SHADOW EMPIRE

by Drew Avera

  "Do you need help, sir?" An enlisted man asked running up to Ilium. The man grabbed hold of Ilium's arm to steady him. “That was a significant fall, sir. I took a spill like that about a year ago and it messed my back up.” The man droned on, his words meaning less and less to Ilium as time passed and pain coursed through his veins.

  "Thank you," he groaned. "I'm trying to reach the med bay to check on our sailors and the captain."

  "I think you need medical assistance too, sir," the man replied, still holding onto Ilium’s arm.

  Ilium shrugged. "After I see what's going on."

  "Yes, sir. I'll help you."

  Ilium exhaled and winced as sharp pain exploded through his skull, causing his vision to blur. "Please do." Ilium was not the kind of person to accept help like this easily, but somewhere in the panic and fear he felt outside himself. His experience on the King Slayer had changed a lot about the way he thought. He still felt the contempt for those who did him wrong, like Harager, but now he was solely concerned for the well-being of his captain and crew. It was a quality he was not used to feeling.

  “This way, sir.” The enlisted man, named Gara Ilium soon discovered, helped Ilium towards the medical bay. It was a longer trek than Ilium thought, and he knew without assistance, he would have fallen out and injured himself further. It wasn’t until he heard Gara’s voice again that he realized the young man had practically dragged him the rest of the way. "Commander Gyl needs assistance," the man said after lowering Ilium to a bench. He disappeared, leaving Ilium to look out at the bustling crowd of medical technicians helping dozens of injured sailors. There was a distinct smell that reminded Ilium of the massacre on his old ship the Hamæråté. It was the smell of blood, and it haunted him worse than any other memory in his life.

  I brought this on, he thought. It’s because of the things I’ve done in life that these people are experiencing this. Guilt tickled his mind and made his heart beat faster. Ilium steadied himself on the bench, looking down the long, brightly lit passageway of the med bay as his vision tunneled and slowly turned dark.

  Five

  Brendle

  “I’m not saying she doesn’t believe it happened. I just don’t think what she experienced was real,” Brendle said.

  Deis stood across from him, arms crossed and brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t think she would agree,” the gray man said sadly, casually scratching behind his bald head. “If you ask me, there are only two explanations; a psychic event, or a vision. Either of which would be difficult to prove. As I don’t believe Anki is one for religion, she would argue against that assessment. What we know about Carista makes a psychic event seem more likely, yet Anki is resistant to suggestions in that area as well. Of course, assuming a mental breakdown probably isn’t high on her list of acceptable answers either.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that. She would be pissed if she knew I thought this way. I just don’t have an explanation to validate feeling this way.” Brendle shoved his hands into his pockets as he always did when he was worried. Anki hadn’t been herself since Carista’s apparent death, and that change affected their relationship. Brendle understood the impact of losing the girl, but there was more to the situation that Anki refused to talk about. Whatever that was, it made her grow colder and more depressed with each passing day. No matter what Brendle did, he just could not bring her out of her depression.

  “It has to be the girl who put those images in her head,” Deis said, bringing the conversation back full circle.

  Brindle nodded. “That’s what I thought at first because she put images in both of our heads at different times, but Anki swears that was not the case. She said it felt different, less like a dream and more like reality. She insists that Carista had nothing to do with how she perceived that experience, and the more I try to get her to open up about it, the more she retreats into herself.”

  Deis canted his neck towards the door leading to the bridge, causing Brendle to look over too, but no one was there. “It could be post-traumatic stress,” he said finally. “It could be part of the psychological breakdown we’ve feared happening after all we’ve been through. Perhaps that was her breaking point.”

  Brendle shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Anki is one of the strongest people I know. If it was that, I think she would say something. I have the sinking thought that she feels victimized by what happened to her, not traumatized by witnessing something externally.” It was the closest thing to a legitimate concept of what could be bothering Anki that Brendle could think of. Of course, I’m probably way off the mark.

  “She is the only surviving Luthian she knows of. She survived a raid that destroyed her ship and crash landed on a moon, she avoided being killed by Crase despite his best effort, and she’s mourning the loss of Carista after discovering the possibility of something existing darker even than the Greshian Empire. She’s gone through a lot and it is bound to have an impact on her.”

  “Maybe,” Brendle said. “But until she’s ready to talk about it, I’m afraid any ideas we have are nothing more than a shot in the dark.”

  “At least you’re trying,” Deis said. “That has to count for something.”

  “You would think,” Brendle replied sadly.

  “She does not appreciate your concern?”

  Brendle shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. I just think she’s in denial about anyone being capable of helping her, or that she needs help to get through this.”

  Deis sat at the console across from Brendle and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It is commendable what you’re doing, but sometimes the reluctance of the one in need is a louder cry for help than they would like to admit.”

  Brendle smiled. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

  Deis leaned back against the console and winked. “Never,” he replied, causing both of them to laugh.

  “Well, I’m glad we were able to clarify that,” Brendle replied. “Thank you for talking me through this. I was driving myself crazy keeping this to myself.”

