Shades of Dark

by Linnea Sinclair

  Sully was distinctly unsettled, in spite of the fact he believed he’d identified three possible sources for Gregor’s “fail-safe partner.” But what might come over the news feeds from the Narfial beacon worried him. The fact that he’d not had an answer from Drogue in several hours worried him even more.

  Communications to Moabar are rarely reliable, I reminded him as I watched the boards light up with the increasing traffic. Verno was at helm, Ren at communications. Marsh was sleeping because he’d be on duty, guarding the ship after we docked.

  We were no longer the Darvo Tureka, independent freighter out of the A-B. Now we were the Fair Jeffa, under contract to Core-Em-Ex, a division of Core Central Medical Suppliers. Our beautifully forged manifests showed we had duro-hards full of bedpans, thermal sheets, and insta-splint samples, plus two medical supplies salespersons doing catalog distribution.

  Core-Em-Ex was a real company. Our false sales personal were Gregor and Aubry, who’d be left behind. But our documents, in typical Sully style, were damned near infallible.

  I still would like to make sure the Purity Brigade isn’t also there to greet us, Sully told me, bringing me back to his worries over Drogue.

  Here’s an idea, I told him, keeping my tongue firmly planted in my cheek. We’ll position ourselves with the Brigade on our left and Tage’s friends on our right, and when they both raise their weapons to fire, we’ll duck.

  A lightpen sailed onto the bridge through the ready room’s open door and smacked the back of my chair. Not one of Gabriel’s tricks. Just Sully’s good throwing arm and dead-eye aim.

  Seriously—

  Seriously, I interrupted him. We’re picking up the beacon’s signal, starting data download. Let’s see what the news tells us. We might find our answers there.

  I switched captain’s controls over to the ready room’s deskscreens, then slid out of my chair, stopping to pick up Sully’s lightpen from the floor. I tossed it back at him. He caught it in midair. Only as I took the seat next to him did I realize it still floated there.

  If Dorsie comes in that might be a bit hard to explain.

  He plucked it out of the air and put it back in the slot in the table with a tense smile.

  I held out my hand.

  He frowned, not understanding, and reached for the lightpen.

  No.

  I clasped my hand around his and tried to send warm rainbows.

  He stared at me for a long moment then shook his head lightly, bemusement lighting his eyes. He brought my fingers to his mouth and for an even longer moment we sat there in silence, his breath warming my skin, his energy heating my soul. His eyes were closed, his thoughts, silent. But the agitation and worry he’d worn for hours lessened, at least a little.

  Words scrolled through a databox on my screen. He released my hand. “Abstracts are in,” I said. I had them sorted into chronological order, then scanned for any mention of Sully, Tage, and Thad. I got a hit on Thad right away. I sucked in a hard breath, ignored the abstract, and went straight for the text version of the news clip. It was quicker to load. But it was old news, and almost as brief as the abstract: Thad was maintaining his innocence and cooperating with authorities. No examples of what that cooperation entailed.

  “Nothing more?” Sully asked.

  “Not yet.” The second download was just finishing.

  But Thad was alive and, I had to assume, well. It occurred to me that the longer it took Tage to release the information on Sully, the longer Thad would live. He’d be a star witness and no use to him dead.

  “Wait. Here’s something.” Sully was performing his own perusal of the newsfeeds. “Englarians ask Admirals’ Council to investigate alleged abuses against Takans,” he read the headline out loud, mentally sending me the article citation. I pulled it up on my screen, reading as he did. It was another damnably brief article, noting a preliminary meeting between “official church representatives”—unidentified—and key members of the Admirals’ Council. Philip’s name was one of three listed. It had been a video conference, not unusual for a preliminary, with concerns expressed that current investigations into the deaths of Takan women in the Walker Colonies were being mishandled. The Englarians requested the investigation be taken away from the Ministry of Justice and placed under the Admirals’ Council due to “information the church has recently seen suggesting these attacks are not confined to the Walker Colonies or other locations in Calth, but may infect the entire Empire.” A larger investigation was needed.

  Tage was a senior member of the Ministry of Justice.

  “This may be why you haven’t heard from Drogue,” I said.

