Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy Book 1)

by Oganalp Canatan

  By the time one of the guards passed over tower six, he was already on his way back. Eremite Shevchenko used his remote to open the blast door again, confusing the two guards even further. He slipped by the two sleep-worn soldiers trying to figure out what was wrong with the blast door, and made his way back to the air ducts.

  “Damn it, this thing is broken,” he heard the tall one talking to the other. “Inform one of the technicians at the end of the shift.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  ***

  In his protective suit, Shevchenko watched the compound from the top of one of the nearby hills. There were no alarms, no additional activity going on the base. He’d entered and exited without anyone noticing, as he’d been ordered. A touch to the button on his wristband brought the holographic screen before him again, a mysterious, bearded figure sitting comfortably in the frame.

  “The Creator was with me today. I have completed His divine will.”

  “You did well, Eremite Shevchenko. The defense grid is down. No one will know what is coming.”

  “How can I spread the will of the Creator?”

  “Come back home and we will see how can you serve, Eremite.”

  “If the Creator wills.”

  “Yes.”

  Agent Shevchenko afforded a broad smile. His new boss was pleased with him and he would surely tell of his excellent service to Archibald. It meant the Creator would lavish him with riches and power as promised in the book of Cosmon as he spread the will. Shevchenko boarded the small shuttle he’d left on the hill and took off for Earth, not aware of the newly activated clock ticking under the cockpit seat.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  THE EYES OF A STRANGER

  Brother Cavil watched his old man enjoy his favorite soup. After an hour of heated debates with the chief cook about how to prepare the thing—and the priest calming down his father more than once when the stubborn man suggested replacing the ship’s cook with Sarah—they’d satisfied the reverend’s needs. The next half hour was about the usefulness and added taste of curcuma longa and garden thyme. They’d also had to stop the cook from breaking the old man into two when Reverend Marcus had waved a bunch of thyme at him with a rather nasty meaning.

  “The years did not change him,” Brother Cavil said to Ray after the fuss was over.

  “I’m guessing you’re talking about that gesture.”

  Brother Cavil giggled. “It has something to do with one’s urinary system.”

  “Please stop before you say something I can’t forget, I’m about to eat.” Ray winced. “You know, you still haven’t told me about why you were separated,” Ray poured himself some soup. Fuss or not, the company of his friends and a peaceful meal was all he needed after the real chaos on the super-dreadnought’s bridge. Even with the elderly man’s unexpected mood swings and rants.

  “I was married once,” Brother Cavil shrugged, surprising Ray. “Her name was Isabella.”

  The torment in the old priest’s eyes was obvious like the sun. “Never realized you were the marrying type,” Ray mumbled over his bite. “You seem to be into nature more than people.”

  “I like my plants. It does not mean that I do not possess a reproductive system.”

  “Still eating by the way.” Ray looked at his soup with distaste. “So, Isabella?”

  The old man sighed, putting his spoon on the table, suddenly losing his appetite. “There was a fire,” his eyes were hazy. “I tried to save her but could not do it in time. There were children trapped in the room and she wanted me to bring them out first.”

  “You had children?” Ray asked.

  “No,” the priest shook his head, “they were her students. She was teaching how to paint,” Brother Cavil pursed his lips. “We were expecting a baby, but…” His tears kept him from going on.

  “There you go,” Ray reached for the napkin holder and passed it to the old man.

  “Thank you.” The priest took it and loudly blew his nose, putting a faint smile on Ray’s lips. “Isabella died in that fire and her father never forgave me.”

  “Her father?”

  “Damien. You know him as Grandmaster Ellok.”

  Ray raised his eyebrows, waving his head in realization, “That explains the formality and that old debt thing.”

  “Well, he was always skeptical about my father’s work,” Brother Cavil pursed his lips. “After the fire, he wanted to hurt me and used his judgment about the work as an excuse to exile my father.”

  “He could’ve done much worse.”

