Chasing the Shadows

by Maria V. Snyder

  NOT.

  After an impressive light show, the diagram disappears. What does that mean? Is Niall beyond repair? No answer. Nothing else happens. I disentangle from the Q-net and glance around the darkened room. One of the nurses must have come in and dimmed the lights. It’s oh-three-hundred. I glance at Niall’s vitals on the screen. They’re the same. He hasn’t moved and it’s been seventy-two hours.

  Despair washes over me and I stumble to the washroom to indulge in another crying jag. Then I blow my nose, wash my face with cold water, and gather what’s left of my optimism. He’s young. He’s healthy. Brains can heal. I’m not giving up on him. With that settled, I return to his side.

  Beau wakes me at oh-nine-hundred. We spend another long day in the Q-net, ensuring our efforts these last few days are hidden from Jarren. And we repeat for the next day. I haven’t done anything physically taxing in days, but each night, I’m exhausted.

  The Q-net wakes me up at oh-two-hundred.

  HERE.

  At first, I’ve no idea what’s going on. But it soon becomes clear and terror stabs me in the guts with its icy blades.

  A missile was launched from Jarren’s base a minute ago.

  It’s heading straight for us.

  Eighteen

  2522:244

  I trigger the alarm in Radcliff’s bedroom.

  Radcliff contacts me almost instantly. We connect as if we’ve been worming together—just like with Jarren.

  What’s going on? he demands.

  Incoming! I yell, showing him the missile’s trajectory.

  Sonovabitch. How soon?

  Fifteen minutes. Should I sound the evacuation alarm?

  No. I’ve got this. Sit tight.

  Again with the sit tight! What can you possibly do?

  Trust me and hang on. It’s going to get loud. He disconnects from me.

  Loud? Is he nuts? Helpless, I track the missile as it arcs around Yulin’s pole. The Q-net displays its flight with a graphic. It’ll hit right in the middle of the base.

  Eight minutes.

  We never would have evacuated in time, but still… In a bizarre twist of the universe, time slows. Each second an infinity of torture. The missile inches closer.

  Six minutes.

  At least almost everyone is asleep. They won’t know what hit them. Anger that Jarren’s going to win pulses red hot. I stare at the missile’s course as if my hatred alone would turn it around. It doesn’t.

  Four minutes.

  If Radcliff’s planning something, he better do it quick. What did he mean by hang on? I glance around the room. There’s nothing solid to hang on to. Plus there are windows on one side and the wall on the other side is almost all glass. Oh my stars!

  Two minutes.

  I race out to the nurses’ station. Plenty of glass around them as well. “Get down,” I yell. “A missile’s coming!”

  They stare at me. Probably wondering what medication they should administer to calm me.

  “Get down! Get down! I’m not kidding.”

  Then a whistle slices through the air. An unmistakable sound that raises every single hair on my body. The two nurses hit the floor. I run back to Niall and dive onto the bed, covering him with my body.

  A deafening explosion roars like a sun going supernova. Blinding white light shoots through the windows a split second before a force slams into the base. I cover both our heads as glass shatters and the bed moves. Something—probably parts of the ceiling—rains down on my back. I hang on until the world stills.

  The silence is just as loud with a ringing in my ears. I sit up. Emergency lights turn on. The room is a mess. But then the significance of the emergency lights hits me. I jump off the bed, search for my boots, cutting my feet in the process. Don’t care. I find them under a fallen curtain. Jamming my bleeding feet into them, I sprint for the door.

  “Mouse?”

  Skidding to a stop, I whip around. Did I really hear that? It was muffled and faint. Niall’s eyes are open and he’s staring at me! He looks confused. That would make two of us. I hurry back.

  “You’re…bleeding. What’s…going on?” he asks.

  Joy floods through me. Yes! “I’ll explain later. I love you, Toad!” I kiss him and dash out.

  “Mouse!”

  The nurses are brushing dust and glass off their uniforms.

  “He’s awake!” I shout. “Go check on him, please.” Then I race through the hallways, my boots pounding over glass and debris.

