Legacy of Shadow

by Gallant, Craig;

  Without turning away, Marcus nodded to this newest group. “A lot of the people here seem like … well … people …?” He trailed off, feeling foolish. He had never understood those who judged people on their color or nationality, but it was a lot harder to do when the differences were so much more noticeable.

  Bha’s voice was hard, and he knew she had not missed his fumble. She glanced out into the hall with a sour look. “Children.”

  That brought him back around, eyes narrowing. He had been puzzling over that phrase since his first day in the city. “What does that mean?”

  She looked at him, her eyes dull, and then jerked her chin back at the wall. “Those you find most intriguing share a common genetic heritage. They are similar in many ways, are they not? They are often referred to as ‘Children’, although they would not thank you for addressing them as such.”

  He looked back. He saw that the white-skinned arrivals all seemed to be inordinately attractive. They clearly differed from the tall, brown-skinned monster, but they all walked with a proud, easy gait that spoke volumes for their self-esteem. He nodded. “Yeah, I see it, I guess.” He turned back to her. “They almost look Human.”

  She barked one of her humorless laughs. “Suggest that to any of them, especially a Subbotine there, and you would quickly find that no, they are not.”

  He went back to staring. He felt like a voyeur, but he could not turn away. “But you call them ‘Children’.”

  “You need to prepare for your introduction, Marcus Wells.” She stood and moved to stand near him. “The room will soon be full.” She stared out, her wide eyes shining. “I have not seen such a crowd in all my time in the city. Administrator Uduta Virri seldom called general meetings, and even when he did, attendance was … sparse.”

  Marcus continued to watch as the menagerie filed in through the many doors in the back of the room.

  Beside him he felt Iphini Bha stiffen, and looked out at the chamber, trying to see what had caused this new tension. A pair of beings had entered from one of the smaller side doors. The shorter of the two wore elaborate white robes that reminded him vaguely of the disguises Angara had forced upon him and Justin when they had first arrived. A pale green snout emerged from the hood, bordered by an ivory beard of braids or tendrils. This figure walked with the assistance of a pale, metallic staff. One step behind it came a taller Humanoid in very dark robes of a similar cut. He couldn’t make out much detail within the shadows of the hood, but the face looked Human enough, with some sort of markings scattered beneath the eyes and over the nose.

  “Who are they?” He jerked his chin at the newcomers.

  “Thien’ha.” She answered stiffly. “Let us be glad that Ambassador Taurani chose not to stay. For some reason, he seems to find their presence objectionable.”

  Marcus smiled. He found himself more positively inclined toward any beings that annoyed Taurani. Thoughts of the ambassador brought with them darker considerations, and the smile faded.

  For the first time, trying to take his mind off what was about to happen, he looked out at the chamber itself. Between its white coloring and the tall pillars that lined the walls it reminded him of some piece of classical architecture from Earth’s distant past.

  “Where are we now?” He asked without turning to Bha. “What kind of ship was this?”

  She tilted her head as she gazed up at the pillars melding into the distant, vaulted ceiling. “It belonged to the Mhatrong.” She raised a delicate finger to point to the tall alien standing with the pale-skinned Humanoids. “Thousands of years ago there were far more of them, and they traveled on such ships to quench their thirst for knowledge. Even today most of them are philosophers and truth-seekers. This ship was the furthest they ever got from their home planet, Te’Jeonah.”

  He watched the frightening creature as it found a seat amidst its shorter companions. It didn’t look like a philosopher. More like a nightmare.

  He let his mind wander; trying to remember the last time he had performed before such a hostile crowd. He had avoided such obligations as often as he could, and on those few rare occasions when he had needed to talk to a large group, it had happened spontaneously. Here, he had plenty of time to brood.

