Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy Book 1)

by Oganalp Canatan

  “Welcome home, Fox,” the woman on the radio answered, “You are cleared for bay five. Admiral Conway wants you to be on the bridge as fast as you can. Something is happening.”

  “Acknowledged.” He closed the communications and focused his attention back on the two men who had almost died with him.

  Ga’an stared out the cockpit window, watching the Consortium fleet, but Ray thought he wasn’t even seeing the ships before him.

  “Ga’an?” he asked but the tall alien didn’t respond. Leave him be, the adrenaline wears off.

  Ray turned to check on Samir and stopped short. Captain Samir was slowly cleaning the blood off Pats’ dog tags with a piece of cloth. Ray just watched, not knowing what to say.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  ERADICATION

  Markham looked at the looming black shape in the sky one more time, chewing some tobacco he’d dried some weeks ago.

  “We won’t have much to spare to buy seeds this year,” Markham scratched his old face. It felt like leather to him now. “I gave the dime we had from last year’s harvest to Harvey.”

  “We never had much, husband. And I don’t trust Harvey, Markham.”

  “Neither do I, woman. But he promised to keep the little lads safe and he’s a grandpa like me. The man’s heart will be in the right place,” he raised his head and watched the shuttles leaving in the distance, disappearing within the clouds one by one.

  “The kids weren’t too happy about leaving their grannie behind.” He laughed.

  “You know they love us both.”

  “And I love them, woman.” Markham sighed. “I managed to convince them we’ll take the next ship.”

  The truth was, he could only afford passage for the kids. James was old enough to take care of himself and Juliette would have to endure life the hard way, finding work and food for them both.

  “You taught them well, they’ll do just fine.”

  “James still has problems in understanding weather but he’ll be a good farmer someday. They’ll find a nice agricultural moon and settle down. I don’t want them to suffer the same fate as their father.”

  “Accidents happen, Markham.”

  “It wouldn’t have if he listened to me and didn’t go to venture on that overpopulated, industrial graveyard! Fortunes he said, riches. Humph.”

  “He always wanted to see Earth, Markham. And he did. It’s the past. Our grandchildren will be safe. It’s all that matters.” Margaret was knitting a new cap for James. Not that he would need it—or could have it—but it helped keep her mind away from the hovering darkness over their home. She raised her head to the sky. “What is it?”

  “No idea,” Markham said. The thing went all the way into the horizon as far as the eye could see. “It looks like those Jecko spiders, the ones we used to have in the cellar. And those little things fly around it like those little flies we had some summers ago.”

  “I don’t like spiders,” the woman said, her rocking chair cracking with every move.

  “Well, whatever it is, we’ll soon find out.” The man pointed at the sky before reaching for his homebrew whiskey. The huge arms of the colossal shape started to retract. From where Markham stood, it looked agonizingly slow, but something was definitely going on.

  “That ship we saw earlier…I saw them flying back toward the canyons some ten minutes ago. They were in haste.”

  “Which one?”

  “The fool of a captain who flew toward the temple in the mountains.” He laughed, although it sounded more like grunting when his laughter turned into coughing. “Whatever they did,” he said behind breaths, “it made them angry. Some of those black things were after t–”

  A sudden, deep horn-like sound shook the ground. Markham found himself on the floor, hands over his ears. He felt a sudden stabbing in his heart and looked for Margaret. She had sunk into her chair, covering her ears. Her face looked paler than snow. She drew her legs up to her chest and her eyes were wide open.

  The deep, deafening sound echoed for a few more seconds and it stopped as fast as it came. Following the horn, hundreds of small, black shapes in various sizes in the distance buzzed in the air, making their way to the big ship like bees called back to their hive.

  Markham was a simple farmer but he had been in the Territory Wars when he was young. Most of his memories about the war were long covered in the dusts of time, but he remembered the retreat call they usually received before an airstrike.

  He smiled, thanking to his gods for bestowing a long and happy life. “How long is it now, Margaret? Sixty years?” he pulled his chair beside her, holding the frightened woman’s hand.

