The Shadow Among The Stars

by Dylan Sanchez

  The water was hot and steaming, the ventilation system neatly catching any wisps of vapor escaping the tall shower stall. He grunted in a long, relaxed exhalation. He had forgotten how nice it was to have hot water, and had been relishing it every moment he wasn’t deeply appreciating the wide food selection available from the dispensary. He was a man of simple luxuries, which was unsurprising given how stimulating and unpredictable his daily existence could often be. He could hardly have hoped for more than what was provided at Raven’s Landing: comfort, order, a chance to do good. Most of all, he was unexpectedly excited to be around people again.

  He had never felt an overriding need to talk or interact with others, but having colorful team members living and interacting around him brought a wonderful, lively warmth to his life. He was especially thankful that Bryluen, the central locus of everything at Raven’s Landing, was always curious and non-judgmental of anything he had experienced or could describe. He supposed it made sense that she could keep a straight face at any cost, but he felt she held a genuine empathy and desire to understand him and his needs as much as her natural urge to learn and explore.

  Nicadzim in particular felt a connection to Vort. Both of them were difficult or impossible for the others to truly understand. Vort was lost and separated from all he knew, while Nicadzim was tossed nightly into unknowable foreign scenarios and never really knew what to expect from each day. They had both talked a little about their personal lives, but Nicadzim was by nature not given to over-sharing, and even across species lines sensed Vort held some deeply personal concerns and worries about his isolation.

  Nicadzim could hardly blame him, but Vort had told him his species were a social people. So if nothing else Nicadzim made sure to chat with Vort and spend time with him daily, to make sure the alien did not spend the day alone in his room. They watched movies or shows, and discussed literature and history often. Music was one of Vort’s favorite subjects, though he was overtaken by a nostalgic melancholy whenever he heard most kinds of mid-century Power Opera. The others did, of course, spend time with the distinctly likable alien as well. Kirby was fond of Vort, eagerly answering his questions when he would float overhead and watch her work.

  Nicadzim finished bathing himself, then dried off and entered his bedroom with a long towel wrapped around his pillar of a waist. A mewling, twisted something like a tumbleweed made of centipedes was busy tossing his bedsheets aside. Nicadzim raised a hand as he walked over to his dresser. The metal block appeared in his grip and incinerated the squirming thing. He gave it no second thought as he picked out a fresh set of clothes.

  10. Sit Downs and Sleep, Interrupted

  As evening arrived, Bryluen called Dread Naught to the meeting room. She leaned against the wall in a thick bathrobe, her hair still damp. The team filed in from their various activities throughout Raven’s Landing, and by this point were each washed up and wore fresh clothing. The greatly renewed team arrayed around a still of the Atet’s footage of the massive creature they had witnessed earlier.

  “So, what’s got you taking casual w-wear to the next level?” Runner slumped into a chair with a smile.

  Bryluen grinned. “Let’s see, what have I done today? I showered, had a video chat with the Missus, and—oh! You may recall, that battle we survived? That might be what it was. Now I’ve got some updates from the CSOE, nothing enormous at the moment, but I wanted to let you all know. The behemoth here and any others like it have been classified as a Sjorthursar, so that’s the official name for this ugly son of a bitch. Secondly, our enemy has itself been granted an overall term that encompasses whatsoever many forms it will take. Be honored, because it’s named after us. Our enemy will be known internally as The Dreaded.”

  She paused as the team took in the name. It was just barely short of a pun but had a nice, neat ring to it bordering on the dramatic. After this pause, she continued.

  “High Command has a preliminary agreement with the Commandant Prime of the Astral Marine Corps to begin raising patrol counts in our border systems. In three days’ time a Qixing diplomatic party will arrive at Raven’s Landing to discuss cooperation and the ability to enter Qixing space if needed.”

