Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy Book 1)

by Oganalp Canatan

  “Halle!” Ray was giving everything to keep the boy steady. He and Alec had sweat and blood all over their faces.

  “All right, all right!” Halle took another morphine vial out and this time, she managed to prepare the sedative.

  If they could keep him somewhat stable in the next few minutes, Rahul had a chance.

  Then the elevator arrived and with it, something that looked like Dr. Sanders.

  The thing wore a doctor’s apron, half torn, all covered in blood. Ray noticed two missing fingers on its left hand. He was no doctor but they seemed to have been chewed off. The nightmare’s ears connected to its head from their tips, as if they were incomplete. The thing held a scalpel, waggling it to shake off a bloodied, ball-shaped object. None of them needed a medical degree to guess what it was.

  Half the abomination’s jaw was missing, making strange noises as if it was choking whenever it tried to speak. It twitched as it moved, missing that fluid feeling of a normal human. It pointed at Ray and the others, howling.

  The monster swung its scalpel. Halle screamed and jumped away, only to trip over the trauma kit. She fell down the stairs connecting the elevator platform to the stations, landing hard on the bridge floor. A gruesome cracking sound announced her fate.

  Ray pushed Rahul to the chair and jumped off the stair railing, feeling the wind of the knife pass right behind him. He landed on the lower platform of the bridge, trying to put the metal bars between him and the monster. The demon moved with unexpected agility. As it reached the bars, Alec came behind and hit it with a chair, staggering the thing. Ray saw the opportunity and rushed to the forward consoles. He looked around frantically and reached for the spare air-conditioning pipes lying behind the navigation station, praying the metal bar would be enough to slow down the creature.

  “Warning, atmospheric entry angle is off.”

  Canaar shook with a thunder-like booming sound as if to complement the announcement. The force threw Ray hard on his back, his head hitting the floor, the bonk bringing him to the brink of unconsciousness. His eyes suddenly felt too heavy to keep open. The last thing he saw was Alec’s body, bent in an inhuman shape, flying toward the wall near the elevator door right after the creature had torn Rahul’s chest with its bare hand. Ray knew he was next but couldn’t resist the urge to close his eyes anymore and darkness welcomed him.

  ***

  Ray opened his eyes, gasping. At first all he tasted was the metallic aroma of his own blood, but he managed to cough the fluid out of his mouth and the sweet freshness of air filled his lungs again. After a few inept tryouts, he fixed his breathing to a rhythm.

  The familiar texture of the bridge ceiling helped him remember. He closed his eyes, willing Halle to be fiddling with her console and Alec joking inappropriately about her marriage, his laughter filling the room. But life was never that considerate.

  Ray rolled to his side and tried to stand. His body protested the sudden move with a sharp headache and a ringing in his ears. With great effort, he kept himself conscious, ignoring the sweet idea of going back to sleep.

  Halle lay a few meters away. He couldn’t see her face and he was thankful. The lieutenant had been dead long before the communications console fell on her.

  He’d thought he was prepared to face the truth but he couldn’t help shivering when he saw Alec’s broken body at the far end of the bridge. The demon had thrown him toward the corner of the room, splattering blood all over the metal surface.

  A sudden panic rushed through Ray, stunning him where he stood. The bridge looked nothing like it had an hour ago—scattered consoles and turned-over chairs seemed like a miners’ bar that had witnessed a brawl.

  He realized he was holding his breath and let it go, allowing himself to relax a little. The horror that had attacked them was nowhere to be seen; only the destruction it had left behind. The ship had lurched several more times when Canaar entered the outer atmosphere without the proper approach angle, probably saving his life. The last thing Ray remembered was the hulking death crawling toward him after another violent shake, looking at him with its dull eyes and awkwardly waving the scalpel. He hoped the thing lay dead somewhere under a fallen terminal.

  Ray saw an air-conditioner pipe to his left, rolled near the now-broken intercom terminal and took it, using it as a crutch to what was left of the navigation console. Half the information screens were broken and the few that weren’t smashed displayed only static.

