“All right.” She smiled and patted Ga’an’s shoulder amicably. “Tonight before dawn, we make a run for it. We’ll stay put at my cabin until then.”
***
A dark, hooded figure had watched the dialogue in silence from the shadows of the farthest corner of Joe’s Hole, cracking his fingers. His enhanced hearing allowed him to catch the exchange of words with ease.
He sat for a while after the woman named Sarah and the tall figure left, planning his next move. He needed to get rid of all the surviving crew of Canaar. No matter how much or little he knew, “Gary” was now on his list as well. However, he also needed to find the Arinar.
Revan left a few credits on the table and took one last sip of his ale. It tasted like rotten eggs, but he didn’t want to attract attention by disparaging the low standards in Crater. He stood and went out into the chilly desert night, searching for a hidden spot from which to observe Joe’s Hole. He would wait until Sarah and the tall man made their move, hoping it would bring him to the stone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ASTEROID B-533
The night caretaker pushed his cart slowly through the glass hallway. He collected the second-floor cleaning bots with flawless precision, like a beating heart. He was proud of the quality he delivered, even if people spurned his position of janitor. His twilight years were passing, witnessing the mysteries and beauty of space, far from Earth. Not that they had any real days on the station, but the residents of Asteroid B-533 followed the Consortium’s General Regulations, which clearly said “There are twenty four hours in a day.” He was happy with his days, he decided, and whistled a tune he’d heard earlier on the cafeteria’s music broadcast.
The buzzing crowds of scientists mostly kept to their quarters at this hour, working on their discoveries or simply taking a nap, unless they were creating a doomsday machine to destroy the universe. He’d never fully trusted them scientist types. Someone wary of scientific methods finding himself on a science base was fate’s joke but he was content that he got paid. Most of his credits were meant for his grandchildren’s education. He didn’t need much here anyway. The life on the station was nowhere near as busy as a commercial hub, but the recent discovery of ancient ruins had attracted some attention and lots of new faces. Perhaps it was time to retire or ask for a transfer to another base. Maybe after the young one finished her college degree.
The old man gazed at the thousands of asteroids scattered in every direction around B-533, all the way to the edge of the Chiak Cloud. Their reflections in the glass roof illuminated the hallway with a touch of the cloud’s dark purple color, highlighted with occasional lightning. The old man stood there for a while, watching the silent show of lighting within the dense cloud before continuing toward the laboratory wing, thus missing the sudden appearance of a dark, spider-like object emerging from Chiak and heading for the station.
***
“Did you watch the game last night?”
“No man, Veronica had a fever,” the tired looking chubby man answered, holding back his yawns, “I was in the infirmary all night.” He rubbed his eyes to shake off the sleepiness.
“How’s she man?”
“Fine. It’s that goddamn virus. She ate some sweets and the next thing I know, we were rushing for the doc.”
“Juan, I’m sorry man. No news of her medicine yet?”
“Well, the doc said he filled the requisition form but still nothing,” Juan shook his head. “Anyway, how was the game?”
“Hawks kicked ass! The Pistons couldn’t even score five points man!” the skinny guard couldn’t hide his excitement, sounding content. “I won two hundred credits,” he laughed, leaning at a nearby wall. “You should have seen Allman’s face when the Pistons lost.”
“Good for you!”
“Jackson, come in.” The communicator signal interrupted their chatter.
The skinny guard touched his communicator badge, “This is Jackson, what’s it Kim?”
“Something’s wrong with section seven’s cameras. All the lenses went dark, go check it out.”
“Can’t you send Boyles? We’re down on level two!”
“Jackson, move it!”
Jackson sighed and gestured Juan to follow. “So in the fourth quarter, they introduced the new kid…”
At a lazy pace, they reached the seventh junction. “So, this new kid—”
Jackson broke off as the elevator door opened. Level Seven’s lights were out, only the soft, purple tone of the Chiak Cloud illuminating the white corridor.
“This is Jackson, the lights are out here.”
