Shadows of the Son

by E L Strife

  But he knew he couldn’t have, not when kiatnas’ lives weighed on him.

  Bennett pushed himself on through the maze of the ship, the reflective metals warping his depth perception. Nearly running head-on into a wall, Bennett caught himself only to find hands on his shoulders, throwing him sideways.

  HE tumbled to a stop. Frantically picking himself up, Bennett steadied Jecarne’s swords in his hands. A black central column stretched up to the ceiling in the circular intersection, displaying maps that followed Bennett’s assailant as he stalked around it. Nine hallways radiated from their position.

  The male slunk closer. Pallid skin. Black stripes over blue eyes. Tri-fold mouth with teeth like quills. If silk could be sinister, his voice was such incarnate. “You should’ve stayed. Your death would’ve been less painful with your friends.”

  “So not all of you are innocent,” Bennett spit. He was too exhausted and running on adrenaline to taste the blood he then coughed out.

  A charcoal eyebrow twitched on the man’s face just enough for Bennett to notice.

  “Innocence is for the meek.” The male raised a gun to Bennett’s head.

  Fear could not live amidst the roiling, crackling fire consuming Bennett.

  In one swipe of steel, Bennett lopped off the creature’s hand. He then rammed his other sword deep into the man’s chest.

  As the stranger dropped to his knees, Bennett leaned close and sneered, “Arrogance is weakness.” Planting a boot on the being’s bony shoulder, Bennett shoved the body from his sword.

  Even in death, the male grinned like he knew something Bennett did not.

  Picking up the dropped gun, Bennett found the trigger and ammo status quickly. Studying the schematics on the pillar images which now tracked his body as he moved, Bennett selected a new, safer course.

  He wanted answers and showed no mercy as he cleared a path to the bridge with the stolen gun.

  A chill crept through his mind. Someone approached him from behind.

  Dropping and rolling onto his back, Bennett thrust a sword upwards, goring the being. With gritted teeth, Bennett withdrew the blade and clambered up, sprinting into the large round room at the end.

  He punched the panel on the wall, and the door slammed shut between him and the herd of beings at his back. Bennett’s lungs heaved with the effort of refueling his burning muscles. He stood still, surveying his enemy. They held no visible weapons, but Bennett raised his gun anyway.

  “It’s only a matter of time before they break-in,” one of the creatures said calmly, returning Bennett’s inspection.

  The three stood before escape pods at the innermost wall of the glass room. Cloaks the deepest blues of a human bruise draped off of their shoulders, suggesting they were of higher rank than the others Bennett had encountered. Another similarity to Suanoa. But their armor lacked the cuspidates of Suanoan Noriamé. Instead, they were adorned with what appeared to be diamonds framed in chrome.

  Bennett charged into the room, glaring into radiant blue eyes—Atana’s blue. “Why are you killing everyone?” he demanded.

  The most decorated creature stepped away from his cohorts toward Bennett. His voice was the hardness of arctic ice and equally cold. “You had nearly killed one another before we arrived. Why does it matter?”

  Red light washed over the room, not the kind Bennett recognized from a shield, but from a fiery slice in the universe. They were leaving the solar system, his home, Earth.

  “Not very honorable, abandoning your post and your crew,” Bennett growled, eyeing the pods behind them, wondering what they were fleeing.

  The leader cocked his head with a menacing grin exposing rows of spiny, gray teeth. “They do not need us to save them. You wouldn’t understand our kind. We are stronger, faster, and smarter than every species.”

  Dread spread like cement through Bennett’s veins. There was something insidious about the life forms on this ship, more so than the Suanoa he knew.

  “I see they finally learned how to add the mass-breach function to their suits,” remarked one to the leader.

  “Who are you?” Bennett demanded, ignoring his observation. “And why did you want to kill the Suanoa and us?”

  Wagging a finger, the leader swayed his head as if disappointed in a child. “You ask the wrong question. We’re not a who—but a what.”

  Bennett wasn’t sure he understood.