  “Computer…” His voice came out as a cracked whisper. The second time, he found a reserve of strength. “Computer!” He felt the temper lurking behind his eyes.

  “Voice recognized. Captain Raymond Harris,” Canaar responded, her voice stuttering from the damage.

  “Status report.”

  “Auto-landing is offline. Main thruster is offline. Communications are offline…” The computer apathetically listed system statuses.

  He didn’t have to listen to the whole report. With navigation and engines gone, the stabilizers weren’t enough to slow the descent and Canaar was doomed to crash into the planet, probably right into the City of Bunari. Ray didn’t want to think about the consequences of a cargo ship towing tanks full of highly volatile fuel slamming into the middle of the small planet’s capital and only major city.

  He made an injury assessment. Although his chest burned with every breath, he felt all right. “At least better than my divorce.”

  Ray touched his ribs and a sharp pain cut his breath. He gently opened his shirt and saw the dark red bruising on his chest.

  “All right,” he grumbled under his breath, “Maybe not better but equal.” He ignored the aches. Broken ribs or not, if he couldn’t make it to the escape pods before the stabilizers failed, he’d become a comet riding through the skies of Bunari.

  The ship rattled violently, confirming his thoughts. Sparks flared from the cables hanging from the ceiling, brightening the room. The emergency lights were barely powerful enough to see the controls, let alone illuminate the whole bridge.

  The sparks saved his life.

  His eyes glimpsed a shadow moving toward him. By instinct he swung the pipe he’d at the silhouette. In mid-air the metal bar hit something soft, making a thick, fleshy sound. Ray realized the blow had exploded on the creature’s neck when its painful wail filled the bridge. The sudden impact also caused Ray to drop the pipe.

  He was lucky. The creature hadn’t expected such a heavy swing from its prey and it staggered a moment and collapsed, giving Ray the opening he needed. He landed a kick to the thing’s belly and rushed past it, half-running, half-stumbling into the elevator, panting. He looked away from his friends’ dead bodies, focusing his attention on the control switches.

  The freak saw its prey slipping away, and with unbelievable swiftness the creature pushed back on its feet, throwing itself at the elevator.

  “Come on!” Ray desperately hit the emergency button. The elevator doors closed lazily and the moment they were sealed, he heard something hefty hitting the door, followed by a sound he could only define as a hurtful howl.

  “Yeah,” he whispered, “I know what you mean.” He collapsed where he stood and tried to catch his breath, hoping the creature didn’t know about the emergency hatches connecting the bridge to the other decks. “Computer, seal the bridge. Authorization Raymond—Harris—two—one—five.”

  “Bridge access locked.”

  “That’s the best thing you’ve ever said.”

  He lowered his stare and on second glance, saw he was wrong about his injuries. He had a nasty cut to the stomach he hadn’t noticed earlier and it was bleeding badly. As the adrenaline washed away, dizziness took over.

  The elevator lost power twice before it reached the engineering deck, keeping Ray on edge. To his relief, the doors opened and he didn’t have to use the emergency hatch. He wasn’t sure he could have pulled himself out of the hatch, anyway. He stood up and tried to walk toward the escape pods as fast as he could before the stabilizers fail
ed. He was no technician, but judging by the sounds of it, the ship was being torn apart.

  A minute, maybe two, he guessed. Then the stabilizers would overload and Canaar would enter free fall, losing its balance and reaching terminal velocity. It would be impossible for him to make it to the pods in a careening ship.

  He was managing the pain of the broken ribs but the cut was taking its toll. The thing burned like a forest fire in summer. Whenever he leaned on a wall to avoid falling down, it hurt as if a bull had torn him in two. His vision was blurry at best, his eyes watering.

  Ray made his way to Engineering, mostly by pulling himself blindly in the direction of the blinking evacuation lights. Emergency escape pods were at the end of the deck.

  At the end of the light.

  He half-fell, half-crawled off the platform stairs, only to bump into Sanders’ body.

  “I-I’m armed!” he faked, yelling at the still shape. No response. Ray hesitantly stepped forward—it was the real Dr. Sanders, swimming in a pool of blood. Her neck was torn apart. Ray looked at his own cut; her wounds were from a scalpel, like his.