  The Operative straightened up and began to pace. “This means that this Thursday, as of 930 hours local time, we will be hosting a diplomatic negotiation. It’s going to be a minimal, private affair given that it’s really just two intelligence agencies talking to each other, but a meeting does mean there will be protocols to observe. I’ve sent you each an etiquette packet. Mostly it’s reasonably common sense, but you need to learn the Qixing formal greeting. It’s particular, so don’t screw it up. For those who have never met our allies, they are people who respect formality and orderliness to the utmost during official functions. I trust each of you to treat them with respect and dignity, as representatives of the CSOE and Humanity in this endeavor.

  “That said, I’m going to be the one doing business, so don’t get worried if you’re a shy public speaker. You are expected to greet the diplomats on the landing pad when they arrive, and after that you will need to socialize with and otherwise entertain the retainers—we’ll go over anything else the morning of the event. Send any questions or concerns my way, and remember to recycle your damaged armor plates and print replacements in the workshop before you head off to bed. Questions?”

  Vort raised a wing, and Bryluen nodded at him. “What do you think The Dreaded actually are? We know they are vicious and seem to like weird rocks, but what are they? Why haven’t they been encountered before? Why here? And also why does the database state The Dreaded are black?”

  “I honestly don’t have any clue, Vort. Maybe they were hibernating or migrated from elsewhere. I’m certain the Stones have some answers, but we’ll need to find one to study for ourselves to get any actual information. Until we know more about the Stones it’s more than a little difficult to ask every installation, museum, and hab structure in Human space if they have any particularly suspicious black rocks on hand. The CSOE’s got data miners on the case, but we just don’t have leads.” She looked about the room. “I know we don’t have much yet, and that’s frustrating. But we’re going to get what we need. We’ll find a way to get a Stone and make it tell us how to find its friends. We’re going to figure this out. To answer your last question, Vort … we probably just can’t see whatever you’re seeing. Do they have color to you? In infrared or ultraviolet?”

  Kirby raised a hand. “Have you dealt with a situation like this before, Bryl?”

  “In some ways. I’ve reverse engineered motives and tracked insignificant things that ended up blowing a case open. It does happen, and the CSOE at large has experience with it. Dread Naught just has to do what we can to facilitate that. We will be getting called the instant a Stone is identified by any CSOE branch, and we’ll be on site to get one, mark my words.”

  After the meeting, Dread Naught began to drift off to bed. Kirby was first off, having worked most of the day to begin with. She chatted with Runner in the hall for a short time before entering her room. Runner entered his own shortly after, then Nicadzim wandered off to bed. Bryluen sat in her office researching every angle she could think of regarding the mysterious Stones and The Dreaded. Archaeology, crypto-zoology, T’hròstag oral records, and more, trying to find anything she could work off of or send as a query to the CSOE Info teams.

  Bryluen’s office was a small, calming space anchored by a heavy faux-wood desk with a wide, deeply cushioned swiveling chair. An antique lamp sat atop the desk, bathing the wide surface in a cool white light. A squat bookshelf held physical copies of a range of Bryluen’s favorite tomes on law, philosophy, history, and CSOE case reports. A display was embedded into the wall above the desk, where she could summon database information or contact anyone.

  She heard someone enter the room, and turned her chair to find Vort standing in the doorway, shining in goldenrod. “May I enter?”

  “Of course, Vort. What’s going on?�
�

  He imitated a shrug with his wings. “I’m just up and have been thinking about The Dreaded.”

  “You and me, both. You said your people were encountering The Dreaded. What did you know about them?”

  “Not much. I ... was an explorer. My people only occupied a small cluster of systems so I ranged outside of our boundaries documenting discoveries and transmitting them back to Way-stations. I was too far out to keep up with news or daily events, but got wind of encounters with what I now know to be Rabisus. I don’t know how bad the conflict got, but if it was bad enough for my people they would have recalled us explorers to the core worlds. Who knows, maybe they have by now.”

  Bryluen thought about this for a moment, crossing one leg over the other. “Vort, can you tell me what happened before you ended up on Pothles IV?”

  Vort slowly turned puce. “M-may I shut the door? It ... concerns me but I know I can trust you with this.”

  “Absolutely, Vort. You know I can keep secrets, it’s my job.”

