Shadow Call

by Michael Miller

  Her voice was steady, if as grim as the death around her. “Thanks to our little adventure on Luvos, I had standard Dracorte comm frequencies programmed in. Overwhelmed them with identical frequencies from all the vessels in the harbor, so they’ll just get garbage. I doubt they’ll think it’s a malfunction, knowing what I can do.”

  “Dracortes?” someone said.

  None of us had time to mourn, or to argue. “If your ship has adequate weapons systems and is bigger than a skiff,” I said, “and if you’re conscious enough to fly, man your posts and follow me.” That would limit our numbers significantly, but I couldn’t send valuable captains to an inevitable death. “See to any injuries after we’ve lifted off. Crews who lost their captains, stay and tend to the wounded, if you don’t think you can pilot. Captains without battle-worthy ships, comm the medic in Chorda, as well as anyone else you know from your villages. Warn them. Dracorte forces are in orbit. We have to do whatever we can to stop them before they think to retaliate.”

  “Qole—” Eton started, in that protective tone he used whenever he thought he could keep me from doing something stupid.

  “Not now, Eton,” I snapped.

  I thought someone else might argue, but then Arjan said, “I’ll get the ship ready for takeoff,” and Telu was saying, “I’ll get to masking our signals.”

  Right on their heels, Jerra added, “Why don’t we approach from the planet’s shadow, with the Alaxak Asteroid Sea behind us? We’ll lose time, but with our signals hidden, they won’t see us until we unload everything we have on them. What are their numbers?”

  Even bleeding, Arjan was already jogging back to the ship. I commed Basra to check. “One full battle carrier,” I repeated.

  The word sank like a rock into the sudden silence. A battle carrier. It was like an armada rolled into a single ship—way, way bigger and more heavily armored than a destroyer, with equal destructive power. Not to mention the other ships they had docked and transported.

  “He estimates a fleet of at least a hundred starfighters with the battle carrier,” I added.

  Hiat whistled. “With only a few hundred of us—even five hundred, if we can rally that many—we’d be lucky just to take out the starfighters.”

  Jerra snorted. “We’re Shadow-fishing captains. I’d like to see a puffed-up prig from some academy fly one tenth the maneuvers we can.”

  “Well, fine, so we beat the starfighters, but then that battle carrier will be left to chew us to pieces. Better throw everything at them. And I mean everything, unlike here.”

  She glared up at him. “Your crewmember’s life wasn’t enough?”

  Hiat stared levelly at me. “That’s not what I meant.”

  I knew what he meant. Shadow. He’d noticed that I’d avoided using it. “Don’t worry about my willingness to fight,” I responded, my dark tone communicating all that my words implied. “I’m ready to take that battle carrier down with me, if I have to.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Eton growled. He shoved between us, his cannons forcing Hiat to step back. “Even if you managed, what would everyone else do after that? The Dracortes aren’t going to let a rebellion go. More battle carriers will follow.”

  I’d appreciated his help earlier against the mechbot, more than I could ever tell him, but I didn’t need it, now.

  “Eton, back off. Everyone, get to your ships. We’ll convene at the coordinates Jerra gives us. But first…Hiat.”

  “Yes?” he asked warily.

  “Take ten ships, whoever is ready the fastest, and go to the cannery. Load up on Shadow. I’m going to need it.”

  Hiat flashed a grin at me, and for a second, I could see Telu’s razor sharpness in his eyes. “Will do.”

  Everyone scattered then, racing for the main dock. Many—too many—stayed behind to take care of the wounded. I knew we wouldn’t have every ship in Chorda—Wul’s and Puya’s among those that would stay—but I hoped we would still have the numbers to make a difference.

  As chaos consumed the port, I was thankful I’d docked in the next bay over, even if it meant a dash up and down an endless flight of stone steps. Arjan was long gone. Telu was already moving, typing at her infopads as she went, barely looking where she was going.

  I turned to follow her, and a huge hand caught my arm.