  His mind was turning down darker paths when he noticed a new group coming through the central doors. Something about the man leading the little entourage struck him as familiar. Most of the creatures were within his rapidly-expanding idea of ‘normal’, with two arms and two legs, a head above a torso, that sort of thing. Many of them seemed to be what Bha would call ‘Children’, too, among the more alien offerings. But his eyes went back to the creature leading the parade, and he nearly choked.

  Justin looked nothing like himself, dressed in the flowing tunic and loose pants of a galactic. There was something decidedly odd about his face that Marcus could not make out. But as he concentrated on his friend, something about the wall warped, the view zoomed in on Justin, and it was suddenly as if he were standing right in front of his oldest friend.

  The neatly-trimmed goatee had been dyed red, but that was not the strangest change.

  Justin’s eyes were entirely white.

  Somewhere, Justin had managed to find himself contacts, or something similar, that would make him look like the black-skinned galactic Iphini Bha had assumed him to be when they had first met. And under this guise, he seemed to be doing quite well for himself.

  “Justin Shaw has adjusted to Penumbra, it seems.” Bha dipped her head toward the distant party, taking seats near the back. “He looks like a true Mnymian now, and clearly his new companions feel likewise.”

  Marcus wandered if the sour chill he felt might be jealousy. He had been isolated in his opulent rooms for days, and Justin had clearly been making himself right at home in their new, outlandish surroundings. With a sigh, he shrugged. Better one of them be happy, anyway, as long as they were trapped here.

  And they were trapped here, he knew. Once again, his tendency to allow himself to float along had left him at the mercy of a current that clearly had no regard for his own desires.

  A small door to the rear of their room hissed open and Angara Ksaka stepped in. She was wearing a more formal-appearing version of her flying jacket, sweeping to her knees and belted at her narrow waist. Her white hair had been braided into something that looked a lot like a crown. Her boots snapped sharply on the hard, stone-like floor.

  “Are you prepared?” She stalked passed him and stood at the wall, watching the milling crowd. She whirled, the tails of her coat flaring, and glared at him. “Remember, you are just taking the position until a suitable candidate can be found.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “They just care that a beating heart sits beneath the Skorahn. They want to know that you are not a blood-thirsty killer, that you’re not going to cause difficulties to the many folk who come here to conduct business unmolested.”

  Marcus nodded, although she was doing nothing for his confidence. “I understand.” He looked at his feet. Black boots, maybe some kind of leather? The uniform aspect of his clothing reminded him more of his family than he would have liked while trying to marshal his thoughts for the speech.

  “But it will be easier if they feel comfortable with me in the office, yes?” He looked up at Angara. He was not the only one who had been elevated by their current situation. From bodyguard to king-maker with a single pull of the trigger. If he was being honest with himself, he had lost a bit of sleep at that thought.

  “Just don’t get … intricate.” She looked sour and nervous, stepping back to check his appearance. “Half of the beings out there are only here to see a Human in the flesh. There are thousands of years of expectations on the line. Please try not to meet any of them.”

  “That would be easier if I knew more about what they’re expecting.” He muttered.

  The three of them watched as a last rush filled the remaining seats in the large room. Something Iphini Bha had said earlier came back to him now that Angara had arr
ived.

  “Iphini mentioned that Virri seldom called this kind of meeting.” He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject without giving the wrong impression. The last thing he wanted to do moments before his big debut was to start another fight with the purple-skinned woman.

  Angara nodded, her face closing up.

  “Well, I wouldn’t have thought he would have had any meetings like this, the way you talk about him.” He gestured out to the crowd through the invisible wall. “If all they really care about is my beating heart, and Virri didn’t care at all for the job himself, why would he have any meetings? In fact, from what you’ve said, the position of administrator is almost entirely symbolic. Why would anyone have a meeting like this?”

  The two females looked past him to share a glance, and then turned back to the wall. Angara shrugged. “The city runs itself, for the most part. Corporate conglomerates, racial alliances, and powerful individuals all form the moving parts of a society in constant flux. The office of the administrator is there to ease the jagged edges where those parts meet. The office has a great deal of discretionary power, actually, but it has been a very long time since anyone exercised it. The city was really started, thousands of your years ago, as the Galactic Council was forming at the tail end of the last great war. The purpose of the city has always been to offer a place for beings to come together without fear of incurring the wrath of those who strive for dominance in the wider galaxy.”

