Countdown (The Shadow Wars Book 9)

by S. A. Lusher

  Suddenly, the atmosphere seemed to change. It became darker and heavier in the room. The sphere began to radiate pure darkness, darker than the void of airless space. The Head Director's eyes began to blaze up, the crimson light brightening until it seemed like twin spotlights were shooting out of his head. A horrible, alien presence seemed to fill the room, permeating on the air like invisible heat waves or the overpowering scent of dead, rotting flesh or some kind of immense power radiating from something lethal and radioactive.

  All at once, Greg couldn't move.

  His entire body was frozen, all he could move were his eyes. From the limited peripheral vision he had, he could tell the others had frozen up as well. What was happening? Even given everything he had faced in his short career with Dark Operations, from waking up on Dis with no memories to the assassin in white, this was flat out fucking weird.

  It also felt like he was dying.

  The Head Director was standing now, and when he spoke, a new voice emerged from his throat. “Little things,” it said. “You cannot even imagine what life would be like under my reign. For all of your pathetic, miserable species has worshiped invisible, imaginary beings, 'gods' you call them, since its inception. You could have had the real thing. But you threw it all away out of fear of the unknown. Now you will suffer.”

  The voice was so low and deep and powerful that Greg imagined it was destroying the Head Director's throat. No longer talking with the man, they were talking to the inter-dimensional being behind the man, pulling the strings.

  Greg felt his hand move suddenly. He raised the pistol he was holding and turned it towards Eve. Blind terror stole over him as he realized what the thing intended to do. He felt his finger tightening on the trigger. For a second, he felt utterly hopeless. They were all going to die here. He could see, from his peripheral, that Drake and Keron had weapons pointed at each other. He could feel his finger preparing to move that final centimeter, the barrel of his pistol pointing, unwaveringly, at Eve's face, directly into her right eye...

  No.

  His finger stopped and would go no further. Greg slammed his willpower against the alien presence in his head. For a long, seemingly eternal moment, it was no sure thing who would win. Then, slowly, inch by mental inch, Greg began to push the alien presence out of his skull. His finger released the trigger, then he began to turn slowly towards the Head Director. It seemed to take ages and eras, and the alien shrieked and screamed inside of his skull and fought him all the way. But it couldn't seem to maintain a solid grip on him.

  Greg continued turning until finally his sights were settled on the Head Director's face. Now, all he could see were twin crimson lights, blazing like beacons in an eternal stygian existence. There was nothing left of the man, only the being from beyond. It all came down to this. Greg knew he had to break the thing's hold on reality, or else it would kill them all. For a second, he wondered if he should shoot the sphere, but he felt that a mere pistol wouldn't be able to hurt it, not in its present state. He hoped that this would do.

  He squeezed the trigger.

  Time seemed to slow. He could almost see the bullet as it traveled between them. It crossed the distance, cutting through the air and slammed into the Head Director's face, right between the eyes. A loud, horrible, alien shriek filled his head, filled the whole area, then, suddenly, like someone had flipped a switch, it was gone. Greg regained control of his body, the Head Director's corpse collapsed, his brains spraying all over the workstation behind him. Everyone let out a collective gasp as control over their bodies was given back to them.

  The sphere, now little more than a black metal ball the size of a grapefruit, hit the floor with a dull, though heavy, thud.

  “What the fuck was that?” Drake gasped.

  “It's over,” Greg replied. His legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor as exhaustion, both mental and physical, finally caught up with him.

  Eve hurriedly limped over to him. “Greg!? Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Fine, just tired,” he replied. “I need a fucking nap.”

  “I think we've all earned a nap,” Keron muttered. “Or a vacation.”

  “A month on Mezzanine,” Eve said.

  “Everyone keeps going on about that place,” Keron replied.

  “It's fantastic,” Drake replied. “Great place.”

  They all fell silent, their gazes drifting to the dark sphere on the floor.

  “What should we do with it?” Eve asked.