  “Sixty-two,” Margaret looked at Markham, easing up a bit with his firm hold.

  “It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Markham smiled, landing a gentle kiss on his beloved’s hand.

  “I regret nothing,” the woman returned his smile, the light in her eyes flickering with tears. “Not even for a second.”

  “I love you, woman,” Markham said wholeheartedly.

  Another sound echoed in the sky. This time, it was more like the humming of a charging row-crop tractor engine. Markham looked at the huge ship hovering on top of their world again. Its arms were completely inside the main body now, and a dark, red colored and continuously growing light ball formed in the center, brightening with each passing second. The humming reached a disturbing volume, making it impossible to hear anything else.

  The old man firmed his grip and pulled Margaret closer, his eyes resting on hers, cherishing their final moments.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  SEARCH, SEEK, DESTROY

  “Captain, we are receiving a distress call,” Marcy said, trying to clean the signal.

  “We don’t have the time,” Captain Gustafson answered, scratching his white beard. “Are there any other ships that can help?” He looked back at Marcy.

  Marcy shook her head, her red cheeks shaking, “Sorry sir, we are the closest one by far.”

  The old captain sighed, checking his watch. “Tell them to be ready for emergency docking. Let the marines know we will have visitors.”

  The military transport vessel approached the black ship cautiously, illuminating the damaged vessel with its spotlights. The stranded ship looked like an advanced military vessel, much similar to the gunships they had but bigger. There were no visible marks on the hull stating to which wing it belonged.

  Captain Gustafson leaned closer to the forward window, trying to make a damage assessment but failed to do so. The hull seemed intact but smoke rose from several spots. Whatever the damage was, it was probably internal. He was an old-fashioned man. Holographic interfaces and computer-controlled systems were not suited to his tastes and his praxes were focused on previous generation of ships. They have all kinds of bad engineering going on within those circuits, no wonder these fancy-looking ships break down in the middle of nowhere. When they’d installed the new jump drive and radar systems in the Birdie, he came inches close hijacking the transport, hiding it somewhere remote—the fantasy of an old man, of course.

  CTC Birdie docked with the black vessel with a slight shake, attaching its aerobridge to the other ship’s airlock.

  “Sir, there is only one male passenger on board,” the woman said, scanning the ship for life signs.

  “Tell them to bring him up to the bridge.”

  A tall, muscular man in a charcoal robe entered the bridge with two Special Forces marines, saluting Captain Gustafson.

  “Thank you for your generosity, Captain,” the man extended his hand to shake the old man’s and the captain accepted the gesture. “We had life support failure. My crew abandoned ship but my pod was damaged.”

  “I am glad we are of service Mr…”

  “Caius. I am Revan Caius, a merchant,” the tall man answered.

  Captain Gustafson narrowed his eyes. “You look everything else but a merchant.”

  “You have sharp eyes. I was in the army until recently. Retired f
ourteen months ago but I am still trying to keep my form.”

  Captain Gustafson nodded. “That explains it. Mr. Caius, we have orders to rendezvous with the First Fleet,” the old man said, “You can get a ride from there to a nearby port.”

  “Thank you sir, that would be more than I could hope for,” Caius said, smiling. “Is there somewhere I could rest? I am exhausted.”

  The old captain waved his hand as in ‘Yes’ and signaled one of the marines to show Caius the way.

  ***

  Revan thanked the marines as they took him to the guest quarters. He waited for them to leave, locking his door behind them. After making certain the coast was clear, he pulled out his wristband and touched a few buttons. A projection appeared before him after a few seconds,

  “Yes?”

  “I have successfully boarded the cargo vessel carrying one of the stones,” he reported.

  “Good, Mr. Caius.”

  “How is Marianna?”

  “I told you, she would be taken care of as long as you perform your duties.”

  Revan took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I killed for you again and again. The blood on my hands flows like rivers. I have but one reason for doing so and I am tired of games. I do not even know who I am killing for! Now,” Revan took a deep breath, “how is Marianna?”