  “I swear, Eton—”

  “It’s about Nev.”

  The tone of his voice made my breath catch, and I flipped around to face him. “What? Where is he?”

  “I caught him. He was trading himself for your safety. His life for yours.”

  I felt like my stomach had been ripped out, and everything else had followed it, spilling out beneath me. My knees shook and threatened to buckle. I wanted to puke. “No.”

  Eton nodded, his face the same stone I’d seen before. Nev had stood in front of a hall of my fellow Alaxans and argued on behalf of our mutual enemy, all because he didn’t want to see me die, and this was his last resort. He’d tried to sacrifice himself in order to put my life ahead of what was right.

  At least I hoped, with every desperate scrap of hope I had left to my name, that it had only been an attempt.

  “Where is he?” I ground out, my voice ragged, my heart razor shards of ice in my chest, my throat. Tears spiked in my eyes. “Don’t tell me…”

  He shook his head. “Qole…” His own eyes were pained as he looked at me.

  Oh, ancestors, no…no, no, no.

  If I thought what I’d been feeling before was bad, it was nothing, nothing to what I felt now. I covered my mouth, as if I could stop the keening whine that escaped, and then my ears, as if I could block what he was about to say:

  “Solara’s contact was also an assassin, not just the messenger. I was suspicious of what Nev was up to, so I’d followed him. I tried to save him, for you, but the assassin closed the deal before I could stop it. He’s…he’s gone, Qole.”

  I wasn’t covering my ears anymore—my hands were fists in my hair—but Eton’s voice was half drowned out in a roar like rapids that were carrying me away.

  No, no, no. My vision swam. Alaxak had melted. It was a place of tears. Death.

  “I had to tell you, Qole.” Eton’s voice again. “I knew you would want to know, but I’m sorry about the timing.”

  I didn’t know how I was supposed to move forward. Flying was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to fall to the earth, crumble to ash, let Shadow consume even my bones. A sob wrenched out of me as I gasped and tried to breathe. I wasn’t seeing, only staring. It might as well have been my blood pooling on the ground. Distantly, I heard Eton say, “I don’t think you can pilot in this state, much less lead a battle….”

  But then the unfocused lump in my vision gradually solidified.

  It was a body. Wul’s body. His family, his friends, his crew, would be fighting or working, even if he was dead.

  “I—I have to keep going, Eton,” I stammered, my voice faint, far away.

  “His last wish was to see you safe.” Eton’s hand brushed my arm, jarring me back to myself more forcibly than the body had. “You can’t throw your life away like this. Not when he wanted better for you. He traded his life for yours—don’t waste that gift.”

  His words were like cold water on my face, not blinding me—waking me up. I blinked at him in shock. He was using Nev’s love, Nev’s death, to manipulate me?

  The horrible, tearing lump in my chest and throat turned bitter and frozen. I gestured wildly, shaking my head in disgust, tears streaming. “Don’t you think Alaxak wants better too? Needs better? You expect me just to abandon them? Trade thousands and thousands of lives for my own?” I seized onto that hard, cold core inside me like a pillar, wrapped myself around it. It was ice lining my spine, making it strong, keeping me standing. “Well, I won’t. And you—and Nev—are wrong to think I ever would. And
you’re cowards to try to make me. Cowards!”

  Spit landed on Eton’s chest with my cry. I squared my shoulders, trying to calm my breathing. Don’t think. Just move.

  “Get out of my way,” I said, my voice ice to match my insides. “And you’d better be on the ship right behind me, or don’t bother ever coming back.”

  I stormed past him and threw my fury into the stairs. Anger was good. It could fuel me. I had to get to the Kaitan, and then she would carry me in her arms, keep me away from that crushing despair, that consuming darkness. Or maybe deliver me to it once and for all. I just had to reach the fleet. Whatever happened there, happened.

  Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.

  Just move.

  My eyes snapped open. I had blacked out, but there was no Disruption Blade in my chest. Instead, one of the most impressive duels I had ever seen was unfolding before me.

