Legacy of Shadow

by Gallant, Craig;

  Standing up to his father that day had been the last real stand he’d ever made.

  Marcus sat down, desperation and fear threatening to choke him.

  “Something’s wrong, Justin.” He muttered the words quietly, shooting a quick glance at Iphini Bha, who pretended to be gazing out the translucent wall. His friend looked down at him, his mouth still tight, his strange eyes inscrutable. Marcus tapped on his temple. “Something’s wrong up here.”

  With his irises completely occluded by the white lenses, it was impossible to tell where Justin was looking. Somehow, however, he managed to convey a dramatic rolling of his eyes.

  “What does that even mean?”

  Marcus sat back. “Something happened back on Angara’s ship, when she first gave us that nano-drink? I had a … well, some kind of hallucination, I think; or an episode.” He shook his head as the words failed him. “I saw something.”

  Justin laughed and dropped into another chair. “I saw something too, Marc. I saw all kinds of screwed up shit! Our brains were being deep-fried as the little buggers were changing all sorts of things up there! It was just a delusion. No big deal. You’re fine now, I’m sure.”

  Marcus shook his head again. “No, I’m not. It’s happened since then, too. I feel like someone is looking out through my eyes, making observations and conclusions without me.”

  Justin’s white eyes narrowed. “Someone like who?” He finally looked concerned. “You mean, something to do with the nanite-enhancements?”

  Marcus leaned forward, elbows on knees, and settled his forehead into his palms. “No. I don’t think so, anyway.” He looked up, meeting his friend’s strange gaze. “It’s me. But it’s … a different version of me. It’s me from back then,” he titled his head, feeling sheepish after Justin’s initial attack. “From back when I was more …” He groped for words.

  Justin found them. “Back when you were daddy’s good little soldier?” He nodded. “Yeah, I told you, that’s exactly what you sounded like.”

  “But that wasn’t me!” Marcus insisted. “It was different, I wasn’t in charge of my own body!”

  Justin shook his head, waving one hand dismissively. “The stress we’ve both been subjected to is ridiculous, Marc. Hell, we’re living in a city in space, filled with monsters who hate us. And if that’s not enough, it all seems ready to fall apart around our ears.”

  His friend spun to face him. “It’s you, Marc. It’s all those parts of yourself you tried to disown years ago. Your brain is playing some sort of weird mind game on you, and that makes sense.” He reached out and grasped Marcus’s shoulder quickly before sitting back. “It’s all you, man. You’re going to be fine.”

  Marcus was not convinced, but it felt good just having spoken of it. He nodded, not wanting to spend this brief moment with his friend fighting about his own psychosis.

  An awkward silence stretched on for a moment, and then Marcus cleared his throat. “So, thanks for coming by.” He waved at his friend’s outfit. “You look like you’re doing well.”

  Justin grinned, looking down at his colorful tunic. “Not bad.” He shrugged. “Folks are folks. Find out what one person wants, but can’t get, go find it, tie it to what another person wants, but can’t get. Usually, within three or four removes, you’ve made several people happy, and if you’re not an idiot, you’ve made a nice profit.”

  Marcus got up, shaking his head. Justin would always land on his feet, no matter where he landed. “Well, good for you, anyway.” He moved to the wall and looked out. The two figures in their robes, one black and one white, were in their customary places. They had become one of the few constants in these meetings; them, and the steady decrease in other attendees.

  “I assume you hear things, in all that running around you’ve been doing?”

  Justin came up beside him, nodding. “Yeah. One of the main reasons I started.”

  “Well, that and it’s in your blood.” Marcus smiled, and then indicated the two Thien’ha with his chin. “Learn anything about them?”

  Justin peered through the wall at the two figures for a moment, and then shrugged. “Not that much, I’m afraid. They wander around a lot. I haven’t had a lot of luck digging into their religion, or philosophy, or whatever. Those things seem a lot more jumbled up here than back home. I think their particular area of interest and belief is in moments of transition and testing. The concept of cycles, and beginnings and endings, figures prominently in what I have been able to find. So they show up during periods of upheaval and difficulty. Gives them sort of a storm-crow reputation, you know what I mean?”

