Shadow Soldier (The Shadow Saga)

by J. L. Lyon

  “Open war is not their goal,” Alexander said darkly. “They will use the tactics for which Silent Thunder has always been known, and assault key operations facilities in Alexandria over the next few months. They will attack with the aid of surprise, wreak decisive damage, and disappear before our forces can muster to take them down. They will continue this method until our infrastructure is crippled, and then they will make a move on our center.”

  “The palace?” Donalson asked. “But that would be suicide!”

  “Perhaps so,” Alexander nodded. “But that is his goal. Sawyer understands, as should every man in this room, that a symbol is more important to a ruler than even the greatest army the world has ever known. This palace is the symbol of our dominion over the world. If it is destroyed, it will be open season on the World System, and all the soldiers in all the world won’t be able to stop the rebellions that will rise to challenge us. Right now they stay in line because they fear us—but if they see that we are vulnerable enough for even a single bullet to strike the walls of this domain, that fear will be gone.”

  “And so they hope to topple the System with minimum casualties,” Drake observed. “If they succeed, we will be defeated through political action rather than military might.”

  “Indeed,” Alexander’s words were grave. “As goes the palace, so goes the System.”

  The table descended into silence for a moment, until Holt asked, “What can we do, then? Are there additional measures we can take to prevent this from happening?”

  Premier Sullivan smiled. That was his cue. “It seems to me that we have two options. We can conscript more soldiers to swell the ranks of the Great Army and make it more difficult for the rebels to move freely in the city, redoubling our efforts to locate and eliminate Sawyer and his allies. But such a move could take months or even years to complete successfully, not to mention weakening our economic infrastructure during the transference of manpower. Also, flooding the ranks of the Great Army with soldiers who have not had the normal years of training could destabilize the entire fighting force, all for a plan that probably wouldn’t work anyway. Even our most elite soldiers are not trained well enough to combat teams of rebels wielding the Spectral Gladius. I believe in years past, the estimated ratio of strength was thirty-five regulars to a single Spectral-adept.

  “The other option,” Sullivan took a deep breath. “Is to gather our best warriors from around the world and bring them here to be trained…as Specters.”

  All eyes turned immediately to the MWR, from whom an outburst of anger was surely imminent. But Alexander did not lash out at the Premier. Rather, he watched him with a careful eye, drumming his fingers upon the table as though deep in thought.

  But the grand admiral was not so patient, “This is your grand plan, Premier? To bring back a team of warriors independent of my command? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you think I can’t get the job done!”

  “Specter was the only force capable of challenging the rebellion when they were at their strongest,” Sullivan countered. “There’s no reason to believe it would be otherwise now. If you lay aside your pride at not being given command of such a team, perhaps you would realize that this is our best chance. One Spectral-adept is only matched by another, and not having any in our service places us at a severe disadvantage.”

  “What if by the time we can get a team of Specters operational, this whole ordeal is already over?” one of the advisors asked.

  “We thought it was over last time, if you remember. We can expect that they have been studying us for the last fifteen years…trying to find our weaknesses and exploit our flaws.”

  “There is no flaw in the System,” Donalson spat. “It is perfect.”

  “Silent Thunder is the flaw in the System, Grand Admiral,” Sullivan replied. “And if we can’t neutralize it then it will spread into the utter ruin of the state and all we have built over the last fifteen years. We must do all in our power to make sure the situation doesn’t get out of control. Silent Thunder cannot be treated the same as the riots and rebellions of recent years. We are playing in an entirely different league now, gentlemen. In case any of you have forgotten, Silent Thunder is the last stronghold that remains of the Old World, and as such they are extremely dangerous. I implore you, therefore, to respond with our best—and our best is Specter.”

