And, through that dark curtain, most of my focus was on the destroyers.
I half wondered if they could even see me, we looked so small in front of them. Of course, they had many other means of detecting us.
A warning alarm whooped.
“Weapon-lock,” Eton said. “Plasma missiles.”
I pulled up short in the Kaitan—simply hovering in front of them. I even let go of the throttle, my hands sliding away as I stood from my captain’s chair. I faced the four enormous ships through the viewport.
“Qole, what are you doing?” Arjan asked.
“We stop here.” I took a deep breath and lifted my hands, feeling far more than the air around my fingers. “And so do they.”
“How—”
The viewport told him how. I felt it through my entire body, the weight of what I gathered. Shadow, pouring from our hold, and the hold of every Alaxan ship, forming glowing rivers through space as it pooled in front of us. Some starfighters didn’t know what it was and hit the streams—some no wider than ribbons—immediately bursting into flames and exploding.
More, I thought, and it came. The Shadow spread in front of the Kaitan, between us and the destroyers, forming a rippling barrier of brilliant purple-black glittering with white, stretching like colossal arms across space. The edges even looked like hands, fingers clawing toward distant stars.
It was so huge, Valtai could almost certainly see it from the planet’s surface. And yet I didn’t use it to attack. Something gave me pause. I simply held up my arms and, with them, more Shadow than I had ever touched, along with the weight of everything that mattered to me.
Nev, I thought.
“Yes,” his voice responded. “Embrace. That is what we have been trying to tell you.”
We? The thought skittered across my mind, but I couldn’t hold it. I couldn’t try to block out the voice, either. My mind was both as open and occupied as my arms.
And then I felt the impact.
It wasn’t the plasma rockets, which were already launching by the dozen from the destroyers and evaporating like snow on a bonfire as they struck the Shadow shielding us. It was a destroyer itself.
Maybe they didn’t realize what the barrier was, or they couldn’t change course in time, or they thought they could plow right through it. But when they hit it, they knew the truth. Their energy shield, the best the systems had to offer, flared a panicked white against the purple-black. The Shadow only flexed slightly inward, a taut net absorbing their momentum.
Their shields were holding too—but not for long, judging by how they glowed brighter and brighter and began to arc. The destroyer reversed full throttle, thrusters blasting out glowing jets of energy toward their bow as they frantically tried to pull back.
“Don’t…,” began the voice.
For a moment, I felt like I, not the destroyer, was balanced on a knife’s edge without fully knowing why.
And then the destroyer slid back, extracting itself from my embrace. Its compromised shield was flickering wildly but still whole, and I felt like I could breathe easier.
“Ancestors,” Arjan gasped, his mouth sounding dry. “This is unreal.”
I’d almost forgotten that anyone else was nearby, or that there was a pitched battle going on behind us. Eton was busy keeping up a steady stream of fire off our stern, both plasma rockets and photon missiles. Any starfighter that came near us was either devoured by him or picked off by a couple Alaxan ships that were obviously keeping an eye on us.
But eventually, the starfighters stopped trying to approach, veering away to resume their attempt on the construction docks. Even the destroyers, at a standstill on the other side of the curtain of Shadow, ceased launching plasma rockets.
Telu was also busy, fingers flying as she sneaked her way onto the Dracorte channels. The different voices rose and fell in a low, discordant stream, many of which Basra was monitoring, along with the several inaudible comms he held to his ear.
“A command came down the line—telling them to hold fire,” Basra said. “Solara must want you alive.”
“Of course she does,” Arjan murmured. “Especially now that she’s seen this. Even I’m jealous.” There was more awe and fear in his voice than any sort of jealousy. More humor, even, though it was weak.
Telu cursed. “The destroyers are moving—changing position.”
My eyes shot back to the viewport, trying to peer through the two curtains of Shadow across my visions. I could see, but what was more, I could feel it. The very space between us seemed alive, like I was somehow connected to it. It had to be the energy in the Shadow.
Sure enough, the destroyers were trying to angle around my shield.
“They likely want to try to catch you in a tractor beam,” Telu said.
Before I could shift the barrier, I realized they were all headed in different directions—an attempt to spread me thin. And it would work. I was already holding the most Shadow I could manage.
Basra lifted his head from one of his comms. “Some good news. Energy shields are now beginning to power up in Nev’s new destroyers on the docks. Some have taken damage, but others are able to target and return fire now, even from the docks.”
“How much longer until all his ships have shields?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Telu checked one of her many screens. “Five minutes.”
My jaw clenched tighter. “Too long.” Solara’s oncoming destroyers could have those docks in particles in that time.
“Maybe…,” Arjan started. “Maybe I could help.”
“No,” I said. “Don’t. You’ll need to pilot…after this…”
“You’ll just be tired, right?” he said sharply, alarmed. “You’re holding up so far. Don’t push it.”
But I had to. I had to do something else. Something that would at least give the destroyers pause, make them reconsider their course, at least long enough for Nev to survive.
I had to make one of them into a demonstration, or else we were lost. This was why I was here. I took another deep breath, and my fingers flexed.
