Shadow Call

by Michael Miller

  Qole’s eyes were virtually black in the stark shadows cast by the Kaitan’s lights. “I didn’t mean your drop point, exactly. Do you have to go at all?”

  I sighed. “What else can I do?” It felt strange to utter those words; I was used to a world of options at my disposal. “The message clearly stated that they just want to talk. You don’t say no to my family, even if it’s just a polite request.”

  “You have said no in the past, and there’s always an alternative.” When she wasn’t being so fatalistic about her own future, she could be decidedly optimistic. “You could meet on neutral ground. Or at the very least, let the Kaitan take you.”

  “And put you and the entire crew at equal risk? Not a chance. You’ve done enough for me, Qole.”

  She shook her head. “I just want to know you’re doing this because you believe it’s the best choice, not because…” She hesitated.

  Because no one but you really wants me here?

  At least, I desperately hoped she still did.

  “I want what’s best for everyone.” I tapped my wrist feed. “Telu, go ahead and reactivate the tracker.” I had attempted to deactivate the tracking system in the device shortly after being exiled, only to discover that Telu had already logged in and done so. Her technological omnipresence was annoying, humbling, and quite useful.

  I didn’t get a response, but the wrist feed flashed red, then green, emitting a low beep. Just like that, I was back online, across the systems. Alerts were no doubt going off on the ships in orbit, and in private status updates, security offices, and high-level feeds across the systems. The exiled Prince Nevarian was back on the map.

  When I looked up, Qole was closer than I had expected. I could almost feel the warmth of her through my suit, and something inside me lurched. She didn’t say anything, didn’t try to dissuade me from what I was doing, didn’t reassure me. We were simply together.

  Qole wasn’t beautiful the way royals were—refined, symmetrical, and inviting—but she was beautiful. Her features were strong, her full lips quick to smile or scowl, her face as real as the life she lived. Fierce, vibrant, and breathtaking—you were invited at your own risk. It was a risk I would always take.

  A few strands of her dark hair fell free of her braid and across her cheek. I raised my hand to brush them away but paused when the comm inside the airlock blared.

  “Captain, time for us to get out of sight!” Eton bellowed.

  Qole took a step back, toward the inner airlock doors. “Nev…remember, we’re willing to do what it takes to keep you safe.”

  I wanted to say I would do anything, anything to keep her safe, as well. That I cared for her. That I loved her. But no words came out of my mouth, and she turned, whisked back onto the bridge by the opening and closing hiss of doors.

  I believed what she’d said. Knowing Qole made it impossible to dismiss her words as anything other than true, but I doubted that all of her—my—crewmates felt the same way. Basra and Telu didn’t seem to mind me, maybe even liked me, but Eton was a perpetually uncompromising mountain, and Arjan flat-out hated me—a perfectly reasonable position, given the circumstances, but no more enjoyable for it. Would they help me if I needed it?

  I donned my helmet and looked out over the portal, floating like the picked-over bones of some giant, long-extinct space behemoth. Once a marvel of human innovation, one we’d never rediscovered, and now a primitive docking station for a shuttle to pick me up. Qole’s antique of a ship was a bustling hub of technology, life, and even warmth in comparison. As much as my family might desire my presence for whatever purpose, leaving here was the last thing I wanted to do. Still, when the outer airlock doors opened, I pushed myself out into the cold void.

  * * *

  It was strange to be back on a ship that didn’t shudder and lurch when flying. The shuttles of the elite lacked the power and maneuverability that the Kaitan possessed, but a great many resources were devoted to not disturbing the delicate constitutions of the appropriately wealthy. That, and I doubted the pilot was being nearly as swift and aggressive in navigating as Qole usually was.

  I sat in a comfortable seat in the back, sandwiched between two royal guards. They were armored and armed, and we had exchanged no words from the moment the shuttle’s airlock doors had opened.