  The figure stood in silence for a few seconds before talking, “She is all right. You can see for yourself.” He reached for something on his end and the view changed.

  “Marianna…” Revan whispered. His wife knelt beside a pond. She wore a white sun hat and planted flowers with an Asian nurse. She was laughing. She was laughing, and it was all that mattered.

  The view flickered and the mysterious figure was back.

  “You said there was a change of plans, what are my orders?” Revan asked, trying to put Marianna aside. She was laughing! He had been on his way to Pendar when the boss called again, redirecting him to another part of the nebula, asking him to board a transport. I will not thank him. This was what he promised anyway…She was laughing.

  “You will stay hidden until the ship meets with the fleet,” the man said. “Then, you will board the Deviator and kill Captain Raymond Harris before they reach Mars.”

  “Who is handling the Mars grid?”

  “Eremite Shevchenko will be responsible for Mars.”

  “What about the stones?”

  “Things have changed. Your priority, no matter what, is to kill Raymond Harris.”

  “Will he be on board the flagship?” Revan was surprised. From the beginning, the captain of Canaar had been a target but his mission was always about the stones.

  “He is currently on board,” the man spoke, leaning forward but with shadows still covering his face. “Mr. Caius, there is no alternative to killing Mr. Harris. I suggest you succeed in your assassination for both your and Marianna’s future. You are making me repeat this notion too frequently.”

  “Yes, Mr....?” Revan didn’t even know what to call the man for whom he’d worked for years, and Marianna was in his hands. Her future and his hopes were at stake.

  “You can call me Mr. Goehring.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  WELL OF SORROWS

  Ray and the survivors of the temple assault made their way to the bridge of the Deviator without delay. Ray felt beaten, his body on the edge of collapsing. Alarms rang in his head. No, not in my head.

  “Never a dull moment,” Sarah said with a sigh.

  “What’s going on?” Ray asked to the officer escorting them.

  The lieutenant was equally surprised, looking around in a daze. “It is a condition one alert.”

  “Which is...?” Sarah waved the man to continue.

  “Action stations,” Captain Samir answered, speaking for the first time since they’d landed, pushing the group aside and taking the lead. “The enemy fleet. Something must’ve gone wrong.”

  “What a surprise,” Ray muttered under his breath.

  “Follow the corridor at the end of this tram line and take the turbo-lift to the bridge,” the lieutenant escorting them said hastily, “I need to be at my station.” He gave a curt salute to Captain Samir and left the main hallway, disappearing into one of the corridors connected without another word.

  “Well, that was educational,” Sarah said.

  By the time they reached the bridge, the place was like an afternoon fish market in Beijing.

  Ray found Admiral Conway near one of the stations, talking to Reverend Marcus and Brother Cavil. “Admiral,” he saluted. “What’s going on?”

  “I might as well ask you the same thing.” Rebecca looking up from the monitors, and at Ga’an in particular. “The stone, Serhmana, it has been located and being transferred as we speak.”

  “That easy?” Ray’s eyebrows raised. “No aliens, no assassins, no dramatic crashes? Just like that?”

  “The Consortium has a tactical regiment there. I happen to know the commander in charge. They have extracted the stone for us and sending it with transport.”

  “A transport? That would take too long!”

  “It is not a trade transport, Mr. Harris. It is a Special Forces transport with a military jump drive and access codes to restricted gates. We will rendezvous with the transport here within the day. Sometimes the fate is fair Mr. Harris.”

  “In my experience, it’s usually pulling a nasty prank.”

  Admiral Conway gave a faint smile. “We can discuss the details later. Now, what is that?” she asked, pointing at the huge arachnid ship. “Lieutenant, zoom in.”

  “They will destroy the planet,” Ga’an said, watching the view focus on the huge ship. The chatter around him died with his words and everyone turned to look at Ga’an, disbelief and defiance in their eyes. And fear, Ray noticed.