  “Let's leave it here,” Greg replied. “Let Hawkins' men deal with it. I doubt there's anyone here left alive.”

  “We should check, to be sure,” Keron said.

  So they did. They fired up the BioScan and determined that they were the only living things within a five mile radius. They made the call to Hawkins, to let him know that it was over, that he could come and get them now.

  It was over.

  EPILOGUE

  –Welcome to Anomalous Ops–

  Greg walked briskly through the brilliantly-lit corridors of the station he was currently aboard. He tugged briefly at the black jumpsuit he was wearing. He'd tried dressing in normal civilian clothing but had only managed it for a week before giving up and reverting back to the jumpsuits. Greg turned a corner and hurried his pace.

  He was excited.

  It had been just over a month since the shit had gone down, he and his friends had fought monsters and madness out beyond the Far Reach and put an end to Rogue Operations for good. After getting back, everyone had spent three solid days in and out of debriefings. Not just for the mission itself, but for everything, from the beginning. Now that it was all over, the Galactic Alliance finally wanted to know the truth behind the terror, whether or not it had all been bullshit. Finally, the endless investigators had been satisfied, to some degree, and everyone was cut loose for two weeks' real vacation.

  They had all gone to Mezzanine.

  It had been a genuine, real vacation. Greg, Eve, Allan, Drake, Gen and Callie had all gotten the best suites at the best hotels on the best island of the whole damned planet, all expenses paid, courtesy of Hawkins and his great political power. The other members of Spec Ops who had survived had also been given a vacation as well, though none of them had felt like going to Mezzanine. Greg had done all the things he'd promised to himself: drink, smoke, lots of sex with Eve, swimming in an ocean and relaxing on a beach. He'd also tried out gambling, but he hadn't been very good at it. It had been quite a hell of a good time.

  When it had been over, apparently the Galactic Alliance still hadn't gotten their shit together, and all Hawkins would tell them was that there was 'something big on the horizon'. Greg wasn't sure what to make of that. They still didn't have an answer as to whether or not any of them were in trouble. Sure, they'd been operating under GA authority, but they'd all done illegal things, to some degree or another, in completing this assignment or during the past and now they knew a hell of a lot that, officially, no one was supposed to know.

  Hawkins seemed to feel good about it all, but he was also keeping a lid on things. So they'd been given about another two weeks off to do whatever they'd wanted. Everyone had left. Greg wasn't sure what Drake had gone off to do, or Allan and Callie, but it had been somewhat serious. He could tell in their demeanors when he ran into them. It made sense. They all had baggage, in one form or another, that could actually be dealt with.

  Greg's baggage...hadn't turned out like he'd expected. He and Eve had finally gone to see his parents. It had been nice, but...

  He didn't want to think about that.

  Finally, he stepped through a doorway and came into an observation platform. Hawkins had called them all to gather. He said he had something important to tell them and something important to ask them. That seemed to indicate good news, though Greg was still wary. He'd learned to be so ever since waking up on Dis.

  Hawkins stood in front of a window that was opaque. He looked like a man preparing to drop a veil and show somethin
g really neat to a crowd. Eve, Drake, Genevieve, Allan and Callie were already there, standing before him, staring at Hawkins and the opaque window.

  “It's about time,” Hawkins said gruffly, but there was genuine good cheer in his voice. Greg moved to stand next to Eve, who smiled at him and took his hand. “So...first of all, I imagine you'll all want to know about the loose ends from the Rogue Ops missions. The artifact you discovered is still inert. We have it under lock and key at an isolated research facility, attempting to discern exactly what it was, where it came from and how it works. We've finished locating and destroying all of the remaining Cyr sites that might be used to open up that portal. The GA is also in the process of gathering up all intel relating to the process so that no one might ever try to start again. Though I imagine they'll have a hard time since even Rogue Ops, working with all the best gear and personnel money could buy was only really firing up old Cyr tech...

