Shadows of the Son

by E L Strife

  Bennett stared in awe up at the scintillas dripping from the conjured forest canopy. He envied her skill.

  “There are many dimensions,” she continued. “But few possess the openness to connect with multiples simultaneously.” Blossoms of six petals formed. “Elites do. We can transfer energy from one realm to another. It is how we heal others. Origins have the strongest connection. You three can transition among all realms with training, as can Orionates. But only your kind has the power to alter things within those realms.”

  Bennett rubbed the throbbing muscles in his clenched jaw as the radiant forest vanished overhead. He couldn’t believe he was supposed to fulfill such expectations when there were people like Atana and Azure far more qualified and skilled than him. They would make better Prospectors.

  Miskaht leaned forward, looking him dead in the eyes. “It’s not about skill; it’s about spark. We are mere cards in a deck, Sergeant Bennett. The universe just made you the dealer.”

  Chapter 15

  BENNETT CHASED Porter down as he entered the packed mess hall. After visiting with Miskaht, Bennett had picked up Atana’s project and spent warped time working on another for Porter. Atana had left Bennett a second package from an earlier request.

  The drone of chatting shepherds at breakfast was an effective cover for what Bennett had to discuss. He stole Porter off to the side of the large cafeteria. “I won’t keep you long. I’m giving you this with Atana’s permission.”

  He extended a silver barrier bag with the chips and hardware inside Porter would need. “I’ve assigned you to a private build. You need to sign in and open assignment PHS01. It will tell you what materials you’re allotted to use. But you never got this from me.”

  “What’s it for?” Porter asked, gently taking the bag in hand.

  Bennett winked at him. He knew the young man was eager to get back to real work after his injury, to prove himself again. Porter had an aptitude for designing electrically-initiated munitions systems. “You are solely responsible for this duty. You will be our last line.”

  “Last—line?” Porter’s eyes widened. “Y-yes, sir!”

  “Somewhere no one will find it.” Bennett pointed at the milk-silver bag. “And after you’ve eaten, come find me at the gun range. I need your help with one other thing.”

  Leaving Porter in the lunchroom on Level Five, Bennett took the stairs up to Level Two. He continued through the east hallway, which arced around the back side of the island to the reserve bays. The entrance to the hangars stood before him, dual doors covered in Nouveau style ironwork—the first built and first to go of Home Station. Since the end of the mutiny, the entrance had been bandaged in caution tape and shepherds barred from entry.

  Curious what the damage was, Bennett peeked through a small glass portal. Ten meters out, waves punched through frayed metal, draining from sagging floors in white waterfalls. The entire seaside wall and half of the bays had sheared off.

  Another piece of history lost. Bennett scanned the twisted strands of rebar clawing at the foaming tides. He steadied Atana’s case under an arm, wishing he felt numb like everyone else. Serum would’ve softened the pity for those whose lives had been cut short by the sea. Part of him felt guilty for wishing to forget, to be numb again. But Command was right; it was easier to work without distractions.

  Bennett turned away from the condemned wing and scanned his wristband against a panel beside a door leading into the island. It beeped it’s approval and opened to a stairway leading up through the rock. Climbing to the armory and the practice ranges carved out beneath the island’s meadows, Bennett signaled to the man behind the desk in a transparent booth. “Have any of the private ranges open?”

  E-rifles cracked between Standard Issues and shotguns as Field Sergeants shot targets from the main floor. Multiple shepherds took turns in each stall. Blue and green light flickered with every shot.

  “Range C is available.” The older man jerked his crooked nose down the rows to the doors at the end.

  “Thank you. Please let Sergeant Porter in when he arrives.”

  “Understood.”

  Bennett surveyed the shepherds as he walked behind the clear-panes of the sound barrier to the farthest door. Josie backed out, her green eyes lit with concentration. “A breath in raises your weapon. Out lowers it,” she shouted to the students. “It may only seem like a fraction. But it can be several meters depending on how far away you’re firing from. Again.”

