Legacy of Shadow

by Gallant, Craig;

  Angara nodded, stepping forward. “Please accept my gratitude for your acceptance of this burden, Warder Alab Oo’Juto.” She moved around the table to stand between Marcus and the dolphin.

  The alien waved one shimmering flipper in an alarmingly Human gesture of dismissal. “Please do not refer to me by this title. Warder am I no longer.” The long head twisted to look again at Marcus, and he found himself having to concentrate hard to maintain contact with those deep, black eyes. He wondered what the creature was thinking. Did it harbor residual opinions from its own time on Earth? Was it laughing at him too?

  “I will take the Skorahn now, Human.” The squeaking beneath the voice grated even more, and Marcus shied back, one hand rising to the necklace that had caused all of this trouble; that had brought him so far from home.

  From the corner of his eye he caught Iphini Bha spin around, glaring at the door as Khet Nhan and his acolyte came in, moving off to the side. Marcus’s eyes narrowed as he saw the paintings behind his deputy spike with sudden, jagged violence.

  “I think perhaps we should revisit this decision, Marcus Wells.” The high-pitched voice of the Thien’ha master caught him by surprise. The little Guagoi had taken part in no policy discussions since being brought into his confidence after the death of the Diakk Copics. This was the first time he had spoken up in such a way.

  “The Skorahn represents a great potentiality of power.” The small, delicate-seeming hands almost clutched at the jewel dangling below Marcus’s fist. “Entropy is drawn to it like filings to a magnet.” The crimson eyes locked on his. “It should not be surrendered lightly.”

  “No one is surrendering anything lightly!” Angara barked, stepping toward the little creature. Nhan’s eyes never wavered from Marcus’s.

  “What is this?” The bulk of Oo’Juto spun gracefully to bring its baleful eyes swinging over to Angara. “Does this creature have a place here in our deliberation?” The voice in his head was getting shrill again, and he saw Justin reach back to brace himself against the far wall. “I have no need of this draw on my attention and resources, exile.”

  Marcus saw Angara’s eyes widen in shocked surprise. Despite the lack of tone as Oo’Juto’s meaning sliced directly into his head, the contempt he had piled into that last word was clear. Tensions rose, and some clinical part of his mind watched with vague curiosity as the artwork on the walls erupted in sparking images of blood and violence.

  The Thien’ha bristled at the word as well, and Marcus thought he was going to rush the dolphin floating before them all, little hand clasping at the metal cylinder hanging from his waist. The Diakk girl, Ve’Yan, placed a hand on her master’s shoulder to restrain him. Having seen him in action, though, Marcus hardly felt that one hand would be sufficient, should he decide the dolphin needed to be taken down a peg.

  “Please!” Angara shouted, her hands flying out like blades in a violent sweeping gesture that claimed the center of the room. “We have discussed this. There is no other choice! Our only chance to get the Council to leave Penumbra alone is to have an established Galactic at the helm when they arrive. We cannot have a Human on the administrator’s throne if we want any chance at peace!”

  A heavy stillness settled upon the room, and Marcus felt the breaking sensation in his chest intensify. If there was no other way, how could he bring these people down with him, no matter the reason for their bigotry against Humanity?

  It had been a very long time since he had made any difficult decision. It had been an even longer time since he had made such a decision wisely.

  With eerily still fingers he lifted the Skorahn over his head. With a quick look he quieted Khet Nhan and extended his arm toward Alab Oo’Juto. The sapphire jewel spun from the glittering necklace in his hand, light sparking off its surfaces from an unknowable source.

  An unseen force began to pull at the necklace, and the chain slipped through fingers gone suddenly numb as whatever mastery over gravity Oo’Juto possessed seized the medallion and drew it gracefully through the air.

  As the last length of chain slipped through his fingers, something deep within Marcus went dark, and he was suddenly very, very tired. The lights seemed to dim in the room, and sounds became muted, as if his ears were filled with water.

  The entire room seemed suspended in that slow, painful moment. Everything was still but the medallion floating toward the big Aijian, whose inhuman smile seemed to steam with arrogance.