  Sully faced me. “Thad knows I sent a copy of the data on Burke’s labs to Drogue. We have to assume Tage knows that.”

  “Thad also knows Philip has a copy.”

  “Drogue’s not a Guthrie. He’s a nice, kindly man with a deep faith and strong desire to right wrongs. He’s totally unprepared for the kinds of things Tage can pull.” Concern, anger shimmered through our link. “Damn it, I specifically told him not to go public with any of this. Not until we met with Del, had that second lab and more proof.”

  “He has to do what he feels is right.”

  “What’s right will get him killed.”

  “Philip knows Drogue’s at risk. If it was Drogue who contacted the Council, it might actually be the smartest thing he could do at this point. Questions will be raised if something happens to him.”

  “He works in a prison colony. No one will think twice if some inmate slits his throat.”

  I leaned back in my chair, unable to deny the truth in Sully’s words. Drogue was likely still on Moabar Station as the blizzard season was in full force dirtside right now. But there were prisoners on station, awaiting transfer. Drogue could be in a lift or in a corridor at the very right yet wrong time. And no one would think twice.

  Ren’s voice came over intraship. “We’ve linked with Narfial Traffic Control, Captain.”

  I shared a brief, anguished glance with Sully then swiveled my chair around. I had work to do. And we had an appointment to keep.

  The last time I docked at Narfial Starport was about eight months before my arrest and court-martial. It wasn’t my usual sector but, like many patrol ships, we often did double duty. We’d been ordered to transport an enviro-tech repair team out of Corsau Station to Narfial, wait while they did whatever an enviro-tech repair team did, and bring them back. It had been an uneventful two and a half days.

  I had no such belief that this time it would be the same.

  Aubry and Gregor—Meevel Gregoran—were waiting by our hatchlock that connected to the station’s tubeway on E-level, looking slightly tired and confused. Sedation was wearing off. I walked up wearing plain spacer grays with no ship’s patches, my hair pulled back in a bun. It was wet, looking darker than its usual ruddy auburn, and I’d slipped a brimmed black cap—the kind dockworkers often wear—over it. Deliberately.

  Verno, in his monk’s hooded robe, stood off to one side, behind them. Just another passenger looking to depart. Ren was farther down the corridor.

  “Good luck with your new postings, gentlemen,” I said, databoard in hand, pretending to log off our “paying” passengers.

  “Thank you, Captain…?” Aubry’s voice drifted.

  “You might want to stay away from the drinking and card games for a while,” I put in with a wink.

  “Right, that’s right,” Meevel Gregoran said, shouldering his duffel. “No more celebrations. Time to work, now.”

  “And blessings of the hour to you,” I said, as Verno and Ren shuffled forward. “Perhaps we’ll meet again.” I hit the code for the hatchlock and the door chugged sideways with a grinding noise. That too was planned, making the Karn appear to be an old lugger. Not a pristine luxury yacht that the likes of Meevel Gregoran could little afford.

  The four of them ambled down the tubeway as I watched. Verno and Ren would keep them in sight for the next half hour or so, guide the
m to a traveler’s hostel if need be, then return to the ship. Aubry and Gregor were no longer a threat.

  Everyone else on station was.

  I went back to the ready room. We’d made station ahead of schedule. Sully had the deskscreen up, elbows on the tabletop, one hand fisted against his mouth. He nodded absently when I came in but didn’t turn. Nothing hung in the air between us to make me think there was some new problem.

  I swiveled a chair around, sat, then pulled off my cap and tossed it on the table.

  He glanced at me. “Baris Cup scores are in.”

  Ah. Intense concentration, hand fisted over mouth. The fate of the Empire may well rest on what we do in the next several hours, but Baris Cup scores are in.

  He arched one eyebrow. “I’m up, two to one.”

  I unwound my bun and shook out my damp hair, finger-combing it as I spoke. “It’s best of seven, Sully.”

  “Two back-to-back wins. I like that.”

  “An omen?”

  “Too early to tell.” He paused. “We need to win, Chaz. But if we can’t, we really need to make them lose.”

