SHADOW EMPIRE

by Drew Avera

  “It does not appear so, sir. What do you want us to do?”

  Ilium rubs his forehead, trying to force the aching away as Quino stepped next to him. “Fire on them,” Quino suggested, pulling Ilium’s attention from the throbbing behind his eyes to the man trying to make orders on his bridge.

  “And waste a valuable asset on something that is probably a dead ship that’s been floating around here for centuries? We don’t have the means for frivolous missile expenditures after our last attack.” His tone bordered on scathing before his turned his attention back to the combat control officer. “Send an exploratory probe. Let’s figure out who this ship belongs to.”

  “This was the same situation we faced before, sir,” Lieutenant Teirs reminded him.

  “Last time we sat gawking and did nothing until they fired on us.”

  “And what will an exploratory probe do in lieu of a missile?” Quino asked.

  Ilium turned to face him, wincing at the glaring light above the older man. “It will do nothing at all, which is the point. If we show our hand, then we open ourselves up to another attack, one we won’t be able to defend ourselves against. Did you read the goddamned morning reports in your brief? We don’t have the assets to ward off an enemy. If this ship goes on the offensive, then we skin out as quickly as possible.”

  “Greshians don’t run, sir,” Quino replied as a challenge.

  Ilium shot back. “The dead ones didn’t. Deploy the probe and don’t challenge my orders again.”

  “Aye, sir,” Teirs replied, her hands moving along the console before they watched a probe jettison from their port side. “It will take a minute before we receive scan data.”

  “In the meantime, keep your eyes on the target and watch for any sudden moves that might be offensive. If you see something, get us out of here.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Quino mumbled under his breath.

  Ilium let it go. If the new XO didn’t like his form of leadership, then he really wasn’t going to like Ilium’s brand of reprimand. Bide your time; you’ll have a chance to set him straight later, he told himself as he focused on the probe. Within a few moments, data populated the screen.

  “This vessel is cold as ice; even the internal scan shows an atmosphere unable to support life. The engines are dead and it’s floating, not under thrust. This ship is nothing more than space debris, sir.”

  A sense of relief washed over Ilium as he let out a sigh. “Excellent work, Lieutenant Teirs. Let’s leave it be and continue our current trajectory. We have a replenishment scheduled in twenty-seven days and I want to get there on time.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Lieutenant Stavis, would you meet me in the passageway?” Ilium asked as he brushed past Quino, his shoulder knocking the other man out of his way. Despite feeling like shit, Ilium was always ready for a confrontation. He hoped his not-so-subtle physical contact with Quino was enough warning for the new XO to keep himself in check. If not, Ilium certainly would.

  “Of course, sir,” Stavis replied, slowly rising from her seat.

  “XO, the bridge is yours. Try not to do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

  Forty

  Brendle

  Safely on the ground, the sense of urgency settled a bit as the medical techs removed Anki from the transport and ushered her inside. Brendle, followed by Malikea and Deis, stalked inside the facility, hot on the heels of the techs. “Where is a good place for us to wait in case you need us?” Deis asked.

  One of the techs pointed to a reception area crowded with people from Pila. Their pinkish skin made them stand out. Some off-worlders sat in the corner, shaded by a low-hanging partition over the windows. Their form was unlike that of a Greshian or the Pilatians. Brendle had only seen images of species such as this, their tentacles a wonderment to him. He startled, thinking, As if those appendages are any different to them as arms and legs are to me. My entire new family must look strange to others.

  “Come have a seat, Brendle,” Malikea said, pulling him out of his head and back to the real world. It seemed to him that everything was a distraction.

  “Of course,” he replied, slowly moving over to the side of the room where Deis was already seated. The eyes of the locals followed Brendle and he knew why. The answer was his skin. He wore the undeniable flesh of a Greshian. His genealogy was feared and hated across the galaxy. Here, unlike Farax, he felt it all the more with their stares. “They keep looking at me.”