  “Since there’s no hope of you returning home,” said the leader, lifting a shoulder in apathy, “we’re a genetically-altered species bred from the ancients.” He never, for a second, looked away from Bennett as he spoke. “We do not need sunlight for energy. We have harnessed dark matter. Our consumables are generated. We do not need slaves. No need for you.”

  “But why kill the Suanoa?” Bennett challenged.

  The leader snorted in derision. “Because they are pretentious, inbred demigods who do not know their place!”

  “Beneath you—” Bennett suggested.

  “Yes,” the leader hissed then waved a nonchalant hand. “They don’t know it. Refuse to believe it. Tried to exterminate us. Failed. What more can I say?” His eyes blazed inside narrowing slits. “We will rule all things.”

  Uncomfortable with the leader’s focus on him, Bennett coolly scanned the escape pods and screens lining the room. He hoped to portray more confidence than he felt. But when the leader’s expression switched from fury to mild amusement, Bennett knew he’d hidden nothing with any success. Still, his training as a shepherd helped maintain his expressed calm.

  “Do you know why you failed?” The leader dissected Bennett slowly, deliberately lingering over the features of his face.

  Bennett stood frozen. He didn’t know what else to do but let events take their course as he tried to piece together the information.

  “Because you believe in nothing, not even yourself.”

  Shame crept in until Bennett could squash it down. This being was messing with him. A flashing light from a screen caught his eye. Reveling in a distraction, Bennett looked. “That’s not true.”

  “Bah, you're going to tell me you believe in a girl, one who holds a piece of your heart.” The leader fluttered his eyelids, clasping his hands together in front of him.

  “No.” Bennett paused. If they were, in fact, smarter than Suanoa, they knew when he was lying.

  When the leader’s teal eyes glowered in warning of a reprimand, and his skin took on a shimmering hint of blue, Bennett strained to contain his growing panic.

  They did know.

  “Well, yes. But that's not what I meant,” Bennett blurted.

  The leader’s sadistic smile lost some of its strength. His robe swayed gently in an unexpected breeze.

  Bennett gestured to the flashing, red screen. “I don't know much about tech, but I do know it means “bad,” like catastrophic bad. Judging by the way it's spreading to the others—and that siren,” he said as a blare rang out through the room, “I’d say seconds left?”

  The leader turned on his heel and barked at his underlings, “Report!”

  To his left, the male inspected screens, opening a variety of windows. “Destroyed four of the insulators in the substation. Disconnecting switches failed portside, side of entry. Arc generated cracked a Perythis tank on Level Twenty-one. It’s leaking into the weapons bay.”

  Bennett had found answers and was taking them to the grave along with their source. The Suanoa of Zephyr Station were gone. Atana was under the care of Azure and Lavrion. The team would heal. Panton would lead, and Earth would recover—in time. Time healed everything, and Bennett wasn’t a necessary part of that essential element. He’d nearly died enough times for him to be ready not to have to look forward to the next.

  “How is that possible?” the leader snapped.

  Rejoining the others, the male snorted in disapproval. “Lucky drefent also broke something in the gravity assist for all Z-forty-five compartments.”

  The leader studied his associate. It is odd
he speaks our language.

  Bennett stepped back in confusion. He hadn’t even noticed different words spilling out of his mouth.

  When the siren whooped out again, the three creatures darted for the escape pods.

  As if something else took control, Bennett lifted the gun he’d stolen and shot a hole in each vessel.

  They stopped and turned. Faces warped in snarls. The prior courtesy they’d shown him fell to ash.

  Rumbles grew around them until the floor trembled under Bennett’s boots. Through the glass of the irised doors, Bennett watched the others run, and a pearlescent fire rip toward the room.

  Bennett backstepped to defend himself from the attack, but the three were too fast and his body too broken. Even as time slowed with him, they kept coming. They plowed him over, throwing Bennett hard on his back.

  The pain of the hit to his sore body was nothing compared to the stab of cold bursting into the top of his chest. Gasping, he blinked through watering eyes. The leader knelt over him as the two others held Bennett down. In the leader’s white-knuckled sinewy fingers, a cylinder of chrome blinked with blue lights. The end of it disappeared beneath the charred and curling edges of Bennett’s suit.

  Twisting the device, the creature sent icy pangs scraping through Bennett’s chest.

