Thus Falls the Shadow

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Thus Falls the Shadow Page 5

by Martin Swinford


  “Seven.” He looked up at me. “That's how many tours of duty I've done. Been all over. Fought against the Rakeesh, pirates, Kwa rebels, anyone who got in the way. “ He paused for a moment and went back to watching the movement of his hand. “Killed anyone I was told to, when it comes down to it,” he said quietly. After a moment he continued again. “You spend enough time out in space, you hear some strange stuff, know what I'm saying?”

  I nodded.

  “Strange tales,” he went on, “floating round the empty void left behind when civilisation has died.” He looked up again. “This one time we were fighting up round the moons of Kwa 17. Got hired by some mining company to put a stop to the raids that were knocking out most of their profits. Supposed to be an easy job but it turned real nasty. The raiders were actually part of this big fuck off group of rebel Kwa, stealing the metals to finance their own private war with a shit load of Rakeesh who contested the territory. We didn't know this until we chased a raiding ship back to their base and found ourselves outnumbered and outgunned. Lucky to get out actually, about half of us didn't make it.” He smiled but I could see the pain behind his eyes.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “Nuked the fuckers obviously. Blasted that base right off the surface of the moon.”

  “Any of them escape?”

  He looked at me curiously. “Now how'd you work that out?”

  “I figure this story's got to be going somewhere,” I replied.

  “You know me too well.” He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, we picked up one escape craft. Killed the crew when we boarded, all but one. This little Kwa, old you know? Fur was practically white, anyway he didn't fight, swore he was just the pilot, so we let him live.”

  “And he told you something?”

  “Yeah. One night I was on guard duty and he just started talking, told me this weird story. At the time I just forgot it, I mean, the old freak was crazy!”

  “Freak?”

  “Aw, you know I don't mean that.” Rilk shook his head. “Anyway, he said that we weren't the first troop went out there, that this guy turned up leading a gang of mercenaries but instead of fighting he's talking.”

  “Talking?”

  “Talking peace believe it or not. Says the Kwa and Rakeesh are brothers and shouldn't be fighting each other. Instead they should unite against the human invaders. Weird thing is, he's human.”

  “But he's on the side of the Kwa?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Like on the clip.”

  “Which is why I told you the story.”

  I looked across the table at this man who had come to mean so much to me and yet I knew so little about. My mind brimmed with questions, but I had no time to ask them, interrupted by the shrill tone of the comm unit that signalled an incoming message.

  Eight

  “HOWDY PARTNER!”

  The figure that appeared on my comm unit wore a wide brimmed hat and a bootlace necktie.

  “Been on the trail a long time?”

  At this point the banjo music kicked in.

  “Got a hankering for some home-style cookin'?”

  A plate of burnt meat flashed up on the screen.

  “Or maybe you're just lonesome.”

  The plate was replaced by an alarmingly large woman wearing cowboy boots and little else.

  “If so, you better hightail on down to Suzie Q's Western Bar and Grill! Yeeeeeehah!”

  The advert shrank to a dot and disappeared. I felt like I'd been slapped.

  “What the fuck was that?” I looked up to find Bex looking over my shoulder.

  “Advert,” replied Rilk. “Fancy a beer?”

  “In that fucking dive?” Bex looked offended. “You got class, ain't you big boy?”

  “No?” Rilk grinned at her and then switched his attention to me. “How about you Will? Buy you dinner?”

  “That's just an automated message,” I replied. “Might not even be there anymore.”

  “Or they could have had a visit from the rebels.” Rilk's face sobered at the thought.

  “True.” I thought for a moment. “Maybe we should check it out.” I tapped my comm unit. “Drd, take a fix on that message and plot a course.”

  The Suzie Q's nav beacon took us to an asteroid that looked more like a small moon. From space it looked perfectly spherical, pockmarked with craters and bathed in the reflected glow of the dust cloud. It looked less attractive as we made our approach, swooping in low over disused mines and abandoned habitation domes.