  “They keep looking at us,” Deis corrected. “We’re a crew, a family, remember?”

  Brendle nodded, not speaking as a set of eyes from an old woman bore into him like the heat of a thousand flames. He felt emotion in her gaze, yet could not pull away. The harder she stared, the more difficult he found it to look away. Pain and longing sang in the sterile air between them, humming in his ears like a physical entity; and then she stood.

  “I know your kind,” she said, closing the distance between them. Despite her age, she walked with the gait of a much younger person. A self-righteous confidence exuded from her and it drew fear into Brendle’s heart.

  “I’m not here to cause problems,” he said, “my girlfriend is in trouble and we are here for her.”

  “I know what kind of people you are,” she repeated. You’re killers in your giant ships. Your people took my son and my daughter. Your kind took my husband before them; and my mother before that. My life is full of loss because of your kind.” Her words burned with hatred and contempt.

  Brendle found himself lifting his hands defensively, but how do you defend the actions of others you know were wrong. “I’m no longer a Greshian,” he replied. “I was exiled because I spoke against the war.”

  His words had no impact. Even the pairs of eyes on either side of the woman narrowed with indignant poise. “Do you think the deaths of my family care about your words? They don’t bring back the lives taken.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything more for you. I’m not a representative of the world I was born into.” Brendle’s voice cracked nervously as his mind raced. Anxiety crippled him, caught between worrying about Anki and now causing an unnecessary scene in the waiting room. What do I do?

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I and my husband can attest to the fact this man is not who you think. He was born Greshian, but he is that no more,” Deis said as he stood. “My world was destroyed by them, but my life has been saved many times by this man. I assure you, the evil you attribute to them as a people is not indicative of the person seated before you.”

  “His people destroyed my world too,” a tentacled man said from the corner. His greenish hue lightened as he moved closer. “Millions of my people are gone, my people all but extinct so the Greshian could snuff out what they called impure. Do you think it is easy to forgive such hatred and give it quarter when it saunters back into your life?” the man, a Belatian, asked as he glided next to the woman, both glowering at Brendle.

  “I don’t know what you want me to do,” Brendle replied. “I’m sorry for the suffering they caused you. I wanted no part of it and I will have no part in it again.”

  “Personally, I want you to suffer as my children did. Ravaged in flames as they burned, screaming for help that came too late. I want you and every one of your kind to die,” the woman spat, her shoulders rising with her heavy breathing as the lights in the room flickered.

  Brendle’s eyes shot towards the doorway where a man dressed as a security officer stood. “Excuse me, I need you to settle down. As for you,” he said, pointing towards Brendle, “Come with me.”

  “Now?” Brendle asked.

  The man placed a hand on the handle of his weapon. “Now.”

  Brendle looked back to Deis and Malikea, both nodding, urging him to go without protest. He rose from his seat and stepped past the woman. “I hope you enjoy your accommodations, Greshian.” She spat on him, her saliva hot against his neck, but he kept moving, looking forward.

  “Why do you need me? I
’m not here to cause trouble,” Brendle said as he neared the man.

  “I didn’t ask you to speak,” the guard replied. “I told you to come with me. Keep your mouth shut, do you understand?” Brendle nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

  Forty-One

  Ilium

  In the passageway, the light burned his retinas and he saw the same pain etched on Stavis’s face. “The Mar did a number on us last night,” Ilium said.

  “No kidding, but I woke with an aftertaste in my mouth that wasn’t Mar. I think our drinks were spiked,” Stavis replied bluntly.

  “In the wardroom? Who would do that?”

  “No, sir, if it was the wardroom, then Commander Quino would be feeling like us.”

  Ilium leaned against the bulkhead and Stavis did likewise. “Do you remember our conversation about Quino last night?”

  “I do.”

  “How soon before that can be done?”

  Stavis smirked. “It’s in work now. I have my Chief of Security working on it. I asked him to bug your stateroom as well.”