  “Pretty standard stuff, I guess.” Marcus nodded. “Do they cause the upheaval, or are they there to help people?”

  “The Thien’ha do not help or hinder.” Iphini Bha said from her chair, her eyes fixed on her pen. “Their order believes that entropy is a trial, provided by the universe to test all creatures. They worship the larger cycles of life, the spheres within which sentience travels in its progress through the ages. Thien’ha, in particular those of the Hoabin discipline, seek to observe these transitional moments to see what they may reveal about the sentient condition.”

  Marcus shared a glance with Justin, and then looked back at his usually-reticent deputy. “Are they common? You seem very familiar with their beliefs.”

  She shrugged, staring down at her hands. “The Thien’ha are masters of dealing with pain and loss. An initiate into their mysteries is said not to experience the cruel buffets of fate. There was a time I craved such a thing.”

  Marcus looked at Justin again, and his friend raised an eyebrow, turning to look back to the larger chamber beyond. “Well, from everything I’ve heard, they’ve come to the right place for some upheaval.”

  They watched the sparse crowd for a moment in silence when Marcus said, “Ambassador Taurani has not yet made his appearance.” Bile rose in his throat at the thought.

  Justin’s smile at that seemed a little out of place. “Taurani comes to your little shindigs?”

  Marcus nodded sourly. “Never missed a one. He sits right up front, with that long-necked freak of an assistant standing behind him, gets up just as I start to talk, denounces me in the name of the Galactic Council, and then storms out.” He smiled wryly. “It’s one of the few points of normalcy in my schedule, lately.”

  Justin shook his head. “I don’t get it. I don’t get how the Council could have any power in a society like this. Why do these people even care what he thinks?”

  Marcus looked back at Iphini. “Any enlightenment you can offer? What’s the Galactic Council all about? I feel like I’ve been running or hiding from them since I first met Angara, but I’ve had other things on my mind. Angara seems to think they’re the bad guys. Are they evil?” His mouth twisted. “That last one sort of answers itself, considering they’ve chosen Taurani as their envoy here.”

  Iphini Bha looked up at him with unblinking eyes, then looked away. “Ambassador Khuboda Taurani is a well-respected, powerful servant of the Council. They are not evil, their concern is for all beings in the galaxy. It is a view easily confused with callous disregard for the minority.”

  Justin snorted. “We’ve heard that kind of bullshit before. How do they do that, by keeping them in chains where they can be safely contained? Human history’s got a few examples of groups that had similar goals.”

  Bha rose up, her huge bald head swinging back and forth. “No! The Council controls the larger polities, stewarding the resources of the galaxy so that they can be best used for the betterment of all. And do not compare the Council with anything you debased beasts have grunted into existence back on your pathetic little prison-planet!”

  Marcus’s eyes widened. She had never shown such heat before. Justin’s eyes narrowed. “Makes me wonder why you’d be working against them, Iphini. If they’re so great, why help Churchill here to stick a thumb in their eye?” He jerked a thumb in Marcus’s direction.

  Iphini stared at the black-s
kinned man for a moment then turned away. “I do not work for or against them. I merely state a reality. The Council manages the resources of the galaxy. Most beneath their rule are entirely content with things as they stand.”

  Justin looked incredulous. “So, every race in the galaxy lets this Council dictate everything? How does something like that happen?”

  She shrugged, but Marcus had the impression she was getting uncomfortable. He waved a hand, frustrated. “It is all ancient history now, anyway. The Galactic Council has ruled since before Jesus wore knickers, from what I’ve been able to find.” Seeing Bha continue to squirm, Marcus felt a stirring of pity. He turned to his friend to change the subject. “So, what sorts of wheelings and dealings are you bringing to bear as you build your little trade empire?”

