Shadowstrike

by T W Iain

  And up there, way beyond the clouds, was Metis.

  Kaiahive.

  They were everywhere. They’d set this place up. They’d allowed Haven to become overrun by shades. And‌…‌and they’d used people. So many people.

  They’d used Brice.

  Doctor Regas had talked about the blood samples and readings he’d taken from Brice, when he’d been investigating Brice’s malfunctioning lattice. He’d told Brice how the boffins on Metis were excited about what they could learn from him.

  From his blood. From the screwed lattice that they’d tweaked and enhanced.

  The lattice that was now a part of him, in a way he still didn’t understand.

  Just like the company still had its hooks in him. He was still being manipulated by Kaiahive.

  He ran on, stumbling over tree roots. But now a breeze washed over his face, and he burst from the trees. Weak moonlight showed him an open area, grass reaching up past his ankles.

  Brice slowed. He gazed ahead.

  The open space carried on, meeting the night sky. The grass brushed against the bottoms of his trousers as he walked across the plateau. He only stopped when he came to the cliff.

  The ground dropped away sharply‌—‌climbable, but tricky in this dimness. Ahead, the tops of trees undulated. It might have been beautiful, but he couldn’t avoid thinking of what was hidden beneath the canopy of leaves. Shades, warring tribes, and now those ghouls. Monsters, all of them.

  And all created by Kaiahive.

  Brice focused, read the traces that ran beneath the trees. He’d grown used to this, but there was a time when he’d had to rely on his eyes alone. Ryann read traces, but that was because she was a tracker, trained and with the appropriate lattice enhancements. His own enhancements had been in strength, but now his lattice offered him so much more. He could see in dim lighting without pulling up filters on his lenses‌—‌in fact, he couldn’t feel his lenses any more, didn’t even know if they existed. He could not only read his own body but could control it too, in ways he had never managed before. He could run faster, act faster, and keep going with less food and sleep.

  He might not be a bloodthirsty shade, but Brice was his own kind of monster. He was no longer fully human.

  A light winked up above, and Brice didn’t know if it was a star or if it was Metis. But he felt the presence of the mothership, the company looking down at him.

  He’d left the basin to find out where the shades came from, but now he knew that was an excuse. He was running. He needed to leave the basin, to get as far away from Haven as possible. But, beneath that, he needed to get away from the company.

  And he wasn’t there yet.

  Brice turned slowly, watching as the rippling tree-tops gave way to the trunks standing tall at the edge of the plateau. Somewhere beyond all these trees was the fence. And beyond that, a whole planet.

  He returned to look over the trees, and now he sat on the rock. It chilled his back-side, but that was fine. He’d only be here a moment. This was a break, nothing more. A chance to catch his breath, and to still his thoughts. Then he’d be off.

  Brice knew he wasn’t done running yet.

  Cathal trudged after the ghoul, one foot in front of the other, each step heavier than the last.

  They walked many steps, many minutes, maybe an hour, maybe longer. Some of the paths felt familiar, and there were traces that Cathal almost recognised. They passed through dense undergrowth, skirted rock walls, and padded along open grassland and dusty soil.

  And then, up ahead, was the fence.

  Cathal slowed, but the voice from behind told him to keep going. He did, expecting the pain in his head to start at any moment. But it didn’t. The fence grew larger, and then he could lean forward and rest his head against the metal links.

  The ghoul extended a talon. It slashed, severing the tie binding Cathal’s wrists.

  <‍Climb.‍>

  He climbed slowly. The ghoul remained on the ground, studying Cathal. And now, over the far side, he caught another trace as a second ghoul emerge from the trees.

  He reached the top of the fence, and flipped himself over before starting the climb down. For a brief moment he wondered if he’d survive a fall from here. But it was only a fleeting thought, discounted not because he might succeed, but because survival would simply mean more pain. He had the notion that, even if he were crippled and could no longer move, the waiting ghoul would carry him the rest of the way.

  <‍Follow,‍> the new ghoul said, as disinterested as the first.