  Bennett cried out. His lungs stiffened until they threatened to shatter. Rapid and shallow breaths were all he could manage. Bennett strained against the others, wishing the chill would stop and wondering how it could defeat the fire he’d struggled so hard to contain.

  “Brought the outside in,” the leader snarled in delight. “Effective, no?”

  A flare of light filled the room while Bennett gasped. The numbness spread like hypothermia: shivering followed by the weakened thump of his heart and expanding lethargy. Bennett tried to ask how, but it came out a mere groan.

  The leader smiled and tapped Bennett on the nose. “Smarter than you—Prospector.”

  Bennett wheezed from disbelief and cold and hopelessness. He stared up at the leader’s narrowed blue eyes, seeing Atana in them. Every shake of his head sent the world swooshing around him. Not her. They’re not her.

  A wall behind the three exploded inward. They casually looked back then dematerialized in a blend of blue and red orbs, fine as mist drifting into oblivion.

  Released, Bennett curled onto a side, coughing out a spray of crystallized blood. Pulling on the cylinder rendered only heightened pain and howls from Bennett. He gave up on it with a sobbing grunt, too weak, and too afraid to try it again.

  Another explosion rocked the bridge, sending displays swinging. Rain made of burning paper fell around him as he got himself to his knees and crawled to the closest pod. Squeals from warping metal mixed with cracks and pops of fire and collapsing structures. The air was stifling and carried on it the scent of death: burnt blood and flesh and fuel.

  He didn’t know why he was trying to save himself. The pod had a hole in its side, one he’d put there. The weapon had punctured his suit when it entered his chest. Not even Suanoan plasma had done such damage. Blue veins had crawled out of the cylinder, radiating out across his body like venomous fingers. The sight made his headache throb heavier. What reason did he have to try?

  His left shoulder too frozen to move, Bennett limped on his right arm across the threshold and onto the rubber floor of a pod. He slumped against the wall to catch his breath, not caring if he lived or died. The mystery ship had left Earth behind, which meant the kiatna he protected weren’t threatened by it any longer.

  Beside his head, a panel pulsed. Bennett slammed his right fist against it, and the door whooshed shut. He barely noticed the drone of the rumbling engines. The floor pressed up against his shivering body, thrusting him into space.

  Bennett didn’t bother to climb into the single seat. Instead, he focused on pushing the cold feeling away and replacing it with warmth. Gravity disappeared with the light.

  Every ounce of energy wasn't enough. Every sacrifice and risk taken was purposeless. There was something darker living in the void, something no one else, not even the Elites, seemed aware of. Bennett had no way to contact Home, to warn them that Suanoa were not their worst enemy.

  Suanoa—

  The launch came to a grinding halt, throwing him against the roof of the pod. Gold filtered over his vision. Warm liquid, tasting of iron, drained from his nose into his mouth. Through the fractured window, he saw the frayed metal edges of the release chute silhouetted by a strobing light.

  With her eyes—

  Breathing rendered no relief in the absence of oxygen. The emptiness con-sumed him under the blanket of night. Through the glass, he glimpsed strange planets in the far reaches: all browns, grays, and reds. No colors or rings or moons he recognized.

  Suanoa and La’kian.

  Memories stirred as his vision faded, summoning only more pain and regret. As he drifted, weightless and helpless, his body shutting down, Bennett wished only to be Home again. In his mother’s warm arms. Jack beside him with a stuffed dinosaur clutched tight. Laughing at Panton’s uncouth jokes. Watching his team chat like old friends at the lunch table.

  Then it was blood and fire and shredded metal. Ships falling from the sky, crashing, and blooming orange.

  Half-breed.

  Bennett’s chest burned with adrenaline from his panicked realization. Forgive me—

  Chapter 57

  “HIS DEATH IS HONORABLE,” Azure offered from the doorway behind Atana. He’d carried her to a small residential room on Kyra Two so she could rest. But she’d crawled from the bed to the large window and had seen the mysterious, shimmering ship just before it disappeared through the Slashgate.

  Plumes of white light had burst from the hole Bennett’s body had created.

