Shadowstrike

by T W Iain

  The other NeoGens. The ones she thought of as her sisters.

  She watched the screens. They slaughtered those people, and now they were running back to the craft.

  But not all of them.

  Keelin reached out with her lattice, boosted through the Hermes’ system. She reached her sisters, tapped into their lattices. Enya, now swinging the Hermes round, ready to land. The six runners. And the two that lay in wait.

  She focused in on those two. Treya and Tess, the third and fourth of the sisters. They talked, discussing tactics, and through their bond as sisters Keelin listened in.

  They mentioned the anomaly.

  The information on that individual was in their shared data files, but Keelin didn’t need that. She’d sensed him in the proving ground‌—‌the familiar trace‌—‌but she knew him before that. Her crew-mate.

  And now Treya and Tess waited as he climbed up the side of the crate.

  “Well, well,” Brice said quietly, and glanced at Ryann. Keelin couldn’t see the whole of Ryann’s face, but she read the movements of her head, and knew she was frowning.

  <‍Brice is there,‍> Keelin told her.

  <‍What?‍>

  <‍Drop zone. He’s at the crate.‍>

  Keelin read Ryann’s trace. Her heart raced, and the temperature of her skin rose.

  <‍But it’s a trap.‍> Keelin had to tell her.

  <‍Is there anything you can do?‍>

  <‍Like what?‍>

  <‍Talk to them. I don’t know. Make them‌…‌make them understand…‍> Ryann trailed off.

  She focused in on Treya and Tess again, as they listened to him reach the roof of the crate. Keelin read their data, noted how they anticipated what they must do. Treya waiting for the right moment, Tess wanting to attack as soon as possible.

  Both different. Of course they were‌—‌each of her sisters had their own personality. But‌…‌there was something about Treya, something different. It was as if the name didn’t fit her.

  Because it wasn’t her real name. It wasn’t who she had been, before.

  Keelin knew this, because she now knew who Treya really was.

  Brice focused on the traces as he climbed. They were alert, but waiting. They were calm, but ready for action.

  They were like coiled springs. And they terrified him.

  He reached the top of the crate. The hatch was open, just as it had been after the drop. He could taste the trails of all those who had climbed in and out, grabbing whatever they could.

  Brice wondered what the crate still contained, besides the ghouls. He wondered what weapons they had at their disposal, and what he would be staring at when he reached the opening.

  He crouched and approached the black hole, ready to run. He swallowed, forcing a deeper breath, breaking the cycle of short, panicky ones he’d found himself in. His hands trembled, ever so slightly, and he pulled the muscles tighter, steadying them. Adrenaline coursed through him, and he concentrated, almost imagining he could follow it through his blood vessels, almost imagining he could alter its flow.

  Just like he used to when he had a proper lattice. But this was better. This was‌…‌more complete.

  He could hear two voices, his sunken lattice opening up their private conversation for him.

  <‍How much longer?‍>

  <‍The others are returning. We can move in soon. You know the plan.‍>

  <‍Of course.‍>

  <‍But these traces are intriguing, don’t you think?‍>

  <‍They are weak. That is all I need to know.‍>

  <‍None of them seem familiar?‍>

  <‍I’ve felt them around this area. But apart from that, no. Should they be?‍>

  A pause, then <‍I’m not sure. A couple are‌…‌almost recognisable from somewhere else.‍>

  <‍Metis?‍>

  <‍Possibly.‍> Then, quieter, <‍But I don’t think so.‍>

  Brice froze as he listened. They were uncertain. Not scared, but there was wariness. Especially from the one who recognised traces.

  That must mean something.

  He took in a deep, slow breath, catching the musty odour from within. He could smell oil and grease, and dampness. And beneath that, the odour of the ghouls. It was nowhere near as bad as the shades, or the infected, but there was a sour note to it, like sweat. Like they’d been working out and needed a shower.

  He inched forward, keeping his centre of gravity low. He moved closer to the blackness, close enough to peer down.

  Two sets of eyes stared back at him, off-white orbs with pitch-black centres. And beneath one of these pairs, a line appeared. Brice saw teeth as the ghoul smiled.