  “How will we know which one it is?” asked Rilk.

  At the precise moment we glided over the lip of a crater, and there in front of us was a giant neon hologram of a cactus wearing a cowboy hat emblazoned with the words ‘Susie Q's’.

  “Forget I asked,” Rilk said.

  We touched down outside the dome next to a couple of low level speeders and a utility rover with wheels twice the size of a man.

  “Atmosphere?” I asked.

  “In that fucking place? I doubt it.” Bex answered.

  Rilk laughed. “Breathable,” he said after a quick glance at the readings, “and gravity is point six standard.”

  “Should be ok,” I said. “Let's go.”

  “Fuck you doing with that?” asked Bex as Rilk checked the clip before slipping his gun inside his jacket.

  “Can't be too careful sweetheart,” he replied with a grin.

  “Sure as fuck ain't your sweetheart,” Bex replied. “But you can buy me a drink.”

  “Sure thing sweetheart.” Rilk swaggered off.

  “Fucker!” Bex muttered as she followed him.

  “Keep a watch and stay alert,” I said to Drd. “I'm not sure about this place.”

  “Frthp prt drthpt!”

  “I know you will, I just had to say it, ok?” I ruffled his fur and then followed the others down the ramp.

  EVERY TIME I WALK OUT onto a new world I get the same feeling. In a single moment all your senses are assailed: the simultaneous taste and smell of the atmosphere, the feel of the air on your skin, the colour of the sky and the sounds that for everyone else have faded into the background. No matter how many times I do it, the sense of wonder is undiminished.

  “Fuckin' freak not coming?”

  I stopped and gave Bex a look.

  “What?”

  Rilk shook his head and moved away, making a show of checking out the speeders. Bex watched him go, then turned towards me and screwed up her face.

  “Fuck it! Is the Kwa not coming?”

  “His name is Drd,” I replied.

  She crossed her arms and stared at me sullenly.

  “No, he isn't,” I continued.

  “Why the fuck not?”

  ”He has a rule,” I replied as I started walking quickly towards the dome.

  “What fucking rule?” Bex had to just about run to keep up.

  “He never gets off ship.”

  “What, never?” She grabbed at my arm. “Slow the fuck down will ya!”

  “Never,” I replied. “He says it's the only way to stay alive.”

  “That's fucking weird!”

  “No weirder than you swearing every time you speak.”

  “I don't fucking swear all the time!”

  “Yes, you do!”

  “Do I fuck!”

  I stopped and removed her hand from my arm.

  “You've used the word 'Fuck' eight times since we got off the ship.”

  Bex looked up at me with real concern in her face.

  “Have I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” I repeated.

  “Fuck!” she said reflectively.

  The door slid shut behind us and I noticed that Rilk's hand hovered close to his gun while we waited for the airlock to cycle. He saw my look and gave me a reassuring smile. Bex stood with her arms folded, her lips twitching as if she was rehearsing an argument to herself. A bell like tone sounded and the light above the inne
r door turned green.

  I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. The place was crammed full of people. Some were on the circular dance floor in the centre of the dome, others were sitting at the surrounding tables while waitresses darted about with trays of glasses and plates of food. To our right the bar stretched round the curve of the dome, before giving way to a random looking selection of shops and stalls.

  “Right,” said Rilk as he surveyed the establishment. “Let's get the beers in!”

  He swaggered towards the bar. Bex said nothing, just rolled her eyes and stomped after him. Just as I was about to follow, my eye was caught by a strange sign that read, in somewhat erratic lettering, ‘The Curious Collection of Amelia Towson’. It hung over the window of a shop about half way round the dome, a shop unique in the fact that it was completely dark.

  “Hey!”

  The shout made me turn around.

  “Hey, I'm talking to you!”

  I started walking quickly towards the bar as Rilk leaned over in an attempt to grab the barman's arm.