  A warning bell sounded from behind the dolphin as lights began to flash out in the control room. Someone shouted something about an Alpha Lock override. Marcus turned, as if moving through thick water, to look at Iphini Bha.

  She stood, still as a statue, against the wall. Her eyes were closed, her face tight and focused.

  His stomach imploded within his belly.

  A shriek echoed across the office, and a massive explosion erupted out in the control center. Everyone in the office dropped slightly into tense crouches, whirling toward the door. With a flick of his tail, Oo’Juto spun in place, somehow registering wounded dignity and outrage.

  Smoke bellowed through the low-ceilinged center as Marcus’s people scrambled for cover. A blast of green plasma flashed past and shattered a bank of processing nodes, sending arcs of energy from their viewing fields to ground themselves in walls, ceiling, and floor.

  There was a great deal of shouting in the outer room, much of it by guttural voices that were hardly intelligible, even to the nanites living in his brain.

  A shape barreled past Marcus and flew through the space between him and Oo’Juto. One pale arm, fine black lines crisscrossing the skin in a delicate tracery, flashed up and grabbed the medallion where it floated, forgotten, in the air.

  Iphini Bha scrambled behind the big administrator’s desk, crouching down there, her wide eyes terrified, and yet an unholy light flashed from behind them as her face twitched, fear, terror, and vindication warring violently across her flesh.

  Two big shapes emerged through the fog, their dog-like faces masked with armored rebreather units, their tiny pig-eyes glaring from within globular vision modules.

  Ntja. They wore the brown uniforms of their Council allegiance. One held a rifle in its hands while the other was wielding a heavy, vicious looking sword-like weapon that dripped with pale, viscous fluid he was almost sure had to be the blood of one of his people. Another such weapon hung from the belt of the rifle-dog.

  Even a suppression field was not going to stop the Ntja.

  Within the office, it seemed like everyone was screaming. Justin held something small and dark in his right hand, white eyes flashing back and forth in his dark face. Angara’s shoulder weapons were deployed as she settled low, a blade in either hand. The two Thien’ha had moved away from the door, Nhan’s nano-staff a long-bladed spear in his hands. In the center, gently holding his position with slow waves of his flippers, swam Oo’Juto.

  The Aijian focused on the doorway and an old blast door began to descend. Marcus cursed himself for forgetting the security door.

  With a flick of the staff, Nhan’s spear shimmered and became something that looked more like a long rifle. Iridescent blue energy flashed out and took the rifle-wielding Ntja in the chest, blowing him back out through the door and into the fog. Before the dog with the sword could respond, another blast sent him after his companion. By the time Marcus looked back at the little master, the spear had returned, gleaming dully.

  It looked like they would be safe in the office, anyway. Marcus was hardly sure he understood the benefit of that if the Ntja held the control center outside, but at the moment, having a blast door between him and the hulking, canine shock troops seemed like a fine idea. They could puzzle out the rest later.

  The door ground to a halt.

  In the corner, still crouched behind the desk, Iphini Bha, her eyes wild, was shaking the medallion at the door, screaming incoherently, spittle flying from her open mouth.

  The blast door began to shake violently. One qui
et corner of his mind was fascinated to watch his deputy trying to wrestle the control of the Skorahn manually, when so much had come to him without a second thought. It gave him just a moment of superiority, welling through the mind-numbing sensations of betrayal and confusion that dominated his mental landscape.

  Oo’Juto began to shake as he continued to focus his gravity manipulation on the door. Iphini Bha shrieked again, and the door surged upward, sliding into the ceiling recess that had hidden it. The standard door was thrust against the wall as well, and the way was open for the forces moving toward them through the smoke.

  A single tall figure was revealed as the doors swung away. Khuboda Taurani, wearing tight-fitting trousers and a loose shirt that was more conducive to action than his standard diplomat’s robes, held an enormous gun cradled casually in his arms.

  The alien’s rigid gray face was not prone to smiles; the thin, lipless mouth perhaps incapable of the expression. Nevertheless, those inscrutable metallic eyes glittered with malicious amusement as he stepped through the swirling smoke, obviously enjoying the drama of the moment.