One edge of the Shadow barrier curled in response, moving across space fast enough to surprise even me. Lashing like a whip, it struck out…and entirely enfolded one of the destroyers.
It was like holding sparks in my grip—tingling, flaring against my palm, in time with the arcing, flickering shield around the ship. And then the Shadow swallowed that too, and I held fire in my hand.
But worse than the fire in my hand was the wail in my head.
It was the voice, raised to an earsplitting shout, but it was too late to heed it. The destroyer was dissolving, flames expanding and curling like solar flares in the darkness. An entire ship crumbling, turning to ash.
The other destroyers changed course yet again, pulling back. As far away from the Shadow as they could get.
I realized my hand was dissolving too. But I had to hold on. I couldn’t let go of the barrier, or else this would all be for nothing.
I tried to squeeze tighter, breaking my gaze away from the destruction outside the viewport to look at my hand. My breath rose in panicked gasps when I realized all that was left of it was bone, skeleton fingers clasped around nothing. The flesh of my forearm was flaking away, the horror working its way toward my elbow.
I was dissolving. But I couldn’t let go.
“Stop,” the voice said.
“No!” I screamed.
Arjan was at my side, a hand on my shoulder. “Qole?” he said, panicked. “What’s wrong?”
“Stop.” The voice again.
“I can’t!” I cried, and then my flesh flew away in strips, all the way up to my shoulder. “Ancestors, please, make it stop!”
But my ancestors weren’t answering. There was only the voice. Nev’s voice.
“You stop. We sto
p. You cannot do this. We won’t let it happen again.”
“Make what stop?” Arjan was holding me. “Qole, you’re fine. I’m here. Nothing’s wrong with you.”
But even as my brother spoke, his own flesh was flying away from his face, and cracks were skittering across the viewport. Before long, Arjan was only a skull, and there were massive fractures splintering the hull with a sound like a frozen lake breaking apart. This was worse than I’d ever seen it. Or heard it. Or felt it.
This was it.
I glanced around in terror and saw a shadowy figure standing on the buckling bridge behind me. I could almost make out a face.
But then everything—me, the Kaitan, the entire universe—came apart, and all I could do was scream. That was all there was, all that remained, until I no longer recognized even my own voice.
I had thought the screaming was the worst part. It was a sound no human should have made, one of pure pain and personal disintegration. Hearing it come from Qole made my skin crawl and my heart panic. There was nothing I could do except call her name over and over on her comm, ignoring the looks of those around me.
But now the silence was worse than the screaming.
“Qole,” I tried again, almost whispering. I’d said it too many times with no response.
Moments ago, she had accomplished what any reasoned mind would have claimed was impossible: a shield of Shadow that didn’t simply slow but stopped ships at full thrust. That was more than remarkable; it was miraculous. And, as though not content with one miracle, Qole had then burned through a destroyer as if her will were the fire and they were the wood.
But it came at a cost, and I didn’t know what I would do if the cost was her life. Losing my parents and Devrak was losing home, but losing Qole would undo something inside me, some essential part of myself that would disappear with her.
Telu’s voice came online. “Nev.”
I spoke before she could continue. “She’s alive.” It was supposed to be a question, but it came out sounding like an imperative to the universe.
“She’s breathing,” Telu clarified, subdued. “Basra is taking care of her. Arjan is in her seat.”
The words didn’t bring relief. Her body might be alive, but I had no way of knowing if Qole, my Qole, was going to return.
On the bridge of the flagship of my new fleet, I was deep in a warren of activity as the crew worked frantically to get us online and battle worthy. It somehow felt more isolating to be surrounded while I was consumed with personal tragedy. Worse, with Qole maybe gone, most of it seemed like some sick game. I could probably save lives by capitulating, if we all just agreed to let Solara have her way.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do that just yet.
“Status report,” I requested, but was met by uncertain silence. I glanced around the bridge, realizing that in the chaos, I had neglected to appoint my XO. Many of the positions had been assigned beforehand, but I had hardly communicated with the crew around me since boarding.
I frowned. My first five minutes as a commander in chief, and I was making rookie mistakes.
“Fleet is ready in one minute. Shields are at ninety percent.” Commander Aris stepped forward, the sharp-faced woman who’d taken part in my Forging and led the operation on the docks.
I nodded, grateful. I would find an appropriate member of the bridge to appoint in a moment, but I had to buy our next few minutes of survival first. “Okay, everyone. Stop charging shields and energy weapons fleet wide. Ready missile ordinance to fire on my command.” It’s just another exercise. As long as I told myself that, the orders came easily. I commed the Kaitan. “Kaitan, this is Nev. Fall back. Everyone fall back.”
“You sure about that?” Arjan’s voice sounded strained, and I knew that he was being taxed to his limit. It was unsettling to hear him on the line instead of Qole, and I doubted that the irony of us working together was lost on him, either. “Telu says your systems aren’t showing you’re ready yet. These incoming destroyers will tear you apart.”
He wasn’t wrong. The Alaxan fleet was creating a diversion of epic proportions, inflicting heavy losses on the fighters, but the destroyers were almost entirely unscathed, aside from the one Qole had disintegrated. We were almost ready, but still docked. If the other three destroyers pursued the Alaxans into the construction docks, we would be sitting targets.
