The Shadow Order: A Space Opera

by Michael Robertson

  When Logan popped the car’s door open with a click, the wind rushed in and swirled through the small space. It tousled Seb’s hair and threw grit in his eyes. Trained in avoiding the blinding that happened outside on the plains of Danu, Seb squinted, which kept out the worst of it. Before he opened his door, he pulled his goggles from his pocket and put them on.

  It would have been easier to walk in the front door, go to his room, and forget about another miserable night where he’d gotten arrested, but Logan insisted on knocking.

  As they stood on the porch, grit sprayed the reinforced glass windows on the house, and Seb heard his dad’s heavy footsteps walk up the hallway to the door. Seb’s shoulders lifted to his neck and a rock clamped in his stomach in anticipation of what would come. Despite being twenty-four, his dad reduced him to a teenager every time he voiced his displeasure at him.

  The door yanked open in front of them, revealing the usual frown of disappointment that Seb associated with his dad. After he held Seb’s stare for a few more seconds, he turned to Logan and spoke with a sigh. “Hi, Logan, how are you?”

  Logan and Seb’s dad shook hands. The Frant’s larger palm enveloped even Seb’s father’s big grip. “I’m sorry to do this, Joe.”

  As he shot a scowl at Seb, his dad shook his head. “Not as sorry as I am. It seems like my boy’s a drain on the station’s resources.”

  “My main concern,” Logan said, “is that I won’t be able to keep bailing him out. McGovern wanted to hang him out to dry for this one, but I called in a favour. I don’t have many left.”

  It started with the slight widening and then relaxing of his jaw as Seb’s dad tensed up. Within a few seconds, he moved his mouth as if he chewed something other than the bitter taste of disappointment. The man always did it when he got angry. It usually stopped him from shouting in front of people, but he looked at Seb like he wanted to kill him. After a lingering glare, he turned back to Logan, and his features softened slightly. “I don’t want you to call in any more favours for him. You’ve given him a chance, and he has to learn his lesson. I’m guessing he was fighting again?”

  Instead of a reply, Logan dipped his head and looked down at the ground.

  Seb’s dad sighed again. “The boy needs to learn. If that means prison …”

  “I am here, you know,” Seb said as he stepped forward.

  Both Seb’s dad and Logan looked at him, and then his dad spoke. “We can see that, Seb. That doesn’t mean we won’t talk about you. You’re nearly twenty-five and you still behave like a child. You’ve caused me enough headaches in your life, and I can’t keep on taking responsibility for you. I don’t need it any more. Especially not now.”

  “Why’s now any different?”

  Silence hung between the three men, and Seb’s dad looked out into the darkness of the plains. A glisten of tears coated his dark eyes and he drew another deep breath. A man of few words, he had enough sighs in him to out-puff the winds of Danu.

  “Look, Seb,” Logan said, “we know you collect a purse for every fight. We know the bookies throw a percentage your way. Everyone knows that. If you get nicked again, the police will use that against you. I shouldn’t tell you this, but they have the evidence now. If you get tried for illegal gambling, you won’t see the light of day for a long time.”

  At first, Seb wanted to deny the money, but when he looked at his two elders, he saw the futility in it. “Sure,” he finally said, “I’m broke and the money helps, but I didn’t fight him for the money.”

  “They won’t believe that,” Logan said.

  When he looked back at his father’s disappointed face, Seb forced his words past the lump in his throat. “The guy mentioned Mum.”

  A shake of his head and Seb’s dad looked even more disappointed. Another one of his signature sighs and he stared at the ground. When he looked back up, his eyes were bloodshot, almost as if he’d been crying—not that his dad ever cried. Even when Seb’s mum had died, he just went quiet … permanently. “You can’t flip out every time someone mentions Mum. She’s dead, Seb; deal with it like we’ve all had to.”

  The words stung and Seb didn’t reply.

