Shadow Call

by Michael Miller

  I was less surprised by his presence than I was relieved. I might not have been Eton’s greatest fan, but in our increasingly hostile situation, I at least knew he was friendly to the crew of the Kaitan, if not me.

  “Eton?” Qole, resting one hand on the floor and the other on her knee, looked at him uncertainly. “No, that’s not right. You can’t be here.”

  My stomach dropped. Her tone was wrong, as though she was questioning what her eyes were seeing. She’d been acting strange off and on, but this was the first time I realized it might be something other than stress. Using Shadow took its toll, but the toll might be higher than she was letting on. How much more would it take to permanently damage her, or drive her insane, like her parents?

  Eton misunderstood. “It’s me, for better or worse. There’s not much time to explain. If you want to destroy the new fleet, we need to move. Solara must have guessed what your plan is, since she’s sending shuttles filled with ground troops to claim the ships. Once they get here, we won’t be able to fight them all off.”

  “What? How could you know what we intend as well?” I shook my head. “Did we just post this on a media site somewhere? Are there cameras?”

  Basra cleared his throat. “The captain fired him. She didn’t put a gag order on me, or forbid me from hiring a mercenary force. Although”—he raised an eyebrow at Eton—“it sounds as though with Makar here, we might be able to take the fleet ourselves, instead of blowing it to dust.”

  Eton grinned involuntarily. “Now we’re talking.” He tipped his head, and an indicator light in his helmet came to life. “Grounds are secure for the next few minutes. If this is going to work, we need to get you to the dock command center. Let’s get going.” Other figures moved outside, the active camouflage on their suits making them blurry distortions.

  Makar didn’t stir outside of raising a finger. “Maybe first explain how threatening me will get you a fleet.”

  “You don’t need your limbs to be useful,” Eton replied, pointing with his rifle.

  “That is very true,” the king acknowledged. “However, it’s fortunate that your companions and I just reached an equitable agreement. No need for force.”

  He was lying, but I was happy to let him have it. Releasing my hold, I offered a hand to help him up. “Indeed, we were just agreeing on everything,” I said, putting an edge into my voice. “Such as, Marsius will be engaged to Rava, creating an alliance between our families. As a token of your friendship, you will help us take command of the fleet that you built for the Dracortes. And since we will only negotiate with you, not the rest of your family, I’m sure you’ll be back in power in no time.”

  “And we give you the gift of limbs, also,” Telu added, from where she sat, tapping away at Makar’s infopad. Somehow, in the confusion, she had managed to calmly sit down and begin working.

  Makar took my hand and stood up, wincing, one hand to his chest. He spoke to me, but his eyes were on Qole. “A gift, yes. Thank you.” Then he snatched the infopad from Telu’s hand and turned to his daughter, who was huddling with Marsius. “Rava, are you all right?”

  She nodded, her eyes frightened. “Yes. Are these men going to hurt you?”

  “No, they won’t,” Marsius tried to reassure her, taking her hand. “I think this is just how negotiations are done. I’ve never seen one like this, but I know they can get tense.”

  Makar’s face twitched. “Precisely.”

  “Then can we get a move on, already?” Arjan demanded from where he stood by the door, peering out, already armed with a spare weapon of Eton’s, a snub-nosed photon pistol. “We’re wasting time we don’t have.”

  “Not before he signs an agreement,” Qole and I said simultaneously. Without thinking, we both smiled at one another, and a pang of longing hit me. For her, for the way things had been, and might never be again. I moved past it quickly by adding, “And as long as you, Marsius and Rava, are certain.”

  Marsius gave me a grave, adult nod. I am acting as a man, he was trying to say. I didn’t see how he could be so sure, but he was willing to make a decision I knew could not be easy, regardless of what he indicated. Marsius might have just saved our lives, and I had never felt as proud of my family as I did then. I nodded back at him. Then he looked at Rava, who returned his smile and then turned to her father. “I’m certain, Papa.”

