Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy Book 1)

by Oganalp Canatan

  “I’ll consider a career change if we survive.” Ray raised his voice over the proximity alarm’s warning. “I promise!”

  Brother Cavil muttered something about being too old, madly fiddling with his seat belt. Ray tightened his own and diverted all power to the stabilizers as the shuttle entered the moon’s atmosphere.

  There we go, crashing. Again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MEET JOE

  Ray pulled up as much as the flaps permitted, trying to prevent a fully uncontrolled entry. The shuttle entered the atmosphere of Tarra with tremendous speed, its metal plating making all kinds of funny noises. And frightening, Ray grimaced, soaked with sweat but his efforts seemed in vain. He’d voiced his thoughts about this landing in rather colorful language, but so far it had neither fixed his landing nor calmed his anger.

  Brother Cavil was unconscious; his old body wasn’t taking the forced entry well. So far the inertial dampeners were holding but it was still too rough a ride to feel comfortable. And there’s the fact that we’re diving into a mountain at maximum speed.

  “Warning. Pull up.”

  “I am!” Ray yelled back at the computer, madly trying to level the shuttle. “If I can just raise the nose—”

  A loud cracking interrupted him.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “Warning, structural damage detected.”

  “I know! Which part did we lose?”

  “Secondary rudder.”

  “You say it so sweetly I almost feel relieved!” He yanked the rubber belt of Brother Cavil’s oxygen mask. “All right,” he sighed after he’d made sure the old man was safe—as safe as he could be in a crashing shuttle—and pointed his finger at the speaker, “You, my lady, and I will land this thing in one piece.”

  Ray looked at the altimeter: twenty thousand meters and decreasing steadily. If there was a time to intervene in the course of events, now would be it.

  “Computer, cut the main engines and give all power to forward landing thrusters.”

  “Unable to comply.”

  “Why!”

  “Engines are damaged.”

  “Bloody depths of abyss!” Ray’s stunt back in orbit had taken its toll. “All right, fire forward thrusters!”

  Ray felt the floor under his feet vibrate, followed by an incline.

  “Good. Now—”

  “Warning, forward left thruster failure.”

  “Damn it!”

  The shuttle rolled to its left, the violent motion blurring Ray’s vision. He pushed back the flight yoke with all his strength but the force risked breaking the aileron. The vertigo created by the shuttle’s tilting wasn’t helping. The sweat on his brows burned his eyes. He’d avoided passing out so far, thanks to the stabilizers, but Ray didn’t think he could take much more of the craft’s frenzied rolling.

  “Reduce power to the right!”

  “Unable to comply, thrusters are linked.”

  “Then unlink the damn thing!”

  “Unknown command, please specify.”

  “You cheap, stupid junk!”

  “Unknown command, please specify.”

  That was it. Ray was already fed up with how fate had treated him recently. He snarled at the uncooperative computer like a wild animal and smashed his fists on the controls before him. Unsurprisingly, an alarm made him regret his rashness almost immediately.

  “Warning, landing gear down. Retract landing gear.”

  “All right, all right!” He frantically hunted for the right button and after a few wrong picks did as the dull voice suggested. “Happy now?”

  “Landing gear retracted,” the computer announced.

  Ray thought he heard a hint of satisfaction in the voice. “Great, I’m losing it.”

  “Warning, altitude is six thousand meters and decreasing.”

  Ray helplessly watched the ship descend like a high-speed drill. The desert and the mountains were much closer now, much more intimidating.

  “Unlink the thrusters!” he yelled one last time in desperation.

  “Thrusters unlinked.”

  That was a surprise. So was the sudden tremble of the unbalanced output.

  Ray hadn’t had time to think it through when he made the call and now, the shuttle fired all of its thrusters at full strength, trying to go both up and forward, to turn left and roll at the same time. So much for stability.

  Ray let go of the idea of flying and focused on landing in one piece.

  “Computer, cut all engines!” he shouted over the deafening noise. The sudden silence confirmed the command’s execution and the ship’s stabilizers stopped the rolling.