  “But the manpower and resources involved, Premier,” Drake said. “Are they really worth it?” Sullivan shot a stunned look at the chief advisor as he continued, “We would have to construct a new Specter Spire—relatively in secret, so the rebellion could not sabotage our efforts. We would have to expand our production of Solithium Energy to power each Spectral Gladius, not to mention constructing the weapons themselves. Even laying all that aside, the fact remains that there are only two men alive in the World System who are qualified to train such warriors, only one of whom has the time.”

  “I’m afraid I agree,” Chief Holt said. “It would be unwise to exhaust so much time and energy on an effort that may not be needed. Also, expanding Solithium production could have any number of consequences, including the possibility of our stores falling into the hands of the rebels.”

  “Obviously Sawyer and his men already have access to Solithium,” Sullivan snapped. “Their weapons would have been useless otherwise.”

  “Our goal, then, should be to locate and cut off their supply,” Donalson suggested. “If we’re not confident that our soldiers can defeat them outright, we can starve them out and prevent them from fighting at all.”

  “If that option were possible I would certainly be behind it,” Sullivan said. “But who is qualified to direct such a hunt? The soldiers of the Great Army have presented failure after failure in hunting down the nobles who supply the rebels. When one falls, another rises, and your officers are too afraid of retribution to dig deep enough to root out the network leaders. They are not equipped for this task! New blood is needed.”

  Donalson stood, face red with anger, “My soldiers are the most equipped in the history of the world, and can do their job without the Ruling Council’s whips behind them!”

  The Premier rose to stare him down, “Then perhaps you can explain why they have failed to contain the greatest threat this government has ever faced! Or is the truth that this is really your failure, Grand Admiral?”

  “Silence, all of you,” the MWR broke in, prompting both Sullivan and Donalson to sit back down slowly, glaring at one another over the table with mutual hatred. Alexander let out a long and begrudging sigh, “I agree…with the Premier.”

  Alexander found himself the target of nine shocked stares—including from the Premier, who had expected the most resistance from the only man who seemed to be on his side. But the MWR went on, “I realize this is not an easy issue, but what the Premier says has merit. Sawyer will have studied our capabilities, and by now probably knows us better than we know ourselves. Our only chance is to do something he does not expect. Reinstating Specter certainly fits that bill.

  “However,” his tone darkened. “Bringing back Specter is one thing—making them totally independent of the Great Army is quite another. Sawyer is a formidable opponent, but I’m not sure undermining the long-standing command structure of our forces will be wise in the long run. If Specter is to be reformed, it can only be within the chain of command as it currently exists.”

  “Then with all due respect, sir, their reinstatement will amount to nothing,” Sullivan said. “The advantage of Specter rests not only in their use of the Gladius, but in their ability to think independently of the chain of command, to act without fear of retribution. Only in doing so will they be able to counter the moves of the rebellion effectively.”

  “But under the old model,” Donalson looked at the MWR meaningfully. “The only entity to which Specter must submit is the Ruling Council.”

  “Are you suggesting the Council would abuse such a power, Grand Admiral?” Holt demanded.

&nb
sp; “Of course not, Chief Advisor,” Donalson waved his hand dismissively. “Just stating a simple fact.”

  “I still believe reinstating Specter is overkill,” Drake said. “However, if we are to bring the force back to life, there is no reason it should not be placed in the same part of the chain as before. Within the Great Army its skills will be constrained, and it may not be able to get the job done.”

  Yet again the Hall fell into a brief moment of silence. Alexander looked down at the table, evidently at a loss for how to swing this in his favor without inflaming the passions of the Chief Advisors. At long last he raised his head, a look of intrigue on his face, “Do you believe in fate, Premier Sullivan?”

  “I believe in the System, sir.”

  “Granted,” Alexander smiled. “But it seems that fate has already afforded us an opportunity to resolve this issue.”

  “How exactly will fate accomplish this?”

  “Let’s make a wager,” Alexander replied. “You want an independent Specter; I want one subject to Central Command. To solve this issue, we take a soldier, give him a Spectral Gladius, and let him try to survive against twenty fully armed Great Army soldiers. If he survives, Specter is yours. But if he dies…command of the force falls to the grand admiral.”