  Basra stepped forward, motioning to Makar. “I imagine you have recording capabilities, as does Eton’s suit. And, as it so happens, I am a registered witness in the Treznor-Nirmana system. Let us state the agreement.”

  “I appreciate an impartial witness.” Makar’s lips formed a mocking smile. He keyed open his infopad after shooting a dark look at Telu. “Though truly, I appreciate you not threatening or coercing my daughter in all of this.”

  “I don’t involve children in my business,” Eton spat. “Unlike some.”

  “Really? Devrak begs to differ.” Makar looked between us, noting our blank stares. “Eton…or should I say Teveton…didn’t tell you?”

  “Makar.” The warning came from Devrak, not Eton, who had gone pale.

  “Everyone here just seemed like such lovely companions. I thought they would have known.”

  “I know,” Basra said, drawing a surprised look from both Devrak and Eton, “and it’s inconsequential. Stop stalling.”

  The king sighed, activating the recording feature on the infopad and setting it down. “Secrets, secrets. Teveton Gregorus, the bodyguard to Devrak’s family, killed his wife and daughter while he was ostensibly protecting them, and then disappeared—to join the Swarm, apparently. Really, I’m shocked to see you both so friendly. I would love to hear all the details someday.”

  I gaped, trying to process. Maybe Basra knew, but all I had known was that Devrak had lost a wife and daughter ages ago. I’d certainly never connected it to Eton’s abrupt departure from Dracorva. Besides, Devrak had always said they’d been killed in a shuttle accident.

  Eton’s voice, hollow with grief in the Kaitan’s hold, came back to me: They killed her, Devrak.

  As bad as you feel, you can well imagine that I feel worse, Devrak had replied.

  My thoughts raced back through the years. Devrak’s daughter had been about my age when she was killed ten years ago, which would have made her about thirty now. Still younger than Eton, but not by much. She’d been a passionate and vibrant young woman. Zenaria had been her name. Devrak had told me she loved to cook.

  “The details,” Devrak said tightly, “are that Eton was framed for an assassination that he had nothing to do with. I knew it at the time, and I could never find him to let him know I didn’t hold him responsible.”

  I couldn’t imagine who would have dared mount an attack on Devrak’s family, much less succeeded—except for a royal. I wondered if that was why Eton had hated me from the minute he’d known who I was.

  “It doesn’t matter what anyone believes.” Eton’s basso voice rose. “I didn’t want to go back to that society of venomous creatures like yourself.” He pointed his weapon at Makar, and for a horrible moment I thought everything was going to fall apart.

  Qole was staring at Eton with a mixture of sympathy and wonder. Part of me thought I should feel the same, but given my history with both men, I felt much worse for Devrak. In any case, there wasn’t any more time to consider his or Eton’s terrible past, because it would be at the expense of our imminently terrible future. Right now, we had to move.

  “Makar,” I said flatly, breaking the silence. “What are you playing at?”

  “Playing? We’re allies now. Friends, practically. No secrets, right?” He patted Eton on the shoulder brightly. “Now, I’ve called royal security away from the construction docks, so we have time there, but it looks like Solara has smelled that something is off and is well on her way. Let’s get this agreement witnessed and recorded, the children to a
safe house, and ourselves out the door, what do you say?”

  * * *

  In the hurtling frame of the Kaitan, we armed ourselves for war. For the first time in weeks, I inspected my Disruption Blades. I hadn’t wielded them or even wanted to look at them since Suvis had misused them to kill my parents. But something had changed. They felt like mine again. I had watched their crafting under the hands of the most skilled weaponsmiths the systems had to offer, and I knew every scratch, every detail of the hilts, every worn spot on the grips to a degree that gave me calm now.

  I had never been in war, but I had been in battles, and my Disruption Blades were an extension of myself. I activated them, the bright blue light pouring down their center inexplicably reminding me of Qole upstairs.