  He pushed away the swirling questions in his head, tried to ignore the body and moved forth to the engineering deck. The escape pod sat idling inside the workshop, blinking yellow arrows showing the way to the hatch. There were bloodstains all over the place, likely Sanders’ or Rahul’s, but Ray didn’t see anyone else. He could hardly keep his eyes open and every step was harder than the last, his feet feeling like boulders he had to move.

  When the ship trembled again, he was almost at the shuttle. The shake made him hit his chest violently on the shuttle frame. Ray tried to scream in pain but blood spouted from his mouth instead, making each breath he tried to take a guttural sound.

  With one last push of his limits, he pulled himself into the escape pod. Every move was a battle against intolerable agony, but Ray somehow clung to his senses. He let the seat fasten his belt automatically. He wasn’t sure if he’d pressed the launch button but the pod’s thrusters’ deafening sound answered his curiosity and their final push was his last conscious moment. His head hit the seat back and everything dimmed out, his body pulling the plug.

  As the pod left the tube, the lifeless voice of the ship’s computer echoed in the empty corridors of the dead ship.

  “Warning; stabilizer failure. Uncontrolled descent.”

  The answer was a disturbing, growling outcry.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A GOLD MINE

  The screen before her flickered and a man appeared. “Miss Zane.”

  Sasha leaned toward the screen. “Sasha Zane here, Sir.”

  She was particularly excited today, itching to give the good news to her master. Years of planning, scheming, infiltrating was now turning into something solid. A stream of golden promises had kept her from giving up against the extremely low odds of success. That, and the fear of her master.

  “Report.”

  “The Canaar has crashed as planned. The sabotage was successful.”

  “Any survivors?”

  Sasha winced. “The data received is unclear. The ghost was activated prematurely and it didn’t make contact. I hacked into Consortium’s log server and intercepted an emergency broadcast from Canaar. A pod was fired right before the crash. It could be a malfunction. Most of the message was corrupt beyond recovery.”

  “Was there any occupant data?”

  “Yes, one Captain Raymond Harris. Male, forty, from Leeds, Earth. But there’s no mention if the pod survived the crash.”

  It was impossible to make out the face of the man Sasha talked to. She didn’t know his name, not even an alias. His voice was gloomy, and distorted as if several different people were talking at the same time, a precaution to hide his identity. The man didn’t say anything for a while. She knew her collaboration was a one-way trip that wouldn’t end well if she failed now. No, it had to be seen to the end and she meant to keep it up. The glory promised in return was huge. Things she wouldn’t be able to achieve even in ten lifetimes. A gold mine.

  Sasha did the same thing when talking to other contacts, morphing her voice. It was necessary to operate in the murky depths. Soon the days of secrecy would be over. Until then, caution was needed. Too many things were at stake. A gold mine.

  Sasha almost jumped when the man spoke again.

  “Thank you for your input, Miss Zane. I will see you are justly rewarded for your valuable efforts. And what of the Sun Towers and the Temple of Light?”

  There was no hint of feeling in that voice. What mattered to the man were results. He didn’t care about methods or expenses. As long as Sasha didn’t endanger the plan, she was free to operate at will. She had basically made a fortune already simply by showing extras in her reports. After all, she had to keep herself afloat if things didn’t go as planned. The promises had been genuine so far, but trusting souls never lasted long in her line of work. The man on the screen probably knew everything she did, but as far as Sasha could tell, he didn’t care.

  Sasha cleared her throat and spoke. “News of a big disaster in Bunari just hit the agencies,” she said. She couldn’t hold herself back and smirked. “Reports are a huge blast happened in the central capital.”

  “What about the towers?” Even if he was happy about the news, he kept it to himself.

  She didn’t realize she’d taken a pen from her desk and started playing with it. “The network’s down,” Sasha said with haste, “but from what I could learn, Canaar crashed right on top of the Sun Throne.” Perhaps too hastily, she thought and cursed silently to herself for being such an amateur. “The blast radius covered the Sun Towers and the surroundings for about a kilometer in every direction.”