  Bennett’s body was a sickening thought.

  Azure’s words did not comfort her.

  Amianna and Krett had since radioed back that it was not a known gate on any Primvera Guild record. They’d tried to scan for it, but none of the doku or Primvera could identify its point of origin.

  Bennett was gone.

  “What now?” Teek asked over their wristbands.

  “Caring for the injured and securing our damaged ships are our priorities,” Miskaht said over the coms from her post on Agutra. “Cutashk and the others have just discussed finding all survivors a new place to live. Nuiive will be first on the list.” She paused. “Did Klézia make it?”

  Azure crossed his arms and looked down at his feet. “No.”

  A long silence spread over the channel. Atana carefully adjusted her position. It’d been years since she’d been so weak that moving limbs was almost an unachievable task. She had no energy. The veins in her face were black and blue. Her cheeks felt cold beneath her fingertips. Every joint ached, her spine unwilling to bend. Every hair on her head felt like a needle jabbed into her skull. And it hadn’t been enough. Too many had died. Too few had lived.

  “You should rest,” Azure said quietly.

  But she wasn’t ready to leave her post. Bennett could still be out there. The ship might come back.

  “Hyras is missing,” Miskaht finally said. “As are Paramor, Panton, Ramura, and Johna, among others. Has anyone seen any of those listed?”

  The transmission filled with chatter.

  Nothing sounded promising.

  “That leaves ten members of Command.” Miskaht added. “Shepherds have been reduced to just over 3,000. We’re hoping the number increases as MIAs are found.

  Atana covered her mouth with a hand to hide her trembling lips. A month ago, UP had nearly 100,000 soldiers. Unable to hold herself up as the tears fell, she slumped back on the metal floor. A cry of defeat squeaked through her raw throat. Miskaht continued with the list of Agutra survivors and those they’d picked up from the escape pods, but Atana wasn’t listening. She couldn’t think. Only sob from the pain, exhaustion, and heartbreak.

  Azure edged into the room, sinking to his knees beside her.
A tender hand, warm and callused, gently wiped the water from her face. The pressure against her skin was too much. Waves of nausea and throbbing pulses cascaded through her cheeks. She winced and shied away.

  “Sorry,” Azure said, retracting his touch. “I need to work on being gentle.”

  It’s not your fault. None of it is. Atana pushed herself to a sitting position with Azure’s help and wiped her eyes with shaking fingers. Atana never could dwell long in the memories of those lost. It was a downward spiral of guilt that took strength from her fight. Revenge was what helped her sleep at night when the images of battle wouldn’t permit her peace. She knew she deserved the torture of seeing their haunting faces. But they deserved justice.

  We must search for the missing in case they are injured, Atana said.

  “You’re not healthy enough,” Azure contended. “Let someone else.”

  She peered up at him. Like who? Everyone is in the same condition!

  Uncaring of the conversation consuming the channel, Atana palpated the finger-shaped bruises she knew she wore on her neck. She broke in with throat-grating rasps. “I’m taking Kyra Two out of the system at first chance. I’ll start repairs tomorrow.”

  “You most certainly will not,” Lavrion said as he entered the room. “You almost died.”

  Atana frowned at her brother. But I didn’t. And I thought I told you to rest.

  Too exhausted to fight with anyone tonight, she returned to focus to the stars, wondering where Bennett had ended up.

  “He is not going to come back because you wish it or because you stare until you cannot see the stars through your tears.” Azure’s said, soft but cold.

  She looked back at him and studied the gloss to his eyes. Would you have let me do such a thing?

  “He is with the stars, where he belongs.” A warm coat draped around her shivering shoulders. Azure cradled her against his chest. She had a full-on view of his shredded and burnt clothes, and the bruises and cuts spread across his skin.

  Why do you keep saying that? she asked. And why didn’t you answer my question?

  His words rumbled deep through his chest, the vibrations carrying into her body. “I know how you feel losing him, the worry that drives you into madness, and the care that makes you want to do anything, no matter how idiotic, just for a chance to see him again. I see it in your eyes. It is how I felt losing you. But he is a future Prospector. The universe will protect him. It is his family, not us.”