  Bennett knew Command had tasked the teenage students to Earth’s ground forces. He didn’t know if he agreed with the decision or not.

  Josie slipped through the door in the barrier wall and smiled at Bennett. “Ships are refueling, so I thought I’d come help train our youngest Assistant Shepherds so they can carry something.” She beamed out at the crowd. “A few of them have taken to the e-rifles.”

  “They’ve got a great Instructor.” Bennett nodded his encouragement despite the tug of regret. His team wasn’t together or his anymore. He missed the Agutra mission already.

  “Josandizer.” Dequan, the only Kojaqx member of Command, called her over from check-in.

  “Excuse me.” She spun and hustled toward the counter.

  Bennett walked to his door and scanned his wristband. He overheard their conversation with unusual clarity.

  “Don’t be easy on them, Josie. They must be ready to fight. Combatants won’t wait for them to free jams or reload. Push them.”

  Bennett let the door close, quietly. As an Instructor, Dequan had always been hard on her. Today, his words were kinder, almost regretful. Every shepherd’s attitude had changed in recent days, working better together, being extra courteous to others as if they saw the clouds of death descending upon them.

  Setting Atana’s case on the table, Bennett opened it and delicately freed one of the six rectangular devices from the black foam cutouts. Why six? He looked at a few of the names: Lavrion, Rimsan, Nephma. He held Lavrion’s. Earth, Agutra, Command. Why?

  An X in the center glowed with writhing blue light. Popping open the empty serum slot on his wristband, Bennett snapped the device inside. Closing the faceplate, he locked the case and set it on the table.

  Private ranges had twenty stalls instead of fifty and were buried in the bedrock of the island at the greatest distance from Home Station’s main structure—a safety measure in case something experimental didn’t go as planned.

  Since Bennett wasn’t sure what the device did, he ambled downrange. Massaging his neck with his right hand, he watched the pairing process on his wristband.

  “Hello, Bennett,” Atana’s voice spoke.

  His screen blinked.

  Shield Ready. Tap Here to Initiate Program.

  “Tap the button, and I’ll walk you through everything.” Her voice was too mechanical. He stopped to listen.

  A gentle laugh trickled through his speaker. “This is a recording, Bennett. I have your wristband code, remember? I’m programming this to guide you if I happen to be too busy to talk. Anyway, follow the steps and let me know how the different phases hold up. Thanks.”

  Smiling to himself, Bennett tapped the program on his screen. A bubble flashed out around him, much in the manner of Atana’s natural Nova shield. He stared up at its swirling luminescence in wonder. He hadn’t yet figured out how to conjure his own at will. Atana made the skill seem like child’s play. “I don’t know how you come up with these things, girl, but this is amazing.”

  Moving his arm, he noted the sphere tracked with it. The unit in the serum slot must be the nucleus. He reached out and touched the wall. It gave him a friendly zap. “Ow!”

  “Guess it works,” Atana’s voice said.

  Bennett scoffed. To program responses, she had to think he would try it. “Not fair, Nakio,” he playfully grumbled under his breath.

  “Unfortunately, there is lag time with the phases because of the manual operation,” she continued. “I’m also designing cerebral control patches for the pilo
ts of the ArcStrings units. I don’t have time to fine-tune the neural stimulation packages for both. ArcStrings get priority.”

  Bennett stood in the orb's glow around him, studying the way the blue light crisped the edges of his clothing and the glossy frame of his wristband. “Trying to be too much to too many people, Nakio.”

  “I made this easy—three symbols. Three actions. Tap the oval in the middle,” she said.

  He did. The orb drew in toward the band. Bennett thrust his arm away from himself in apprehension. The energy formed a traditional one-arm shield bowling half-way around his body.

  “If that works, I want you to try the last one: the burst setting. Make sure you’re alone for this one.”

  Bennett hovered a finger over the pointed star.

  “Spread your feet,” her voice warned.

  Bennett chuckled. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “It’s crazy how you program your responses as if you know what I’m thinking.”