  When I arrive at the stairwell to the archeology lab, Zaim and Bendix are both shaken, but the floodlights are intact.

  “Did the floodlights go out?” I ask Bendix.

  “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. The whole place shook and the lights in the hallway cut out for a minute.” He’s holding the emitter even though he really can’t use it effectively.

  I take the weapon from him and search the halls and nearby labs for any shadow-blobs that might have escaped. None. I sag against the wall in relief.

  “What the hell was that?” Bendix asks when I return.

  “Missile, compliments of Jarren.”

  He curses.

  “We should all be dead,” Zaim says.

  I agree. So why weren’t we? I remember Radcliff said, I’ve got this. “It must have detonated before it hit us.”

  Even though I want nothing more than to race back to Niall, the emergency lights are still on. They’re much dimmer and I need to remain here just in case the shadow-blobs try to bypass the floodlights.

  As I wait, the adrenaline wears off. The burning starts in my feet and climbs up my legs. I glance down. Pieces of glass have pierced my skin. Blood stains my pajama pants. Soon my arms, ribs, and the sides of my face throb. I try to ignore the pain. Except the harder I try, the more it hurts.

  “Nice P-jays,” Zaim teases me.

  “I’d let you borrow them, Zee, but they’re not your size.”

  Bendix snorts at Zaim’s expression.

  Radcliff arrives about five minutes later. “HoLFs?”

  “None escaped,” I say.

  “Good.”

  “What happened?” Bendix asks.

  “You’ll be briefed in the morning. The base’s lights should be on soon.” Then Radcliff peers closer at me. “You’re bleeding. What—”

  “Niall,” I blurt out. I can’t believe I waited this long. “He’s awake!”

  His entire demeanor changes. Transforming into Niall’s dad, his elation and relief flare in his eyes. We beam at each other. Then he resumes being Officer Radcliff. He tugs a piece of glass from my arm. “The windows?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Niall—”

  “He’s fine.”

  When the regular lights turn on, Radcliff and I head back to the infirmary. I’m limping by the time we reach Niall’s room. The nurses descend on us, talking excitedly.

  “…called the doctor…”

  “His memory is…”

  Except I’m not listening. All my attention is focused on Niall. He’s sitting up and, while he’s still pale, it’s a vast improvement. The broken glass has been swept into a pile and someone fetched him a bowl of soup. The spoon clatters onto the tray when he spots us. We hurry to his bedside and he gives us a wan smile.

  “How are you feeling?” Radcliff asks.

  “Weak. Why are you bleeding? What’s going on? The nurses won’t tell—”

  “Dr. Edwards is on the way,” a nurse says. She gives Radcliff a stern don’t-upset-my-patient glare.

  I hide a smile as her significant look bounces right off his broad chest. Giving up, she focuses on me. Oh no.

  “My stars, child, you’re a mess. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She reaches for my arm.

  “But—”

  “Go with the nurse,” Radcliff orders.

  “But Niall—”

  “Go, Mouse. We can talk later.”

  Later never sounded so good. A promise that he’ll still be here, awake and abl
e to communicate. I allow the nurse to tow me to an exam room. And do you want to know the sad part? The fact that I know the routine. This is my fourth time being covered with cuts. I carefully strip off my clothing. My pajamas are ruined. And the bottom of my feet are scored with deep gashes. I lie on the table. The nurse plucks shards from my skin with tweezers, cleans my wounds, and bandages the shallower ones.

  After Dr. Edward checks Niall, he stops to examine me and stitch up the lacerations on my soles. When he finishes, he says, “Stay off your feet for a couple days.” He pauses. “If you can. I understand this is a…difficult time for everyone. Here’s a few extra strength pain meds. Only take them in an emergency. Understand?”

  “Yes. Thanks, Doc. How’s Niall?”

  “I can’t divulge his condition, but I’m pleased. And I’m sure his father will fill you in.”

  “Did anyone else get injured in the blast?”

  “A few minor bruises and a couple broken bones—mostly due to falling out of bed. I hear we have you to thank for that.”