  “Besides,” his dad said, “how do you think it would make Mum feel to know you’re fighting because some idiot mentioned her to you in a pub? You can’t hide behind that excuse anymore. You fight because you can’t manage your ego. You want to prove to the world that you’re a big man. If you learned to walk away, you wouldn’t get into any of this trouble and people would respect you more. You’re a damn clown, Seb, and despite what you think you look like, a clown is all the world sees of you.”

  It didn’t matter how many times he tried to reason with his dad, the man wouldn’t listen. He had an opinion on everything and nothing could change it. Instead, Seb turned sideways and moved past his dad to get into the house. His feet echoed against the wooden floor in the hallway as he walked up it.

  “Aren’t you going to apologise to Logan?” Seb’s dad said.

  “Why? He’s brought me here. To you! I’d get a warmer welcome in police custody. All I get here are looks of disappointment and reminders that my mum is gone. Here, I have to face the bitter reality that the wrong parent got taken from me far too soon.”

  Guilt dragged on Seb’s frame because of the last comment, but he continued to walk away. Life would have been better if his dad had died instead of his mum.

  Although his dad spoke again, he didn’t talk to Seb. Instead, he exchanged pleasantries with Logan that Seb couldn’t make out even if he’d wanted to.

  The front door slammed by the time Seb reached the kitchen, and he jumped clean off the ground at the loudness of it. He couldn’t see his dad from where he stood, but he heard his heavy steps come up the hallway toward him.

  Chapter Four

  By the time his dad reached the kitchen, Seb had picked up a mowgrove fruit and taken a large bite. So ripe it nearly exploded when he sank his teeth into it, Seb let the juice run down his chin and onto the floor. His dad could deal with the mess. Besides, it would give him something to moan about, which seemed to be his favourite pastime.

  A large man with a strong jaw and a heavy frown, Seb’s dad strode up to him in the gloomy kitchen. The pair looked at one another as the wind howled against the closed shutters. The breeze, although outside, still found a way through the cracks and crevices in the wooden structure. It seemed that no matter how well his dad insulated against the elements, the wind always found a way through. Dust and sand got everywhere, and although Seb had gotten used to the feel of it against his skin, it didn’t make wearing a layer of grit a pleasant experience.

  As Seb took another bite of the mowgrove, his dad threw his arms up in the air and leaned forward, his face red. “When will you stop fighting?”

  Now Logan had gone, the true anger of the large man would be set loose. Although Seb looked at him, he didn’t reply.

  “Mum wouldn’t want this, you know?”

  “What do you know about Mum?” With his heart pounding, Seb stepped closer to his dad and stared up at him. “When Mum was alive, all you did was work. You don’t know anything about the woman.”

  “This again? Seriously?”

  “What do you expect, Dad? You throw her name around when it suits you, but you weren’t there for her. Yeah, you eased your conscience by claiming you had to spend so much time away from the house to support a family, but that wasn’t the real reason. You couldn’t cope with a family, so you hid at work.”

  When Seb’s dad lifted his large chest, he seemed to rise by a few inches. “That isn’t true.”

  “You’re emotionally devoid, Dad.” As Seb looked around their gloomy kitchen, the womp, womp, womp of their generator sounded outside. They lived so far away, they couldn’t access the grid. Seb laughed. “Look at where you’ve chosen to live! In the middle of these plains away from everything and everyone.”

  His dad’s large eyes narrowed. “Not far enough away from you, though.�
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  Sure, the words stung and Seb winced from the attack, but he’d been the focus of his dad’s contempt for so long that he’d grown used to the man’s bitterness. Besides, he’d told him he should have died instead of his mum, and although it might have worked out better if Seb took it back, he couldn’t do it.

  “Anyway,” Seb said, “why should I stop fighting? I’m good at it.” Even at that moment, with his dad almost squaring up to him, Seb could feel the world around him slow down, and he saw the exact spot on his dad’s large chin that would drop him like a sack of rocks.

  “The only thing you get from it is trouble.”

  “And money, Dad. Don’t forget the money.”

  “Not enough to move out, though, is it? Or even to give me rent.”