  I knew he wasn’t talking about zero-G racquetball. I angled my head for a better view of the databoxes on his deskscreen. The Karn was synched to the station, information coming in on a steady stream. Not like the snatch, grab, and go programs we used to filch things from the Imperial beacons. We were legitimate here. For now.

  Sully had more than just the sports scores on live feed.

  “Nothing on Thad or us?” I asked.

  “Preternaturally quiet. That concerns me. Your brother’s arrest and capitulation should be getting more airplay than it is.”

  “Maybe Drogue’s coming forward was a good thing.”

  “If it was Drogue, it may make them change some tactics. It won’t stop what they’re doing.”

  “Which is what, honestly?” I fished a hair tie out of my pants pocket and pulled my hair back in a long tail. “I’ve been thinking about Burke, Tage, and the jukors. We’ve discussed how Tage wants to take power away from the Council. I still can’t understand how jukors fit into all this. Do they intend to breed their own little army, faithful only to them? I don’t think those monstrosities have any allegiances. I’ve heard they’ve even killed those who feed them.”

  “Remember when that shipment got loose on Corsau Station ten years ago?”

  I nodded. The devastation was horrific, given the short amount of time. Then, widespread panic. Fleet, which was transporting them, was blamed, and for weeks all Fleet ships were banned from the area. Corsi freighters even took to firing on us. There were ugly whispers it was a ploy by the Admirals’ Council to try to gain a civilian commercial station so it could be used for Fleet’s own purposes.

  Insane, stupid rumors. If Fleet wanted a station in that sector, it’d build one.

  But emotions screamed louder than facts.

  “You’re telling me Hayden Burke was breeding jukors back then?”

  “No, and when I first realized Hayden was involved, that’s what didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense until Tage came forward in support of him. Hayden may be the money behind this project now, but it’s been in the planning stages for a very long time.”

  “To what end?”

  “Two weeks ago I might have given you a different answer to that question. But I finally got some information back on some of Tage’s private meetings.” He tapped at a databox on the screeen. “And projects and people he’s quietly sponsored. I need to dig a lot more, but my basic feeling is this: Tage wants to destroy what little faith people have left in the Empire. Whether it’s Prew or Sheldon Blaine, Tage still has to deal with an emperor by lineage sitting on the throne. Destroying the emperor himself won’t work, but destroying the institution of the imperium will. Tage wants the Empire in an uproar, locked down under martial law, and he wants to be the one calling the shots when that happens. He’ll gut Fleet. He’ll gut the ministries. He’s almost created a civil war with the Takas. The Boundary Wars alienated the Stolorths. Tage wants to knock it all down and then build it all up, in his image.”

  “But jukors?”

  “Mass hysteria. Slaughter of innocents. Jukors were created during the war on the emperor’s orders. They’re an official Imperial product. At least, that’s how the populace views it. Half will blame the emperor for not saving them, and the other half will blame the emperor for trying to kill them. Then they’ll revolt. And Takas, who form a very large part of our security forces, won’t be at their posts to stop it.”

  There was already talk of removing Takas from security positions. A picture began to form in my mind. And it was a bloody one.

  “Corsau wasn’t an accident, was it?”

  “Right now I can’t prove that but, no, I don’t think it was. I think it was a test run. They didn’t like what they saw, so they went back to the labs and designed a better jukor. This time, they’ll start on the rim where people are expendable, and work their way in until that revolt puts them in power. They’ll claim lands, resources under martial law. Or spoils of war. Take your pick.”

  I remembered Jodey Bralford saying that promises hadn’t been kept after the war. Mining and trade rights that were supposed to go to certain individuals, certain families, hadn’t. Now, Tage was insuring they would. Permanently.

  And not just mining and trade rights, but an entire empire.

  “Sully, destroying Burke’s lab isn’t going to be enough,” I said, suddenly realizing how difficult this was all going to be. I’d been considering it a search-and-destroy mission, but I was wrong. “We’re going to have to get inside and get proof, first.” Which meant I was going to have to face jukors again. I suppressed a shudder, my stomach twisting with the memory of their putrid scent, their hideous fanged faces.