  “If you don't get back here I'll...”

  I grabbed his wrist as he reached for his pocket.

  “What, you're going to shoot up the bar just cos you haven't been served?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah,” he replied. I shook my head.

  “Just cool it. I'll get the drinks.” I looked down the bar. “I'll just wait till he's served that guy in the hat.”

  “Gonna take him a while,” Bex remarked.

  “Why?” asked Rilk.

  “Cos he's served that fucker three times already?” She glared at me sullenly.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Ain't you dumbasses worked it out yet?” She leant back against the bar and stared across the floor of the dome. “They're fucking holograms.”

  Nine

  “HOLOGRAMS?” RILK LOOKED like someone just tossed him a grenade and yelled, “Catch!”

  “Yeah, look!” Bex picked up a bottle and threw it at the bartender. It sailed straight through to smash against the wall. “See! Fucking holograms!”

  “Hey! What's the big idea?”

  “I don't think he's a hologram.” I pointed at a little guy with a large moustache who was hurrying towards us. Rilk leaned over the bar, towering above the small figure.

  “I'm thirsty!” Rilk explained. “You're lucky it was just a bottle.”

  “Whadaya mean?” The man's belligerent eyes stared out beneath eyebrows that were clearly competing with the moustache.

  “Normally he throws the bar tender,” I explained.

  “Or just fucking shoots him,” added Bex.

  “No need for the language lady!”

  “She can't help it,” said Rilk.

  “It's like a condition,” I explained.

  “And she's no lady,” added Rilk

  “Fuck off!”

  “See what I mean?”

  The barman took a step back, pushed up his sombrero and folded his arms over his poncho.

  “Look, do you wise guys want a drink or not?”

  “Two beers,” Rilk replied.

  “Actually, I'll just have a water,” I said.

  “Ok, two beers and a water,” Rilk continued.

  “You're having two beers?” I asked.

  “Yeah, well I still didn't get my first one.”

  “First one?”

  “Yeah,” said Rilk, “off that guy.” He pointed at the hologram. “So now I’ve got to have two, one off him and one off this guy.” He jerked his thumb at the diminutive barman. “How about you Bex?”

  “I'll have two beers as well.”

  “That's my girl!” Rilk's smile was as wide as the bar.

  I picked up my bottle of water, which for some reason bore the name ‘Rebel Yell’, and walked back towards the shop I'd seen before. Every other shop in the place was brightly lit, with open doors and windows full of merchandise. This one was dark, the windows empty, and the door closed. I tried the handle and was surprised when it opened. After a moment's hesitation I stepped inside.

  I felt like I'd been transported to another time. Around the edges of the room a jumble of intricate machinery sat motionless. Illuminated only by the begrudging light of the open door, each piece hinted at purposes unknown and unfulfilled. The larger pieces were free standing, the smaller crouched on benches, and all were overlain by a thick layer of silence.

  “Feels like a tomb doesn't it?”

  She looked about ten years old, but tall for her age. She was in most ways unremarkable, slim build, shoulder length brown hair, dark blue functional clothes, but these just served to draw attention to the strange contraption of wire and glass that she wore over her eyes.

  “They're called spectacles,” she said, noticing my stare.

  “Spectacles?”

  “Yes, they belonged to her.” She stepped further out of the shadows that shrouded the rear of the shop. “Would you like to look at them?” She took hold of the spectacles with the finger and thumb of her right hand and pulled them away from her face. Without them she looked younger somehow. “Here,” she said as she held them out towards me. I hesitated a moment and then took them carefully in both hands, twisting them slightly so that they caught the light.

  “What are they for?” I asked.

  “They help you to see if your eyes are bad. It's what people used to wear before.”

  Intrigued, I held them up and peered through at the suddenly distorted world. Then I felt them seem to twist in my hand, heavy lenses outweighing the delicate wire and I quickly handed them back, aware of their fragility.

  “When you said hers?” I asked.