  As much as he wanted one, Seb didn’t have a reply. Having been skint since he’d left school, the money he got from the touts after his fights kept him going until the next fight, and nothing more.

  Seb’s dad stepped back, sat down on one of the kitchen stools, and dropped his head. “I may not show it, but I do care.”

  “You’re right, Dad, you don’t show it.”

  “I worry that what happened to your brother will end up happening to you. I know you’re good at fighting, but so was your brother—and he killed a Frant in a fight.”

  A shake of his head and Seb screwed his face up when he said, “You don’t need to keep reminding me. I’m more than aware of what Davey did.”

  “Do you forget that he’s in prison for life? For life! We’ll never see him again. That doesn’t bother you?”

  “Of course it bothers me. I miss Davey something rotten, but I’m not him.” Seb took another bite of the mowgrove and ran his forearm across his chin to remove the juice that ran down it. “Davey had no control over his anger. When he lost it, nothing could stop him. I’m not like that. I know how to fight.” Seb had never told his dad about his talent, and he never would. If anyone would be likely to believe Seb about what happened when he fought, it certainly wouldn’t be his old man.

  Seb watched his dad’s hand shake as he remained perched on the stool and reached over for a glass of water on the work surface. He didn’t seem in control of his limbs. Instead of grabbing the glass, he knocked it from the side. As it fell, everything slowed down for Seb. He watched the glass spin on its downward trajectory, and he could have caught it. Instead, he let it hit the dusty wooden floor with a loud crash.

  With a frown that darkened his view, Seb looked down at the smashed glass and then back up at his dad.

  Several heavy breaths and no words as Seb’s dad looked back. The same glaze that Seb had seen at the front door ran across his dad’s eyes. A withdrawn grief, a need to cry. But his dad ignored it and said, “Why don’t you take on an honest profession? Anything.”

  Seb laughed. “Like law enforcement? Get myself a swell partner so we can both say how bloody great we are as we cruise around on our cloud of self-esteem?”

  “It doesn’t matter what it is. Get a job in cargo for all I care; just earn an honest wage.”

  When the man wobbled on his stool, Seb rushed forward to catch him. Before he could, his dad reached out and grabbed the side to steady himself. The words sat in Seb’s mouth, but he couldn’t ask ‘Are you okay?’—especially when he made eye contact with the man and received a fierce glare of hostility in return. A proud man, he wouldn’t answer truthfully even if something were wrong. Instead, Seb shrugged off his dad’s strange behaviour. “On most planets, fighting is an honest wage.”

  Clearly riled by the comment, Seb’s dad roared at him, “Then maybe you should go to one of those planets.”

  “Why don’t you get off my case? You’ve done nothing but have a go at me for years now. Since Mum died, you’ve been a complete arsehole.”

  After he’d shaken his head several times, Seb’s dad looked down again with one of his signature sighs. The man deflated with exasperation. When he finally lifted his head, tears glistened on his cheeks. “I’m dying, Seb.”

  The words reached into Seb’s stomach, gripped his bowels, and tore them clean out. “You’re what?”

  “I’m dying. I don’t have long left. I didn’t want to tell you during an argument, but all we do is argue, so it’s not like I could have chosen another time.”

  Ever since Seb could remember, his dad had worn a thick necklace that looked like a snake around his neck. A gift from Seb’s grandfather to his dad before he passed. Whenever his dad felt uncomfortable, he’d absentmindedly fiddle with it. On the day of his mum’s funeral, Seb watched him hold it for the entire service. At that moment in the quiet kitchen, he gripped onto the heavy chain like his life depended on it.

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Seb didn’t see it coming, and when his dad spoke again, Seb lost the strength in his legs.

  “The doctor said I’ll be dead within a month.”

  Seb stumbled backwards. Just before he fell to the ground, he grabbed onto the side of the table for stability, pulled a stool toward him, and lowered himself onto it. With the air leaving his body in a withering sigh, Seb stared at his dad and said nothing.