  “Tap the button.” A pulsing frame appeared around the icon.

  Bennett barely set his finger on the display. His screen brightened, and a pulse of fiery blue light ripped out from its center.

  He stumbled but caught himself. Hot wind tugged at his clothing. The table at the front screeched as it slid back. Gray dust fell from the ceiling. Old paper targets flaked off of the walls, falling to the floor.

  Bennett coughed and gasped for breath, looking down at his wristband in delight. “Holy shit.” Lavrion’s going to have better control than me.

  The screen showed a lightning bolt and an empty bar blinking beside it.

  “Those take a lot of power,” Atana’s voice said. “But I’ve figured out how to charge them while in the field. When the orb-shield takes a plasma hit—or five ignited SI bullets—it will recharge. Excess energy will be redirected into the explosion, as you just witnessed. Now, let’s go over tactical specifics.”

  The door at the front creaked open, and Porter slowly stuck his head inside. “Sir?”

  “You’re here, great! Check out one of every weapon we’ve got,” Bennett said, looking at the specs loading on his screen. “You’re going to shoot me.”

  “Sir?”

  When Bennett tapped the arm-shield icon, a translucent blue oval popped to life around his left side.

  Porter’s eyes widened.

  Bennett couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. “Come on! It’ll be fun!”

  …

  An hour later, Bennett had recorded his report and sent it with a few video clips to Atana. He had yet to receive a response. Porter was already at work on his private project, leaving Bennett alone at his desk in TACSIM.

  Resting his head to the pile of maps, Bennett enjoyed the conscious darkness behind his eyelids. It was the closest he was coming to sleep as of late. But in the quiet, he couldn’t help but think: if the universe knew everything, why didn’t it just fix itself? In the back of his mind, Bennett heard his father’s voice.

  “We were designed to nourish a lonely existence. But some have become poison. The universe can warn us with what it sees and feels. But it cannot predict the actions of every soul, or the Suanoa would not be the bearers of destruction they are today.”

  “Powerful, but not?” Bennett mumbled, soaking in the quiescence of night. No Ether. No dreams. Just a voice. Just—Dad.

  “All things have their limitations, my son. The universe knows your spark is pure and has opened its channel to you. It shares with us what it sees. It does not speak our kiatna languages. They are too simple and one-dimensional to translate such a complex form of communication into. Kiatna communicate like a book or a song or a video. The universe communicates with life—every sense active and linked with every dimension simultaneously.”

  Bennett dug his fingers into his hair. “It feels like too much. Like my life’s work is to watch things be destroyed.”

  The silence that stretched on made Bennett wonder if his father had left.

  “Your purpose is to stop the destruction. Our gold is a special kind few have the strength to carry. It must be held inside, grown from within our most tender space. When one understands loss and pain, they respect peace. Struggle is the most critical part of the journey.

  “Death is inevitable in war,” his father continued, his voice softer now. “How much is what determines the future. Which side wins. But there is a secondary effect. The losing party grows more determined, plans for revenge, is reminded of what truly matters. They bond stronger, fight harder, and care less when they kill. Their morals change. Their goals change. Their families become chains of history, foundation.”

  “Are you saying war is essential?” Bennett asked.

  “Yes. Because it reminds us we are vulnerable. It reminds us of what is important. It motivates us and, therefore, causes us to adapt and endure. Take something away from someone, and what happens?”

  “They want it back.”

  “Precisely. And they’ll do whatever it takes to acquire what they took for granted in the first place. War is as crucial to the universe’s balance as peace. With only peace, few know their luck. They live in frivolity. They do not know respect.”

  “That’s dark coming from a being of light,” Bennett remarked.

  “The fact you see it such a way shows you value the positive, not the equilibrium. It is not dark or light, evil, or just. It is truth.”

  A hand on his shoulder made Bennett lurch back in his chair. Amianna skittered away to hide behind Tanner.

  “B, you’re freakin’ people out,” Tanner whispered, eyes darting to Bennett’s hands.