  “What? Why would you do that?” Ilium asked. “I told you, the old me is gone.”

  Stavis stepped forward, pressing a finger to his lips to quiet him down. “To keep the CoS from asking too many questions. My message to him expressed it was an exercise where a team would attempt seizing control of the ship and I wanted to monitor the safety of our top brass.”

  “You hit it a little on the nose, didn’t you?”

  “Why not? That’s Security’s job, to prevent these things from happening.”

  “Good thinking then. Now, what about this spiked drink theory you have?”

  “Pretty simple, actually. Have you ever felt like this after drinking Mar?” Ilium shook his head. “I think someone spiked the bottle in my stateroom, not what we drank in the Ward Room.”

  “But to what end?”

  “Look at what we’re facing, sir. You’re new XO isn’t who he says he is. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I’m willing to bet he’s behind it.”

  Ilium scoffed, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed reasonable that Quino was playing him, pretending to be unfamiliar with the ship as a justification for being late. “Maybe you’re onto something. Have you had your bottle tested?”

  Stavis’s face scrunched with worry lines. “It’s no longer in my room. Did you take it with you?”

  Ilium took in a deep breath, for the first time his concern about Quino becoming something more terrifying. “No, and I don’t remember returning to my room last night.”

  “Something is up, sir, and I’m afraid if we make too big a fuss then we will draw attention to ourselves.”

  “What do you suggest?” Ilium rubbed at his eyes again as another round of pounding formed behind them.

  “I put the CoS in charge of monitoring your stateroom, and I’ll handle Quino’s. if anything happens, I’ll let you know and we can go from there.”

  “And the device?”

  “For this plan to work, I need the device to be low priority.”

  “That should be your top priority,” Ilium snapped, his voice raised. He watched as she winced from the shouting and felt guilty. Lowering his voice, he continued, “If he activates it on this ship, then everyone could die.”

  Stavis nodded. “I’m aware, sir, but there are limits to what we can do without drawing attention from Quino or the crew. Either situation could cause the dire situation we’re in to escalate out of our control.” She stood her ground and Ilium knew her experience spoke louder than her pride. That was why he depended on her so heavily.

  “Noted. Do this your way and do it quietly. Let me know what you need from me and I’ll try to keep the XO busy.”

  “Roger that. As I stated before, the CoS is on it. I should have access by lunch time.”

  “I guess it’s time to return to the bridge before Quino fires missiles at space rocks,” Ilium sighed.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on the progress of our secret mission. He might think something is up if we leave and return together.”

  “Good thinking.” Without realizing it, Ilium took Stavis’s hand in his, holding it for a moment. “Be careful.”

  She stared down at his hand, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she gazed into his eyes as replied, “same to you.”

  He watched her walk away, her hand pulling from his, slipping from his grasp. Ilium’s eyes followed until she turned the corner and he realized something he hadn’t before. He was falling for her.

  Forty-Two

  Hespha

  Leaving the bathroom, her heart pounded, making her slow walk back to her seat more difficult. Her mind raced. She was an adult, she knew what caused pregnancy, but somewhere in her mind she thought this part of her life was behind her. More than guilt flooded her emotions. Anger rose to the surface as well. Not just towards Ka’Hor’al, but for herself. It was her self-loathing she found most difficult to handle lately.

  She collapsed into the cushioned row of seats behind Ka’Hor’al, not wanting to look at him, or hear his snoring. She craved silence and solitude as she processed her condition. She felt like a bitch for thinking of it in those terms, but felt justified knowing it was unplanned and practically forced by Ka’Hor’al’s constant whining and pressure for sex. This is what I get for giving in. An unwanted child with a man I couldn’t give a shit less about.

  In front of her, Ka’Hor’al stirred. Sitting up from his seat, he turned his head before looking back at her. “What are you doing sitting back there?”