  Marcus thought about that for a second. “So, it isn’t necessarily an empty position, then? I mean, the administrator has some power?”

  Angara looked at him sharply. “You are a cipher, Marcus Wells. You are a place saver, and nothing more. Penumbra’s citizens have far more to lose here than you have to gain by seeking to rise above the moment.”

  “Still,” he wouldn’t give up. “The city is important for a series of very specific reasons. And the office of administrator seems to be one from which those reasons could be well-served.” He looked to her with a small grin. “It seems to me, anyway.”

  “The people of Penumbra have grown used to conducting their own affairs.” Iphini Bha’s voice was distant. “There is no need for any one being to insert themselves into the process and endanger the entire construct.” The cool blue eyes fell on him. “Such efforts would not be well-received.”

  She was afraid of something. He nodded; Taurani. The shadow of the Galactic Council reached even into these hidden chambers, in a floating city that apparently existed solely as a refuge from their influence.

  It was something he would need to remember. Khuboda Taurani had seemed like nothing more than an insufferable prig, but a far larger, more dangerous entity crouched behind him, ready to pounce.

  Well, he would just have to make sure he didn’t give anyone any reason to pounce. And yet, as he had that thought, a tight smile twisted at the corner of his lips.

  “Well, if it’s time, I think maybe we should get this over with? I’ve got more sleeping I have to do in my bed built for ten.” He looked from one woman to the other, a professional, confident smile in place, and he gestured to the wall. “It will be easier to go through the door if I can see it.”

  Iphini looked to Angara, who looked through narrowing eyes at Marcus. “Do not wander from our intended path, Human.” She spat the word, and it sent a chill up his neck. He didn’t like the tone or the sensation, but he nodded.

  Iphini Bha waved her hand and the wall solidified before them.

  Marcus took a deep breath, straightened his tunic, and turned to the two alien women. “Well, wish me luck, ladies!”

  Before either could respond, he stepped forward, the door slid opened at his approach, and he entered the now-silent Central Council Chamber.

  Chapter 11

  The low, rumbling rush of countless conversations hissed into silence as the door opened. Even so, the nanites in his brain gave him a sharp pain as they tried to translate every sound into something he could understand before the blessed silence descended. He winced, but the pain faded even as he became aware of it, leaving him clear-headed and focused.

  The kaleidoscopic range of sizes, colors, and textures seated before him seemed much more daunting without an invisible wall to hide behind, but he tightened his smile and skipped up the short flight of stairs to the dais and the podium at its forward edge. As he walked, his eyes scanned the room, smiling to any face that seemed remotely receptive, nodding to those with a more grave aspect.

  He found Justin and his associates and his smile widened. Let him hide behind his contact lenses for now. Marcus was going to redefine what this crowd of alien creatures expected of a Human, whether Angara approved or not.

  As he came up to the podium, he wondered how loud he was going to have to be. He could see nothing that resembled a microphone, of course. These people appeared to carry everything they needed with them as tiny implants in their heads. He shrugged. He’d speak as loudly as it seemed necessary, and trust the room and the various galactic technologies to do the rest.

  He cleared his throat, smiling again, and almost coughed as he saw the tall, long-necked, purple-furred creature that had accompanied Taurani earlier slip into the room and stand near the back. So, the Council’s ambassador would be represented after all, hm? Well, word of what passed here would have reached him eventually anyway. Better to be able to see the snakes than to have them hiding in the shadows.

  “Welcome, everyone.” He had decided early on to keep things generic. He gave them his best smile, and nodded. “I know you all have important duties to attend to, so I will attempt to keep this brief for today.”