  It walked away from the fence, and Cathal followed, conscious of the other ghoul at his back, even though he couldn’t remember it climbing the fence. The path wound through the trees, and Cathal knew where they were headed.

  These beasts were escorting him to the Hermes. The same place they’d taken Nyle.

  But he was dead now. So was Car, and Ap Owen. All the infected, gone. All but Cathal.

  He shouldn’t be here. Cathal felt that, stronger than he’d felt anything. He was a monster, an aberration.

  He didn’t know why the ghouls hadn’t yet killed him, but Cathal hoped that, before too long, they would.

  The poor creature’s stench caught in the back of Kesia’s throat.

  She could block her pores to the aroma, or cut off the sensations it aroused in her. She could register it purely as data. But hiding from reality like that felt wrong. The stink wasn’t pleasant, but she needed to experience it. She needed to understand her psychological responses to the data her senses captured.

  There was another word for this‌—‌feelings. These responses were feelings, and emotions.

  But Kesia was a creature of logic. She should not submit to these feelings. She should not have emotions.

  She definitely shouldn’t feel pity for this creature she escorted back to the Hermes.

  She knew its history, of course. She’d watched footage from Haven of this infected slaughtering subjects, and she had admired its strength and perseverance, its animal aggression. But now, it was cowed, a shell of the beast that had caused so much bloodshed.

  <‍You are Cathal?‍> There was a throbbing behind her eyes, and Kesia wondered if communicating with this creature would earn her a reprimand. But her instructions had been to simply bring the prisoner in. There had been no explicit stipulation that she should not talk.

  She kept the communication tight, though. There was no reason for Dia to hear this.

  <‍Once.‍> The creature threw that word out, but with no bitterness.

  <‍Who are you now?‍>

  <‍Nobody.‍>

  Cathal. The name rolled around her mind, strangely comforting. But there was no logical reason for this, so she pushed it to one side.

  <‍You know where you’re being taken?‍>

  The only answer was a shrug, and Kesia knew this Cathal had no wish to converse. And she had no desire to cause him discomfort. Not when so much pain awaited him on the craft.

  They walked on. Ahead, Kesia sensed the Hermes, where Enya would be, directing the movements of the other sisters. Kesia knew this was not how Enya would have preferred to work, but Murdoch insisted. What was it he’d said? A good leader knows when to step back from the action. The art of leading is letting others reach the conclusions you desire.

  Was that Murdoch? Kesia wasn’t sure, but someone had said it to her. Someone who was an expert at leading, but did so in a quiet manner. Someone who let others use their expertise.

  <‍What do they call you?‍>

  The question surprised her. There was no reason for Cathal to know her name. But, equally, there was no reason to keep it from him. After all, a name was only a label.

  <‍I am NuGamma Eksi, but my familiar name is‌…‌Kesia.‍> She didn’t know why she stumbled over her name, unless it was the throbbing in her head.

  She glanced at Cathal, but he kept his pace, kept his head down. He made no indication that he’d talked, or that she’d responded.
<
br />   They reached the Hermes. The hatch was open, and the ramp completed its descent as they reached it.

  <‍He give you any trouble?‍> Enya sussed as she appeared through the hatch.

  <‍Tried to resist,‍> Dia replied, stepping to one side of Cathal. <‍It didn’t work.‍>

  <‍Of course not.‍> The contempt in Enya’s voice rankled Kesia, but she didn’t respond. <‍Bring him. Murdoch wants to see him now.‍>

  Dia grabbed Cathal’s arm and pulled him forward. He let himself be led on board the craft.

  Kesia followed.

  And this felt‌…‌right. Something about following his footsteps comforted her. Something about entering a craft with this creature.

  No. Not with this creature, but with the man he’d been before he’d become infected.

  A surge of images flooded through Kesia’s mind, vague and deep. Water, and a craft submerged. She felt the chill as the flood covered her, relived the panic as her heart-rate increased.

  Then she heard a voice, one she’d grown to trust. She couldn’t decipher the words, but she understood what they meant. It was going to be okay. She should follow, because he’d look out for her. As he always did. As he did for everyone in his crew.