  “Good.” The screen darkened.

  Sasha allowed herself to smile. It was probably the biggest praise she’d heard in ten years of employment. Perhaps she would be able to squeeze more from him. “A promotion is in order,” she chuckled. She stood up and went to the panoramic window covering one entire wall, and stared down at the huge city from her apartment on the hundred and twenty-seventh floor. Shuttles wandering around the air lanes created a lightshow as if to celebrate her victory. She looked at the Rathaus shining in the distance under the lazily rotating spotlights. She loved Hamburg. Tonight, even more so.

  She returned to her chair, leaning back in thought. Corporate espionage, thievery, spying. She’d even had three assassinations, one a high-ranking officer on board a Consortium flagship, a fleet admiral or something. Of all the tests, she’d come out successfully. The purpose of the tasks was always hidden, not allowing her to figure out the grand picture, and she dared not ask. The payment was very good. It had carried her from the gutter of Burgenland to Hamburg, one of the wealthiest cities of Consortium at a time when finding a job, let alone one that would make her rich, was near-impossible. Billions of people fought for a good spot on Earth. She’d not only found her spot, she’d hit the jackpot. Maybe she would visit Tokyo after this. With the money she was making, she had spoiled herself with off-world holidays at high-caliber resorts. She chuckled, remembering her trip to one of the best Consortium tourism spots, the orbital passenger liner over Celeste in Kepler.

  Sasha relaxed and reached for the media center remote. She picked a soothing, early twentieth-century, classical piano piece. As the notes filled the modern room, she reached for the bottle of aged Highland Park Sigurd series she’d been saving.

  The iced glass reflected her image and Sasha indulged herself in thinking about how good she was. No, she was great. The whole idea of creating an accident was devilishly clever. The plan had worked perfectly. Even if she hadn’t been allowed to interfere with all the details—the woman still had no idea how the man had handled the infiltration—she was still the mastermind. Yes, a promotion was most definitely in order.

  She stood up and took another sip of whiskey, leaving the music on—a piece of Rachmaninoff. A nice shower and then maybe watching something on the network would b
e a good way to celebrate. Something historic maybe, she thought.

  She entered the bathroom and removed her robe, gazing at her body in the mirror for some time. Almost forty winters had passed since her birth, but she had preserved her beauty. Her curvy bottom and well-endowed bosom even helped her complete some of the assignments. She owed her body some respect. Giggling, she decided to go out instead of staying home alone. Perhaps she’d hit one of her hunting grounds to meet a man or two. She deserved to have fun.

  Many nights she ended up in someone else’s bed or in an orgy party after a long evening of drinks, drugs and dancing. It was an elite life she wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford, being the daughter of a lower city municipality worker. She had to be discreet about her job, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t enjoy the life. Yes, it would be fun to visit one of the clubs. She smiled and turned to reach for the faucet.

  A tall, hooded man appeared out of thin air right before her, cracking his fingers. Sasha felt her breath stuck in her throat, her surprise escalating into panic. How long he had been there, why she hadn’t noticed him in the mirror; she had no idea.

  “Greetings, Ms. Zane.”

  ***

  The man turned on the shower. He cleaned his hands and stepped over the woman’s dead body. A pool of Sasha Zane’s blood was already forming on the tile. He glimpsed his reflection in the mirror. Long after he’d left the Special Forces, he still had the military haircut. His skin looked pale, a side effect of being augmented.

  He cleaned his wrist knife and sheathed it back into his right arm. The knife disappeared smoothly under his skin. He looked around to see if he’d missed anything, then touched the small wristband on his left arm. A small Person-A holographic interface appeared before him.

  “This is Revan.”

  “Mr. Caius, good to hear your voice. I assume Ms. Zane has been rewarded for her valuable contribution.”

  “She is dead.”

  A sinister chuckle echoed in the house as if several different people laughed at the same time. “Excellent news. I have another task for you. In about an hour, you will be called back to Consortium headquarters in Berlin.”