  But Justin’s curiosity was piqued, and he wasn’t about to set things aside as readily as Marcus often did. He continued to stare at the small alien woman. “No, I’m confused. How does a galaxy-spanning empire like you describe form and maintain its power for thousands of years? Someone would have risen up, surely?”

  “Why would anyone throw away ages of peace and prosperity only to dominate others? What do you think we are, Humans?” She spat back at him. “Every race in the galaxy has an equal say in the governing of the Council. And meeting together, they agree on every aspect of Galactic life.”

  “So, there’s no powerful nation, or planet, or whatever, ruling over the weaker ones?” His skepticism was obvious to Marcus.

  “Each race, or system, receives a single vote. There are more aggressive races, to be sure. The Variyar come to mind. But their single vote is overwhelmed by the smaller, more enlightened polities.”

  “And so the Variyar just let themselves be outvoted? To their own loss?” He shook his head.

  “I would not expect a Human to understand the concept of the greater good.” She spat back at him, moving to the door. “Administrator, if you’ve no further need of me?”

  “Wait!” Marcus had conducted one session without Iphini behind him, and it had been a disaster. “He’ll shut up. We’re done with that topic.” He turned to Justin, who was still fuming. “We’re done, right?”

  His friend shrugged, his mouth a tight line. “Whatever, man.”

  She stood by the door, looked from one man to the other, and then nodded. “Very well. It is almost time to begin, anyway.” She gestured toward the transparent wall, and as Marcus turned to look, he nearly jumped. The room beyond was almost full, holding far more creatures than it had since his first session. There seemed to be an energy whispering through the crowd that had not been there before.

  “There’s a lot of people out there.” He muttered under his breath. “They seem a lot more engaged than usual.”

  Justin smiled. “I might have had a word with a few of my friends. This session should go a little smoother than the last few. I’ve also got it on good authority that Ambassador Taurani might be delayed today.”

  His friend stepped up beside him and slapped him on the back. “Go be your best self, Marc.” His smile was wide. “Don’t worry about where it’s coming from. If we’re going to both get out of this in one piece, you’re going to have to get over it and just do the job.”

  *****

  Marcus found himself once again behind the podium in the grand chamber of the ancient Mhatrong. The crowd was restless, and he felt the old nerves rising again. Maybe, if he got so worked up he was going to vomit, that old version of himself would resurface again?

  He actually contemplated bending behind the podium and jamming a finger down his throat. The thought made him smile, and he felt something loosen in his chest. He could do this. Also, without Taurani glaring at him, he thought he might actually be able to get through the entire meeting without sweating through his tunic.

  In a few brief moments that sped past, Marcus opened the assembly and reiterated his intention to step down as soon as a replacement could be found. He also offered a quick report upon the business of the city as proof that a Human in the command throne had not brought immediate Armageddon down upon Penumbra. He then carefully made his case for solidarity against the Galactic Council. Over the past few sessions, these moments had been met with a smattering of catcalls and dark looks. This time, much like the first session, there was silence, and he saw several heads nodding along with his words.

  Marcus cleared his throat after he finished formally opening the session. He cast his eyes over the sentients arrayed in the first few rows. They appeared to be waiting for something.

  He cleared his throat again, and then, gripping the podium with both hands, looked out over the waiting crowd. He tried to push all the sincerity he felt for his newfound crusade out over them, to bring them to his side.

  “Tradition confers upon me the power now to offer any being a hearing who wishes to beg for the assistance of the city. This tradition has not been exercised in a very long time, but please believe that I extend the offer now with only the most genuine hope in my heart that we might work together to fully realize the dream that first established Penumbra in the lost and distant past.” He looked around, hoping for any sign that anyone might come forward this time, to help him take the next step. “Is there any sentient here who might benefit from the power of Penumbra?”

  An expectant silence settled down over the chamber. It was as it had been every other time he had extended this offer. The room was still, eyes sliding quietly from side to side as everyone waited to see if someone would stand.