  “Emergency brakes!”

  The forward thrusters moaned under the load, trying to defy the moon’s gravity as well as the craft’s speed. He heard a popping sound and a sudden, powerful force pulled the shuttle back, his seatbelt choking him. He wondered if he’d broken a rib. If I have any ribs left intact.

  The ship’s descent slowed significantly with the help of emergency brakes and a huge parachute. Ray was grateful to the engineer who’d decided to include a parachute in a century where everything was handled by computers. Old school always works. On the downside, the shuttle now hung from its back in the air, and they’d burnt all the remaining fuel slowing down the craft. Ray hoped that same guy had also thought of strengthening the shuttle’s nose.

  The sudden shake had awoken Brother Cavil. The old man looked around and huffed in pain when he touched his chest, trying to relax his belt. He looked around, puzzled. Then his eyes grew wide.

  “Is that a mountain we are diving into?”

  “Looks more like a canyon or a crater.” Ray tried to steady his breathing.

  “Warning, terrain. Pull up.” The computer interfered.

  “Why are we nose-diving into a crater?”

  “My new hobby.”

  The old man looked at Ray in disbelief. “What kind of a pilot are you? Always crashing!”

  “Do you have any idea—”

  “Warning, terrain. Pull up.”

  “Can you at least shut that thing off? It gets on my nerves. One would think we are not seeing the huge mountain before us.” The old man waved at the speaker and Ray did as he asked.

  They could now see the crater in detail. A valley divided the huge mountain formation into two. Bridges and platforms had been built near the edges, going all the way into its depths. Artificial lights from lamps sparkled like stars and people moving about their business looked like ants.

  “I know this place,” Brother Cavil said.

  “I thought you never left Bunari.”

  “This is the Crater, the smuggler town of Tarra.”

  Ray shrugged. “Maybe we can find a ride here.”

  “Or we can have our guts spilled,” the old man snorted. “And it seems you are landing us on top of a bar.”

  They slowly glided toward a big, illuminated sign—JOE’S HOLE—near one of the platforms.

  “Well, I could use a drink.”

  “I don’t think I want to drink anything from Joe’s Hole.”

  “Maybe they have kumat.”

  ***

  The shuttle hung lazily like a swing, right on top of Joe’s Hole. Just before they’d hit the platform where the bar resided, the parachute caught one of the large metal columns supporting the huge balustrades, stopping them a few meters above the ground.

  Anyone who’d heard the news of a shuttle crash-landing on top of Joe’s rushed to see what the fuss was about. The platform in front of the bar could only carry so much and the bar’s goons were ungently pushing people off to other platforms.

  A grimy man in his late forties, with a slight limp and a hawk-like nose came to the platform’s edge, ignoring the surrounding disarray. This must be Joe, Ray thought, judging from the way the towering armed goons showed respect, making room for him to pass through the curious crowd.

  “I feel like a fish in an aquarium,” Brother Cavil said, looking
at people staring at them through the cockpit window. “I think they are about to feed us,” he said under his breath, smiling at the crowd and making friendly gestures.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I do not want them to think we are hostile.”

  “Just take off your seat belt,” Ray said, exasperated. He removed the glass canopy’s emergency clutches to let the thing fall off.

  Landing Brother Cavil safely was a bit trickier. Ray had to tie himself to his seat with his belt and slide the old man down, holding his hands and listening to his grumble all the way. Luckily the chute’s shroud lines were strong enough to carry the shuttle’s weight and permit their acrobatic attempts. They should really give that engineer a raise.

  Ray jumped down after seeing Brother Cavil to the ground in one piece. The limping man approached.

  “I suggest a welcome’s in order.” The man’s voice was raspy, his accent as dirty as his looks and he lisped, sounding like a snake.

  “I do not think I like this guy, Raymond,” Brother Cavil whispered, covering his mouth. He turned back to face the man, still giving his fake smile.

  “Stop it,” Ray coughed, trying to hide his words.