  Cathal.

  Not as he was now, but as he had been.

  And, in an instant, she understood.

  She felt memories of others, too. Not her sisters, but a different kind of family. She felt acceptance, friendship, maybe even love.

  And this was before she became a NeoGen, before she became Kesia.

  This was who she really was.

  “This may interest you, Harris. Come.”

  Murdoch had a glint in his eye that Ryann didn’t trust one bit. But when he opened the door, she was powerless to resist.

  “They’ve caught one of the infected,” he said as Ryann stepped into the corridor. She followed him, a few steps, to a door. He turned to face her. “One of the originals. Tell me, who do you think it could be?”

  “Nyle?” She knew it was the wrong answer by his wry smile, but she carried on. “He’s back?”

  “No. There was‌…‌an issue. He overstepped his instructions, and Nyle Patera is no more.”

  Ryann expected to feel something at that news, but not confusion. She pictured Nyle the man, as he stood in the Proteus, lost for words at the sight of the shade. She saw his horror, and heard again his screams as it bit into him. As it infected him, turning Nyle the pilot into the beast that was now dead.

  At least he was finally at peace.

  But Murdoch said that Nyle overstepped his instructions. He was supposed to locate Brice and nothing more. Murdoch hadn’t mentioned Brice.

  She wanted to ask what had happened, but feared the answer he might give.

  “So who do we have in our interrogation room, if not Nyle? Care to guess?”

  She shook her head. She wouldn’t play his games.

  He snorted, then opened the door they had reached. As he stepped through, Ryann noticed his hand resting on his Preben’s holster.

  She followed him into the room, and the stench churning her stomach. But it was familiar. When Cathal lay in the hold-out, the discolouration already spreading from his wound, the same rancid odour had seeped from his body.

  The infected stood between and slightly forward of two NeoGens. They held their arms by their sides, and had their feet planted wide. Ryan knew they were ready to pounce the moment the creature showed any signs of aggression.

  “He give you any trouble?”

  “Nothing we couldn’t handle,” said the one on the right. Her tone was offhand, dismissive.

  “Good.” Murdoch took a step forward‌—‌but, Ryann noted, not close enough that the infected could reach him.

  She studied the creature. It was covered in blood and gore, its knees muddy. The cloth that hung from its body was in tatters, but there were so many layers that its flesh was still covered. Its head was exposed, though, and strips of cloth littered the floor.

  It looked docile. The large discs at the front of its face swirled, but the movement was slow. Its chest rose and fell only slightly, and this reminded Ryann of Cathal when he lay in quarantine, comatose as his body changed.

  “So, who do we have here?” Murdoch asked loudly. “Bit far from home, aren’t we?”

  The creature didn’t look up. It didn’t acknowledge Murdoch’s presence.

  The man turned to the NeoGen. “He can hear me?”

  The NeoGen’s eyes flickered, and Ryann guessed she was sussing. “Says he can hear you fine.”

  “Hmm.” Murdoch addressed the creature again. “So you can answer some questions. First, what are you doing out here?”

  “He says he was walking.”

  “Any particular way?”

  “Forwards.”

  A flicker of annoyance shot across Murdoch’s face, before his grin grew wide once more. “Very good. I like a‌…‌an individual who retains his sense of humour when he has nothing else left.”

  The creature’s shoulders shrugged. It was only a slight movement, and Ryann almost missed it.

  “But to business,” Murdoch said. “You probably know who I am. Murdoch Kollias. I run things round here. Pleased to meet you.” He gave a nod, and Ryann thought for a moment that he was going to extend his hand. “And you are?”

  <‍He says he’s nobody.‍>

  “Nobody? Oh, I hardly believe that. Would a nobody have managed to slaughter so many? Would a nobody have endured the walk to this place? And even though I’m sure you knew the dangers of the fence, you climbed it with your friend, didn’t you? Is that the action of a nobody?”

  The infected twitched its head at that, and Murdoch smiled.

