Alien Shadows

by Daniel Arenson

  The ship gave a mad jolt. The dented hull rattled. The windshield rattled, the crack upon it expanding.

  "Won't find our way home if our windshield shatters," Nova muttered.

  Sitting beside them, Giga tilted her head. "Cannot compute, ma'am. There is no wind in space. Do you mean the front fused silica viewport panes?"

  Nova groaned. "For the millionth time, Giga, I call them windshields."

  Riff returned to his seat. With the engines rattling, his chair vibrated—rather soothingly, he thought.

  If we die, he thought, at least I'll die getting a good massage.

  * * * * *

  They were racing across the ship, rolls of duct tape in hand, when Giga's voice rose through the communicator.

  "Captain! Arriving back at the planet Athemes, sir."

  Riff stood in the kitchen, slapping duct tape onto a hole in the hull. He ran into the corridor and saw Nova emerging from the kitchen, where she had been taping other breaches. They hurried back onto the bridge. Here, too, strips of tape covered the ship—holding together loose control panels, the hull, and cracks in the windshield. It seemed like the Dragon Huntress was now more duct tape than metal.

  Best damn material in the cosmos, Riff thought. Never go into space without duct tape.

  Giga smiled at him from her chair. "Ten seconds before I shut down hyperspace engines, sir. Might give us a jolt. Nine. Eight. Seven . . ."

  Riff leaped into his chair and clutched the armrests. Nova occupied the third seat. Piston and Twig were down in the engine room, and Romy was still up in the attic with a roll of tape—probably eating it. The lights swirled outside.

  "Remember to keep our Euclidian engine on," Riff said.

  "Happy to comply! Three. Two. One."

  With a shuddering sound, the hyperspace engines shut down. Spacetime uncurled around them, forming solid lines again, though those lines still twisted at odd angles; the ship still flew in the fourth dimension.

  For a few seconds, the Dragon Huntress sailed smoothly.

  Then the ship jolted like a rowboat running into a humpback whale.

  The seats tore free. The hula dancer flew through the cabin. The windshield, the control panels, and the hull all rattled. The duct tape twisted; if not for its miraculous powers, the ship would have fallen apart.

  "Captain, sir!" Piston's voice rose through the communicator. "Euclidian engine rattling down here like a terrified skeleton. She don't got much more power in her, sir."

  "Fragging aardvarks," Nova cursed. "Nearly broke every vertebra in my spine."

  Riff pulled himself back to his feet. He stared outside. "There it is. The planet Athemes. In the fourth dimension."

  With time spread out before them, Riff didn't see the planet as a sphere. It appeared more like a series of rings—thousands of reflections showing its orbit around its star. The stars themselves appeared as curved lines of light, like a photograph of night with camera shutters left open for hours.

  "Captain, sir!" Piston barged into the bridge. "I cannot keep this darn Euclidian engine running much longer, sir. It's crushing the ship like a Carinian stone beast squeezing a lemon, sir."

  "Just a bit longer, Piston," Riff said.

  Piston grumbled and stormed off the bridge. "There ain't enough duct tape in the cosmos to hold this ship together."

  Riff stared down at the stretched-out ring of stone, the planet spread across both space and time. "Giga, can you take us down to the pyramid?"

  "Cannot compute, sir. There are infinite pyramids below."

  "Take us down to the one we fought in. To the tunnel where Kerish . . . where . . ." His throat caught. "Where we were."

  Giga looked at him, eyes soft. She nodded and spoke in a whisper. "Happy to comply, Captain."

  Whining miserably, the Dragon Huntress limped down toward one of the planet's reflections. As they entered the atmosphere, the ship's whining rose to a scream of protest. Fire blazed. Riff ran through the cabin, patching up extra cracks. Finally they flew in clear sky. All around them, Riff could see the reflections of time—a thousand years of storm and clouds, a thousand generations of forests rising and wilting below. To his left, he could see vague streaks of the old Dragon Huntress—the one that had visited here days ago—gliding down toward the city.

  They clanked down toward the pyramid—the craggy one with the iron tip. The Holy Knights of Sol Asylum. Riff could see the pyramid being built, rising, crumbling with age. A hundred battles spread around them, past and future. Among the reflections floated the images of the tesseract ships—now long gone—battling the old Dragon Huntress, Romy at the helm.

