Legacy of Shadows - FINAL
Brandon
Winged Hussar Publishing
Legacy of Shadow
By
Craig Gallant
Legacy of Shadow
By Craig Gallant
Cover by Michael Nigro
Zmok Books an imprint of
Winged Hussar Publishing, LLC, 1525 Hulse Road, Unit 1, Point Pleasant, NJ 08742
This edition published in 2016 Copyright ©Winged Hussar Publishing, LLC
ISBN 978-0-9970946-7-1
Bibliographical references and index
1. Science Fiction 2. Space Opera 3. Action & Adventure
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Prologue
The white dwarf was a distant glowing ember floating in the void, barely brighter than the scattered diamonds of the galactic disk beyond. The forgotten star bathed the system with the last emissions of its final, quiet eons of death. Orbiting the dying sun were the charred and lifeless remains of its children, their black and fractured orbs absorbing the feeble light, giving back almost nothing in return.
Aside from these last fragments, the system had died over a billion years ago. The millennia-long paroxysms that had claimed the planets’ atmospheres were long extinguished. What life might once have thrived there was less than a memory for the vast celestial engine that continued to spin, oblivious to the tragedy that had claimed it. It was a catastrophe that had destroyed countless similar suns, and would destroy countless more as the inexorable forces of entropy marched down through time.
The largest remnant spinning though the silent parade, a dull and melted sphere, had once been the core of a massive gas giant before its voracious parent had devoured its heavy atmosphere. The relic wobbled along in an erratic orbit, still reeling from the grievous deathblow. Had any sentient being felt tempted to visit the dark corpse, it would have taken inordinate skill and stamina to keep station with the dead husk for long. The moon-sized craft that orbited the planet did not suffer the weaknesses or limitations of sentience, however.
Blacker than the most brutalized planetary remains in the system, the shape appeared more a hole in the star field beyond than something concrete and real. It’s blocky, utilitarian shape was unmarred by the violence that had claimed its current home. The ship had kept its vigil for eons. Civilizations had risen and fallen out in the wider galaxy while it followed its silent, purposeful course through the ages.
Deep beneath the vessel’s matte shell, whispers of thought flashed through ancient crystal matrices. There was no awareness behind these whispers. There was no conscious direction behind the thoughts. Patterns and duties set thousands of years ago continued in the silence of the giant hull. Translucent frameworks flashed in slow, steady rhythms as the cadences of the galaxy beyond were tasted, compared, and stored in memory stacks nestled in the heart of the sentinel.
Without warning, the hull vibrated with an imperceptible motion detectable only from the thin layer of celestial dust that shivered free, glittering in the faint light of the distant, dying star. A dim red light formed a rectangle beneath the dispersing motes. A hatch receded, dwarfed by the impenetrable darkness behind. The crimson glow brightened, and then was eclipsed by a spindly shape the matte black of the vessel itself. An armature pushed a bundle of tubes, dishes, and wires through the faint cloud of debris, bringing the instruments in line with the dull metal core of the planetoid below.
Time meant little within the echoing silence of the dead system. The insectile limb hung still and silent for what might have been an age.
Without warning, the instruments stabbed downward. Gravitic power relays and crystalline conduits flashed with a brilliant pulse of intense green light. For a moment, the flank of the giant machine leapt out of the darkness, its structure outlined in fierce jade glory. Massive doors and hatches were scattered across its huge surface, vanes and bulbs protruded here or there following no perceptible pattern. There was no sign of a window, sensor array, or lens of any kind along the entire, colossal length.
A beam of coherent light pierced the remnant atmosphere of the planetoid below. The column struck the slagged sphere in the middle of a wide field of melted craters. The dull surface, greedy for a taste of heat and light, absorbed everything the beam could provide. The lance of energy struck deep into the incredibly dense material, seeking out its core, interacting with ultra-rare elements that had been smelted down in the cosmic furnace of the system’s death. Naturally-occurring matrices of heavy metals came alive within the crust of the planet, and the entire orb rang like the largest bell ever struck. Countless vibrations rippled through the material of the planet and were cast out into space.
Waves and particles of a million varieties spread forth, each following the esoteric rules of its type. Some wrapped themselves around the various dead bodies of the system and returned at once to their point of origin. These were ignored by the hulk floating overhead. Many stretched forth their ethereal fingers, and would not return for hundreds or thousands of years. The sentinel was infinitely patient. Some special few flew outward at staggering speeds, passing tachyons and luxons in their haste to reach the far corners of the galaxy.
The blazing column vanished without fanfare, plunging everything back into endless night. The planet below was silent and dark once more, save for a single glowing crater that quickly cooled and disappeared into the gathering black. Aside from the dim crimson glow from the open hatch, the entire system was dead once again.