  Despite all this, they were oddly reassuring. If violence had been intended, there would be at least one Bladeguard present. The elite of the elite, Bladeguards were warriors, spies, and assassins wielding Disruption Blades, weapons capable of bypassing energy shields and disabling electronics.

  The only Bladeguard on board was me. I shifted in my seat, readjusting the sheathed, twin Disruption Blades on my lap to be more comfortable. The guards hadn’t confiscated them, which was strange. While it reinforced the idea that this was just a friendly chat, the reassurance soured into worry. None of this made sense. I’d been exiled. For good reason. Why parley now?

  The viewport in front of the pilot suddenly flared with sunlight as we rose out of the shadow of one of Alaxak’s moons. There, gleaming and framed by blackness, flanked by cruisers and destroyers, was the Luvos Sunrise.

  Composed of sweeping arcs, decorated in intricate patterns designed to reflect the beauties of space, the Luvos Sunrise was for royalty only. It wasn’t particularly maneuverable, but it was one of the fastest, most heavily armored cruisers in the systems, and was capable of sustaining itself for nearly an age. Of course, another family had built it for us, but that was seldom mentioned. We had a reputation to maintain.

  A reputation I had turned into a giant, smoking crater.

  I had only a few seconds to appreciate the sight before the Luvos Sunrise filled our viewport, growing rapidly larger until the docking bay became an open rectangle of golden light. We docked with no audible noise, nor sense of pressurization or gravitational change. My guards stood and flanked the shuttle door on both sides without saying a word; it unfolded seconds later, forming the staircase for my disembarkation into the hangar.

  A full complement of guards awaited me at the bottom of the steps, and I nodded at their commander as I descended, mag-linking my blades to my hips once again. “Good evening, Commander Pierce.” I recognized him from the Academy; we had trained together more than once.

  “Good evening.” The commander’s tone was perfectly neutral, and he saluted me crisply. “Follow me, sir.”

  Ah, no royal honorific. He turned and started walking briskly, and I fell into step just beside him.

  “Congratulations.” I doubted he wanted to talk, but I was curious. “The last time I saw you, you weren’t a lieutenant yet.”

  “Most of my officers and friends were murdered,” Commander Pierce bit out. “I had an unexpected promotion.”

  Unifier’s name, of course. Me. I kept it a secret from everyone, even Qole, but I could still see the faces of the people I had shot or run through with my weapons when I closed my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied quietly. No matter that I had killed those people while fighting against the torture of innocents, I had still killed them. We passed the rest of the walk in silence.

  I had seen it all before. The carpeted hallways, the hearth fires defying the reality of space, the rare white hardwood from Luvos’s forests, the silver filigree and engravings—everything to establish that this was the ship of Dracorte royalty: rulers of the system, right hand of the galactic empire, and champions of the Unifier. Many times before, I had approached the doors to the royal chambers, so similar to those at home, and had them thrown open to reveal my family on the other side. I had always gone striding through, full of purpose, knowing my place in the world.

  Now I walked through calmly, but the only thing I knew for certain was that everything had changed, and I suspected it was about to do so again.

  I stopped and took stock.

  “Your Majesty.�
� I didn’t think he would want me calling him Father. I bowed deeply in greeting. King Thelarus Dracorte was a tall, imposing man, with closely cropped hair and beard. There was more gray in his beard than last time, and exhaustion under his eyes.

  “Mother.” I bowed again, just as deeply. Queen Ysandrei Dracorte, stately, beautiful, and calm in every situation. She was the mirror to Father in so many ways, and in this case, I saw the telltale signs of profound distress just as clearly as in him, and they cut even deeper.

  “Sister.” I bowed less deeply, resisting the temptation to throw her a rueful grimace. Solara and I had never been close, but the last time we had seen one another, she had been instrumental in saving Qole. While she was considered by many to be the most beautiful and active social butterfly in the system, I was beginning to realize there was much more to her than met the eye. It struck me as unfortunate that I was learning about this now, as we might have become true friends otherwise.