  “Oh, yes‌—‌I know a great deal about you. I know you’ve been watching my Hermes. I know you followed my girl and our prisoner. I made sure the fence’s power stayed off long enough for you to climb. I know what happened when you eventually met up with Nyle Pateras.”

  Murdoch paused, but the infected gave no response. Murdoch waved an arm in Ryann’s direction.

  “You know who this is?”

  There was silence.

  “I asked a question. Do you know who this is?”

  “He says he does.”

  “Tell me her name.”

  “He says she’s Ryann Harris.”

  Ryann only realised she’d let out a gasp when Murdoch turned to her and smiled.

  “So this creature knows you, Harris. Any idea how?”

  Ryann swallowed, and shifted her eyes from Murdoch to the creature. It stood taller now, and Ryann pushed gently. She felt its presence, its trace, but when she tried to connect with its lattice there was‌…‌there was resistance. Like there had been in Haven’s quarantine, when she’d tried reaching out for‌…

  “Cathal?”

  The name fell from her lips in a whisper. The creature‌—‌Cathal‌—‌sagged, its head drooping. A throbbing filled Ryann’s ears, breathy and harsh.

  The sound gained focus, and she looked at Murdoch’s laughing face. Her fist balled.

  Murdoch’s hand tapped, drawing her attention to his hip. To his Preben. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

  Then he spun back to face‌…‌to face her old commander. Her friend.

  “Death follows you, Cathal Lasko. Car Sisko, Nyle Patera, Ap Owen Kallas. Not to mention all those subjects you slaughtered. So much death, and yet you survive. The last of the infected. The last deformity.”

  Ryann pushed against the barrier in Cathal’s lattice. In her own lattice, she said his name.

  Murdoch continued talking, but Ryann only half-listened. Instead, she sussed to Cathal. <‍I want to help.‍>

  There was no response, but the barrier rippled.

  <‍I never thought I’d see you again. Not after you helped us escape from Haven.‍>

  Murdoch was talking about Cathal’s kind being surpassed. Ryann told Cathal to pay no heed. <‍You’re still you
, Cathal, still my commander. I‌…‌I tried to keep the crew together. You know about Brice. Tris‌…‌he helped us, but I don’t know what happened to him. And Keelin…‍>

  Ryann blinked the moisture away.

  “So the question remains‌—‌what is to be done with you?” Murdoch must have signalled as he spoke, because one of his girls reached forward and placed a hand on Cathal’s shoulder.

  Murdoch had wanted Nyle dead, and now he was. He wanted to clear up everything from this project except for his NeoGens. And that meant only one thing for Cathal.

  But Ryann couldn’t allow that.

  “You could let him go.”

  There was a snort from one of the NeoGens. Murdoch turned slowly.

  “Interesting,” he drawled. “Explain.”

  Ryann felt the barrier within Cathal push, as if he were focusing on her now. She glanced at him, noticed the way his head rose a fraction.

  She coughed, freeing the dryness in her throat.

  “He left the basin. I don’t believe he wants to cause any‌…‌any problems. He’s always been gentle, and I believe he still is. Cathal‌—‌the Cathal I knew‌—‌always sought the path of least conflict. If you let him go, I’m sure he’d walk away. You’d never hear from him again. I’m certain of it.”

  Her voice cracked, and Ryan knew how pathetic she sounded. The NeoGen shook its head slowly.

  But Murdoch brought a hand up to his chin, rubbing slowly. He bit his lower lip. His eyes passed from Ryann to Cathal, then back again.

  “I have my orders, though,” he said, brow furrowed. “I am to delete all evidence of previous stages of the project. And you, Lasko, are most definitely evidence.”

  “Delete?” A ray of hope sprung within Ryann. “That doesn’t have to mean ‘kill’, though. If Cathal walked far enough away, he would no longer be present. Wouldn’t that count as a deletion?”

  Murdoch tilted his head. “I can see that argument.” He waved a finger at Ryann. “I always knew you were wasted as a tracker, Harris. Such a fine, sharp mind.”