  She rolled her eyes before looking up. “Trying to enjoy some personal space.”

  His brow furrowed as she watched him study her in her peripheral vision. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m just not feeling well and I’m not in the mood to talk.”

  Ka’Hor’al nodded, but didn’t look away, or seem to take a hint. “What’s wrong−can I get you anything?”

  Hespha scoffed. “Yes, you can leave me in peace for the duration of the flight. I just told you I wasn’t feeling well, and I don’t want to discuss it. Please, respect my wishes.”

  “All right,” Ka’Hor’al snapped back with a pitiful expression. His pouting grated on Hespha’s nerves just as much as his insistence on doing the opposite of what she asked. How he was T’anoi’s brother continued to baffle her.

  Behind her, the relief pilot approached. “Can I get you two anything? Perhaps some food or drink?”

  Ka’Hor’al turned. “I would love something stiff to dull this feeling like there’s a weight on my chest. Hespha, what about you?”

  “No. I don’t want alcohol or food. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You never pass up a drink normally,” Ka’Hor’al replied.

  Hespha glared at him. “What did I say?”

  “No,” he replied.

  “Then leave it at that,” Hespha scolded.

  The relief pilot took a step back. “I’ll return shortly with your beverage, sir.”

  Ka’Hor’al stared at Hespha as the other man’s footsteps lightly faded in the background. She could see his mind turning as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. She knew he took her tone as unusually cruel, but she didn’t care. She was nothing more than something to fuck and manipulate for him and, in all honesty, he was someone for her to use as well. But the ends weren’t justifying the means. Perhaps that’s what I’m most upset about. That my world is falling apart and everything I’ve done is coming back to haunt me.

  But bringing a child into this world is the last thing I wanted after dissolving my relationship with T’anoi. With the thought flowing through her mind, the relief pilot returned, handing the drink to Ka’Hor’al.

  “Thank you,” Ka’Hor’al said, not looking back to make eye contact with Hespha.

  Guilt urged her to lean forward and apologize, but she knew it wouldn’t be sincere, so she leaned back and stared at the white wall of the transport, losing herse
lf in the textured plastic. With two more days of flying, she didn’t know how she would make it to their destination without snapping, but she knew the first thing she wanted to do when arriving. And she considered it too bad that her own intentions drove the nails of guilt deeper into her heart.

  Forty-Three

  Ilium

  “I’m telling you, he was onto me from the start,” Quino said softly as he spoke into a com-unit. The video surveillance gave Ilium an impeccable view of Quino, but maddeningly kept whoever the man spoke to a mystery. Even trying to increase the zoom of the lens onto the small video feed did nothing to sharpen the image and provide a means to identify them. The fact the receiver was placed in Quino’s ears meant Ilium was unable to use voice recognition to learn more about the handler on the other end.

  “I think he has his lieutenant on a tight leash, but the rest of the crew should be easy to recruit.” Ilium watched as Quino adjust the bud in his ear. “The device is secure and ready when you are. I don’t foresee any issues with deployment.”

  Ilium leaned closer, willing himself to learn more but knowing that, no matter how close his face was to the monitor, it wasn’t going to magically unveil the mystery. He swore under his breath as he wacked his knee on the bottom of his desk. Startled, he knocked over his drink and swiftly dealt with the liquid emergency before it damaged the surveillance receiver. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he seethed, wiping at the spill with a dirty shirt while attempting to pay attention to the secret meeting unfolding before him.

  “As I stated before; Ilium is onto me, but he doesn’t know what my true purpose is. I imagine he thinks I’m here to seize control of the ship. Lieutenant Stavis appears to be on board with his wild accusations as well.” Quino paused. “I’m unsure if she believes that because he has manipulated her, or if she is in on his scheme.” Another pause. “Yes, sir. I understand. I will continue my investigation and let you know what I find. If Captain Gyl was behind the attack, we will see him court marshalled and executed.”