  “That’s why we need Del. I was told he has ship’s schematics, crew info, everything. We won’t have to waste time searching. Get in, get the data, then blow it to hell and beyond.”

  With jukors, I wasn’t even sure hell and beyond might be enough. It was just a damned shame we couldn’t send Tage and Burke along for the ride.

  Sully shut down the deskcomp then stood. “Get your gear. It’s time.”

  We were logging out at the hatchlock and about to enter the tubeway when Dorsie’s voice in the corridor made me turn around. She’d been on the bridge with Marsh when Sully and I left the ready room ten minutes before. Now she was hurrying toward us, face creased in anger, wiping at her eyes with the edge of her long apron.

  “Dorsie?” I asked stepping toward her. Something was wrong. I could almost feel it.

  Then Sully edged past me, reaching for her with one hand, his other coming firmly to rest on my shoulder. And I knew. Something was very, very wrong.

  “Dorsie.” His voice was soft, gentle yet firm. Trust me, I’m here for you was a strong, palpable undercurrent.

  So was her horror.

  “The depot at Grover’s City. They got out. No one knew how it happened. No one knew how they got there!”

  Jukors. I saw flashes of images from Sully, who was pulling and processing the information much faster than I could from Dorsie’s mind.

  He took both of Dorsie’s hands in his own, holding them tightly. “Tell me what happened,” he said, even though he now knew.

  “News flash came over the feeds not five minutes ago. I was on the bridge with Marsh, looking for the sports scores for you.” She tried to smile, her face raised to Sully’s, but failed. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “God, it was horrible! They were torn apart. Those damn things—those jukors—they tore people apart like they were paper!”

  More images including a devasting scene caught by security cameras: a young mother and her children reduced to a bloodied, unidentifiable mass by razor-winged creatures in a mindless killing frenzy.

  Sully’s anger roared through me. It was a deep and bitter thing. I felt Gabriel’s lightning flare within its depths.

  “My brother,” Dorsie ga
sped. “Second day on the job there. No work at the groves, now. Took what he could to feed the family. He’s dead, gone.” And she collapsed into Sully’s arms, sobbing.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I put my arm around her shoulder, hugging her as Sully held her. Then I caught a glimpse of movement by the bridge hatchway. Marsh, his dark face grim, his eyes puffy, his hands fisted at his side.

  “You got to stop those bastards, Sully.” His voice cracked, broke. “Please. They killed my father.”

  We had time, yet, to make our meeting with Del. Still, Marsh urged us on, assuring us he’d take care of Dorsie and the Karn, but there was no way Sully and I could walk off the ship just then. Their pain was too deep, too fresh, even though the “accident” had happened six hours ago.

  I didn’t think it had hit Baris or Aldan yet. It didn’t have to. I was sure Tage and Burke already knew.

  I was pouring Dorsie a shot of Lashto brandy from Sully’s private stock when the hatchlock signal flashed on the deskscreen in the ready room. I checked the visual. Ren and Verno returning, both looking troubled. They’d probably heard the news.

  They have, Sully told me. It’s on every kiosk on station.

  It’s a message to us, isn’t it? I didn’t want to ask the question but I had to.

  I wish to God I could say it wasn’t. I don’t know. I can’t rule it out.

  We left Dorsie crying on Ren’s shoulder, and Marsh sitting next to Verno, hands clasped between his knees. Silent and angry, we headed for the tubeway to the station, Sully watchful, scanning the minds of those around us as I watched hands for weapons. We knew Tage’s people knew we were here—though we had arrived ahead of schedule.

  Still, I didn’t discount encountering another shipment of jukors. Or a line of Burke’s armed thugs. Or even the bright lights of a news-vid team. All were within Tage’s power and all were equally lethal.

  We picked up snatches of the news story as we traveled cautiously down Level E’s narrow corridor, passing a kiosk here, a group of dockhands talking in hushed tones there. Dozens of ships had come dirtside to the Grover’s City spacedocks that morning, but only two freighters and an Imperial Fleet ground transport had used Warehouse R-12 to offload cargo. The last of the ships to depart was the Fleet transport. Not a half hour later, the warehouse exploded. Emergency crew rushing to the scene were met by jukors streaming out.