  “They will do what!” Admiral Conway narrowed her eyes, locking her stare on the Ancient.

  “It is what they do, Admiral Conway. They have achieved their goal,” Ga’an said. “The planet has no further use for them. No point risking letting the temple stand with Ancient scriptures talking about the Arinar and the Lohil. Not when they know a Lohil lives.”

  “And you did not think of telling us this earlier?”

  “You did not ask. There is no way for your fleet to prevent it, Admiral Conway. They are stronger.”

  Ray felt a tingling sense behind his eyes. He’s talking as if it’s about the cherry pie of Aunt Helen. Ga’an sounded uninterested in their efforts after they lost Mara’tthane back on Pendar. He fought like a warrior and survived. Ray realized the man didn’t want to.

  “How do we stop this?” the admiral pushed.

  “You cannot,” Ga’an answered. “Your ships are formidable, yet powerless before Baeal. This,” he pointed at the arachnid ship on the screen, “is not even a mother ship. We will all die.”

  To Ray’s surprise, Sarah slapped Ga’an. “That’s enough! You can at least pretend you care!” She was crying. “What happened to the honor-bound Praetor?”

  “There is no hope. We lost the Arinar, Sarah Davis,” Ga’an whispered.

  “You lost the stone!” Brother Cavil jumped in, looking terrified.

  Ray sighed, rubbing his eyes. He suddenly felt a hundred years older, his crash on Bunari seemingly eons ago. “They were already at the temple when we got there. We tried but they destroyed the stone,” he said, hardly able to keep his voice firm.

  “How?” Admiral Conway asked.

  “I touched it and it worked. Then, it melted away as if I triggered a booby trap.”

  “Then all is lost,” Brother Cavil’s voice cracked. “The stones need to be in harmony to work properly. All five stones…”

  Ray watched every man and woman in the room fall into despair. Even Admiral Conway seemed to be lost in her thoughts.

  “Ma’am, the enemy fleet is retreating!” called one of the officers at the tactical station.

  “Why?” Admiral Conway rushed to the main screen.

>   “They are retreating to their plane,” Ga’an said, watching the red dots disappear from the screen one by one. “Their work is done here and they cannot inhabit this plane too long without an active gate. The arachnid ship will fire and then they will all be gone.”

  As if to confirm Ga’an’s claims, the red glow under the alien ship brightened, almost shadowing Pendar’s Sun in the distance.

  “By the Light…” Brother Cavil whispered, watching the main screen, his mouth open in horror.

  ***

  The beam hit the planet’s surface, melting the point of impact, turning the green-brownish land to bright orange. A few seconds later, the beam emerged from the other end of Pendar, penetrating the core of the planet, ignoring the several thousand kilometers of rock and iron composing the world’s crust and mantle.

  Within minutes, the sphere before them morphed into a huge, molten rock, great pieces of land breaking off from the main body, revealing the melting core.

  “Report!” Rebecca barked, collecting herself. The admiral’s voice woke everyone from the nightmare. “Report, damn it!”

  “Planet’s surface temperature reads over a thousand degrees and rising,” one of the officers said. “Explosion shockwave will reach us in two minutes.”

  “Shields to maximum! Pass the order to every ship! Automate the turrets and target anything big coming our way.”

  “Ma’am, the alien fleet has disappeared from radar,” a young female officer added. “The enemy capital ship is gone as well.”

  Rebecca sunk into a nearby chair, unable to take her eyes from the burning, broken planet on the main screen. She had expected a bombardment, perhaps an invasion but not eradication.

  “Take us to the rendezvous coordinates,” Rebecca ordered, hoping her voice sounded confident enough, trying to keep her tears at bay. “Signal the rest of the fleet to join the main task force near Mars.” The shockwave hit with a powerful rattle but it wasn’t anything the shields couldn’t handle at maximum power. Fortunately, the huge rock formations were not on a collision course with the fleet. Rebecca found the strength in her to give a sigh. A small favor from whomever is watching over us, in his entire sick game.