  She wasn’t well, I was convinced. As badly as I wanted to ask her what was happening, beg her to take care of herself, I knew there wasn’t time, and given what we were headed toward, the words would be foolish. We were all in danger, and I could best protect her by doing my duty.

  “Nevarian.” Devrak poked his head into my quarters. “We’re almost there.”

  I looked up at my mentor’s face, wondering how he could show no trace of fear or worry. Everyone else was either tense, angry, worried, or all three. Guilt stabbed at me for never having known the truth about his family, never expressing my sympathy, while I shed tears for my own. He probably hadn’t wanted it.

  I still would have wanted to give it.

  “Devrak, I’m sorry about your wife and daughter. If I had known…”

  “You were a child when it happened, Nevarian. It was my burden. And Eton’s.” He smiled sadly and stepped into the tiny room, boots striking on the polished wooden floors. “I brought you a different sort of burden to bear.” It was a large rectangular box of blue so dark it was almost black. He pushed it toward me. “I transferred ownership to you, so only you can open it.”

  It was unexpectedly light when I pulled it closer. Guessing, I placed my palm on the surface. A pulse of brighter blue radiated from my hand, and the top turned into a hundred tiny squares, folding away into nothingness. I recognized the tech; it was the same as the one that Devrak’s armor on Alaxak had displayed.

  In the case were folded layers of synthetics, light armor plating, and miniaturized equipment. I lifted something that looked like an armguard. It weighed next to nothing.

  “Devrak, this is your new armor. I saw you wear it on Alaxak.” Something crawled down my spine, some recognition that had not been there before.

  Devrak walked to my side, mouth curved in a small smile. “Not new. I have had this suit for a while now. It’s worth several fortunes.” He took the armguard I was holding and placed it against my forearm. With a barely audible hiss, it attached to my body, a thousand pinpricks rippling across my skin. “I’ve been running covert operations for your family for quite some time. I was sent when your father couldn’t risk anything being traced to the family. This is the armor I’ve been using. You would normally inherit your father’s, but his was much heavier, and I believe you might prefer a lighter touch.”

  And it was turned to ashes with the Luvos Sunrise, I mentally added. I shook my head. “Devrak, you should have this. It belongs in your family.”

  Devrak opened his mouth to say something, then reconsidered. Instead, he picked out another piece of the suit and attached it to my bicep. With a click and sting, it formed a connection to the armguard. “Well, you’re the one going into combat right now,” he finally said, his voice quiet. He looked up, and put a hand on my forearm. “I’m afraid Solara has called me in.”

  I was silent. I had been dreading this moment. Ever since he had found me on Alaxak, Devrak had been running an elaborate game of deception with Solara, sending her reports on his activities and falsifying third-party corroboration, but we had agreed that his potential value as intelligence within her regime was invaluable. Now that the time had come, I couldn’t imagine him leaving to join her.

  “How can you go to her now? What reason can you give her to have been here? She’ll know right away.” I was grasping at straws. Inside, I knew there was no scenario Devrak hadn’t already considered.

  “She actually called me in for additional orders several days ago. She thinks I’ve been on Aaltos trying to spy on you.” Devrak smiled. “So this couldn’t be neater. She was likely trying to order me here anyway, and if not, I can claim to have been following you. I have any number of reasons to disappear for stretches at a time; it’s always been part of my job. I’m going to take a skiff at the docks, and she’ll be none the wiser.”

  I nodded dumbly, looking at my hands. I hadn’t realized until now that, with this growing distance between me and Qole, Devrak had been helping me face, well, everything.

  The comm in my room chirped and Qole’s voice, her tone carefully businesslike, filtered into the room. “Report to the bridge, please.”

  * * *

  When we came up to the bridge, Eton was speaking. “I rejoined the Swarm when I left you, watched the job boards, hoping I could still be of use. And then I got the call from Basra that you might need some muscle on the ground to deal with this worm.”

