The Blind War (The Shadow Wars Book 13)

by S. A. Lusher

  THE BLIND WAR

  –A NOVEL OF SCI-FI ACTION–

  Book #13 in

  The Shadow Wars

  written by

  –S. A. Lusher–

  cover by

  –M. Knepper–

  editing by

  –Sarah Lusher–

  Dedicated to my cousin

  Carolyn, for helping me

  figure out how to tell stories

  Table of Contents

  FOREWORD

  CHAPTER 01

  CHAPTER 02

  CHAPTER 03

  CHAPTER 04

  CHAPTER 05

  CHAPTER 06

  CHAPTER 07

  CHAPTER 08

  CHAPTER 09

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  INTO THE VOID

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  FOREWORD

  What you are about to read is the thirteenth novel in The Shadow Wars series. This is a continuation of the other books and cannot be read as a stand-alone title. I highly recommend that you go back to the beginning and start reading.

  You can start here, with the first book, Necropolis.

  If you've already read Necropolis 1, 2, & 3, Absolute Zero, Ceaseless, Syberian Sunrise, Snowblind, Quarantine, Rogue Ops Rising, Countdown, Necropolis 4, Starck's Lament & Deathless, then thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoy it, as well.

  For the sake of convenience, here is a list of all titles in The Shadow Wars in the order in which they are meant to be read.

  -Dead Ice [Companion]

  -Dead Skies [Companion]

  -Necropolis

  -Necropolis 2: Endurance

  -Nerves of Steel [Companion] (Bundled with Necropolis 2)

  -Necropolis 3: Annihilation

  -Absolute Zero

  -Blood & Tears [Companion] (Bundled with Absolute Zero)

  -Ceaseless

  -Syberian Sunrise

  -Snowblind

  -Quarantine

  -Rogue Ops Rising

  -Countdown

  -Warm Memories [Companion] (Bundled with Countdown)

  -Laid To Rest [Companion] (Bundled with Countdown)

  -Necropolis 4: Terminal

  -Small Acts of Kindness [Companion] (Bundled with Necropolis 4)

  -EB-303 [Companion]

  -Alone? [Companion]

  -Starck's Lament

  -Deathless

  -Outpost 88 [Companion]

  -The Blind War

  -Lethal Cargo [Companion]

  -Into the Void

  -Saturate

  CHAPTER 01

  –Uncertainties–

  Allan opened his eyes to a gunmetal gray ceiling.

  He was lying on his back. It was something he wasn't used to doing. Normally he slept on his left side, but since he'd started his recovery several months ago, regularly visiting a trained professional and taking some mood stabilizers and anti-depressants, he found himself sleeping on his back more often than not. He'd been thinking it over and the closest he'd come to an answer, at least for himself, was that when he slept on his side, it was almost an unconscious, natural defensive posture. Sleeping on his back meant he didn't feel threatened by…

  Well, by everything.

  It also coincided with the fact that he was sleeping better than he had in his entire life. He was actually feeling well-rested. It was honestly really nice. He hadn't realized what it was like to have a series of decent, full nights' rest.

  He was feeling better than ever before.

  Consequently, he wasn't really having nightmares anymore. Or, if he was, he wasn't really remembering them. They still popped up from time to time, (he knew he would never get over the harrowing experience on Lindholm, the killer or the decision he had been forced to make), but they were much more manageable.

  Someone shifted in the bed beside him.

  Startled, Allan glanced over. He saw Callie laying there, facing him, still asleep, her breathing smooth and regular. What was she doing here? Last night was supposed to be her night with Greg. According to the plan, Eve was going to spend the night in someone else’s cabin and Callie was going to spend the night in Greg’s cabin. Allan had briefly considered going and seeing if anyone else was up for some sex with him, but he'd been training hard all day and he was exhausted by the time 'night' had fallen on the Dauntless.

  So he'd just gone back, showered and fallen into sleep almost immediately.

  What had gone wrong then?

  Although the relationship had been going on for a couple months now, both Callie and Greg, (mostly Greg), were still occasionally weird about it. Allan always did his best to smooth it over. Technically, most of his experience with open relationships was the kind where both people just had sex, either one-night stands or consistent friends-with-benefits sex, with other people. Sometimes separately, sometimes in threesomes, (or foursomes). But he'd also had experience with the other kind, where either he or his partner, sometimes both, had a more serious relationship with someone else beyond just sex.

  Despite all his trouble growing up, all his misgivings towards life, for some reason, jealousy had just never really been a problem with him. And since he was able to push past that with extreme ease, it was simple enough to assess whether or not he trusted his current partner enough not to leave him for the other person. And he trusted Callie. He liked both her and Greg, and wanted both of them to be happy.

  God knew that all of them had been fucking miserable for enough in their lives, so why not find happiness wherever you could?

  But he knew things weren't going well for Greg right now, either.