  The new Dragon Huntress—dented, scratched, patched together with tape—glided toward the pyramid's crest. There, in the tunnel's mouth, Riff saw them. Lord Kerish and his knights. And behind them . . .

  Myself. Steel. Giga.

  The ship began to rattle madly. Riff fell. He clutched the control panel.

  "Captain, it's tearing us apart!" Piston cried through the communicator.

  "We're creating a paradox already!" Nova shouted.

  Riff crawled across the shaking floor. "Giga, bring us closer. Bring the airlock right to the tunnel."

  "Happy to comply!"

  Riff stumbled down the corridor. Through a porthole, he saw a chunk of wing collapse. Smoke blasted out from the ship. Bolts rained. Crawling, he reached the main deck and made for the airlock.

  "Connecting airlock to tunnel, sir," Giga said through his communicator.

  Riff tugged the airlock door open, fell downstairs, and banged against the outer door. It swung open, and he tumbled into the pyramid's tunnel.

  The reflections still filled it—Kerish thrusting his blade, tossing light against Giga, and Steel jumping, taking the second blast against his chest, falling, dying in Riff's arms. The pyramid itself trembled as the Dragon Huntress's Euclidian engine rumbled, threatening to collapse any second.

  "Engine dying, sir!" Piston shouted.

  Riff swayed through the shaking tunnel. He approached the reflections, trying to grab them, to find the right one.

  Time is like a beach . . . ride the wave, son.

  There! He saw it. The right reflection out of the thousands. Kerish thrusting his blade, the light beaming against Steel.

  An explosion rocked the tunnel.

  Fire and light flared.

  "Euclidian engine dead, sir!" rose Piston's voice.

  The reflections began to fade.

  Riff shouted, leaped toward the flickering image of Kerish, and shoved the knight's sword aside. The light streamed out, missing Steel, slamming into the ceiling . . . then fading . . . fading . . . all going dark.

  Fire.

  Ruin.

  Piston's hands grabbing him, pulling him back.

  Crashing metal and flame and shrieking sky that spun all around . . . then sand and sunlight and shadow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:

  A LAST FAREWELL

  In his dreams, he traveled through time.

  He was a boy again, his mother gone, his father off on his quests, and he wandered the dregs of Cog City. He grew into a young man, a bluesman in a seedy bar, playing guitar for boozehounds and bootleggers. He stood on a stage in Ashmar, playing his music for a young princess with hair of gold, with laughing green eyes, with lips that loved to smile, with a soul that lit his life. He traveled among the stars, the captain of a rickety old ship shaped like a dragon. With friends. With those he loved. With a brother.

  He lay in the sand, the sun and moon moving above, time coiling, stretching, then finally gathering into the one dot, one luminous pinpoint of light.

  The present.

  The now.

  A place of calm, of healing.

  His eyes fluttered open.

  The sun shone upon him, soft and gentle. The reflections were gone from the sky. All pain, all fear, all anxiety—they seemed to have flowed away, leaving him serene, at peace, at one with the present and the sky and the—
>
  "Wanna wrestle?" Fire flashed, wings beat, and Romy leaped onto him. Her tail wagged furiously, and she grabbed and twisted his arm. "Wrestle me, Riff! I'm Romy the Rowdy! You can be Riff the Rabble-Rouser, and we can find lucha libre masks, and—"

  "Get off!" He groaned and shoved the demon aside. "Stars above."

  He pushed himself onto his elbows and looked around him. He exhaled slowly. All his serenity vanished, and fear flooded him.

  He lay on the sand below the pyramid. Around him spread the wreckage of the Dragon Huntress. A shattered wing thrust up from the sand. His captain's chair lay toppled over. The kitchen sink stood atop a dune, split in two. An engine smoked, half buried in the sand. A million little pieces—bits of the hull, bolts, screws, cables, wires—lay in piles. The ship hadn't just crashed like on Kaperosa; it had completely fallen apart.

  Riff leaped to his feet. "Nova!" he shouted. "Twig! Piston! Giga!"

  His heart thrashed and his belly clenched. Oh stars, were they—

  "Twig!" he cried out. He ran forward. The halfling was limping over the dunes, clutching her head.