  Marcus closed his eyes, his head lowered. He was almost relieved. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would do if someone did step up at this point.

  And then he heard someone cough. Looking up, he saw a man making his slow way toward the dais, a wary look on his jaundiced face.

  The man was a Diakk, yet another of the Children. Marcus had seen several Diakks in his wanderings since coming to Penumbra, but had learned almost nothing about them. The hooded figure accompanying the Thien’ha master was a Diakk, he believed, but that was the only one he remembered seeing on a regular basis.

  The markings or scales on this man’s face ran between his eyes and down his nose, and then reemerged on his chin, similar to Marcus’s goatee. His hands were curling in upon themselves, and he looked as if he thought the crowd was going to rush him from behind.

  Marcus dismissed the podium with a thought. He hadn’t even known he could do that! He looked down at the dais at his feet, his brow wrinkled, and the surface of the raised platform shifted, carrying him down with it, to create a sort of semi-circular bench that would allow him to sit at floor level.

  He waved to one arm of the curving seat with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Please, join me.” Now that he actually had a supplicant before him, he had no idea how to proceed.

  The pale-skinned man nodded, looking to either side, and then lowered himself to the hard surface. He perched on the very edge of the seat, looking like he might bolt at any moment.

  Marcus had to remind himself that Humans had a terrible reputation here in the wider galaxy. This man was not seeing a mild-mannered salesman sitting before him, or even the administrator of the city. He was probably seeing some horrible monster that might be expected to cut him down without a moment’s thought.

  Not for the first time, Marcus cursed the barrier that separated him from everyone else who lived here. How was he supposed to do this job, even briefly, when he was hated and feared by the very people he wanted to help?

  But that was for another time. Right now, he needed to treat this man with respect, and see that he didn’t run away at the first opportunity.

  “What’s your name?” He tried to sound natural, feeling anything but.

  The Diakk man looked at him through eyes that twitched to narrow slits. “I am Copic Fa’Orin.” His voice was soft. There was something going on in those eyes, however, that put some steel into his spine, and he sat up straighter.

  Marcus nodded encouragingly.
He started to reach out his hand, but thought better of it as Copic Fa’Orin flinched away. “I am honored to meet you, Copic Fa’Orin.” He inclined his head slowly, trying to avoid sharp movements. “What can Penumbra do to help you?”

  Again, the man cast a quick glance behind him, shoulders hunched. When he spoke next, his voice was so soft Marcus could barely make out the words.

  “My son is very sick.” Saying it seemed to give the man strength, and he straightened again. “My son is ill. I cannot secure his treatment alone.” He looked directly at Marcus for the first time, his dark eyes flashing. “I need your help.”

  Marcus pursed his lips. This was exactly the kind of thing he had been hoping for, except he had no idea how he might be able to help this man. He gestured for the Diakk to continue, hoping that something would come to him, or that that cold, calculating part of his mind would reemerge.

  Copic Fa’Orin took a deep breath. His eyes slid away from Marcus’s face and seemed to be focused somewhere else. “My son suffers from a rare genetic disorder indigenous to Varra, our homeworld. There is only one known remedy, but my petitions to the local Council legates were all rejected.” His mouth twisted with a bitter snarl. “There are too many Diakk on Varra, it appears, and the treatment, in short supply, was needed for citizens of less well-represented stock.” The fire in his eyes built, and his fists clenched. “I was told, to my face, that my boy represented excess population, and thus vital resources could not be wasted … wasted, for his benefit.”

  A cold pit opened up in Marcus’s gut. He could not even begin to imagine the horror this man had experienced. But at the same time, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it. He had intended to defy the Council, yes. But he had no power to force them to do anything, either.

  The Diakk man must have seen that in his face, because he shook his head and continued. “There is a consortium operating out of Penumbra with the necessary equipment to treat my son, but I cannot pay their fees. Without those credits, they do not have the power allocation to prepare the therapy.”