  He wondered if that was what had led to Callie's unexpected presence. He rolled over and glanced at the clock on their nightstand. It was just past seven in the morning. Well, Allan knew he wasn't getting back to sleep. He'd hit the hay early last night and now he felt rested, refreshed and recharged, ready to face the day and whatever it had to offer. As he sat up and stretched, feeling a few joints pop, Callie woke up.

  “Hey,” she said softly, still very sleepy. She reached out and ran her warm hand up and down his bicep. “How you doing?”

  “Fine. How about you? Thought you were going out for the night,” he replied, smiling at her and taking her hand. He brought his thumbs to her palm and began to massage it. It was something she'd taught him and she really enjoyed having it done to her.

  “Mmm...well, I hung out with Greg for a little while. We had dinner, then went to the observation room. He was really distracted and hard to talk to. Which...well, I don't blame him. I mean...he got his head cut off.”

  “Yeah...”

  “So, anyway, we eventually went back to his room and Eve was still there and it got kind of awkward because it seemed like they really needed to talk about something. So I just ended up leaving them to it and came back here.”

  “Any idea what they were going to take about?” Allan asked.

  “Probably the fact that Greg has been contemplating leaving Anomalous Ops. I can't imagine it being about anything else,” Callie replied.

  Allan nodded, falling into thought. He'd hate to see Greg go, but...well, like Callie said, he couldn't really blame him for freaking out. He wasn't sure how he'd handle something like that. His life was a lot smoother now but honestly he knew that a lot of extreme emotions were still there, not far beneath the surface of his psyche, waiting for the right event to unleash them. Getting more mentally healthy and putting your life back together didn't mean that the bad emotions or the instability just went away, it simply meant that they were easier to deal with. Alla
n still had bad days and he knew there was still a lot wrong with him.

  “How are you?” Callie asked, bringing him back to the here and now.

  “I'm good, actually. I slept heavily and well,” he replied.

  Callie smiled and shifted closer to him, hugging him tightly to her. “Good. I hate it when you can't sleep well. I'm way too familiar with that.”

  He hugged her back. “Yeah. It's been nice...so you feel like getting up and having some morning sex in the shower?” he asked.

  “Have I ever said no to that question?”

  * * * * *

  Over breakfast, Allan could feel something coming.

  He was never entirely sure how he knew when something big was approaching. It was a little like smelling rain on the air or seeing lightning on the distant horizon, but significantly more subtle. After their shower, he and Callie had headed for the mess hall, grabbed some bacon and eggs and sat down. Probably the first clue was how empty the place was. The Dauntless tended to operate on a fairly regular schedule...for the most part. There were almost always at least some people in the mess hall in the morning.

  But there'd been only one other person, Keron, who was sitting by himself, staring out a window as he drank something from a steaming mug.

  Maybe it was just the timing. As weird as it sounded, it seemed like something seemed to crop up on a fairly regular schedule. Or maybe that was just his imagination. As he finished his meal, Allan made a note to check the dates on their mission logs. He also noted that neither of them seemed to have very much to talk about this morning. Several months ago, that might have worried him, but he was far enough into the relationship and knew enough about Callie that he knew it wasn't a problem. They were both people who were sometimes prone to long silences as they sorted their thoughts. Plus, they didn't always need to be talking.

  Sitting in each others' presence was often enough.

  After they finished up, the pair put their dirty dishes onto the conveyer belt that led back into the kitchen and headed out of the mess hall.

  “What are you going to do?” Allan asked.

  “I've been slacking a little on target practice lately, so I thought I'd get some of that in today,” Callie replied. “What about you?”

  “I'm going to go talk with Greg. And I think we're going to get shipped out again today.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  He shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

  “Fair enough.” Callie gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  He watched her head away down the brightly-lit corridor, and when she was gone from his sight, he turned around and started walking. Then he stopped. Where would Greg be? He thought about it for a moment. Maybe he was back in his quarters. Except...no, Greg was usually awake by now. Had he already eaten breakfast? Allan thought about it for a bit longer, then decided to check the observation room. Greg seemed to have been spending a lot of time there lately. As he started off towards it, he found himself falling into deeper thought.

  Would Greg really leave?

  Could he leave?

  He remembered talking with Greg about his problems. The man admitted that he was addicted to taking stupid risks, which this lifestyle provided in abundance. Could he walk away? He hadn't been able to when Kyra had left. But that was a long time ago. Or, at least, it felt like a long time ago. A lot had happened to them all since then and time seemed to move differently when you were cramming a shit-ton of living into your life. Honestly, Lindholm felt like years and years ago, even though it had been only about twelve months ago now.

  As he navigated the chromium corridors of the ship that was his home, Allan wondered if he would be able to walk away from this all. His immediate reaction was to think no, he'd never leave this behind, but then he remembered his assessment of all his various emotional issues, boiling just beneath the surface.

  Who's to say what he would think if something truly traumatic and awful happened to him, after the dust had settled in his head?

  It wasn't something he really wanted to think about.