  “Took your time.”

  Brice recognised her voice‌—‌the one who had recognised traces. And now, the face grew larger as it stood.

  <‍The anomaly.‍> That was from the other one. And it, too, rose.

  <‍I’ll deal with him.‍>

  The first one jumped. But Brice was already moving. He spun and pushed with his legs, propelling himself to the edge of the crate. He thrust his head forward, felt the lip of the crate under one boot, and launched himself.

  Air rushed past him. And in that time, he readied himself.

  His boots struck the ground, and his body absorbed the shock. Muscles tightened and contracted, tendons stretched. His mass tipped forward, one hand brushing the ground to steady himself. And then his legs pumped, and he ran.

  The blood in his arteries streamed oxygen-rich. Adrenaline spiked. He raced across the grass and darted between the trees. He bounded over roots and tore through the undergrowth.

  The ghoul followed.

  Brice didn’t need to turn. He could feel it, alive and excited, like this was what it was made for.

  But there was only one.

  As he ran, Brice focused, and felt the other ghoul climb from the crate. He felt it turn its attention to the Proteus.

  To those trapped inside.

  Brice didn’t make the decision, but his body did. He grabbed a branch, his shoulder pulling as his feet swung round in an arc. The branch creaked.

  And then his boots struck the soil, and he was running once more‌—‌but now, he was heading to the Proteus.

  He sensed the chasing ghoul run on, scrambling to follow. He felt its surprise, heard it call out to the other ghoul, calling for help. There was almost panic in the voice.

  <‍Deal with him. I’ll get the others.‍>

  The craft was cold grey, the hatch concealed from this angle. Brice saw the other ghoul closing in to it. And behind him, the first ghoul broke from the trees, racing towards Brice himself.

  There was no way he could deal with two ghouls.

  But he had to do something to help his friends.

  He spun, pulling up to a stop, and faced the oncoming monster.

  “I think you should hear this,” Murdoch said, turning back to the screens. Then he sussed, to one of his beasts. <‍You know what to do, Tess?‍>

  <‍Of course.‍>

  <‍Recap, please.‍>

  <‍Treya deals with the anomaly. I deal with those in the Proteus. Let them know I’m here, make out I’m having problems entering the Proteus, fill them with fear.‍>

  <‍And then?‍>

  <‍If they open the door, deal with them. Otherwise, wait for my sisters, and together we destroy them.‍>

  <‍Perfect. Proceed.‍> Then Murdoch turned to Ryann and sighed. “I wish there were another way. There is so much potential‌—‌the woman who leads them would make a fine warrior, and your old friend Remis is, I admit, impressive with tech. But we cannot compromise the project. Those who would prevent its advances must be stopped. Permanently.”

  There was an edge to Murdoch’s voice, and Ryann recalled the look he’d given her, when she shouted through the Proteus’ system to warn Piran and Eljin. She knew he’d take great pleasure in watching her die.

  Murdoch turned back to the screens, where a jerky image
now showed Brice running to the Proteus. Then he stopped, and turned, facing the one who chased him.

  A thought came to Ryann. <‍Keelin‌—‌the other NeoGens. Do they know who they were? Can you help them?‍>

  <‍Way ahead of you. The one approaching Brice‌—‌that’s Ronat.‍>

  Ryann gasped.

  Murdoch spun round, his brow furrowed. But Keelin pushed down on Ryann’s shoulder, forcing her body to twist. She grimaced.

  “She not behaving, Kesia?”

  “Started wriggling. Wasn’t sure if she was going to try something.”

  Murdoch nodded. “Very good. But no serious damage yet, please.”

  “Of course.”

  Murdoch turned to the screens, and the pressure on Ryann’s shoulder lifted, just enough for her to stand straight.

  <‍Thanks,‍> she sussed.

  <‍Have to play along for now.‍>

  One screen showed a sensor feed from the Proteus, and Ryann saw Brice’s back as the beast‌—‌the one Keelin said was Ronat‌—‌approached.