  Brother Cavil walked toward the man, hiking up his robe. “Greetings. We are sorry we landed on your fine establishment Mr….” he said, reaching forth to shake hands but grabbing only air.

  “A fine doll,” The man looked down at Brother Cavil’s hand and smiled wryly, ignoring the gesture, focusing his attention on the shuttle. He moved past Brother Cavil to inspect the craft, “Bunarian.” The limping man looked back at his goons, still with that wry smile. He talked to them rather than the two.

  “A fine doll indeed, Joe!” replied one of the goons, a huge guy with an empty smile.

  “It is,” Ray interjected, not liking Joe’s emphasis on Bunarian.

  Joe signaled his men to scatter the gathered crowd. The thugs turned and pushed people away, cursing and hitting at them with their batons. One even fired into the air to encourage their running. Within moments, Ray and Brother Cavil were the only ones left on the platform besides their host and his brutes.

  The limper looked around, seeing everyone was off the platform. He spat the tobacco he was chewing and stared at Brother Cavil and Ray.

  “So, why are you clowns here?” he finally said, banging his cane on the metal platform. His face was anything but friendly.

  Brother Cavil looked to Ray for help.

  “We had an engine failure, had to do an emergency landing,” Ray explained. He felt wary. Not that he expected ceremony in a smugglers’ den, but he’d still hoped for a better welcome.

  “Jake!” the man hissed to the goon with the stupid smile and the hulking man came near him, panting.

  “Boss?” his voice boomed.

  Joe looked at Jake in disgust, as if ready to choke him there and then. “Tell me boys,” he said and pointed with his cane, “those’re plasma marks, yes?”

  Jake looked at the cane’s nose with his empty eyes.

  “Stupid!” his boss hit him with the cane, “Not the stick, the doll!”

  “Oh!” Jake said, finally understanding what his boss wanted. “This doll’s burnt, Joe.”

  “The doll’s burnt,” Joe agreed, nodding slowly. He turned to face Ray and Brother Cavil. “Ain’t it funny, finding a scout and a preacher”—he spat again—“with a burnt doll, ringing my bell.”

  “I think by doll he means the shuttle, Raymond,” the old man whispered, covering his mouth again with the back of his hand and confidently nodding to himself for his own wise words.

  Ray rolled his eyes and sighed.

  “Three times this month!” the limping man laughed. “The Light has shone on us!” he said, opening his arms wide, mocking the Bunarian priests’ gratitude gesture.

  Ray felt the need to interrupt. “Look, Mr. Joe, we just want to be on our way.”

  “You want to be on your way.” He clicked his tongue. “You landed on my property. Who’s gonna cover my damages?”

  Ray looked back at the shuttle. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t caused any structural damage, considering it was still afloat, but he suspected Joe would try to extort something out of them, no matter how they’d arrived.

  “You can have the shuttle.” Ray held squeezed Brother Cavil’s arm before the old man could protest Joe’s claims.

  “What!” Brother Cavil asked in utter surprise. His face couldn’t hide the expectance of courtesy and if Ray had learnt anything about the old priest, it was only a matter of time before he started lecturing this Joe character and his gang about manners and showing respect to elders. Then, if the goons were still keeping them alive, he’d continue with a story.

  Maybe we can bore them to death. Ray quickly dismissed that idea. “Let us get our personal stuff and it’s all yours.”

  Joe licked his lips, eyeing Ray, “Everything in the shuttle.”

  “We cannot Raymond, the A—Argh!” Ray elbowed Brother Cavil.

  “You clowns are funny.” Joe gave a hideous laugh. The laugh was fake but the threatening stare that followed was sincere. “I said everything.” He walked closer to Ray and raised his cane, catching the locket on Ray’s neck. He pulled Ray near with the stick and whispered in his ear, “Everything.”

  The next few minutes were foggy. As the snake-tongued man pulled off the pendant with Elaine’s photo, rage took over. Ray punched the man in the face with a fast hook, sending a tooth or two flying, followed with a groin kick that left Joe puking. Brother Cavil jumped up and down hysterically, apologizing to the men and screaming for Ray to stop. Before the goons could react, Ray had already landed several more punches on the snake-tongued boss, ignoring his retching and blood-covered face.

