

  When she opened her mouth, Rimsan stopped her, indigo flumes uncurling from his back. “From your spark. It is time Suanoa, and slaves, know the truth. The La’kian live.”

  Surprised murmurs circulated behind her.

  “And considering the number of pissed off Linoans and Suanoa on board,” Yari waggled her head, “We could use the help.”

  “You can change the future by giving them a choice.” Rimsan lifted a graceful hand toward the workers below. “They can die in fear, or they can die fighting. Which did you choose?”

  Atana had never called attention to herself before. Not as an individual. She swallowed hard to strengthen her resolve. Atana sent the video clip of the Linoans being evacuated from plasma engineering to every available screen, buying her time and ensuring she had their attention.

  Azure fought out of fear and love. Bennett fought for justice and peace. Atana had always operated on defiance—a survival tactic. Even when forced to obey, she was planning her revenge.

  But she didn’t know what to say or how, until she saw the bone-thin workers in greasers and patched jumpsuits gather around small screens below, pumping fists in the air and shouting praises to the stars. Their jubilee brought back the memory of being rescued from Agutra by Earth’s shepherds as a teen. The hope that little amber beacon in her wrist evoked had her willing to die if it meant stepping one foot outside of hell.

  Oomuas would figure out he was alone sooner or later.

  Bracing herself over the computer station, she depressed the mic, speaking in Xahu’ré. “We have liberated Semilath Agutra!”

  She watched the workers below mutter in confusion then step closer to the screens. “Their farmers and doku fight with us today as free kiatna,” she continued. “If you fight at our side today, you too can be free. I am Sahara, leader of this team, firstborn of Tivar, who guarded Vioras against invasion.”

  Atana hesitated. Rimsan rested a hand on her shoulder with an encouraging nod.

  Thinking back to every beating and dissection and plasma burn, every child she’d cried over in the cages whom she couldn’t save, every innocent life the Suanoa had purged from Agutra—Atana felt a raw hatred swell inside so strong her skin flushed with scintillating light. These workers knew her pain now. It was time for oppression to end.

  “I am La’kian, and I fear no one! Suanoa—” She switched the video feed to a view of the aqua coils blazing in her eyes. “I’m coming for you.”

  —Sergeant Panton—

  Chapter 50

  PANTON WAVED THE CIVILIANS ON with an urgent hand. “Hurry! They’re coming back again!” When the squadron of Linoan fighters pitched and initiated their return sweep of Tropic Zone Seven, Panton turned and lifted his shotgun.

  The jolt from each shot pulled on the repair in his lung, his side feeling like cold rubber stretched to its limits and threatening to split. The bullet he’d taken had done its best to kill him. Lavrion and Atana had risked their lives to save him. It seemed a shame to waste such a gift.

  Hyras was in the bunker reserved for the zone’s shepherds. It was small, but it was better than the burning H.Co. a half-mile away.

  “That’s the last of them.” Ramura’s pained voice popped over the radio in Panton’s ear as she encouraged the four stragglers in chef’s aprons down the steps into the bunker below what once was a laundromat.

  Another fighter approached fast and low from Panton’s six. He spun and li
fted his shotgun. Bullets with tails of green fire slammed into a side from a distant building Johna was in. The fighter tore up into the sky, banking away from the courtyard toward the far end of town.

  Panton sent out a warning, “Renae, they’re coming for you.”

  “Copy.”

  “How did they figure it out?” Sergio asked.

  Renae’s voice crackled. “The attacks are too targeted to be based on luck. Other than that, I don’t know.”

  “Suanoa know everything,” Ramura muttered, shifting her dusty gear belt and thigh holsters as she approached Panton. The chatty girl had grown quiet since Agutra’s bisection and avoided eye contact with others.

  “Hey.” Panton gripped her shoulder before she could hide again. He felt her shake beneath her sniffles. “We’re going to get even, ya hear?”

  “How can you be sure?” she squeaked out.

  Panton took a knee, so he was level with her purpled eyes. “Because Sergeant Bennett has never let his team down. He does not rest when we do. Never did. Not even when he was still human. All of Earth and Agutra are part of his team. I have faith in him, even if it means my life must be sacrificed for the greater good. We will win, even if some of us don’t get to see it.”

  A small piece of her came back to reality. “Your side is hurting again, isn’t it.”

  Panton grunted and stood. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”

  Hyras came out with four other sergeants. “We’ll head to Renae’s location next.”

  “We have to find out who’s rela—” Renae’s voice was cut off by a rush of static. Her feed went dead.

  “Renae?” Panton called out, pressing the earbud deeper with a finger. “Renae, do you copy?”

  Hyras and the team stopped in their tracks.