“Negative,” the voice on the communicator replied, “everything seems fine on the system.”
“Man, I’m standing at the seventh junction door and it is dark here!”
There was a pause on the other end. “All right, I’ll send someone to check it out.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Juan attached his flashlight to the shoulder of his uniform and looked around. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. “The emergency lights should’ve gone on by now.”
“I hate the—” Jackson was interrupted by a woman screaming, followed by several gunshots and a terrifying roar.
“You heard that?” Juan asked, pulling out his pistol.
“Half the nebula heard that!” Jackson rushed toward the door at the other end of the corridor. “This is Jackson, requesting backup, we have gunshots on Level Seven!”
“What gunshots?” the communicator’s sound flickered.
“Kim, someone’s firing! Send backup now!” Jackson yelled, taking out his own gun.
The lobby was empty but the central white benches were covered in blood and the decorative cushions were torn apart. There were marks on the seats as if something had clawed them. Very big claws, Jackson found himself thinking.
Juan moved carefully toward the information terminal and checked the screen. The thing was dead, damaged by some kind of chemical. “Plasma burnt maybe?” He looked at Jackson.
“Maybe.”
The wall panels were full of splatters and burns. “Weapons fire,” he murmured. A fallen lamp flickered with sparks.
“Over here!” Jackson called, crouching near a fallen panel.
“What’s it?” Juan asked.
“Miles.” Jackson was on his knees, checking the fallen guard’s pulse. “He’s dead.”
Juan touched his badge. “This is Juan, where are those reinforcements Kim? We have a man down!”
There was no response on the comms, only static. Juan gave up on the communicator and moved toward the laboratory wing door. A thick slamming sound on the other side stopped him.
“Jackson!” he whispered as loud as he dared. Sweat ran down his face.
“Open it on three,” Jackson whispered. Like Juan, his face was ashen and wet. “One, two—”
A metallic rod pried the door open before Jackson reached three and a towering figure emerged from the lab. Jackson had to raise his head to look at the man?—it definitely looked humanoid—almost two-and-a-half meters tall. The unknown visitor had to bow to pass through the doorway.
Jackson froze. The man had long, pointy ears, their tops connecting back to his skull. His small nose, slightly slanting black eyes and the bald, Prussian-blue head made him look like a panther, a creature of the night.
The alien hissed, and reached for Jackson with its three-fingered hand. Before the guard could react, the thing held him by the face, bending his head clockwise. The man’s neck resisted, then severed from his body, spouting blood.
Juan screamed in terror and burst rounds until his thermal clip depleted. He shook with fear as the creature recovered from his mostly misplaced shots.
The thing looked at him and spoke in a strange language. It sounded guttural, alien.
“Tarash ink naburr!”
Something flickered between Juan and the bald, blue figure, two pairs of bright orange spots appearing out of nowhere, coming toward him, lea
ving a faint trail of light behind.
Juan’s legs gave in, and he shook uncontrollably, pushing himself backward as if he could pass through the wall. Wishing he could do so. “Veronica…Veronica…Veronica…”
The orange spots stopped before him and a large, tiger-like—although it didn’t have any fur—wild creature materialized, the spots turning into burning eyes. The dark creature had pointy ears like its owner, but four of them instead of two. It sniffed Juan as if savoring the smell of fear, and roared.
Juan’s eyes were wide open in fear as his decapitated head rolled away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BEFORE HE GETS THE WIND
“He asked me to work for him.”
“He wants to keep a leash on you. Or use your strength. Or both. Your ship looks weird and Joe’s no fool. He knows we’re hiding something.” Sarah checked her backpack for the tenth time. She tuck her pistol into her belt. “Well, we better get off this rock before he gets wind of things.”
Ga’an gave her a puzzled look.
“I mean, before he realizes our escape plan,” Sarah chuckled. She was getting fond of the alien. In most ways, he’s more human than the rest of us. He got confused whenever she used old sayings and it made her laugh—something rare on this rock as far as she could tell. “All right, I think we’re set. What time is it?”