  The Premier frowned, “Well I suppose if we brought in Admiral McCall, we could—”

  “No, Premier,” Alexander cut him off. “The soldier 301-14-A will be the man.”

  Sullivan didn’t bother to mask his disgust, “Then you might as well give Specter to the grand admiral right now, sir, instead of making a mockery of me. The Spectral Gladius is the most dangerous hand-held weapon in the entire world. The Shadow Soldier is just as likely to kill himself as to be struck down by twenty soldiers.”

  “I think it would be entertaining,” Grand Admiral Donalson smiled in apparent enjoyment of this new turn of events. “And it would kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

  “Are we then to condemn the Shadow Soldier to death?” Holt asked. “The one man we have who has seen Sawyer alive in the last fifteen years?”

  “Fate will decide whether the Shadow Soldier lives or dies,” Alexander answered. “It is out of our hands now. We will play this little game, gentlemen, and the stake will be control of Specter. I must say, I’ve been itching for a little quality entertainment. Give the order, Premier. I want twenty armed soldiers to wait outside the Hall of Mirrors in the North Wing of the palace.”

  “And where, Mighty World Ruler, will we find a Spectral Gladius with an adequate amount of Solithium?”

  Alexander smiled, “I will provide the weapon, Premier. You provide the men.”

  6

  THE DOOR TO THE SMALL holding room burst open. This, at last, was it: his sentence had been decreed. 301 looked up to see an entire squad of men file into the room, a show of force that surely meant the vote had not gone in his favor. The leader spoke in a harsh voice, “301-14-A, by order of the Ruling Council we must escort you to the North Wing of the palace immediately. Mighty World Ruler Napoleon Alexander has one last order—one final task he wishes of you. Will you comply?”

  301 stood, “Yes, I will comply.”

  The soldier gave a sharp nod, and his hard expression turned to one of relief and pity. “Come with us.” The soldiers formed up into two lines, and 301 walked at their center out of the holding room and into the hallway. Instead of turning toward the Hall of Advisors as he had done with the palace aide, they took him toward the elevator to exit the Crown Section. What awaited him on the lower floors, he couldn’t possibly guess—he only hoped that it would be quick.

  -X-

  “Mighty World Ruler, the soldiers are assembled and ready for orders,” Sullivan said irritably. “The Shadow Soldier is en route.”

  “Good,” Alexander said. “Gentlemen, if you would please report to the Hall of Mirrors on the third floor of the North Wing, the grand admiral and I will meet you there in a few minutes. Premier, see to it that the Shadow Soldier doesn’t come in contact with our assassins until my arrival.”

  “As you wish, MWR,” Sullivan replied.

  “Grand Admiral,” Alexander beckoned, and the Ruling Council stood as the two men exited the room. The Premier waited until the MWR had passed out of sight, and as the council members turned toward the door his firm command halted their movement.

  “Be seated.”

  The door to the Hall of Advisors snapped shut. Everyone sat, and Sullivan took the chair at the head of the table where Alexander had been sitting before. He glared at each of the advisors in turn and demanded, “What was that about?”

  “I was just about to ask you the same question, sir,” Chief Holt replied.

  “You challenged my proposal, Chief Holt!” the Premier yelled. “Worse, you sided with Donalson? Explain yourself!”

  “Premier, I think it was most unwise to propose the reinstatement of Specter,” Holt replied calmly. “What is your reasoning in bringing back the strongest arm of the World System on the eve of—”

  “To separate the least from the greatest,” Sullivan interrupted. “To give the MWR some sort of distraction, as well as to place that arm under our control to be appropriated for our need when the time comes!”

  “A move that seems to have backfired,” Chief Drake said. “Alexander has chosen to follow through with your plan, but will give command of the unit to Donalson instead. The last thing we need is an army of Specters arrayed against us.”