  The alien pushed the button to close the door with a wing tip. It whisked closed, taking every exterior sound with it. The office fell silent. “Then I will share it. Sadly I know very little real detail. I had picked up a vague partial transmission a week earlier, something about some ... plan? It was garbled but the voice sounded like it was a big announcement of some sort, public.

  “I heard nothing more and was crossing through the gate from TS-DRNM’PLZ to T’TH-THKN when my sensors maxed out from a huge energy reading. I saw in my displays a massive wave of energy from what seemed to be the direction of the home worlds: a stellar shock wave bigger than anything I’ve ever seen, super novas included. It was losing speed and gave out right as it reached me.

  “I ... fell? I felt a thousand different things at once, images and panoramas that come back to me in dreams sometimes. Colors I can’t describe, and emotions I didn’t know existed. It felt like I remained that way for a hundred years when suddenly, with a ... scream like the very cradle burst of creation, I found myself on Pothles IV bereft of my craft or belongings. I only survived due to the biological alterations that allow us explorers to breathe almost any atmosphere.”

  Bryluen slowly sat back in her chair and began to wag her elevated foot. “Do you have any theories on this? You mentioned it, so you must feel that the shock wave and that transmission were related?”

  Vort was silent for minute, his skin boiling between yellows and bruised purples. “... I don’t know. My people did not spend much time on weapons or fighting. Whatever it was, it ... probably wasn’t a weapon, but I don’t know what it would be. I think: what if it was a response to The Dreaded? What if it was bad enough that they should have recalled me?”

  Bryluen fell still. “... Vort. I need you to answer me as honestly as possible.”

  Vort tilted slightly, his skin settling on a dizzying magenta tone. Bryluen breathed. “You said you couldn’t chart your way home ... but you’re an explorer. You’ve seen our star charts, so I don’t think you were lying about being unable to find your way home, you truly are unable to do so—just not for the reasons you let us believe.”

  Vort froze as she continued. “... You already know your home isn’t in the Milky Way. You know that energy wave somehow made you hop galaxies.”

  The alien shrank back, becoming a sickly reddish tone. “I … yes.”

  Bryluen’s voice became quiet, her voice a tense, sibilant whisper pushed through clenched teeth. “Why have you said nothing? The Dreaded exist in multiple galaxies, Vort? That is important information! We are facing something that can travel between galaxies. That exponentially raises the roof on how many of them there may be!”

  Heat jetted from Vort’s back for a moment. “I … I … didn’t want to think about the implications. I didn’t want to think if my people were wholly under siege, if The Dreaded are some vast universal plague. And if they were, what can be done about them regardless?”

  Bryluen’s voice raised back to a normal volume. “I’d still want to know. I would want to know everything I could for the smallest chance at survival, or even just answers ...” She closed her eyes for a moment. “But I guess I can see what you’re saying. Though answer me honestly: were you ever going to tell me this unprompted?”

  Vort’s vanes emanated heat with a sound similar to a sigh. “I knew you would ask if I came in here tonight and told you who I was.”

  Bryluen relaxed. “That’s something. There are many different variations of how this is explained, and all of them are very bad. Not only can we not see them when they travel, but they’ve got branches in different galaxies … Shit. But for now you—” She pointed at the diminutive alien. “—anything else you know, you will bring to me. Our lives and maybe the lives of everyone in Human space depend on me knowing everything I can. Even if it hurts, don’t you dare play with our lives and withhold a single thing. Do you understand me?”

  Vort made a slight mewling sound and darkened to a rich maroon. “... Yes ma’am. I promise I know nothing else. I am sorry for distressing you.”