Ga’an looked at the night sky, careful not to cut himself on the rough edges of the small window in the metal plating of Sarah’s cabin. “The sun will come up in two hours.”
“The breeze told you that?”
“Stars did. Their lights are dying.”
Sarah shook her head in admiration. Ga’an was a stranger in a strange land, not that Tarra was her home either, but he’d adapted quickly to an alien environment and she envied him. The ex-security officer wondered how she’d cope with being stranded on a hostile, alien world in his place. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. She was doing quite well for someone only on Tarra for two weeks, but growing up in the slums had taught her a thing or two. Otherwise I would be that maid in the bar or worse. “We better get going.”
Ga’an didn’t say a word as he left his spot by the window and fell in behind Sarah.
The duo climbed the platforms connecting her shack to Joe’s Hole in silence. The one thing more dangerous than wandering the ‘streets’ of Tarra was wandering them at night. The local security—Joe’s goons—ignored anything that didn’t directly concern the snake-tongued man’s operations. No sane person would wander the platforms at night. No sane person would stay on Tarra anyway, but that was a whole different story.
As they arrived at the bar, Sarah pointed to the alley beside it. “We’ll use the side entrance.” No matter the late hour, there would still be lowlifes getting high at Joe’s. Passing through the bar in the middle of the night with Ga’an would arouse suspicion, no matter how drunk the spectators were.
Ga’an nodded and followed her into the dark alley, to a small, rusty door. Sarah took a pin from her pocket and inserted it into the lock.
“Here we go,” Sarah opened the door slowly, trying to stop the old, rusted hinges from squeaking, and went inside, Ga’an following.
“Sarah Davis.”
“What’s it?” Sarah hissed. “You saw Joe?” Her heart drummed in her chest.
“No,” the tall man nodded, “but someone is watching us since we left your cabin.”
“Damn it!” Sarah glanced through the dirty window next to the door, hoping to see their follower. She stared into the dark, then shrugged in resignation. “Anyway, it’s too late to turn back.”
They made their way through the dark, dusty corridors of the bar. Sarah stiffened when the two arrived at the jail cells. Although he could hardly stand, the guard at the door was awake, trying to keep his drink from spilling.
“Who goes there?” The man demanded, trying hard to say the words right. “I said who—”
Sarah hit the man hard with her pistol’s grip, knocking him out.
“Sarah!” Ray whispered. He poked Brother Cavil to wake up.
“Is he all right?” Sarah couldn’t hide her concern. Bitterly, she found herself wondering if the old man would slow them down.
“Yeah, he was just asleep. Now what’s the plan?”
“There’s a ramp connecting the two sides of the rift. We have to go to the big cave there. It’s the hangar bay,” she said, fiddling with the lock. “Damn it!”
“Shut up!”
They all held their breath. Sarah cursed herself for not checking the room first. Some security officer you are, Sarah Davis.
“I’m trying to—” A guard leaned out from behind one of the crates. The guard’s eyes bulged “Bird? What are you—”
Ga’an jumped toward him without a word and punched the man so hard, Sarah flinched at the sound of flesh meeting flesh. The guard’s body flew away, hitting the wall at his back. His bloody face and open eyes suggested his fate.
Sarah sighed in relief. “All right, I need another pin, that was my only one.”
“Move.” Ga’an pushed her aside gently and reached for the rusty padlock, breaking the shackle and pulling it off with one firm move.
“Who are you?” Ray asked in awe.
“Ga’an.”
“Someone should really tell these people the importance of a good night’s sleep,” Brother Cavil complained. “I can not even feel my—” The priest looked at the tall man’s height and then his face. “Who are you?”
“Ga’an.”
“I already asked that, old man.”
“We can do the talking when we’re off this planet,” Sarah interrupted. “Let’s move!”
No one had any objections, but Sarah hadn’t missed the look on the priest’s face when he saw Ga’an. You can ask about that look later, girl. The group left the cellblock as silently as possible.