  “No,” Brother Cavil shook his head. “My father, he was one of the thirteen. The representative of our sept in the council. If Ellok had done something, it would have caused a civil war.”

  “But he exiled your father. Didn’t that cause a stir?”

  Brother Cavil smiled weakly. “My father left peacefully of his own will. He never talks about it but it may be why the other council members have had my back all this time.”

  “He prevented a civil war.” Ray looked at Reverend Marcus with profound respect.

  “Yes.”

  “I wonder how Grandmaster Ellok would react to Ga’an.” Ray chuckled.

  “Well, I guess he is busy rebuilding the city.”

  “Or he’s dead.” Ray shrugged. “After all, we last saw him leaving with that Caius figure.”

  “Well, Light burn my soul, but I do not feel bad about it, Raymond.”

  “I understand.” Ray put down his spoon and wiped his mouth. “I’ll check with Ga’an. He said he may be onto something about Commander Matthews.”

  ***

  “What do we have?”

  “You do not have to be here, Raymond Harris.”

  “I want to, Ga’an. I need to.”

  Ga’an nodded. “One of the search teams found something. Dried blood.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Ga’an, accompanied by four marines, led Ray through several corridors illuminated with soft white light from under the walkways and from lamps attached to each arch.

  “This place looks depressing.” Ray looked at his reflection on the dark wall plating as they passed through several junctions.

  “It is the waste disposal area.”

  “Yeah, no one wanted to decorate the toilet. At least they could’ve used a lighter color.”

  Ga’an looked at him, confused, but Ray waved him on. “Just babbling, Ga’an.”

  They and their squad arrived at an intersection where two more marines waited.

  “Sirs,” a young marine saluted them. “Over here.” He pointed at the corridor to his left. It was around forty meters long, Ray estimated, with another passageway at the end.

  “Where are we, exactly?”

  “Junction thirty, deck twenty-seven. This is one of the eight waste disposal rooms.”

  “Eight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You guys need a gastroenterologist.” Ray’s smile died when he saw the marine’s face go sullen. “I’m sorry, airman.”

  “It’s Colby, sir.”

  “I’m sorry, Colby. Was just trying to ease the air.” And was doing a great job…Ray, you fool!

  “Commander Matthews was a good man, sir.”

  Ray nodded, feeling the shame in his bones. Another dead on your account, Ray. Go on, make another inappropriate joke.

  “What is the situation?” Ga’an asked, saving Ray from sinking deeper.

  “We found blood splatters, starting three decks up. It looks like this is where the trail ends.”

  Ga’an readied his rifle, “Let us move forward.” He took point, moving cautiously through the dark corridor, Ray moving right beside him. The two marines who were waiting them fell behind him and Ray, followed by the rest of the squad.

  They entered the waste disposal room. Room wouldn’t be the word Ray would use. Tanks lined up one after another, almost thirty meters in height and at least seven meters in width. Several mezzanines loomed over the tanks. Valves and pipes
came and went through the back wall, connecting the containers to the rest of the ship’s sewage system.

  “Search the room for signs of Commander Matthews,” Ga’an said, signaling the marines to scatter. “The steam makes it hard to see, be on your guard.”

  “Best bet is to search one of the tanks,” Ray said. “Colby, what’s inside these tanks?”

  “Waste, sir.”

  “Obviously. I meant if there are any chemicals or mechanisms used for treatment.”

  “Yes, sir. We apply various chemicals at different stages for sewer sludge.”

  “We may find Matthews there then. What better way to get rid of a body when you can dissolve it into nothingness?”

  Marine Colby’s face went sullen. “A commander shouldn’t die like this.”

  “No man should, Colby.” Ray followed after Ga’an to check one of the upper platforms while the other marines checked the ground floor.

  “Is there any way to see the contents of the tanks, Airman Colby?” Ga’an asked, still holding his rifle high, expecting something to come out of the shadows.

  “The tanks have sensors. It can tell the composition and size of whatever inside.”

  “We should check it out.”