  Afterward, Vort headed off to bed. Bryluen stayed up a little longer continuing her research, the increasing scale of the potential threat spinning in her mind. Eventually she headed to her own bed, opting to send a sentimental message to her wife. They corresponded often and were used to being apart for long periods due to their respective careers. But when things seemed bad, Bryluen’s thoughts always bent toward the person who made her feel happy and loved through it all. The message sent, something private and meaningful, she continued to ponder Vort’s story as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

  The next thing she knew she was torn back into consciousness—the alarm above Nicadzim’s door was going off, its blaring cry relayed into the team’s rooms through the intercom system. Bryluen burst into the hall, nabbing her sidearm from her nightstand as she flew out the door in a silken night gown. The door burst open to a scene of pure havoc. Nicadzim was stumbling into the hall, baton in hand, a the weapon flashing as he swatted at a group of horrid things flowing after him from inside his room. Each was a tumbling orange mass of hissing, vine-like appendages. Each appendage bore mandibles and rows of small legs that took turns rotating the total mass in a sickening, rolling motion. Each of the wretched things was slightly flattened, as if accustomed to slightly lower gravity. Vort was already in the hall, and puffed a gout of flame through Nicadzim’s door, burning away a great part of the hostile mass. Bryluen began to shoot the individuals around Nicadzim, her pistol’s harsh muzzle flash lighting the hall in staccato bursts. Runner burst into the hall with a tri-pistol, followed shortly by Kirby with an old shotgun in her fists and a wild look in her eyes.

  The team rapidly blew the creatures back into the room, advancing after them to the doorway. A rough hole, like a bullet wound in reality, hovered in the air near Nicadzim’s bed. Beyond the hole—clearly some sort of portal—was an unreal landscape of blue floating islands and neon green electrical storms. Closer to them a ravine stretched away into the distance, winding like a riverbed. Rather than water, however, it was filled with untold thousands of the horrid beings. The awful creatures tumbled out of the portal in a continuous, wriggling mass like a living pipe leak of the most abhorrent kind.

  Nicadzim shouted over the team’s gunfire. “The gateway closes about two minutes from now!”

  Mainly due to brief puffs of flame and lightning from Vort, the creatures continued to lose ground until they stopped being able to come through the portal without being immediately blown to pieces or turned to ash. After a short time, the opening began to contract and fizzle out. The entire firefight lasted less than three minutes. Dread Naught stood around Nicadzim’s bed, glancing around at the writhing pieces left of the horrible creatures.

  Kirby whooped, a distant look in her eyes. “That … I think I need new panties now.”

  At about that time, they collectively realized Bryluen’s night gown was by far the closest any of them
were to being properly clothed.

  Bryluen nodded toward Runner. “Kirby was right, you do shave everything. I like the pattern on your, uh, hammock, there.”

  Runner’s chest tattoo glowed softly in the dim room. He followed Bryluen’s gaze downward, then shrugged. “Paisley never ages.”

  “And neither should you if you’re gonna keep wearin’ that!” Kirby chimed in.

  Runner looked offended. “Well, you … a-actually are coordinated, Kirby. I’m-m surprised, but proud of you.”

  Kirby curtseyed, producing a laugh from Nicadzim and Bryluen. “Well thank ya muchly. Buuut, this is probably the only time it’s gonna happen. New set and all.”

  Nicadzim looked around at his compatriots. He was wearing burgundy briefs whose scale meant they could have been convincingly hung on a flag pole. “Please inform me once the calendar photo-shoot begins. Additionally, thank you all for when you helped me avoid being eaten by these … chewing-ball monsters.”

  Bryluen kicked a still-squirming piece of creature into the hall. “No problem, but I’m honestly all for continuing to ogle each others’ underwear if that means not discussing these things, because almost everything about them makes me want to throw up in my mouth.”

  “In that case: I continue to be of the opinion that non-insulating clothes are odd!”, Vort chirped.

  Runner looked down at the ten-legged alien. “It’d be a hell of a thing to get you fit-tted for pants, that’s for sure.”

  Bryluen spread her hands. “Vort, I’m going to venture a guess that having internal genitalia likely contributes to that opinion. Regardless, as an unbiased observer, you can see that obviously I’m the best dressed here.”

  “Your name is on my paycheck, so I will gleefully affirm your opinion.”

  Kirby snapped her fingers. “Uh, by the way, Nico, you can sleep on my couch if ya need. Let the drones pick up all the gross shit?”