  Not really. More like the Q-net, but I did ask it to alert me so I guess I can take partial credit. I nod.

  Dr. Edwards puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “Thank you.” Then he leaves.

  Not waiting for any more orders, I dress in the scrubs left for me, including soft booties, grab the bottle of pills, and limp over to Niall’s room. Radcliff is sitting on the chair next to his bed, but he stands when he sees me.

  “Get some rest, I’ll be by again in the morning.” Radcliff rests his hand on Niall’s forehead for a moment. Then he turns to me. “Follow me,” he orders.

  But this is my later. Huffing with frustration, I shuffle after him. He heads down the hall until we’re well out of hearing range then he stops.

  “I told Niall about what Jarren planned with the HoLFs and the missile. Please don’t tell him about our counter strategies. I don’t want him to insist on being a part of them. Dr. Edwards says it’s vital he rests as much as possible and doesn’t get upset.”

  “I won’t. What happened with the missile?”

  “The satellite has defensive weapons that I can access. Since your and Beau’s worming allowed us to keep command of the satellite, I was able to destroy the missile before it hit the base.”

  Nice to know. And now Jarren knows as well. “Jarren’s going to try to regain the satellite. I should strengthen our protections.”

  “It’s imperative that we maintain control. Can you do it now, or are you too tired?”

  As if I could sleep knowing that Jarren might be messing with our only defense. “I’ll do it now.”

  “Good. Keep me updated.” He strides away.

  I find an empty room and worm into the satellite’s programming and into my protective measures. They haven’t been tampered with, but I layer in another shield just in case. Then I ask the Q-net to alert me if anyone tries to bypass my worms. Once I finish, I hobble back to Niall’s room.

  His eyes are closed and I’ve a moment of panic. But he opens them and gives me a sleepy smile.

  “Hey, Mouse.”

  “Toad.” I climb into bed with him.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you worried the nurses will kick you out?”

  “Nope. They haven’t been able to for the last five nights.”

  “Five…” He clutches the blankets. “No wonder Dad avoided the question.”

  So much for not upsetting him. “You didn’t miss anything.”

  “Really? I think a missile strike counts as a big thing.”

  “Look at that, you can still be sarcastic. You’re well on the way to a full recovery.”

  “Now who’s being sarcastic?”

  “I’ve many talents,” I tease.

  He scoffs. But then says, “Dad said you alerted him about the missile. Do you think Jarren will launch another one?”

  “What I think is that you should let your father worry about that. But you won’t. Neither will I. I’ve no idea what Jarren will do next. What I do know is there was one good thing about that strike.”

  “There is?” His tone is incredulous.

  “Yup. It was loud enough to wake you up.” I lie down next to him. “I missed you.”

  He puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. Or tries; he’s still pretty weak. I scoot until my head is resting on his shoulder.

  “Thanks for staying with me,” he says.

  “You’re welcome. But don’t do it again. That was the worst five days of my life.”

  “Not including when you were shot by the looters,” he adds.

  “Nope. Including that. I’ll take getting shot over you almost dying every time.”

  “Love you, too, Mouse.”

  It’s one thing to propose a plan. At the time you’re safe and warm and it’s all just speculation. It’s quite another experience to be implementing that plan. Doubts and worries about the success of the mission gather like sand grains in your shoes or in this case, my boots. And reality is cold and windy and dark and—what the heck is that smell? Who ate garlic for dinner before a mission?

  Unfortunately, my night vision goggles do not show noxious odors. But otherwise they’re super cool. To my sight, the desert is bathed in a green-tinted twilight despite it being about twenty-two hundred hours. Eight members of the security team, including yours truly, are walking in a single line toward a spot in the desert that my father marked earlier. Elese is close behind me and Beau is right in front. Morgan leads our little parade and Bendix is in the sweeper position—that’s last.

  After the missile attack, Radcliff changed his mind about my plan and agreed it was worth the risk. Much to Niall’s frustration, but to my relief, he remained behind with Radcliff, Tora, and Vedann. He'd said he loved me! I’m still giddy over that.