  <‍She know who she is?‍>

  Keelin pulled in a deep breath. <‍I’m trying to convince her. It’s hard, but I’m doing my best.‍>

  <‍You always do.‍>

  Murdoch sussed again. <‍Treya, you having a problem? Thought I told you I didn’t want him around anymore.‍>

  <‍I’m taking this like a training session. Thought I might learn something from an opponent this‌…‌interesting.‍>

  <‍I applaud your dedication to self-improvement, but now is not the time. Kill him.‍>

  The screen images altered again. In one, a NeoGen approached the main hatch of a Proteus, raised a fist and hammered on the metal. On the image next to this, Ryann watched those inside the craft jump.

  But that image was hazy, a layer of static bristling over the top. She wondered if Piran was interfering with the signal.

  Ryann reached into the system again, sending a message to the bridge speakers. <‍Don’t open that hatch! There’s one outside, and more on the way.‍> On the screen that showed the Proteus’ cabin, Piran and Eljin looked up, their faces ashen.

  She couldn’t watch them die. There had to be another way out.

  Recollections now. A Proteus filling with water, swimming out through the main hatch. But there was a second hatch. There always was.

  <‍Use the emergency hatch!‍> she yelled.

  Piran and Eljin didn’t respond, though. They returned their attention to Piran’s screen for a moment, then looked up. On another feed, the NeoGen hammered on the hatch once more.

  Murdoch faced the screens, and although Ryann couldn’t see his features, she was certain that he smiled.

  Brice jumped to the side as the ghoul blurred towards him. He brought up an arm to defend himself, instinct kicking in. But the arm met force, and dull pain shot through it. He staggered, took a step back, and the ghoul slipped past him.

  He spun as it lashed out once more, talons just missing his throat. The beast grunted, hot air slamming into Brice’s face.

  He recognised that grunt. Impossible, but he’d heard it before.

  “Who are you?” he managed to ask before leaping away from the next attack, a swipe at chest height. A talon ripped through cloth as Brice pulled his stomach in tight.

  The ghoul’s foot swung round, the boot slamming into Brice’s chest before he could react. The force threw him back, his legs giving way. Nausea shot through him as his back smashed into the ground.

  And then the ghoul was standing over him, drool or sweat running from its face, one drop splashing onto Brice’s cheek, warm and cold at the same time.

  The ghoul brought an arm back, the talons straight, the hand pointed at Brice’s chest.

  The beast screamed as it rocked back. It tilted its head to the sky and opened its jaw wide. The sound bounced around Brice’s head, unintelligible words hidden in the yell.

  Then one word he could decipher.

  “No!”

  The ghoul’s eyes dipped to his own. The beast sneered, its face ugly and deformed, fangs exposed. It raised its arm in readiness and rocked back, just a fraction, before it launched its next attack.

  Everything slowed for Brice.

  He knew the trajectory of those talons, knew they were aimed for the centre of his chest. He knew there was enough force behind this attack to shatter through his ribs.

  The ghoul was committed to the move, but there had been a moment of hesitation.

  And it reminded him of another attack, one he’d seen too often in training.

  If the ghouls had once been people, Brice knew who this was one.

  He screamed out her name.

  Keelin wanted to cry out when Ronat lunged. It took determination to remain silent.

  Brice countered. How he was able to do that‌—‌respond so quickly, and with the strength to divert Ronat’s arm‌—‌Keelin had no idea. According to the file ‘the anomaly’ had strange abilities, but this was Brice! He was hot-headed, and his lattice was screwed.

  But he’d survived, over and over. He’d managed to live, the only human surrounded by shades, for months. He’d climbed the fence. He’d beaten Nyle. And now, he was defending himself against Ronat.

  He couldn’t beat her though. Keelin had no doubt that Ronat was stronger.

  <‍We need him!‍> she yelled at Ronat, unsure exactly what she meant, but hoping the words were vague enough to stop Ronat from killing Brice, if only for a moment. <‍You can’t kill him.‍>

  There was blood on Brice’s arm, and he held it close to his body.