  Bennett lifted his arms. Golden light radiated from his fingers, pulsing to the beat of his heart. Just as his panic set in, the light faded. He slumped back in his chair, relieved. “Any updates?”

  Tanner and Amianna exchanged worried looks. “Yeah. Can we sit?”

  Bennett gestured to the chairs at neighboring desks. The two joined him, Tanner flipping his laptop open. “So, what’s what?”

  “Kyras are similar to Agutras. I’ve been studying the code, can read it pretty well now.” Tanner spun his screen around so Bennett could see the schematics. “Top shield is strongest. Distal is weakest. The layout is a bit different. I sent you a copy but hadn’t received confirmation you’d seen it.”

  “They still look like chaos to me,” Bennett admitted. “I’ll study it in depth later.”

  “It would be best to get an Ether transfer from Azure or Sahara,” Amianna said. “They’ve been on a Kyra. Paramor too, but he’s been busy coordinating with Rimsan on Agutra’s preparations.”

  “Yeah,” Bennett shifted in his seat. Hot tension spread through his chest as he thought of Azure and Atana being alone. He swallowed down the rush of jealousy and frustration. “They’re resting.”

  Tanner looked up from his typing. “Didn’t Atana lose most of her memory of that part of her life anyway?”

  “Memory, yes. Skills,” and pain, “apparently not. It’s why she was able to hack the Suanoan database.” Bennett studied the fighter beside the Kyra’s schematic. Slender and acicular, compared to collectors, they looked designed for speed and agility. Collectors were fast but bulky, not useful in frontal assaults. Their broadsides were being loaded with munitions. But to effectively release them, the ships would have to pass through the ranks of fighters or turn side and expose their flank to the enemy like one big target.

  Something bothering you? Amianna’s magenta face twisted in concern.

  Bennett rubbed his neck, trying to ease tense pangs deep within. Many things.

  Tanner glowered playfully. “Silent conversations are getting annoying.”

  “Sorry, Love.” One of Amianna’s flumes snuck out of her cloak and grazed the underside of Tanner’s chin like a doting finger. In the light it cast, Bennett saw speckles of a black-violet color in Tanner’s multicolored eyes he’d never noticed before.
Sprinkles, Panton had renamed him.

  “Also, this.” Bolting forward, Tanner tapped Bennett’s screen to life and pulled up the TV feed of Command’s speech.

  The Coordinator stood at his podium in one corner of the frame. “For those not willing or capable of fighting, you are encouraged to seek shelter in an H.Co. approved bunker as soon as possible. We estimate the Kyras will arrive in the next few days.”

  Beside the video of the speech, a reporter in an auburn suit sat at her desk. “Concerns about the legitimacy of this claim made by the Universal Protectors have caused riots in several cities around the globe. The presence of shepherds arriving to calm the crowds and stop violence has diminished. We can only assume one of two things. Either they no longer protect us, or this upcoming war will be far worse than we’re giving it credit, and they’re tasked to more important matters than scuffles and break-ins.”

  Bennett clicked his screen off. Resting a hand on Tanner’s shoulder, he patted it. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “Earth doesn’t even know which side we’re on,” Tanner snorted.

  “Many will run and hide.” Bennett sat back in his chair. “But some will rise and fight when they see the truth. When they do, others will join.”

  “Amianna, tell him.” Tanner nudged Amianna with an elbow. “It’s your department.”

  Bennett looked expectantly to her.

  She unclenched her fists to rub her eyes. Amianna’s flume-wings sagged behind her. “Krett and I have been monitoring the Kyras, you know. We think—they are going to be early, sir.”

  “Okay, what are we talking?” Bennett asked.

  Amianna whined, her face scrunching in sympathy. “Two days.”

  Chapter 16

  BLOOD, SWEAT, AND SAND from five more shredded punching bags darkened the water at Bennett’s feet. It hadn’t taken him but ten minutes. The clock in the gym had ticked by one.