  As he finished his welcoming statement, another of the doors in the rear opened and a giant figure stepped through. It was the red-skinned demon they had seen in the docking bay. Everything Angara had told them about K’hzan Modath fled from his mind as he stared into the gnarled face, its red flesh and sweeping black horns leering at him from deep within the mists of race memory. The red king was not alone, accompanied by several of his guards, who quickly pushed a small party of brown-furred, white-faced creatures from their low chairs. The chairs immediately rose to accommodate the much larger aliens, who settled in with blank faces, staring at him in a way that he could interpret only as a challenge.

  He coughed into one raised hand and quirked an eyebrow at Justin. His friend looked back, then turned to face forward again, his white eyes round.

  “Ah,” he tried to rally his thoughts. “Ah, yes.” His smile reemerged. “My name is Marcus Wells, and I am, indeed, a Human from Earth.”

  He was braced for almost anything. He had expected an explosion of denials or threats. Angara and Iphini Bha had him so wound up, if weapons had been drawn he wouldn’t have been completely surprised; although they had assured him he would be safe through his speech. Of course now that he thought of it, the fact that they had made that stipulation, and not mentioned what might happen after his speech, had been less than comforting.

  What he had not anticipated, was total silence.

  The room was completely still. Countless eyes stared at him. Some were hostile, some were open, some were idle. Most, however, were completely inscrutable, in faces whose alien structures he could not begin to decipher.

  “I … well, I … I just wanted to let everyone know, I’m not a monster.” He raised his hands out to his sides with a big smile.

  More silence.

  He could see Justin looking around him in alarm. It made sense, when he thought about it. How often did diplomatic efforts on Earth go completely wrong because of cultural differences in tenor and humor? And the gulf between Americans and Russians was nothing compared to the gulf between a Human being and some of the things he saw out there staring back at him now.

  There was a fluttering in his gut that forced its way up his throat and into the back of his mouth. It carried with it the sour tang of fear.

  He watched as the big demonic creature settled deeper into his chair, his twisted face u
nreadable.

  He was going to throw up.

  It started as a vague itching behind his eyes. His first thought was that the tiny robots in his mind were rebelling. He thought he could almost feel them struggling to break free. He looked to either side. There were citizens of Penumbra seated right up to the edge of the dais. There in the front row he saw the two creatures in their mystic-like robes, the short green one in white watching him with an encouraging smile, the taller figure in black with flat, narrow eyes. He glanced behind him. The door had closed, but he could feel Angara Ksaka and Iphini Bha staring at him through the one-way transparent wall.

  He felt his gorge rising up, following the trail blazed by his first rush of fear and failure.

  Then the feelings in his brain twisted somehow. There was a strange clicking in his mind, as if footsteps on a bare stage. The itching grew worse, his body stiffening with the discomfort.

  Then it ended. There was a sense of peace and confidence. And of someone else looking out from behind his eyes.

  He knew what had happened immediately. He remembered the image of his younger self threatening him within a dark world constructed in his own mind, back on Angara’s ship. That calm, clear voice was rising now, assessing the room with cold precision. For a moment, fear surged again in that part of him that was falling away. What if this wasn’t some mild psychotic break at all? What if this was a construct of the tiny robots filling his mind? It didn’t matter, though, because the consciousness that thought of itself as Marcus Wells, who had made a living for over ten years writing inane radio ads for a small local station, who had let every major decision in his adult life wash past him, easing him along the path of least resistance, was only a passenger now in his own head.

  His eyes scanned the room again, but this time with a foreign, cold regard. He saw much more than he had. He saw doubts, fears, and disbelief. And somehow, as he saw all that, he felt certain he could pull strings that would yank those emotions in whatever direction he wished. He saw facial expressions that, defying reasonable expectation, were far closer to Human equivalents than they should be. And he knew that this version of himself, the man he would have been had he seized the reigns of his life years before and not left himself to the mercy of expediency, could read those faces far better than the man he had become.