  Dressed in his own armor, a smooth gray affair, Makar feigned indignation at being called a worm.

  “Ancestors, that’s great,” Arjan said from the copilot’s station. “It’s good to have you back.”

  I struggled to keep my face neutral. I wasn’t sure what made me consistently less than human in Arjan’s eyes, but he was acting as though my latest near death thanks to Eton had never happened. Perhaps it was because Eton was useful now, but that didn’t mean I had to like him, or that the past was forgotten.

  “No one is back,” Qole said flatly, from the captain’s chair. “Focus on the job. Eton, brief them.”

  I expected Eton to at least look chagrined, but to my disappointment he took it in stride. His tone was businesslike, that of a sergeant briefing his squadron. “Right. Solara’s fleet is still in a holding pattern, the official distance away from the planet, just like your twenty destroyers, so as not to violate any treaties. Unfortunately, she has sent troops to secure the construction docks in orbit.” He raised his wrist, and it projected a small holo of Valtai’s orbital airspace. The new fleet was shown safely locked away in its docks, hovering well over the planet’s surface, and our additional shuttles from Talia and Gavros were blue dots that had almost reached it. But at the outskirts of the holo were twice as many red dots making their way toward the same destination. Eton pointed a finger at a small station attached to the construction docks. “That’s the command center. The fleet can only be claimed there, and Solara has sent a security detail to hold it, since she guessed something was up. If we act quickly, Nev can redirect some of the troops he sent for the ships to secure the command center before her, so Makar can pass control of the fleet to him.” He nodded to Makar, who handed me his infopad.

  “For a purchase of this magnitude, several safeguards are put into place,” Makar explained. “Only someone with the appropriate rank can authorize the release of the vessels, and only with the presence of the purchaser. Or their direct beneficiary after death, of course.” Makar shrugged at me with indifference. I wanted to punch him.

  “In lesser circumstances, it could be done remotely,” Eton continued, “but for something like this, both parties need to be present at the control center on the docks. Right now, Solara’s being careful with troop numbers, but as soon as she catches a whiff of the Swarm and our possible victory, she’s going to respond with more force than we can handle—in minutes, not hours. We have a small window.”

  “What about planetary security?” I asked.

  Makar smiled. “They have conflicting orders: to support Solara, from my family council, and to stand down, from me. They’re listening to me. We typically stay out of purchaser squabbles. Whoever lives can pay.” />
  Whoever lives can pay. Of that I had no doubt, but I wondered who would end up paying the ultimate price. Some part of me knew that trying to capture an entire fleet with Solara waiting to attack was unlikely to end in success.

  I didn’t have a chance to respond when the Kaitan bucked and Qole put us in a swooping dive, almost dropping me to the floor.

  “We’re taking fire. Small arms,” Basra reported from his station below.

  “Strap in.” Qole’s mouth was a grim line. “It’s about to get rough.”

  * * *

  The construction docks were in orbit, barely. It looked a lot like the water docks on Alaxak: a series of long, flat open-air pathways branching off several central hubs, with arms at ninety-degree angles, and ships parked in rows. Only, being above the atmosphere, there were many layers of docks, cranes, and scaffolding between them so each project could be accessed from any point in space. At the center of it all was our goal: the dock command center. Suspended in midair, surrounded by the shimmer of mag-field supports, the command center was a simple transparent globe several hundred feet in diameter. From far away, the whole thing reminded me of the lace of Dracorvan architecture. Up close, it was as rough and utilitarian as an electrical circuit. In the distance below, visible through a patchwork of girders and clouds, was the humbly named Makar Ocean, the blue curve of the planet disconcertingly close.

  Around the docks was an expensive containment field for breathable air, so techs and engineers could work in atmosphere rather than vacuum. Now, it rippled with color from the erupting firefight. Gray-clad troops appeared and disappeared like insects among the storage containers and equipment inside, and stray bolts of energy escaped from the containment field like a deranged rainstorm. It made it hard to appreciate the view.