  Deis nodded. “That’s what friends are for.”

  “Family,” Brendle retorted.

  Deis smiled and nodded.

  Six

  Hespha

  Fire licked the atmosphere in the fireplace of the home Hespha once shared with T’anoi. The high stone walls felt like a prison to her as she riffled through another file, skimming over years of research and development the she either already knew or had no need to know. None of it mattered; none of it matched what she was looking for. Instead, time was wasted as her life spun more out of control. How that spin played out in her mood and her relationships with other people was what shocked her the most. She thought she was over him, or at least to the point where his death was inconsequential. She thought that maybe it was guilt that made her isolated and angry, but her obsessive nature was the driving force behind her, always. It was one of the things which drew T’anoi to her initially. That and the fact they were near-equals intellectually. My, how things have changed, she thought, restraining herself from tearing the sheets into pieces and tossing them into the fire.

  Days had passed since T’anoi’s funeral and the only change was the stack of files she devoured for knowledge going into a separate stack as she finished them. “Millions of words and not one mention of a secret site to hoard research he did not want us to know about,” Hespha said, tossing another file behind her in anger. The loose sheets of paper floated like feathers before dropping to the stone floor. “Where did you come by this information you so freely shared on the ride back from your brother’s memorial? Was this supposed video footage doctored, is it a sham? You would think when physical evidence such as that exists, then finding more of it would be expected.” She painted her question with hostility as she wondered whether Ka’Hor’al spoke the truth or if it was grief that led him to utter fiction from his slippery tongue. That was the problem with dealing with people like T’anoi and Ka’Hor’al, their embellishments
were often maddening.

  “You have to read between the lines of things T’anoi said and some of his correspondences,” Ka’Hor’al replied. “He was meticulous with details, so if he wanted to hide it, then he wouldn’t make it easy for us.” Ka’Hor’al held his own stack of papers. His hair an unkempt mess atop his head, he looked more like T’anoi than usual to Hespha.

  Hespha rose from her seat and stamped over to him, glowering. “Are you serious? We’ve gone through every file in his office, and not a goddamned thing jumped out regarding what you told me. These files were secured, his eyes only, so tell me, what fucking lines am I supposed to be reading between?” She spat a flurry of profanities as she turned away from him. She hated losing control like that, but nothing in her plan to take charge of CERCO was working out as planned. Just getting the files in T’anoi’s office required more bureaucracy than she could stomach, then finding out they did not contain the information she thought was enough to send her over the edge. This was supposed to be easy. Instead, I’m weeks behind schedule on a program with more secrets than expected.

  “I’m sorry, but you know how T’anoi was. He kept his greatest secrets in his mind. Perhaps he did not document it in any way, but that does not mean we cannot find a paper trail. He could not have done everything himself. We just have to find the person he tasked with dealing with things outside the realm of CERCO’s power.”

  Hespha blew a tuft of hair out of her face and turned back to him. “You do it. My eyeballs want to melt after combing through these files. Besides, I have a meeting later today about the inevitable turning over of the company to me. Of course, the board is now tap-dancing around the issue, requiring a vote for me to take office. It’s all bullshit, and I’m getting tired of it.”

  Ka’Hor’al nodded. “I can do that. In the meantime, you should eat something. You know your blood sugar drops when you skip meals, and it makes it harder for you to concentrate.”

  It was Hespha’s turn to nod. “Thank you for the reminder,” she said, falling back into her seat and sighing. “This week has been hard for me to process.”

  “Tell me about it. I don’t go a day without thinking about what I have done.”

  “It’s for the best,” Hespha assured him. “If we are going to stop that wicked empire from spreading its filthy fingers into our territory, then they must be stopped at any cost. T’anoi did not see the avenue to our survival as clearly as we do, but it was important for us to take the reins. You did the right thing. We did the right thing.”

  Ka’Hor’al sat down, putting his face in his hands. “That remains to be seen, Hespha. Even your strongest supporters are tap-dancing, as you say. Until they grant you full access, this has not been worth the hardship, the loss.”

  Hespha looked at T’anoi’s brother and wondered how they could be so different. If the shoe was on the other foot, T’anoi would not focus on the negative of the situation, but would cleverly devise a means to turn the situation into a positive. It was an attribute Ka’Hor’al seemed devoid of, especially peculiar considering their other similarities.

  “Less complaining and more working,” she said as she rose from her seat. “I’m going to shower and get ready for the meeting. I need you to make headway on this.”

  “Do you need some company?” Ka’Hor’al asked, his eyebrows raised. He became more vocal with his attraction to her since T’anoi’s passing which made her uncomfortable. The fling they had was over in her mind, and his inability to grasp that only dug deeper into her frustration. “I’ll use warm hands this time.” He made a juvenile gesture with his hands as he leaned closer to her, his eyes staring at hers almost like a pet begging.

  Hespha looked at him and ignored the urge to slap the look off his face. “Not today,” she smiled, painting the fake expression on her face to cover her rage. It wasn’t the first time she wore the mask, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

  “Are you sure?”