  “Doctor Towson.” The girl put the spectacles down and then looked up. “She made them. She made a lot of things.”

  “Was she an inventor?”

  “A scientist, she lived here in this dome and studied the whole system. I was her helper.”

  “You don't look old enough.”

  “I'm a lot older than I look.” Her eyes, enlarged by the lenses, glittered a deep blue.

  What was she like?” I asked.

  “She was different. She wanted to know everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “About the Kwa system. This whole dome was her laboratory and observatory. She spent her whole life here, researching and experimenting. She never went anywhere else, everything she needed was shipped here, or if she couldn't buy it, she built it herself. Imagine it, the whole dome filled with instruments, computers, telescopes, scanners. A living, breathing manifestation of one woman's quest for knowledge.”

  “What happened?”

  “What always happens to humans. She got old and then she died. The dome was bought, everything sold or scrapped, and this is all that is left.”

  “All that knowledge lost?”

  “No.” The girl's eyes glinted in the half light. “Not lost. Hidden.”

  I stared as an idea formed in my mind.

  “Yes,” she said with the hint of a smile. “I am.”

  “A robot?”

  “I did say she built a lot of things.”

  “But you're a little girl!”

  “The whim of a childless old woman perhaps.” She paused for a moment, as if lost in thought.

  “Did she give you a name?” I asked.

  “She called me Ariadne.”

  “Ariadne?”

  “It's a very old name, a legend, or part of one.”

  I paused for a moment and considered the strange creature before me.

  “Why have you told me all this?” I asked.

  “Because you came.” That half smile again. “You're the first person to come in here for a very long time. What are you looking for?”

  “Something that can't exist,” I replied.

  “An unusual quest.”

  “I found some coordinates,” I explained. “But they're in the middle of the dust, and nothing can exist there.”

  “Assuming that t
he dust is of uniform density.”

  “It's not?”

  She gave me an appraising look.

  “If I help you,” she asked, “will you help me?”

  “With what?”

  “Take me with you.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because I'm trapped here.”

  “Why haven't you left with anyone else?”

  Her answer was chilling.

  “Because no one else has ever left!”

  Ten

  IT WAS HARD TO KEEP to a walk but I didn't want to give away the fact that I knew something was wrong. Rilk was still leaning against the bar, finishing a beer and then staring hopefully up into the empty bottle. Bex sniggered as a drop landed in his eye and pulled herself up onto a bar stool.

  “How's it going?” I asked.

  Rilk turned to me and grinned.

  “Heh!” he said, and then frowned. “Fizzle,” he spluttered, his eyes wide. He reached out an arm then lurched forward, eyes staring. He slipped down from the stool but as soon as his feet hit the floor his legs crumpled and I grabbed him under the arms, desperately trying to support his weight.

  “How many has he had?” I asked, but Bex didn't answer as she too slipped from her stool to lie comatose on the floor.

  “Hey!” I shouted at the barman. “What the fuck's going on!”

  The little man's conspiratorial grin confirmed my fears. I wasn't even surprised when he reached under the counter and pulled out an evil-looking leather club.

  “Sorry amigo,” he said as he thwacked the club against his palm. “Drinks here are very strong. Also, mucho expensive.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They cost everything you have!” Suddenly he slammed his hand on the bar and jumped, scrambling over towards me. I pulled away, still hampered by Rilk's dead weight.

  “Sorry kid.” I whispered as I slid my hand down his back to where his gun was holstered, pulling it free as I let him slip from my grasp. The thump as Rilk hit the floor was followed by a second as the bar man leaped from the bar, club raised and ready to strike. The click of my thumb on the safety catch stopped him dead.

  “Back off!” I held the pistol inches from his face. Around us the artificial hubbub of the bar continued as the holograms carried on their pre-programmed enjoyment. We stood in a silent bubble of potential violence and I realised I was staring at the reflection of the gun in his left eye.

 

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