  I straightened my spine. The last person was standing alone, behind my family, clad completely in black. The synthetics were so skintight that his impressively muscled body could have just as well been naked. The material covered his face, so he looked like nothing more than a statue. The handle of a Disruption Blade could be seen over his shoulder. He was a Bladeguard, a bodyguard, that much was certain, but something coiled inside me, an animal instinct recognizing another as a threat. Where was Devrak Hansen, my friend and mentor? His many duties did not always allow him to be present, but surely, as head of security, he would have been here for something as important as this.

  The man didn’t hesitate to approach me. Without a word, he held out his hands—for my blades, I realized. Of course a traitor wouldn’t be allowed in the presence of the king and queen with them, whether or not I was their son. I unlinked them and passed them over. The Bladeguard snapped them into place at his own hips.

  We waited in silence, and while it was only a few seconds, it was an eternity from the perspective of royal protocol. They don’t know what to say. I tried to see myself through their eyes—tired, same as they, but sporting an untrimmed beard and a dirtier version of my traveling overcoat, combined with a hodgepodge of clothes I had adopted on Alaxak. Here he was, the disreputable son, once the hope of a domain stretching across space, now dressed like a vagrant and reappearing from the half-frozen planet below.

  “How is Marsius?” I wanted to ask where my little brother was, but I knew they wouldn’t have wanted him here. And as much as I wanted to see him, I understood it would have been too hard on him.

  And the less exposure to the traitor, the better, no doubt.

  “As well as can be expected,” Father said, his voice giving away nothing.

  Mother took a sudden breath, making up her mind. “Nevarian…are you all right?”

  I hadn’t expected that. Moisture watered my vision for a second.

  Father helped dispel it. “Is he all right?” he asked incredulously, his voice sharp and hard as a Disruption Blade. “Nevarian, the question is, do you care if the rest of your family is all right? How the systems are? Or do you only care for your own interests?”

  Father was wasting no time on pleasantries. This was to be a fun family time after all. Anger boiled behind my eyes and coursed into the sinews of my hand, tempting me to form fists. There were so many things I could say. So many tactics in argumentation I had been taught, that I could throw in his face, but I’d already learned that he knew these better than I. Instead, I remembered Qole, who spoke of what mattered, not what won her an argument.

  “I care very much.” This time my hands did form fists, but not because of anger. “Not a day goes by that I don’t try to learn what is happening in the systems, that I don’t lose sleep nights for wondering what I have done to everyone and everything I love.”

  “Then how could you turn your back on us?” Thelarus almost choked, yelling the words.

  The shock of Father losing his composure made my own evaporate. “I didn’t!” My entire body spasmed, both hands punching at the ground. “I love you! All of you! Father, Mother, Marsius, Solara. My family. I love our people. I would die for them. I would die for you! I would be glad to, and it would be the simplest, easiest choice I could make. You raised me to defend what I love.” My voice graveled, emotion overriding any sense of thought, any articulation. “And I love Qole too. So what was I supposed to do?”

  My gaze dropped as my vision blurred. Silence descended once again, and I looked up, drawing in a ragged breath. “Father.” If he didn’t respond, he didn’t reject being called that, at least. “Mother. You raised me. Taught me. Made me. Everything good in me is in you. And I have never known more surely that I acted in the right way than when I defended Arjan from being murdered simply for our own advancement.”

  “He’s right, you know.” Solara’s voice was warm and husky, as soothing as honey. Everyone looked at her in surprise. She was usually trying to be clever or happily trivial, so none of us were used to her seriousness now. Her eyes were grave, and she descended the few steps from the dais upon which my parents stood to come to my side, placing one hand gently on my cheek.

  “You did make him this way.” She smiled at me slightly and mouthed the words that only I could see. Reach out to them. She turned to our parents. “Did any of us ever doubt that Nev believed our family the greatest? That he was the most idealistic, the most passionate? If you teach an animal to be a guardian, how can you be surprised at what happens when we threaten what it loves?”