  Hespha rolled her eyes, despising herself as much as Ka’Hor’al, for relenting. “Fine, but don’t take all the hot water this time.” She felt his smirk without having to look back at him. He thinks he’s winning me over, but one day he will find out I don’t love him, that my heart belonged to the one we betrayed, and I will never forgive myself for the part I played. It’s only a matter of time before I repay debts.

  Seven

  Anki

  The scenery changed every time Anki found herself thrust into pursuing Carista through the wasteland of a planet. The flowing, white robes enveloped her small body, whipping out like tendrils towards her follower. Anki could smell the rotten decay of death as she involuntarily did the bidding of the figure eerily in Carista’s image. In her mind, Anki knew none of it was real, but the experience still threatened to make her shut down emotionally, to just walk without volition, then crawl if she had to, towards whatever the apparition wanted to show her.

  Anki slowed, prompting the veiled Carista to turn and wave her closer. The haunting image of the innocent girl burned into Anki’s mind. The smoldering remains of the terra seeming to try to entrap her in its snare. Should I stay and be devoured or follow this girl I know is not really Carista? It was the same question every time, preceding the seizure-like experience overcoming her in her dreamlike state. But this time was different. This time Carista did not descend upon Anki to save her. This time it was someone else, a woman with dark hair and glowering eyes. Anki gasped for air as the putrid smells of the planet crept inside her nostrils, attempting to choke the life from her. But she did not run. Instead, she watched the woman, then Carista, whose face contorted into a scream.

  Around her, blue light formed into an orb. It grew outward, encasing the three of them in its protective shell. Anki did not know how she knew this, she simply understood and did not question it, taking comfort in the fact she could be protected during such a horrifying experience. But comfort faded like an ember’s dying light when the woman turned back, a wicked smile on her face when she lifted an object in her hand, pointing it towards Carista. Is it a gun?

  Anki’s choking sensation evaporated as if an invisible force released its grip from her. She found her body burning under the heat of the blue orb.

  “Run, Carista!” Anki shouted over the sound of roaring wind whipping around her in a torrent. Grit pelted her in the face as a storm rose inside the orb, obscuring her vision. Still, the dark-haired woman stood threateningly, her gaze shifting back and forth between Anki and Carista.

  The ground rumbled beneath Anki, the dirt rising as cracks formed under her feet. She shifted to a solid portion, kneeling to keep from toppling over. She screamed, her throat aching as her voice disappeared into a cacophony of sound. She looked desperately to Carista, but the girl was gone, as was the woman.

  She’s taken her! Anki looked around her, the rumbling growing louder, piercing as the wind wailed, screeching past her, whipping her hair behind her. “Carista?” She called.

  “Carista?”

  She listened for a sound, squinting her eyes and hoping to find the young girl standing where she was moments before, but she was gone and Anki was alone. She had lost the girl. Again. Her guilt tore her apart emotionally, tears smearing the grit on her face as she fell to her knees.

  “Carista?” Her voice cracked.

  “Carista?” She cried louder, desperate.

  “Carista!”

  “Anki.” She heard her name, but she could not tell from which direction.

  “Anki.” Her body lifted from the ground and she fell hard, the wind knocked out of her. She convulsed, the seizure coming over her more fiercely than it had before. Her eyes bulged, the grit burning against them as she lost motor function.

  In her mind she screamed out to Carista, hoping beyond hope for the girl to hear her and come to her aid, but she met only the windstorm and isolation. She felt the lapping flames of eternal death burning beneath her. Half alive, and half dead, Anki experienced the torment of one thousand deaths.
/>   And it brought her to the brink of madness.

  Eight

  Ilium

  His mind raced with his heart as he regained awareness in a med cart, his head wrapped, and his vision obscured somewhat by gauze. All around him, members of the crew lay in various states of consciousness. Most of them looked comatose, with wires and tubes protruding from their bodies leading to a bank of beeping life support machines. The constant chirping reverberated in his brain, its cadence piercing like an ice pick driven into his cerebral cortex to a steady rhythm. It was torturous in its cruel, yet lifesaving purpose.

  “Help,” he croaked with great difficulty. He tried to reach towards his face to remove whatever was lodged in his mouth, but he found his hands bound to the cart, sending him further into a panic. “Help!” The shout, almost muted by the obstruction, caused him further pain.

  Ilium yanked on his restraints, desperate to break free. What is happening to me? If not for the pain, he would think himself dead, unless this was the other side, in which he knew he had been damned.

  “Commander Gyl, please settle down, sir. You will cause yourself further injury,” came from behind him and he strained to look in the direction the feminine voice originated. He heard a few steps approaching, and the ship’s surgeon appeared, her uniform stained with blood and a wild look in her eyes as if she was part of a ground assault unit.

  “What’s happening?” He asked, his words choked and distorted. He felt tears welling in his eyes and looked away, trying not to draw attention to them. Fear and pain mixed inside him, disrupting his usual perception of himself as he discovered how absolute his helplessness was.