  Blades cutting, thrusting, and parrying faster than I could follow, two fighters moved in a blur so flowing it felt choreographed. The assassin was as skilled armed as he had been unarmed: aggressive, strong, each strike aimed with brutal intent.

  Incredibly, his opponent was better. I recognized the muted greens of the royal Xiaolan guard, and given his size I assumed he was male, but otherwise he was a mystery. His blade was shorter, slightly broader, and he wielded it with one hand instead of two. His movements were measured and easy despite the pace of their combat, like a high-tension spring put under pressure before it snapped back.

  And snap back he did. His blade flicked high, then low, changing the angles of attack constantly. First one scratch, then another, appeared in the assassin’s suit. Droplets of blood flickered out from their fight, and the momentum began to shift.

  It was, I reflected stupidly, somewhat like the fight I had just experienced, except in reverse.

  As my thoughts came back, I glanced around and spotted the photon blaster, still lying where it had fallen. Pain radiated out from my muscles, but I forced myself into action, staggering to my feet and snatching up the weapon.

  I didn’t go unnoticed. A small cylinder dropped from the grip of the assassin’s Disruption Blade, and he dove backward as it did. A flash of light and a bang rendered me deaf, smoke filling the space. I tracked the path he might have taken, firing several shots I was certain wouldn’t hit their mark.

  “He’s gone.” The second Bladeguard appeared at my elbow, his voice modulated into a monotone by his helmet. “We should leave.”

  I started, several seconds too late. “Wonderful. Thank you.” Stepping back a few paces, I kept my grip on the photon blaster. “While I’m quite predisposed to like you, you’ll understand if caution trumps first impressions. Who are you?”

  The reflective faceplate flickered then folded away, and I was staring into the face of Devrak Hansen, head of security for the Dracorte family.

  * * *

  I sighed deeply as the painkillers took hold and the throbbing subsided. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me when we’re done talking.” Devrak busied himself putting away a medi-kit that was small but comprehensive. The speed with which he repacked it suggested a thorough familiarity with the contents. He was no longer armored in his Xiaolan disguise, and the new suit that he had donned was a full-body affair. The armor looked thinner than what Bladeguards typically wore, but the vitals were reinforced, and I noticed various mag-couplings at the joints whose purpose I couldn’t immediately discern. I felt certain that Devrak was well armed beyond even the Disruption Blade on his hip.

  I had never seen such a suit, much less seen him in it. I sighed; everyone seemed to have their secrets.

  “Is this a safe house?” I asked. We were in a small prefab housing unit tucked away in the forest, the cliffs of Chorda rising up nearby. It was utilitarian but surprisingly cozy given the wooden furniture and stove, which was warming me now. “I had no idea the family had a safe house on Alaxak.”

  “I suppose it’s theirs, in a sense, as I possess it for their purposes only. Ostensibly, it belongs to a lower-level dignitary in the governor’s office. Who shall, incidentally, be arriving before long.” Devrak offered me a hot cup of tàs, which I clutched like a lifeline. Slightly bitter and herbal, it was the favored drink of my family. I had learned it was too expensive for most, causing me to avoid it out of guilt. But oh, how I’d missed it.

  He settled himself in the chair opposite from me, moving with no apparent stiffness after his recent exertions. I felt an unworthy twinge of resentment. He held his own cup—water—with careful indifference, waiting, I knew, for me to break the silence. I had a thousand questions but wasn’t sure where to start, so I observed him.

  He was an elegantly austere man, his dark skin contrasted by the streaks of white in a precisely trimmed goatee. Devrak was many things: the head of security and intelligence, former headmaster of the Royal Academy on Luvos, and respected Blademaster. But his most important role had been as my father’s friend. Part of my earliest memories, he had long guarded both my family and their interests.

  All my family, for better or worse—including Solara.

  “How is Marsius?” That was, I supposed, both the simplest and most pressing question I had for him.

  His eyes softened. “Your brother is well, away from Solara. He misses you.”