“You’ve done your job.” I managed not to ask him about Qole, but for a wild moment I wanted to beg him to fly away as far as possible, as fast as possible. I pushed the thought away. “May I speak with Eton?”
Eton cleared his throat over the comm. “Already here.” I could hear the shriek of his turret as interference, and he swore briefly. “Sorry, had to slag some scrap. What’s up? You have a bright idea in that pointy head?”
“Maybe,” I said. “My father gave it to me.”
“Ugh” was the encouraging reply.
“Yes, yes, but I need to know if you’ll be on board. It’s going to take some planning.”
“Does it involve blowing these guys up?”
“Need you ask?”
Eton chuckled. “I’m all in.”
* * *
As the Alaxan fleet turned and retreated, Solara’s advance destroyers gleefully pursued them into the construction yards. I could almost see the pleased smiles on their faces; they had broken the resistance and made it in time to slaughter us unprepared. Their reward from Solara would be unending.
If they had known the grief inside me, felt the hatred it was turning into, they might have been less eager in their pursuit. I reached into the air, twisted to activate the holo-map commands, and brought my fingers to the destroyers on the combat readout. With a flicker, red targeting squares surrounded them. And around them, vulnerable and docked, was my fleet.
Seemingly vulnerable.
“Fire at will,” I said as calmly as I could manage.
A thousand pinpricks of light glittered on my viewscreen as every vessel within firing distance unloaded their ordinance. Plasma missiles, photon rockets, and any other weapon type that hadn’t required a complete charge on the vessels—thereby giving away our readiness—shot through the vacuum of space.
I steadied my voice again, working to remove the savagery. “Shields and energy weapons to maximum.”
The destroyers never even tried to fire back; they pivoted and reversed course with all the speed they could muster.
It was futile. With a ripple of plasma and a shimmer of defenses, missiles connected, the shield on the more compromised destroyer collapsed, and our energy weapons followed close behind. Lasers sliced into the hull, and the destroyer suffered a critical breach. The force of the explosion tore it in two halves, sending them spiraling into its brethren. They followed suit in moments.
My heart pounded in my chest as the crew on the bridge burst into a cheer.
I felt no answering joy. The brief moment of anger had faded away and left me nauseated. I had just been gleeful at the murder of those who had once followed me. As far as they knew, they were putting down a rebellion. I was murdering my own. It was impossible to pretend this was an exercise; the wreckage floating around us, the pinpoint dots that were human bodies floating out of ruptured hulls were all too real. Unbidden, I imagined Qole lifeless.
It made my knees run weak. The last time I had killed, I’d been trying to save Arjan, trying to protect Qole, but now, if she was dead, what was the point? I was a child expected to lead a hastily assembled military force, while the people I cared about were dead or dying. Dead. I rubbed my forehead, trying to steady myself, to wrench my thoughts back to the plan I was making while the one thing I wanted to do was curl into a ball somewhere, alone, and escape what was gnawing inside me. I had to plan, rally my troops in the few minutes I had bought us, because I knew Solara wouldn’t take this as a defeat. She would unleash the rest of
her massive force—the First Dracorte Fleet—in anger, even at the risk of the Treznor-Nirmanas’ ire. It would be a gamble, but Valtai had stayed out of it thus far. I knew her; she would take the risk and deal with any consequences later.
But no plan came to me. No simulation had prepared me for this.
My comm chimed, and the wrist feed informed me of a new message from Devrak. My breath caught. Impossible. I had seen him die. My throat was still raw from a single scream.
“Hello?” I couldn’t bring myself to say his name, in case this was some twisted joke that Solara was playing on me.
“Private video message,” a calm synthetic voice informed me. “Please find a secure location to view.”
Real or not, this wasn’t something I could ignore. With a word to Aris, I ran to my private quarters that adjoined the bridge. I barely registered the absurd luxury of the supposedly military space as, with trembling fingers, I brought a holoscreen to life.
Devrak appeared, in his quarters on the Kaitan. He held up a hand, smiling. “Hello, Nevarian. This is a recording. If you’re seeing this, my heart has stopped, so odds are, I am dead.” He smiled at his own horrible joke, more relaxed than I could ever remember. I couldn’t process it, I could only drink in his every motion, every expression, as though that would somehow restore everything to the way it had been, bring him back to life.
Make it so he hadn’t betrayed me.
“Nevarian, your sister is one of the most formidable human beings I have ever met. If anyone is prepared for me, she is.” His voice changed, deepening, and he clenched his fists. “But I swore I would never underestimate her again. I will try to kill her, but I know well that I might fail. That’s why I have another plan. A way to make her underestimate you. The only way she will believe that you have lost everything, that you’ve been betrayed, is if you believed it too.
“But you should know better. I told you, if you know someone’s nature, you can trust in it. Mine. Hers. Yours. You’re strong, Nev. Your parents and I spent our lives trying to create a better future. They succeeded. Your parents were imperfect people whose power made their mistakes echo more than most. But so, too, can their successes. You are that echo, Nev. They were so proud, and I…” His voice caught.
Shadow Call Page 31