The armature drew its bundle back through the hatch. Vague hints of movement within followed, shadows cast out into the void, and then a second shape emerged. A silvery orb slid out into the night and came to a smooth halt.
Again, an unknowable length of time crept past. When echoes of the swiftest waves began to return, the orb shivered. There was no other sign that some of the most powerful elements in the galaxy had been harnessed to a coherent, measured purpose.
The orb was withdrawn, the dull red light eclipsed once again as the hatch closed. Deep within the sentinel, whispers of thoughts returned. Ancient patterns were followed. The paths of the net cast from the dead system were studied rote, mindless precision. Data was separated, weighed, measured, and stored for some possible future purpose.
Nothing had been found.
There was no frustration at this lack of progress. There was no acknowledgment of empty eons sloughing by, except as yet another data point to be catalogued.
Colossal locks slid back into place, securing the huge hatch.
The leviathan had been created for a very specific purpose. It was a hunter, built to scent a particular prey, possibly the most dangerous prey the galaxy had ever known. Every system within the enormous hulk confirmed that this prey had not been detected. None of the ancient parameters so
much as hinted at the prey’s stirring.
But the sentinel was patient. It was singularly devoted to its purpose, neither restlessness nor anxiety designed into its temperament.
Deep within the massive hull the last stray components settled back into their cradles. Power slowed to a trickle as its fiery heart was banked once again, its full potentiality relaxing into a quiet, wary rest.
The dust began to settle once more over the dull black hull, and the dead system was plunged once again into the deathly stillness of a crypt.
Chapter 1
The old Camry labored as they took a sharp turn, its speed hardly diminishing. The tires, which Marcus knew from past experience were probably as bald as the man driving, gave an alarming squeal before the car shuddered, swerving across the faded double yellow line a couple times, and settled back into its belabored roar for the approaching straightaway. A small sign, its faded legend, State Road 189, flashed past.
Marcus held onto the overhead handle with a death grip, but could feel the grin stretching across his face despite the fear. Glancing over to his friend he could see the brilliant white of Justin’s answering smirk nestled within the black goatee and mahogany face, almost lost in the deep shadows. Only their headlights reflecting off the road lines, now coming in the staccato bursts of a passing zone, illuminated the interior.
“You’re going to get us killed or arrested if you keep this up.” Marcus strained around to look through the rear window. The running lights cast a ruddy glow into the wall of trees rushing away on either side. There was no one behind them.
Justin flashed a glance into the rearview mirror and giggled with a sound that Marcus had always found jarring coming from his tall, well-muscled friend. Despite the lack of pursuit, however, Justin kept his expensive shoe jammed on the gas, hunching over the steering wheel like a cartoon villain making his getaway.
“Right about now I’d welcome a little visit from Connecticut’s finest.” He shot another look into the mirror. “How’s your leg?”
Marcus shook his leg in the foot well, twisting it back and forth. It still tingled as if asleep, but nothing like the fiery pins and needles that had downed him when the fat man had first shot him back in the casino parking lot.
“It’ll be okay, I think. Still feels asleep.” He turned again to watch their back trail. “What the hell do you think it was, anyway?”
Justin giggled again. “Don’t ask me, I was too busy kicking the guy’s ass and dragging your squealing self into the car to pay much attention. Mother of all tasers, maybe?”
Marcus shook his head. It had been chaos in the parking lot as Justin tried to push him out to the car. The fat man had appeared out of nowhere, blubbering on about being robbed and wanting his property back. Marcus had no idea what he was talking about and was in the middle of saying as much when the big man had pulled something out of his pocket, and then there had been a brilliant blue flash.
The next thing Marcus knew, he was in the musty old Camry rushing down the highway toward home, Justin giggling beside him.
“Well, whatever the hell it was, you owe me. I’m pretty sure that shot was meant for you, asshole.” Marcus settled back into his seat, grinding his shoes into the matted carpeting, trying his best to ignore the foliage as it whipped past at high speed.
Justin gave him a hurt look, immediately dispelled by that lopsided grin. He pulled something out of his breast pocket and tossed it into Marcus’s lap. “I think he was probably after that.”
Marcus picked the object up. It was delicate, but very heavy. There were chains attached to a solid central body, with several smaller items woven into the chains like a web; a strange, elaborate piece of jewelry or something similar. He reached out and turned on the dome light, bathing the interior in its cold, muddy glow. Holding the thing up, he almost dropped it when he got his first good look. At the center of the web of chains was a massive blue gem, star cut and glimmering even in the poor light. The smaller gems were clear, like diamonds, but picked up blue reflections from the central stone. The metal was silver, but polished to such a high shine it sparkled almost as much as the gems.
“What the hell is this?” Marcus breathed. It looked like something from a movie, around the neck of a queen, maybe. “How’d you get it?”