  Allan came back to himself as he heard familiar voices up ahead. He turned a corner and saw Genevieve and Jennifer walking and talking together, coming towards him.

  “Hey, where are you two going?” he asked.

  “We've got a mission,” Jennifer replied. She seemed to have mixed feelings about that, based on the look on her face.

  “What is it?”

  “We're checking out an outpost that sent out a distress call. They were apparently attacked by a monster,” Genevieve replied.

  “Oh...well, that's not ambiguous or anything.”

  “Ambiguous is in the job description at this point,” Jennifer replied.

  “Yep. Well, good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Genevieve replied.

  They passed each other. Allan glanced back at them as they kept going. Were they dating? As he picked his pace back up and contemplated that, another thought came to him: a lot of them were pairing off. It seemed kind of weird, honestly. He and Callie, Drake and Eric, Jennifer and Genevieve (maybe?), Greg and Eve, (sort of). Sure, at least two of those pairs were in open relationships, but it still struck him as odd. The kind of people it took to do a job like this tended towards extremism and isolationism.

  Maybe that's why they were pairing off: they all understood each other, understood what it would take to hold together and maintain a real relationship. He imagined any one of them would immediately scare off any civilian and maybe even most regular military personnel. It took a special type of crazy to do this job and a similar kind of crazy to date those that did. Well, at least he'd found Callie. He was deeply appreciative of the relationship he had with her. It was easily the best one he'd had in his whole life. Allan realized he was approaching the observation room.

  Sure enough, Greg was inside, staring out the domed overhead window into the infinite vastness of space. Most of the walls were transparent as well, offering a truly awe-inspiring view. Allan approached him and came to stand beside him.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” Greg replied quietly without looking down.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Not too good...” He sighed suddenly and reached into his pocket. He fished out a pack of Galactic Lites cigarettes and a lighter. “Want one?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Allan replied.

  They both lit up cigs and stood there staring out the windows, smoking in silence for a long moment.

  “So what's on your mind?” Allan asked when the silence had gone on for too long.

  “I'm sure Callie or someone else has told you that I've been thinking about leaving,” he replied, blowing a formless puff of blue smoke.

  “Yes...are you?”

  He opened his mouth, closed it, frowned, shook his head. “I don't know,” he muttered. “I don't know about anything anymore. After Ash and...well, you know what happened, after that, my head, my thoughts all seem kind of...scrambled. I know for a fact that I'm not in any shape to deal with a mission right now and Hawkins keeps offering to ship me out to Mezzanine or something. I've been thinking about it, but it just feels like a surface solution for a deeper problem. I need...to clear my head,” Greg explained.

  “So what would that actually entail?” Allan asked.

  Greg shook his head. “I don't know. That's the problem. I don't know. I've been thinking about...” he hesitated, fell silent.

  “Thinking about what?”

  “Kyra.”

  “Oh...I'm sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too. I'd rather not think about her. I mean, Eve is great. And we're...happy. But what I had with Kyra...” he heaved a sigh, took another puff. “I don't know. Sometimes I think I'm still in love with Kyra, which makes me feel like shit. Then I think that I'm just romanticizing, that it's all bullshit and what I have with Eve is great and I'd be an idiot to walk away. I'm just...fuck, I don't know. Everything's all
fucked up now.”

  “I'm sorry,” Allan repeated, not sure what to say. Being social had never really been his strong suit. Even now he felt ill-equipped to deal with something like this.

  But he had to try.

  Greg shook his head and straightened up. He turned to face Allan. “Thanks for the talk,” he said. “You're a good friend and I know this isn't easy. I'll, uh...see you around.”

  “All right. And you're a good friend, too. And...good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  Allan watched him go, worry and empathy filling him. He really hoped Greg got this sorted out without too much trouble, because he had been there, teetering at the edge, unsure of anything, desperate for some sort of change, some answer, something to make him happy or at least like he felt normal again.

  Allan returned his attention to the stars.

  It suddenly struck him how insane his life was. He wasn't sure exactly what it was or why now, but looking at these stars really slammed home the fact that he was living on a space ship, fighting intergalactic horrors the likes of which no one had ever seen before. It was his literal job. They gave him a paycheck for it. When he was growing up in those awful slums on Frontier, he never dreamed his life would be like this.

  Overhead, the shipwide comms crackled to life. Hawkins' gravelly voice came on the air. “Allan, Callie, I need you in Briefing Room One immediately.”

  Allan sighed softly and finished smoking.

  Occasionally, he did lament being right.

  * * * * *

  Callie was already in the briefing room by the time he got there.

  The only two other occupants in the small room were Hawkins and a combat tech Allan had gotten to know only a little bit named Laura Porter. She had smooth mocha skin, short black hair and eyes that clearly had implants, glowing an electric blue. The little that he gathered from her so far was that she was smooth, calm and competent, one of those people that never needed to raise their voice to get their point across.

  “Come in, Allan, we need to get started. We don't have a lot of time,” Hawkins said.