  Then someone grabbed Ray’s throat and a moment later, he was flying toward the rails, almost falling off the platform from the force. The one Joe called Jake was near him in a flash, caught him before he fell and lifted Ray to face him, looking at Ray with his stupid smile.

  Please, not the neck again. Ray tried to free himself but the man’s grip was hard as iron. He head-butted Ray and threw him back on the platform.

  “Stop!”

  Jake froze where he stood and Ray found himself silently thanking Joe. From what he could see with his watered eyes, the hulk had been coming for another round.

  “I don’t want him dead.” The limping man was back on his feet, his nose still bleeding, his left eye already swollen from Ray’s punches, and having a hard time breathing because of the kick to the groin. He walked to Ray and hit him hard in the head with his cane. “Take these two clowns to the bar. Lock ‘em up.” He looked up at the shuttle, then back to Ray. “Bring everything in that shuttle to my office!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  JAILED, AGAIN

  “You had to kick the man.”

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “We would not be in this mess if you had let me do the talking.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Brother Cavil snorted and turned his back on Ray, folding his arms. Ray left him alone and inspected the room. They were locked in a storage room full of crates smuggled from the core systems judging by their shipping tags. The walls were full of scrap parts from crashed ships displayed as souvenirs at the back of Joe’s Hole. Storage room with two jail cells. The place smelled like piss, and some drunkard in the next cell was emptying his stomach every five minutes. Counterfeit whiskey for sure.

  Brother Cavil’s visage was a constant, painful grimace, his wrinkles deepening each time their neighbor retched.

  “We have to get out of here, Raymond.”

  “Don’t you have one of your bright ideas, old man?” The bear named Jake had battered him well. Now he was most definitely sure about a broken rib or two.

  “And they took the Arinar as well!” Brother Cavil deplored.

  “Yeah, well, about that”—Ray tried to comfort himself before continuing, leaning against the wall and
letting himself slide slowly to the floor—“I’ll go back to Earth and settle this mess with the Consortium.”

  “Earth?” Brother Cavil raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes. When we get out of here, I’ll help you go wherever you need and then make my way home. If we can find that Arinar of yours before we leave, all the better.”

  “Earth!” The old man leaned in, looking dangerous.

  “Yes! Earth, damn it!” Ray burst out. “I don’t want to be part of all this. I just want to go back to my life. Prophecies, assassins, glowing statuettes, I don’t want any of it.”

  Brother Cavil moved even closer, his eyes flaring with anger. His whisper was as threatening as his stare. “You want to crawl back into the cave you call ‘life’ and pretend nothing has happened?”

  Ray raised his head. “I couldn’t care less about your mad prophecies. People are right; Bunari is a stupid, mad place!”

  “Boy, unless you know how to reverse time, those mad prophecies and evil men haunting you will be your new reality,” the old man snorted, folding his arms again. “And mine as well.”

  “You know what? I don’t care. You can take your statue and shove it up your—”

  A slap, or a sledgehammer, depending on how one perceived it, shut Ray up, showing him stars in a whole different way.

  “I am bored to death with your whining! Some higher power beyond our understanding chose you to carry out an important task, divine even. A hundred thousand people died because of it and people who do not care about killing hunts you. And all your ignorant oak-headed brain can think of is to go back to Earth and tell that you are sorry!”

  Ray was stunned. He raised his hand slowly to his cheek, rubbing it to ease the pain, but suspected it would be harder to soothe the hurtful shame.

  “Do you know what I left back there? My home, my life!” Brother Cavil scolded, “And all because I found a dying man in the forest and gave him some herbs!”

  “I—”

  “And his pod killed a fox. A beautiful, furry fox!” The old man knit his brows. “Although I believe they are not quite like the foxes on Earth,” he nodded. “But I call it a fox!”