  <‍Murdoch commands me to.‍>

  Keelin glanced towards the man. He was turning now, looking at Ryann, saying something. Keelin blocked that out, focusing on Ronat.

  <‍You can’t kill Brice.‍>

  <‍He says the anomaly has become a problem, and must be removed.‍>

  <‍He has a name.‍>

  <‍He’s the anomaly.‍>

  <‍He’s Brice. You know him. He saved us, back in Haven.‍>

  <‍We routed Haven. We destroyed the subjects, and the infected ones.‍>

  <‍Before that. You were with Ryann, and Piran, and all the others.‍> Keelin searched her mind for names. <‍Arela, and Lynet.‍>

  Keelin glanced at the screen as Brice and Ronat circled each other. Her peripheral vision caught the next screen, the one that showed the Proteus’ hatch. Sun shone off the metal.

  <‍They’re dead,‍> Ronat mumbled.

  <‍They’re not all dead. Ryann’s here. And Piran…‍> Keelin pulled up data from the system, viewing the feed from the Proteus. <‍Piran’s alive too. He’s on your Proteus. With Eljin‍>

  Ronat shook, a brief spasm. Keelin only caught the movement because she was concentrating. And she needed to push Ronat further now.

  <‍And that’s Brice in front of you. He’s a friend.‍>

  <‍Brice?‍>

  <‍Brice.‍>

  And that was when Murdoch slapped Ryann, sending her backwards.

  Keelin stepped forward, catching her before she fell.

  “Brice?”

  He stared at the ghoul, unsure if he’d heard right. It held an attack-ready pose, like a statue. And its eyes were‌…‌unfocused. There was uncertainty behind them.

  He nodded. “Yes. Brice.” But she needed more, so he repeated her name. “And you’re Ronat. We trained together.” He even managed a smile.

  Her raised arm dropped, just a fraction. But the fingers remained outstretched, the talons ready to tear into flesh.

  “I have orders.” She shifted her feet, brought her body side-on. Like she used to in training‌—‌extend her reach, and present a smaller target.

  “What orders?” He crouched, arms out, ready for the twitch that would indicate the start of her attack.

  “I can’t let you go. He wants you dead.”

  “He?”

  She nodded, then closed her eyes tight, blinking violently a few times
. She growled. “He. They. The company.”

  Brice looked into her small eyes, and they flickered.

  “You have to kill me now?”

  “I‌…‌I think so.”

  Brice glanced quickly to either side. “Your friend, the other one in the crate. They run out on you?” It was something to say, playing for time.

  The Ronat-ghoul shook her head. “By the hatch.”

  He heard a thud, from the far side of the Proteus. He saw Ronat look up, a frown crossing her face.

  There had been a thud before, he realised, during Ronat’s attack. “But she’s not inside yet.” His friends were still secure.

  “She will be soon.”

  Her head dipped forward, and she shook it, as if trying to throw off pain. But when she looked back at him, those small eyes glared. A low growl came from her throat, and her lips parted, showing her fangs.

  Like the shades, and the infected. Like Cathal.

  Brice brought his hands up, palms out. “You don’t have to do this, Ronat. We used to be friends.” She flexed her legs, crouched lower. “Please.”

  Her arms trembled. Her head shook, so slight Brice almost missed it.

  “I have my orders,” she said in a small voice.

  And then she lunged.

  Ryann never saw his arm move. The side of her face flared, and she staggered back, into Keelin’s arms.

  Murdoch rubbed the back of his hand, his skin red. But he chuckled. He waved a finger in the air, as if scolding Ryann. “You really think I wouldn’t notice your attempts at communication?”

  Ryann glanced at the screens again. The thin woman paced, a weapon in her hand. She waved it at Piran and Eljin, then returned to the hatch.

  <‍Use the emergency hatch!‍> she cried out.

  There was no response on the screen.

  “And still trying.” He waved his reddened hand at the screen. “Doesn’t look like it’s working.”

  He’d cut the connection. If Ryann concentrated, she could feel the barrier now.

  “I had to try.” She stood upright, pulling away from Keelin. But one hand still rested on her shoulder.