  “Fools,” Sullivan spat angrily. “If you had united behind my proposal the MWR might not have dreamed up this useless game. Instead we showed our disunity, and he turned that against us. You have all but destroyed any chance we had to train these elite warriors right under Alexander’s nose.”

  “And you have placed us at a severe disadvantage,” Drake retorted. “There is no way we can produce an equal to Specter at this stage.”

  “Unless, of course, the Shadow Soldier survives,” Holt smiled wryly.

  “That poor boy is doomed,” Drake replied. “A shame as well. His talent and potential exceed any I have seen in quite some time. We could have used him.”

  “Best not to draw too much attention to ourselves,” another advisor said.

  “Agreed,” Holt replied. “But there is something powerful about that soldier…and familiar. I couldn’t quite place it.”

  “None of that matters now,” Sullivan said with disgust. “All will be decided by Alexander’s game of fate. I, for one, will be glad when we no longer have to rely on such uncertainties.”

  “As will we all,” Holt agreed.

  “Then let us play his game for now, gentlemen,” the Premier said. “In the morning I hope you will all join me for breakfast to discuss our plans in greater detail. Until then, remember that there are ears everywhere in Napoleon Alexander’s palace. Be wary of what you say to one another.”

  -X-

  “Mighty World Ruler, are you sure it is wise to leave the assembled Council alone?” Donalson walked beside Alexander down the hallways of the Crown Section, back toward the MWR’s office and quarters.

  “All the Ruling Council ever does is talk, Grand Admiral—you know that. It is in Central Command that the real work of the World System is accomplished. The Ruling Council appeases the minds of those who still remember the old republics. One day they will no longer be needed.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I think you underestimate them,” Donalson insisted. “These men once led and commanded their own nations and armies. They will tire of receiving orders from you.”

  Alexander laughed, “The world tires of my rule, Grand Admiral, but the iron fist of the World System cannot be broken.”

  “The common man does not wield as much power as the chief advisors of the Ruling Council. They are dangerous, sir—with the power to influence public opinion, division leaders, generals, you name it. Mark my words…soon the question of loyalty will arise. They will ask: where do
you stand? MWR or Ruling Council?”

  “A gross exaggeration. Sullivan knows that a civil war in our government would just end in a return to the feudal system that preceded it. Not even the rebellion wishes for that. No, the only thing I have to fear from them is possible assassination, which they could never achieve within the walls of this palace.”

  “The Premier was once a high-ranking dignitary in this region. If he sees his chance to seize your throne, he would not hesitate.”

  “And neither would you, Grand Admiral,” Alexander snapped. “But as ruler of the World System it is my job to make sure the position remains secure. No one else can be trusted in such a task. In fact, I find your attempts to cast the Council in disfavor a bit conniving. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were laying plans of your own.”

  “I would never, sir…”

  “And nor would they,” Alexander said with finality. “Leave the politics to us, Grand Admiral. We will leave the wars to you.”

  -X-

  For the moment the room was completely empty. Walls, floor, and ceiling matched one another in dimensions, forming a perfect cube that enclosed those within like a prison—not just for the body, but also for the mind. Each side of the cube was made of solid mirror-glass, and created a stream of endless reflections that carried on into infinity.

  Once used as an interrogation room, many high-ranking rebels had been questioned and killed within the mind-crushing Hall of Mirrors. The reflections seemed to bend the fabric of reality while the interrogators bent the fortitude of human endurance, so it was no wonder that so many men and women had met their defeat within those walls.

  Today, yet another destiny would be decided there.

  301 beheld the room with dread, recognizing it as an omen of his impending fate. Soon after his arrival the Ruling Council came into sight, their elegant capes gliding across the floor as they walked. Seven of the men chose places along the observation glass, obviously preparing to watch some spectacle within. Premier Sullivan, however, came to a stop right in front of him.