  “I might be of some assistance here, I believe.” The Kerie diplomat’s mouth widened in what had to be some version of a smile, and he raised the lead-colored weapon in his arms.

  Everyone in the office shrank away from the bright flash of crimson light. Marcus knew the bolt could have been meant for any of them, and his mind made a lightning-quick calculation as to his own odds, coming up alarmingly low, when an ear-piercing, deafening shriek echoed off the thick walls and a cascade of warm water rushed across the floor.

  The bolt of energy, whatever it was, struck Alab Oo’Juto in the side, the weapon unaffected by the suppression field. The water on that side flashed to a super-heated steam as flesh and bone buckled and ruptured, throwing the big gray body violently against the back wall, which partially buckled beneath its weight. Justin’s eyes were wide as he disappeared behind the shattered, leaking bulk.

  The Aijian diplomat’s body shuddered on the sodden floor, blood and water flying in large, dark droplets across the room’s other occupants. Marcus felt the warmth running down his face and started to shake as adrenaline coursed through his system.

  Taurani sauntered into the room, flanked by two enormous Ntja soldiers brandishing guns even bigger and more menacing than his.

  The Council’s Ambassador to Penumbra looked down at the still-twitching body and gave an eloquent shrug. “Well, what else can you expect, when you run with vermin, you’re bound to get dirty.”

  By the wall, Angara was helping a stunned Justin to stand, while everyone else stared at the ambassador in varying states of outrage and fear.

  “Deputy Bha, I believe there is a further responsibility for you to fulfill?” He turned to stare at Marcus with those alien, glittering eyes. One long-fingered hand flicked out toward the desk, unfolding in a clear demand.

  “Bha? Why?” Angara’s voice was choked with rage and confusion.

  Iphini Bha picked her way around the desk and held out the medallion. She walked with an unsteady gait, but forced her shoulders back, her chin lifted high.

  “You would have a Human rule in Penumbra. A Human?” She almost screamed the word, although she refused to meet Marcus’s eyes. “And even worse, you would allow him to strengthen the administrator’s hold over the city? Over your vaunted free city?”

  The deputy dropped the Skorahn into the waiting hand. “I don’t care one single speck of dust for your city or your freedom.” She turned at Marcus at last, and those wide, pale-blue eyes were filled with hatred. “But I won’t let a Human hold power over anything for a moment more than I must.”

  Marcus stared at her. They had worked together for months. Probably close to a year, if he took the time to do the math. They had laughed together, shared meals, and even spoken about their hopes for the city with each other. Something about those memories scratched at his mind now, though, and he remembered, vaguely, how she would always avoid speaking of her home planet, and of her past.

  Had she always hated him? Had she always hated him because he was a Human?

  Taurani raised the medallion and watched it spin beneath his grasping hand. It glittered as it turned, sending azure shards of light flashing across the walls. Was it Marcus’s imagination, or was it in fact duller than it had when it had been his? The ambassador let the heavy rifle drop with a sopping flop onto the floor as if he no longer had a need of its direct, blatant threat.

  “Humans. Am I correct, Iphini Bha?” Taurani held his empty hand toward the Thien’ha, to stave off any rash actions. “And thus the wheel continues to turn, does it not, Master Nhan?”

  The Thien’ha master crouched lower, his fine teeth gleaming in a hate-filled grimace. Behind him, Sihn Ve’Yan still held his shoulder, and it was clear she was restraining him from moving against the diplomat.

  “You, of all beings here, should have known how this ended, Master Nhan.” Taurani flicked his empty hand and the Ntja soldiers moved further into the room, covering them all with their enormous rifles. “The Humans have ever tainted every cycle in which they moved with violence and hatred. It is really a shame that so many citizens of Penumbra were taken in by these villains.” He moved again to stand over the now-still body of the Aijian. “So sad that so much had to be lost, because you all forgot your history.”

  He spun dramatically to point to Marcus, who had a very hard time not daring the Ntja weapons by launching himself at the tall, gray-skinned bastard. “Humans destroy everything they touch. You all knew this long before this Marcus Wells and his pathetic friend soiled the corridors of your little city. It is truly an important lesson, and one that will be well-learned by those who survive the aftermath of this current treachery.”