Justin shrugged. “The guy had a streak of bad luck. He was flat, and the hand was winding down. He asked if he could throw it into the pot to go all in, and I let him.” The grin appeared again. “I might not have let him if I hadn’t been sitting on three kings.”
Of the two friends, Justin was the gambler, and Marcus left him to it. But even Marcus knew that it was highly irregular for folks in a high stakes back room game to accept anything like this piece of jewelry into the pot. “That’s not like you.” But he couldn’t keep his eyes off the flashing sapphire jewel.
Justin shrugged again. “Well, to be honest, it was down to just him and me, and he asked, and … well …” Marcus looked over and was surprised to see his friend’s grin turn a little sheepish. “I didn’t know what it was worth, okay? I was embarrassed. The way the guy was acting, it was like he was throwing in his first born. I didn’t want to seem like some rube in front of the other guys. You know how those New York jerks can get when they think they’ve got one up on you. So I played the big man, like I was doing him a favor, and we ran the rest of the game down.” He snickered. “You should have seen his face, though, when I flipped my cards.”
Marcus tried to force himself to lower the necklace, but a sudden flash of blue light blinded him and his whole body tensed. His hands burned as if they held live wires. His vision seemed to vibrate, patterns of light and shadow strobing behind his eyes. He had a feeling, even stunned with surprise and fear, that there had to be some sense or meaning behind the shivering visions.
It ended as quickly as it had begun, and Marcus dropped the necklace into his lap, his breath coming in harsh, desperate pants.
“He was muttering something over and over again about math, shaking that big dopey fat head like he was in a nightmare.” Justin continued, looking over at Marcus’s silence. His eyes widened and the car slowed. “You okay, buddy?”
Marcus shook his head. Whatever had happened, Justin hadn’t noticed. He mumbled through numb, tingling lips, “I hate it when you call me that.”
Justin’s smile returned a little. “Man, you had me there for a second. You looked like you’d seen a ghost or something.”
Marcus looked down again at the necklace, wanting to pick it up, but at the same time afraid. He generally didn’t like surprises, and that one had been nasty. Maybe there was a battery or something behind the big blue stone?
“Oh, damn.” Justin muttered, reaching up to adjust the rearview mirror. “Things are about to get even more interesting.”
Marcus turned, looking back down the highway, and for a moment stared at the oncoming headlights without understanding. As their own car started to surge away, however, he realized what Justin thought was happening. He collapsed back into his seat, checked his belt, and settled in.
“It might not be him.” Marcus said the words because he felt like he was supposed to. There was no conviction behind them, however.
“No, sure. This time of night, on this road, it could be almost anybody.” Justin hunched his shoulders again and the car rushed forward with a hoarse, angry howl.
“Might be Connecticut’s finest, like you said.” Marcus’s eyes were fixed straight ahead, a growing sickness rising in his throat.
“If they catch me, they’re welcome to everything I’ve got.” Justin flicked his eyes into the mirror. “You didn’t see that guy’s eyes, Marc. Back there in the parking lot? There was something going on in there I don’t think we want any part of.”
Marcus was not one to run from a fight, and he knew Justin felt the same. But for some reason, as his guts wound up tighter and tighter, he felt like his friend had the right of it. “Well, what’s he going to do, run us off the road?�
� He was trying to sound reassuring, but the question came out far too serious and sensible in his own ears, and his stomach twisted tighter.
For almost a minute the two men were silent as the trees streaked past. The old State Road wove gently from side to side here, following some old stream or colonial property line. There was nothing like the turn that had recently tortured so much protest from the tires. Unfortunately, the car creeping relentlessly up behind them was clearly in far better shape. There was no doubt how this chase was going to end.
“Maybe we just give him back the damned necklace?” Justin’s voice was sharp as he spat the words out without warning. “I mean, what the hell do we need with something like that anyway?”
Marcus was nodding, ready to agree, but his mouth clenched shut, and he found himself unable to respond. The knot in his stomach and the burning in his throat moved nearer to each other, settling with a sharp pain over his heart.
He wasn’t going to let the necklace go.
“Marc? How about it, man? We slow down, you toss it out the window, we move on?” There was a tightness in Justin’s voice that Marcus had never heard before. His friend, usually the coolest head in any situation, was close to losing it. There was something foreign in the air that made no sense. When they were younger, the two of them had been in more than their fair share of brawls. Sure, they were a little old to be getting into fights on the side of the road at this point in their lives, especially against strange fat men. But the panic in his chest, and the fear in his friend’s voice, belayed the confidence both of them should have felt.
Marcus turned, straining against the tight belt, and his lips pursed at the gleaming headlights bearing down on them. Swiveling back, he thought for a moment, and then looked at his friend, putting every ounce of conviction into his voice. “How much gas do you have?”
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