  “Rogue Ops is dead and gone. Based on the information we gathered from this final op, we've cleared out all of their bases, seized all their remaining assets, ships and tech and arrested everyone we could find. There's a number of personnel still missing, presumed dead, but...Enzo is still listed among the missing. We've got eyes out there for him, but so far...nothing. I'm sorry, Drake. Now, on to more current events...all of you are in the clear. I've come through with my promises. Your bank accounts are fat and secure. Your records are clean. Actually, you're all to be presented with medals for what you've done.” Here he stopped, and grinned.

  “But you're all wondering...'what happens next?' Am I right?”

  There was a general murmur of affirmation.

  Hawkins' smile widened. “Perfect. Well, what happens next is this: I, and by extension, the Galactic Alliance, would like to offer each of you a job. It's a job that very few others are capable of doing and you are all uniquely qualified to do. In light of recent events, the GA has opted to close down Dark Operations and bring back the Office of Intelligence. But they could not deny how...unsettling and bizarre the galaxy can get at times, and they need someone capable of dealing with these...abnormalities. Which is why they've tentatively agreed to start up Anomalous Operations, with myself in charge, and the surviving Spec Ops personnel you all served with over the past few months as the crew. All that's left is for the six of you to say yes.”

  For a moment, there would be silence.

  “What would we actually be doing?” Greg asked finally.

  “Dealing with unique threats that present themselves on the galactic front...or something like that. Basically, whenever someone finds an ancient alien artifact that turns them into zombies or encounters a lethal new type of monster, you will be called in to deal with it. You'll have the best gear, the best pay, whatever you want, I'll do my damnedest to get it to you. So...what do you say?”

  In the end, it didn't very long. They all said yes.

  Because, if they were being honest with themselves, what else, exactly, did they expect to do with their lives now?

  After they'd all said yes, Hawkins' turned and changed the setting on the window behind him from opaque to transparent. As it fell away, he stepped out of the way. Beyond the window was a ship, about half the size of the Atonement. It looked sleek and quick and state-of-the-art. It was painted a flat black, though its joints were painted a sharp industrial yellow. Along the side, in the same glowing industrial yellow, was a single word.

  DAUNTLESS.

  Hawkins' smile widened. “Welcome to Anomalous Ops.”

  WARM MEMORIES

  A companion short set during the epilogue of Countdown.

  Following a two week vacation after all the insanity of chasing down Rogue Operations, the Galactic Alliance still doesn't know what to do with those who saved the galaxy. Greg decides to take the opportunity to face one of his largest fears: his lost memories.

  He and Eve go to his place of birth, to meet his parents, to see, once and for all, if there's anything left in the galaxy that might rekindle his memories...

  Greg awoke from a nightmare of purgatory that consisted of nothing more than blood and steel and rotted flesh. He gasped as his eyes shot open and he sat straight up. He was tangled up in sweat-soaked sheets and for a second, he fought viciously to get unraveled from them. Something shifted in the bed beside him and blind terror ensnared him momentarily. It was banished the second a soft blue light that gently lit the room fell across pale features. He let out a sigh of relief, heart slowly getting back down to normal.

  “It's okay, honey,” Eve said, reaching out and seeking his hand in the darkness. Their hands met and fingers twined. “You're safe. You're with me.”

  “Yeah...yeah,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment, getting himself back under control. “Sorry,” he said.

  “It's fine. I have nightmares too. You've had to calm me down any number of times,” Eve replied, smiling kindly at him.

  He stared at her for a moment. She looked ghostly in the pale blue light, ethereal, almost unnaturally beautiful. Slowly, he reached out and ran his fingertips down one cheek. Her smile widened and she reached up, took his hand again in hers.

  “Look,” she said, nodding behind him.

  He turned and saw, finally, where the blue light was coming from. He and Eve were on a spacebound cruise ship. They'd been traveling at FTL speeds for the past three days, enjoying the various commodities the ship had to offer. They had arrived at their destination and had settled into orbit. Greg's and Eve's cabin was luxurious, what they called the Elite Suite. One of the best features was a big, comfortable bed set right up next to a huge window that offered a great view into space. It appealed to Greg, appealed to the part of him that liked living dangerously. One blowout, one malfunction, and that would be it for them.