  The thin mouth stretched again, and the noseless face seemed to twitch, trying to smile. He raised his empty hand at his soldiers. “How unfortunate that you all had to die to underscore the experience.”

  Khet Nhan yanked his shoulder from his acolyte’s grasp and lunged across the room. The metal staff lengthened as he swung it in a whistling arc, and Taurani shrank away from the blow, clutching the medallion to his chest as he stumbled back, slipping on the slick flooring.

  But the staff had not been aimed at Taurani. A blade materialized from the rounded butt of the staff and took one of the Ntja soldiers in the throat, slicing without apparent difficulty through the armored gorget of his rebreather. The beast dropped his sword and clutched at the wound with clumsy, grasping fingers, falling to his knees as a thick, dark fluid sheeted down his chest.

  “Out, now!” Nhan spun, the staff shortening again to allow him to come up against the wall, just beside the door.

  Angara shoved Justin forward, past Taurani and toward the open door. Her shoulder weapons rose out of their sheathing and sent two weak blasts into the remaining Ntja guard. The two bolts struck the soldier in the chest and knocked him over backward, out into the control center. The telltales across the small barrels winked and went out before the dog soldiers fell, and the dark-skinned woman grunted.

  “Suppression field!” The knives glittered in her hands as she reached one arm around Marcus and forced him through the door. Behind them, Nhan and Ve’Yan followed as Taurani bellowed in anger, and Iphini Bha cowered away from Ambassador and mystics alike.

  Out in the control center, the suppression field that had stopped Angara’s weapons had rendered the massive guns of the Ntja useless as well, and they were hefting their heavy blades, ready to bar the fugitives from the hall beyond.

  Marcus saw Agha-pa’s body slumped against a wall, his green skin pale, a pool of viscous fluid pooling around him. The head of security was still, his big hands firmly grasping the neck of a dead Ntja shock trooper. The other control center workers were either still on the floor or huddled against the far wall, behind the administrator’s throne.

  There were five giant Ntja standing between the door and the small group, their brown uniforms blending
into the smoke. Marcus began to lose the slight, new-kindled hope he had felt as they ran from the office.

  Somehow, in the confusion, he had forgotten for a moment the violence of that night in front of his apartments.

  Khet Nhan flew past him like a pale streak, his light-green fur bristling, teeth set, and dull staff flashing through the air. The staff blurred as it spun, first a spear, then a long-bladed sword, then a metallic, chain-like whip that lashed out, taking a soldier in the throat and stripping it of armor, leather, and flesh with one vicious pull.

  Sihn Ve’Yan leapt by and took one of the big warriors in the gut with a cruel kick, spinning past and reaching behind her with a slap that seemed casual, but nevertheless sent the beast tumbling backward into a bank of observation stations.

  There were only two standing when Angara pushed past Marcus, shoving the still-dazed Justin into his arms. Her knives flashed as she danced into the melee. She moved with a grace that belayed her deadly intent, and despite the shrieking ambassador standing in the doorway to the inner office, soon the last heavy body fell to the deck.

  “You fools! You have no idea what you are doing!” Taurani was wearing the medallion now, hefting his massive gun in both hands again.

  Marcus saw the small lights on Angara’s shoulder-mounted weapons flash back to life just before the big cannon in Taurani’s arms barked.

  “Down!” He shouted, his throat raw from panic, smoke, and fear.

  Angara dropped without hesitation. Ve’Yan, however, stood up straighter as if she doubted the warning. Nhan dropped, his legs sweeping around to strike his acolyte behind the knees, knocking her to the deck.

  The blast flashed out into the corridor, its roar accompanied by the deep-throated cries of Ntja panic. More soldiers were pouring in from side chambers and work spaces deeper within the control center.

  Knowing the suppression field seemed to be wavering, Angara took a chance and turned to send two bolts back toward the Ambassador, who ducked into the office as the small, thin privacy door was smashed by their energy.