  Chapter Five

  Two Years Later …

  The muscles in Seb’s back burned like they would tear at any moment. Their heaviest cargo yet, Seb shoved the large box the last metre it needed to go before he stood up straight and gasped for breath. The large metal container stood nearly as tall as him. As he stared at it, the layer of sweat that coated his body turned frigid in the cold environment. Sometimes the cargo they carried presented no problems. At other times, like this, it felt like he had to move mountains.

  The Bandolin had been a freighter ship for decades and it showed. Even now, after all this time on the ship, Seb looked around the cargo hold and shook his head at the state of the place. Shabby around the edges, the freighter moved slowly and steadily through the galaxy. One of a fleet owned by wealthy transport merchants, it moved whatever needed to be transported from planet to planet. As long as they didn’t have to break the law to shift the cargo, anything went, regardless of the strain it put on the workers.

  Over a year and half into the job and Seb had hated every minute of it. Today felt no different as he stared at the large box that he hadn’t yet moved far enough. He felt ready to admit defeat. Not that they’d let him; if he couldn’t do the job, then why did he sign up?

  The stale reek of his own effort took Seb back to his first six months of working on The Bandolin. In that time, Seb had spent all of his paltry earnings on booze, which he sweated out as he worked through his daily hangovers. Having stood by his father’s side as the man died, he’d tried to drink the pain away. It only served to land him in trouble with his employers and make him more dependent on his terrible wage because he had no other finances to get him off the ship. He shouldn’t have cared about the old man; after all, he’d even told him that he’d rather he’d died than his mum. But as it turned out, he wasn’t as detached from the old bastard as he thought he was.

  As punctual as ever, his dad had died within the month he’d been given. Seb didn’t leave his house on Danu for the next sixteen weeks. Maybe he would still be there now were it not for Logan. The Frant turned up one day and told Seb he’d signed him up to work on The Bandolin. As a way to make some kind of amends with his dead father, Seb took the job.

  The silver snake that had once been his dad’s hung around Seb’s neck, and he stroked it as he rested in the cold space. A shiver snapped through him as he watched several other beings move boxes around in the red glow. As big as his old school’s sports hall, the warehouse aboard The Bandolin had racks and racks of goods. It took an army of men to run the place around the clock. Their current cargo contained the eggs from a rare creature on a now destroyed planet. Seb had peeked inside and looked at the white leathery shells that stood just a few inches shorter than the huge crates that housed them. When the things hatched, they’d bring chaos with them. The creatures had wings
and breathed fire. Apparently, the babies came out all guns blazing. To prevent that from happening, the cargo hold had to be colder than usual; too warm and The Bandolin wouldn’t make it to its next destination.

  Just as Seb thought about continuing with his work, the voice of his boss called through the dark cargo hold. “Oi, you!”

  Seb didn’t need to look around to know the horrible git meant him. Ever since Seb had been employed to work on The Bandolin, his boss, Snart, had treated him like dirt.

  At over eight feet tall, the Granth, Snart, weaved through the large boxes, his breath visible as condensation even in the dark red glow of their surroundings. Although the red light made it difficult for Seb, it had been proven to be the most pleasing light for the majority of the species who worked on the ship. Obliged to offer night-vision goggles to all of their workers, Seb had been given a pair that stank of sweat. They still had the slime of their previous wearer on them, and they were so old, they didn’t work properly.

  “What are you doing?” Snart asked; his voice was so shrill, Seb flinched every time he spoke.

  “What do you mean?”

  When Snart put his four hands on his hips and stared at Seb, Seb found it hard not to laugh. Regardless of the fact that one of his large hands rested on the handle of his blaster, Seb still found the sight amusing. Little did the dumb creature know that it would only take Seb one well-timed swing and Snart would be out cold. But Seb had left that life behind. Instead, he would put up with Snart’s nonsense. With his mirth stuffed down inside of him, Seb waited for Snart to speak again.

  “What are you doing?” Snart asked. “It’s a question that doesn’t need explaining. What. Are. You. Doing?”