  Colby, nodded and passed the order to the other group. “The team downstairs will check it out.”

  “Tell them to check all the containers, no matter if they find Commander Matthews.”

  “Sir?”

  “If there is one breach, there may very well be others.”

  Colby nodded and Ray saw the young marine gripping his rifle tighter as they moved into the steam clouds hovering over the platforms.

  “Some stench.” Ray hoped he wouldn’t need to puke. No matter how well-sealed the system, there was still the smell of goo. Or maybe it’s my nerves. “One would think—”

  Ga’an stopped and crouched, aiming his rifle.

  “What’s it!” Ray whispered, mimicking the Ancient without any idea what they were about to shoot.

  “Something moved within the steam.”

  “What! Where?” Ray narrowed his eyes. “I can’t see a damn thing, Ga’an!”

  Ga’an didn’t reply. Instead, he moved forward with careful steps, still crouching, trying not to move too much steam with his wind and reveal their spot.

  “Ga’an, there’s nothing…I’ll be damned,” Ray noticed the movement too. There was a shadow behind one of the consoles. Without realizing, the search party had trapped him; Ray’s group coming from one end while the other marines were searching for Matthews down near the stairway at the other end of the platform.

  “Hirsh, come toward us. We have movement,” Colby spoke quietly into his communicator and Ray saw two marines taking the stairs a second later, while the others positioned themselves behind cover, ready to shoot.

  Ray thought time slowed down. The marines took ages to climb the stairs. He felt cold sweat running down his back. He heard nothing but his own breathing.

  “Ray!” Brother Cavil’s voice boomed in Ray’s ear.

  Ray jumped, his rifle slipping through his fingers off the platform, all the way down to the metal floor with a noise like thunder. All hell broke loose.

  “Stop!” Ga’an yelled, firing his rifle at the shadow that dashed to another cover the moment Ray’s rifle hit the ground. Ga’an was quick but the shadow was quicker. The tall Ancient’s burst hit the console, sending sparks into the darkness of the room. The marines who’d positioned themselves downstairs tried to snipe the figure, firing controlled shots, and the two at the other end ran toward the intruder.

  “Ray! Is everything all right? I need to speak to you! It is about the Arinar!”

  “Not now, old man!” Ray pulled out his gun and tried to see something to shoot. He couldn’t risk firing at the marines coming from the other end.

  “Is that gunfire?” Brother Cavil asked.

  “Yes!”

  “Oh, all right. I will wait.”

  “Seven depths of hell!” Ray felt the wind of something passing right beside his right ear and he leaned to his left by pure instinct. “That hurt!”

  “I said I would wait!”

  “Just skimmed by a bullet!” Ray touched his right cheek and felt a sudden burn.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Colby!” Ray shouted over his shoulder, going prone. “Colby, you all right?” He looked back to see Colby and his heart sank. Airman Colby lay dead a few meters behind him, his terrified, dead eyes staring as if asking why. Ray touched his right cheek once again, his face hardening.

  He looked up from Colby’s body and saw the skirmish had heated. The figure had hidden himself well behind a console, hindering Ga’an’s aim. A huge conduit passing under the rail made an elbow near the figure, blocking the marines’ view from the lower floor. The shadow exchanged fire with the two marines at the other end of the rail, who were at a disadvantage as they tried to avoid friendly fire.

  Ray turned back and looked at Colby’s face one more time. He had been so young, a full life ahead of him. Now, it was only the void. Ray stood up and walked into the steam cloud in front of him, not heeding Ga’an’s warning or attempt to stop him. There was nothing in Ray but anger. He didn’t run, he didn’t flinch. He just walked with purpose. The figure’s surprise was something to see when he realized Ray stood right behind him with a gun at his head.

  One shot flared inside the dense steam smoke, creating an orange lightshow and Ray emerged a few seconds later, passing Ga’an, giving him the gun without a word. So young, full of hopes.