“We need to get our stuff back from Joe,” Ray whispered to Sarah.
She shook her head.
“Sarah, we have to get our stuff back,” Ray insisted. “It’s really important.”
She looked at Ray and saw the determination in his request, then sighed and signaled the group to follow. They passed through the corridor from the cellblock to the bar. Sarah stopped before a door with the sign MAGNAMENT. She put her ear on the door and listened. Sounds empty. Sarah checked the lock. The door was locked. No brainer.
“Ga’an?” She looked at the tall alien and moved aside.
Ga’an held the doorknob and with one swift push, pried the lock off the rusted metal frame.
“Let’s hope no one heard that.” She waved Ray and the group in and waited with outside the door to see if anyone was coming
“What does that sign mean?” Brother Cavil asked over Sarah’s shoulder.
“Management.” Sarah didn’t hide her distaste
Sarah leaned in to check on Ray. He was practically tearing the place down—quietly. Sarah’s eyes wandered the walls, full of taxidermy on plaques. For the sake of the animal kingdom, she wanted to gut Joe.
“Found it,” Ray whispered, taking something from one of the drawers and putting it inside a backpack Sarah had brought.
“Did you get what you were looking for?”
“Yeah, but I can’t find my locket.” Ray came out with the lumpy bag, his face saddened.
Brother Cavil patted his shoulder, “We have to go, son.”
Ray looked back into the room one last time and nodded, then followed the others.
As they left the building through the side door, Sarah took point. “We’ll cross the bridge over there and head for the hangar,” she said, indicating one of the many spans connecting the sides of the narrow canyon.
“Sarah Davis, we are still being followed,” Ga’an said in his dark voice.
Sarah and Ray turned but didn’t see anyone.
“Look at the shadows near the second hut,” Ga’an said, pointing to the lower platform.
“I don’t see—
” Sarah cut her words short. “I’ll be damned.”
A dark figure jumped fluidly from one shadow to another and disappeared into one of the caves. If it hadn’t been for Ga’an’s senses, the others wouldn’t have noticed him from this distance.
“One of Joe’s thugs?” Sarah asked.
“No.” It was Ray who’d answered, giving Brother Cavil a frightened look.
“We have to move forward.” Ga’an pushed them. “We should act as if we do not know we are being followed.”
No one argued.
They slowly made their way through the platforms, trying to attract as little attention as possible. Sarah had picked this particular hour to escape the Crater on purpose. A tall, weird-looking alien, a stranger and his old man sidekick, Joe’s new scavenger girl; they were like a flare gun fired in a starless sky. They made their way to the bridge, across, and then through a bigger cave that led to the hangar bay.
“Behind this door’s where they keep the parked ships,” Sarah announced near the big hangar doors. “I didn’t get a close look, but I think I saw some MXs sitting there, Boss.”
“What is an MX?” Brother Cavil asked.
“A gunship,” Ray replied. “It’s fast and has enough room for six.”
“We are not six,” Brother Cavil knit his brows.
“We’ll find some hitchhikers on the way, I promise!”
“Be silent, you two!” Sarah hit the pad near the doorway, opening the way into the hangar. “Here we go—”
A hissing voice froze them where they stood.
“Ah, you really took your sweet time coming here, bird.”
***
Joe and several of his goons, including Jake with his bruised neck and swollen eye, stood blocking the parked gunships. Two of the goons pointed pistols and the rest had bats and metal rods ready in their hands. Jake eyed Ga’an with a burning stare.
“Now, why would you do this, Sarah, hmm? Didn’t I welcome you with open arms?” Joe asked with mock sadness.
“Nothing personal,” Sarah said, her smile as fake as Joe’s. “This isn’t my home.”
“‘Never trust a woman’ my pa said. I guess he was right.” Joe leaned on his cane, raising his right hand to his heart, shaking his head sadly. “I always treat people justly,” Joe moved his hand to his neck and pulled out a silver locket.
Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy Book 1) Page 18