  “How did you even get here in time? Weren’t you just at a coronation a few days ago? It should have taken you a week, five days at least.”

  “I took a shortcut through the Outer Fringe, and even then I didn’t know if I would make it in time. Suvis was already in the area, and I wasn’t sure how soon he would make his move.”

  “The Outer Fringe?” It was mostly a drone traffic lane that ships avoided like a plague. “Devrak, the sheer number of drones out there would have made the journey near-suicide, and that’s not to mention the pirates, the slavers, and the other nightmarish accounts I find hard to believe, but I nonetheless wouldn’t disregard entirely.”

  Here there be monsters, as the ancient maps used to say.

  He stared at me levelly. “It was worth it.”

  I noticed how deep the lines in his face were, how sunken the eyes. The man had aged years since I had last seen him even just a month ago, as if grief were eating at him.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. The words turned the taste of my tàs even more bitter.

  “As am I.” Devrak sat up a little straighter. “There are no apologies that can suffice. I profoundly misunderstood your sister. I saw how she inspired worship in some, how extensive her information network was, of course. But she used it for such trivial gossip and vanity that I never sifted out the immediate danger. My failure is abject.”

  I wanted to comfort him, but he would know my words were hollow. Both of us had failed, and we knew it.

  “So is mine.” I stared at the bottom of my cup. “To think, I felt she was the only person I could trust at home—other than Marsius, of course, but he’s only a child.” I glanced back up. “How do you know I didn’t do what she accused? How do you know I’m not the one who is a murderer?”

  Devrak shook his head. “The evidence is entirely contrary. I found your sister’s shoe in the hangar where you freed the prisoners, so I knew she was complicit in your escape, and was not entirely the vapid socialite she claimed to be. The vid she showed of your parents’ assassination was clearly edited. Coupled with what I know of you as a person, I was never in doubt. Trust someone to act in their nature, not according to expectations. The more you understand a person, the more reliable they are, even if they’re not what they seem—a lesson I had to relearn in your sister’s case. I was quite overjoyed to discover she had sent her attack dog to kill you, as that meant you were still alive.”

  I smiled. It felt good to hear Devrak analyzing again, reducing everything to interlocking components. That slight uplift in spirits took my mi
nd back to the Kaitan, and to Qole. My smile disappeared. Feeling good didn’t seem like something I deserved.

  “But why? Why come find me?” I asked bitterly. “Here I am alive. So what?”

  “I found you because it is in my nature to serve and protect this system and its rightful rulers.”

  “But—”

  “You are now my king,” he said without hesitation, “and you are the only one who can stop Solara.” He leaned forward, and I fought the desire to shrink back.

  “I’m not the king. Solara is the queen, and I’m an exiled, disinherited murderer.” I would be as rejected there as I am here, I wanted to say. “I see no point in your quest to find me, Devrak. My return from the dead would start a bloody civil war, and we would ultimately be slaughtered. Or you could bring me to comfortable exile with another sympathetic family, but it wouldn’t be long before someone discovered where I was and attempted to assassinate me. For Unifier’s sake, I’m on Alaxak, and I was just betrayed and nearly assassinated by someone I thought was a friend. Well,” I amended, “at least not an enemy.” I threw my hands in the air, my black mood seeping into my voice. “Every path for me ends in assassination. Besides, who knows? Solara might be a better ruler than me anyway. She wouldn’t be the first competent psychopath on the throne.”

  Devrak splashed his water in my face. For a wild second, I thought he was trying to blind me in order to attack. Once again, I saw Father holding his sword to my chest, Solara backing away after the assassin, Eton leaving me in darkness. Lurching out of the chair blindly, I kicked out and shoved myself back, rolling on the floor into a defensive crouch.

  Fingers interlaced, Devrak regarded me from his seat, an eyebrow crooked. “Are you quite done?”

  I stood up, shaking, brushing the water off my face. “We’re not in the Academy, Devrak. Things don’t work the same way here, and you can’t make everything a lesson.”