  A hint of a smile crossed my lips despite myself. “Thanks for the flattering description, Sol.”

  But it seemed to be working. My parents weren’t arguing. Solara walked back to them as I composed myself. Reach out to them. Right.

  “Why are you here?” I asked with a weary shake of my head. “I’m exiled, disinherited, and I’ve been nothing but a thorn in your side. If you’re here to judge me, I will submit. Because I will never support our family’s endeavors if we continue to pose a danger to innocents.”

  Father sighed, and his shoulders shifted. “Nev…” For the first time in months, he sounded like my parent again, not the ruler of Luvos.

  Mother finished his sentence. “Power is always dangerous to those who have none, and you cannot effect change without power. He knows, Thelarus. I’m just not sure he accepts. Nev, we’re here because we miss you, the family is unstable, and Solara can’t bear the burden of rule alone.”

  “And yet she refuses to marry,” Thelarus interjected.

  Solara shrugged helplessly, her expression chagrined. Of course she would have rejected such a thing, if whomever Father had chosen hadn’t suited her tastes. I recalled the time Mother had wished her to don a particular gown for an event. Not only had Solara refused, I’d found the gown cut into thin strips under her bed after Mother had insisted she wear it. Perhaps it was wise, I thought wryly, that Father hadn’t tried to force her on this—not for the family’s sake, but for her potential betrothed’s.

  “We hoped something else could be worked out,” Mother finished, obviously having learned her lesson from the gown.

  I narrowed my eyes. “And where do I come in?”

  Father grimaced. “We need someone we can trust, and I suppose we want to know if you can still be loyal to me, to us, when I was not entirely loyal to you.”

  I was struck dumb. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard Father admit any true wrongdoing in my entire life.

  “Understand.” He held my gaze. “All I would change would be my decision to withhold truth from you from the outset, to keep you uninvolved. Someday you will be faced with the choice of surrendering your ideals to save your subjects, and then you will know sacrifice.” He raised his hand to forestall any objection. “Understand also: you are still disinherited for your betrayal. But perhaps things could be different, with regard to your exile. I do not entirely know the w
ay forward, but I do know that I must put aside my pride if, indeed, our family and our beliefs are to survive the coming storm. What say you? Can you do that in return? For me?”

  “What would it entail?” I asked, my voice wary, but I couldn’t help the dizzying joy that rose in my chest at the thought of seeing my home again.

  “I know we will never see eye to eye. Because of that, I could never leave control of the system to you, your betrayal aside. But you have training and knowledge that Solara lacks. What we all hope is that you could advise your sister, perhaps even help her rule from behind the throne, when the time comes. She has the will to rule, no doubt,” Thelarus said, shooting her a glance, “and possesses the steel that is necessary in a leader, but you could be the experienced hand that helps guide it. She will have the ultimate say, but you could be her voice of reason.”

  Solara’s face went still, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. But she wouldn’t have been here if she hadn’t agreed with the plan.

  I could barely breathe or move myself, to keep from hoping. “Would I have to leave Alaxak? Leave…Qole?”

  “From time to time, I imagine, but not permanently. The beauty of this arrangement is that you can still support your sister while pursuing…other interests…outside the public eye, if that’s what it will take for you to do your duty.” Thelarus’s lips twisted in disapproval. “You, of course, will remain officially disinherited, and your sister will be the face of Dracorte leadership, but such a situation could be for the best. You have strengths that she needs, and, unless I am entirely mistaken about you, I thought you might appreciate the chance to redeem yourself. To help your family, even though you turned your back on us.”

  Disapproval or not, the fact that he could acknowledge my perspective as a strength was light-years beyond where we’d been before. I couldn’t stop it now—hope, love for this man, these women, rose within me like a sun, practically blinding me with its light.