  Unable to use the dune buggies due to the heat they generate, which might give away our activities to Jarren via the satellite, we all take turns pulling the cart of supplies. It’s not too heavy, not at first, but it’s awkward, especially when trudging up a dune, then it weighs a million kilos. Okay that’s an exaggeration, but when we started out, I was freezing in my security jumpsuit and now I’m soaked with sweat. I silently thank Dr. Edwards for the extra strength pain meds that I downed before the mission.

  Good thing our destination is only a few klicks from base. We reach it without trouble. It’s been less than a day since Jarren’s missile attack so we’re betting that his people aren’t nearby, watching us or ready to ambush us. Of course, we could be wrong. Not a pleasant thought.

  We unload the cart in silence. No need to talk when we’ve all been briefed on exactly what we need to do. Morgan positions the robotic digger and turns it on. Its spikes shoot out and then it grinds and scrapes into the sand. The noise shatters the quiet night. We flinch and grab the hilts of our weapons, certain the sounds will trigger an attack. It’s loud enough to reach the other side of the planet, for stars’ sake. Nothing happens.

  Morgan hands four of us shovels. While the others stand guard, we clear the sand ejected from the digger. It piles around the hole. When the digger is too deep to spew the material high enough, we deploy a second digger to relay the crushed sandstone. The addition of another noisy machine is going to cause me to go deaf. The combined cacophony dances along my nerves, setting my teeth on edge. Or it could be due to half expecting Jarren’s shuttle to come swooping out of the sky to kill us all.

  Diggers weren’t designed to dig straight down that far. They’re made to work in collapsed Warrior pits, clearing dirt and sand away from the buried statues. Which is why we add one more digger.

  It seems like forever before the diggers reach an open space underground. They they pop out of the hole like ping pong balls, retract their spikes, and roll to a stop. Like at Pit 21, the urge to praise them on a job well done pushes up my throat.

  Morgan and two others set up a rope and pulley system. The tunnel is too narrow to use a ladder. First to go down is a camer
a and light. Rance is crouched over a portable, watching the feed.

  After another eon, he says, “We hit our targeted location.”

  Then it’s my turn to peer into the darkness on the portable’s screen. It’s one of the equipment rooms of the factory under the Warriors. There’s no movement or shadow-blobs although it’s hard to be sure without being able to sense the air pressure or temperature. “It appears clear.”

  Morgan’s scowl is clearer. I don’t know why since I’m going to be first. It’s my life on the line. I step into the harness and secure it around my waist before clipping onto the rope. Then from the cart I grab one of the six emitters that Jim and his crew were able to build in the five days since the HoLFs attacked. Settling the strap across my body, I heft the weapon in one hand. Its weight steadies me. I can do this.

  “Ready,” I say and turn on the communicator in my ear. We’re risking discovery by using them, but they’re vital to the mission.

  “Just say up and we’ll pull you out. Got it?” Morgan asks.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I grab the rope and step into nothing. Dangling, I hold onto the rope with my left hand while clutching the emitter. They lower me down. The sandstone walls of the shaft surround me. As I go deeper they squeeze in tighter. The certainty that I’m going to get stuck gnaws on me. And there’s not…enough air… I…can’t…breathe…I’m…

  “Status, Lawrence,” Morgan barks in my ear, startling me out of my panic attack.

  “Good,” I reply and even manage to sound convincing.

  Breathe. You’re not claustrophobic. You’re not claustrophobic, I repeat over and over. When I drop out of the shaft and into the open, I relax. The cool air is light and refreshing. Soon my boots hit the floor.

  “Touchdown,” I say. But I don’t unhook my harness. Instead, I pry my fingers off the rope and draw my flashlight. I shine it around the room. There is a row of tall boxy alien machinery along one smooth wall. However, the shadows are normal. “Clear.”

  Now I detach from the rope. And I attach my flashlight to the top of the emitter’s barrel. Velcro is a wonderful thing and in the five hundred plus years since its invention, no one has designed anything better. I check the adjoining rooms and then follow Dad’s directions on how to find the large cavern with the Warrior hearts.