  That thought made him frown, turn away from the blue-green planet below them and stare back at Eve. He knew that something fundamental was waiting for him on the planet below: the answer to a question. At the moment, Greg knew that there were two things genuinely fueled him. The search for his memory and his growing addiction to adrenaline.

  His memory was the main reason he was here.

  Greg was looking to meet his parents.

  He was hoping that this meeting might, somehow, spark his memory. They still lived in the home he grew up in. If that didn't induce some hint of nostalgia, some peek into the recesses of his lost memory...

  Well, it wasn't going to be pretty. Because, as far as he was concerned, this was it. This was his last real chance. Hawkins had run all the tests, done all the research, called in all the experts. And no one could figure out anything about his memory. They couldn't even tell him if it was actually gone, if his past was truly lost, or if it was just locked up, and the right thing would jar it loose. That was, perhaps, most maddening of all.

  He supposed there was still a distant hope out there. They would, presumably, get their hands on more of Rogue Operations' files and databases, and although everything they'd learned on Dis was gone, lost with the planet, he still held some kind of vague notion that there might be something hidden in the files to help him.

  But that hope grew dimmer with each passing day.

  “Shit,” Greg muttered, as he realized how cold he was. He'd sweat through his sheets and blankets. They were wet and chilly now.

  “Here, I'll help you,” Eve replied.

  Greg sighed and thanked her. It was kind of an embarrassing problem, but it was one they both had. Him more than her, it seemed, though. They called for the lights to come onto their dimmest setting and they did, lighting the way. Greg and Eve stood, both of them naked from their previous activities before going to sleep.

  How many times had they had to do this? Switch out the damned sheets in the middle of the night? It was miserable. All because they had nightmares that freaked them out so much they ended up sweating up a damned storm. They managed to get it done fairly quickly, shoving the bundled up blankets and sheets down the dirty laundry chute and snap
ping the new ones into place. Greg began to get back beneath the blankets, but then hesitated. He smelled pretty terrible. “I need a shower,” he said with a sigh.

  “I'll join you,” Eve replied.

  He smiled at her and they walked into the bathroom. In a way, it felt weird being with her. Since a person's life was their memories, Greg's life began a few months ago. Kyra had been his first love, his first passion, his first girlfriend. In pretty much every sense of the word, she'd taken his virginity. Part of him had felt that she would always be there. But then they'd had to split, and for good reason: he wasn't willing to give his life up.

  And that wasn't fair to ask of her to stay, nor would it be fair to ask of him to leave.

  It had been miserable. He'd never felt more alone. And then Eve had come into his life. Eve was...different than Kyra. She was more laid back, more relaxed. In some ways, she was definitely similar. She was tough, smart, driven. Maybe he was just seeing what Kyra might have been like twenty years from now. There was an uncertainty that had hung over Kyra, something he'd found comforting, because he was so uncertain himself. What their relationship had been was...well, they didn't quite need each other, but it was very close to that.

  With Eve, he felt like she didn't need him. She wanted him. And, in a way, that was great. It wasn't fair to rely so thoroughly on someone else for your own happiness. It felt good to be wanted. In another way, it was kind of scary, because it sort of felt like Eve could just...leave. Kyra could have left, she did, obviously, but it had clearly been painful, a great sacrifice on her part. Greg figured that Eve would be upset if they had to break up, (unless he really earned it, then she'd probably be glad to see him go), but it wouldn't be as much of a sacrifice.

  As he started up the shower and they got in, Greg thought he might just be reading too much into nothing. Maybe he was just over-thinking a bunch of stuff he thought he'd seen and Eve was madly in love with him. Only...that didn't feel right. They didn't love each other, not quite. They liked each other a lot, and they were obviously an item, but...they didn't save 'I love you' to each other. Was that a big deal or not?