  He reached for Colby’s tag and closed his eyes. “Someone look at that console and find Commander Matthews’ body, now!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  THE MORE, THE MERRIER

  “Admiral, CTC Birdie is on radar,” one of the officers announced, his eyes fixed on the small green dot on his screen, representing the Deviator.

  “Send them the docking codes and launch four fighters to escort,” Rebecca said, observing the tactical screen. “Call Mr. Harris and the rest to the bridge.”

  Following the destruction of Pendar, the system had been silent, except occasional explosions happening in the distance, inside the planet’s core. The whole fleet had been sent back to junction five by her orders, from whence they could complete their hyperspace travel to Sol system. The plan was for Deviator to stay behind and rendezvous with the Birdie to receive the fourth Arinar, Serhmana from planet Wyss.

  “So, we’re heading for Sol?” asked Sarah, who’d been with Rebecca on the bridge since hearing of the fire exchange on the waste treatment deck.

  “Mars, to be exact,” Rebecca said. “We will form a barrier near the Mars grid and retreat to Earth if things get out of control.”

  “At least we have one more stone.”

  “By some divine luck,” Rebecca snorted. “Some idiot put it in a glass case as an exhibition piece to show off. He thought the vase came from a Chinese dynasty.”

  “No one questioned how a piece of Chinese history ended up in Wyss?”

  “Hence, the word ‘idiot’. I was not there to see it but they say it was quite a performance by Reverend Marcus, when the news of an Arinar being showcased for some rich aristocrat’s weekend entertainment reached the elder man.”

  “I can guess. Any news of the identity of the attacker? Was he Baeal?”

  Rebecca reached for the data pad sitting near the tactical console and gave it to Sarah. “One of the marines rushed this to me. He had this tattoo carved on his back. I am guessing you know what this is.”

  Sarah’s face went pale. “The Cosmon Brotherhood.” She said the words with disgust and fear.

  Rebecca nodded.

  “What are they doing here?”

  “That is yet to be seen.”

  Ray came into the bridge from the elevator with Brother Cavil and Reverend Marcus, walking purposefully toward the two. “Any news of the stone on Earth?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “Nothing from
the task force.”

  “Do they know what they’re looking for?” Ray asked.

  “No, but I will send Captain Samir with our own tactical team the moment we complete our jump. A radical freak appearing on my ship is no coincidence with all this going on around.”

  “Any idea what he was doing on the waste disposal deck?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “I can only guess. He was either unaware of the fake Matthews’ fate or he was trying to sabotage the ship.”

  “What would he achieve by sabotaging the treatment plant? Unhygienic work conditions?”

  “Haha! That was a good one!” Brother Cavil said, trying to memorize the joke but his broad smile froze when Rebecca threw a stare at him.

  Rebecca sighed—after making sure Brother Cavil was melted where he stood—and licked her lips. “The treatment system is one of the least protected areas and it is close to the engineering decks. A powerful blast would cripple the Deviator, if not cause a chain reaction and turn us into a new sun.”

  “They found a bomb?” Sarah asked.

  Rebecca nodded. “We have disabled the device and the teams are sweeping the ship for any more nasty surprises. The energy signature of the bomb is unique, similar to what the Brotherhood uses in their attacks. So far, we are clean.”

  “At least we are safe from any more intruders,” Brother Cavil said, trying to hush his father who was still grouching about the cook not preparing his favorite soup like the ‘cute woman’ did, not hearing any of the conversation around him.

  “Poor man.” Sarah hid her blush at the old man’s comment and focused on the topic at hand. “So, Skipper, you and Ga’an found the real Matthews’ body dumped into one of the waste recycling tanks?”

  “Yes.”

  “How bad was it?”

  “What do you think, Sarah?” Ray’s eyes flared. “He was swimming in human feces, partially decomposed. Another young kid died because of this.”

  Sarah grimaced at the thought of drowning in effluent.

  “Doctor Jackson said he’s been dead for some time now. Do you think it was an intruder like him that attacked you on Canaar?” Rebecca asked.