  "My brain hurts, sir," she mumbled, sand in her hair.

  Grumbles rose from behind Riff. "He ruined it! The star-headed lad ruined my beautiful ship. Oh, precious lassie." Piston emerged from behind another dune, lifted a chunk of circuitry, and wailed. "She's dead, sir. The dragon's dead."

  Riff kept racing through the wreckage. Tears of relief filled his eyes. "Nova! Giga!"

  The two came limping toward them. Nova's armor was scratched, tattered, and ashy, but it had protected her body.

  Giga was showering sparks, and her leg twisted at an odd angle, but the android was very much alive. She held a sparking computer in her hands, the size of a shoebox.

  "The Dragon Huntress's brain," the android explained. "Well, my brain too, given that I'm only an interface."

  Romy's eyes widened. "I want to hold my brain in a box too!" She turned toward Nova, tail wagging. "Nova, can you get me a box for my brain?"

  "Sorry, Romy, all out of matchboxes," the ashai said.

  Riff looked from side to side. Still the fear pulsed through him. He rummaged through the wreckage, seeking him, and his fear grew. His breath shook.

  "Is he gone?" he whispered. "Is he . . ."

  A voice rose behind him, deep and soft. "By my honor, the starship has fallen."

  Riff spun around, and tears flooded his eyes. His body shook. Warmth blazed through him.

  Steel came walking through the wreckage, clad in cracked scraps of armor, ash staining his gaunt cheeks and long, brown mustache. His brow furrowed.

  "Brother, are you all right?" the knight said. "What happened? My memory is vague."

  Riff ran through the wreckage, grabbed his brother, embraced him, and laughed. "You're alive, Steel! You're really here, aren't you? Not just a reflection."

  The others ran forward too. They all leaped onto the brothers, hugging them, hopping up and down, laughing. Twig jumped right onto Riff's shoulders and sat there. Romy beat her wings and tried to sit on Twig, and the whole pile collapsed, and the Alien Hunters fell onto the sand. They rolled apart, still laughing.

  "I am very much alive," Steel said, brow still furrowed, eyes still confused. "Though I remember . . . almost like falling asleep, and a dream, and . . ." He shook his head and exhaled. "A memory that's gone already. Riff! We must fix the starship or find another. We have to fly to the black hole. To stop the Dark Queen, and—"

  "Way ahead of you, brother." Riff laughed again and fell back into the sand.

  He gazed up into the blue sky. Ibises flew overhead, and the scent of the desert filled his nostrils. Up on a dune, a camel stared down at them, shook his head in wonder or perhaps disgust, then turned and trotted away.

  * * * * *

  As the sun set outside, the Golden Scarab Tavern shone with light. The sound of laughter, jangling coins, and music filled the common room. Dancers with jackal heads, clad in silk and jewels, swayed upon a stage, much to the delight of the ale-soaked patrons. Musicians with the heads of serpents played timbrels, drums, and harps. The cook—a massive man with a hippo head—stood in the kitchen, roasting kebabs. A thousand candles shone, and the voices of the customers rose in a murmur, itself a song.

  Romy kept trying to leap onto the stage and dance too, but with ten beers in her belly, she kept slipping and ended up drooling on the floor. Piston seemed determined to join her—the gruffle was downing ale after ale, taking a break from drinking only when a new platter of kebabs arrived. Nova was shouting at Piston for stealing her drinks, while Twig was regaling Riff with an old story from Haven. Giga stood on a tabletop, her brain in a box at her feet, rattling off facts about Athemes's history of camel husbandry. Everyone was ignoring her.

  Only Steel was quiet. The knight sat at a back table, nursing a cup of wine. The cook had placed a platter of kebabs before him. The rich, fatty lamb steamed upon a bed of wild rice and mushrooms, its aroma heavy, but Steel had no appetite.

  He stared over his meal at Lenora. She sat across the table from him, her food too untouched. As soon as Steel had hailed her, she had left her hideout at Horsehead Space Station, hitched a ride back to the desert, and met him here. Now she gazed at him with soft, hazel eyes, her brown tresses framing her face.

  For the first time, Steel noticed that thin crowfeet were stretching out from those beautiful eyes. That a single white hair was growing on her head. Suddenly he was aware of how real time was, how frustratingly slow yet fast, how it locked them—mere three-dimensional beings—along its track forever. Sixteen years had passed since that day two youths had parted. And yet Lenora had never seemed more beautiful to him.

  He reached across the table and placed his large, calloused hand upon her small, soft one. He smiled at her thinly. She smiled back. For a long moment they said nothing. Yet there was so much that Steel wanted to say. So much that he didn't know how do.

  "Lenora," he finally said, voice sounding too hoarse to him. "I am so sorry for your loss. I was hoping to find your father alive and well too after the engines shattered. When I found him gone, I mourned him. I cannot begin to imagine your pain."

  She nodded and lowered her eyes. "Yes, I mourn him too. I hated him at the end. For what he did to Dee. To you. I hated him, and yet I grieve for him. Is that strange, Steel?"

  He shook his head. "It's our nature to grieve for what we lose." He stared into her eyes, not talking about her father this time. And he thought she understood.

  "Sometimes it feels like the cosmos is full of grief." She looked around her and sighed. "And yet this is a time of joy, a time of music, of dancing, of laughter."

  Romy had finally found a wrestling partner—Piston was trying to pin her down and grab the leg of lamb she had stolen from him. Twig was cheering for the demon, while Giga was hiding her laughter behind her palm. All around them, the natives of Athemes—men and women with animal heads—were singing, laughing, and telling joyous stories.

  Steel returned his eyes to Lenora. "What now?" he whispered. "What happens to us?"

  Sweet sadness filled her smile. She squeezed his hand. "There is so much left to learn in this cosmos. There is another black hole in our galaxy, right in the center, larger than Yurei. A team has been working in a station orbiting it, and they offered me a position. It's a five year gig, and . . . I don't know, Steel. I haven't yet given them an answer." Her eyes softened. "And what of you, Steel? Back to saving the galaxy?"

  His smile too felt sad, a smile that made his eyes sting. "The Lord Commander of the Knights of Sol himself hailed my communicator only this morning. He offered me my knighthood back. A seat on his council. He heard of what transpired here, and he wants me at his side, to help him rebuild Earth."

  Lenora gasped and her eyes lit up. "That's wonderful, Steel! I'm so happy! I—"

  "I turned him down," Steel said.

  She gaped at him. "Steel!" She covered her mouth. "But . . . why?"

  He l
ooked outside the window. In a cobbled lot stood the wagons they had hired, piled high with bolts, circuits, and sheets of metal. Now the sadness left his smile, and he returned his eyes to Lenora.

  "We're going to rebuild it. The Dragon Huntress. She will fly again. And she is my home now. And I have a new knighthood now." He pointed at his freshly forged breastplate. Instead of the old sunburst sigil, letters were engraved over his heart, spelling Alien Hunters.

  She laughed, though tears fell from her eyes. "So I was right. Back to flying around, saving the galaxy. I suppose that means that . . ." She lowered her head.

  Steel rose from his seat and walked around the table. She rose too, and he embraced her. They stood together among the noise, the laughter, the candlelight. She laid her cheek against his breastplate, and he kissed the top of her head.

  Time is like that, Steel thought. Impossible to rewind. He could not change the past sixteen years. He could not change whom they had become—she a scientist, he a hunter of the skies.

  But he could still feel sadness. And as he embraced her, that sadness embraced them too.

  Finally Lenora touched his cheek, tears on her lashes. "Goodbye, Sir Starfire, Defender of the Galaxy."

  "Goodbye, Lenora, always my lady, always my love. We will meet again someday under different skies."

  As the musicians played and the patrons laughed and sang, Steel kissed his lady.

  A time of triumph, he thought. A time of sadness. A time of joy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN:

  THE DRAGON HUNTRESS

  They stood in the courtyard between palm trees, gold-crested obelisks, and sphinxes of sandstone, staring at the greatest wonder in the city.

  Before them she stood, gleaming in the sun, her hide silvery, her head raised proudly, her wings spread wide.

  "The new Dragon Huntress," Riff whispered.

  Piston thrust out his bottom lip and nodded appreciatively. "They did good work, the hippo-heads. Good engineers, they are. Could do without the hieroglyphs they had engraved onto the hull, though."