In Death's Shadow

by S. F. Edwards

  Marda howled in pain and pulled her hands away from her face. The brilliance of the glowing spirit orb that she ripped free proved blinding. Both men staggered away.

  “Who’s in there?” the Admiral demanded, his weapon still leveled on her.

  Marda looked at them both. “I am.”

  “Who’s I?”

  Marda looked down at the orb. “I may not have the power to destroy you, but I can make sure that you’ll never do this to another.”

  Marda looked at Kamden’s face in her hands. “Don’t, you don’t know what you’re doing. He and his sister could be great. They and their children could have the power to end this war.”

  She stared back into the insane spirit’s eyes. “And then what? Create your Electrolite God? I don’t think so. You have manipulated me long enough, prevented me from being with the man I love…”

  “I meant no harm, child. It was a mistake not letting you two be together, I see that now…”

  “You won’t let us be together, won’t let us have a family, won’t let us,” Marda screamed and began to push her hands together. She watched the pain and fear in Kamden’s eyes, felt her rage and terror as she recognized what Marda was doing.

  Blazer and the Admiral watched as well. “Marda, stop, I’m ordering you!” the Admiral hollered.

  “You can’t order me. You’re retired, and this is a matter for my kind, one you should have solved long ago.”

  There was danger in this. If Marda could not seal Kamden as she intended, the attempt would leave her too weak to fight Kamden off a second time, and that evil spirit could possess her again, this time forever. If she did it right, on the other hand, she could make the quantum tubules of the orb manifest and trap them forever in the ethereal plane. Feeling that she had no choice, she focused. Her training under her grandmother’s tutelage had never covered this, but she followed her instincts and wound the tubules together, binding them. Before her eyes, the orb dimmed. The tendrils of energy that writhed about its surface receded into a lumpy core. She felt Kamden’s spirit weaken as it raged against her, and finally felt nothing of Kamden but the object in her hands. Marda released the orb and it fell to the floor without a sound, an irregular grey sphere that her eyes could not focus upon.

  Dozens of orbs rose up throughout the room and surrounded the pale ball, lighting the room with their ethereal glow. Everyone watched as they circled Marda and the orb on the floor. “You are sealed!” Marda declared.

  “You can’t do this to me,” Kamden spat at her.

  The orb attempted to roll away. It was the next best thing to physical now, hence vulnerable.

  Blazer jumped out of its way.

  “I’ve dispelled too much of your energy, Kamden,” Marda explained, feeling the world spin around her.

  The other orbs surrounded Kamden’s and lifted it from the deck. Marda watched as the spirits of a half dozen races lifted Kamden’s ethereal form from the floor, her body bound in straps of flesh.

  Kamden thrashed against them.

  “Your evil can’t save you now. In fact, the very evil you allowed into your spirit now binds you.” She looked at the other orbs. “Find out everything you can from her. Find out how much of her cult is still active, and if they are after Jell.”

  Kamden screamed. “No, you’ll never get that information from me!”

  Most assumed that the Electrolite cult was dead, but many theorized that sleeper cells still existed. Kamden would know for certain. The orbs and other mediums questioning her would find out soon enough.

  The other orb that accompanied Blazer drew in close to him, and he looked at it, as the others took Kamden away. “And just who are you?”

  Marda looked back at him. “He was a crewman on the Vaurnel, I know you may…”

  “No, I don’t need any more dead relatives visiting me.”

  Marda collapsed, and Blazer caught her before she could hit the floor. He sat her back into her chair. “Are you all right?”

  “That wasn’t something I was properly trained to do.”

  The Admiral rushed over, taking her hand and checking her pulse as Mendrick rushed up with a drink of water. “That was foolish, girl, but you stopped her, might even earn a medal for it.”

  Marda shook her head as Mendrick helped her take her first sip. “No, I should have seen who she was this whole time. I could have stopped her long ago.”

  The Admiral shook his head. “No, Kamden was a tricky one. I doubt any other medium would have recognized her. Did you ever even see her as Kamden before this cycle?”

  Marda shook her head. Kamden only appeared in her true form after Marda had accidentally revealed her. “Wait, what about Jell? When she was in me, I could tell that she has people watching her.”

  “I have bodyguards watching her,” the Admiral assured her. “If the Electrolites that remain make a move, we’ll get them.”

  Blazer looked at his grandfather. “How long have you had us watched?”

  “Your whole lives, but with Kamden sealed, we might finally see a true end to the Electrolite threat.”

  “I hope so,” Marda commented. “Now, can someone please take me to medical, I’m not feel...”

  UCSB DATE: 1001.133

  Star System: Classified, UCSBA-13, Medical

  Admiral Sadrick slumped out of Marda’s suite in medical and collapsed in the nearest chair. The past few cycles had drained him, and after Kamden Krain had revealed herself the cycle before, old memories, long buried, had resurfaced. How long will that old witch haunt my family?

  He looked back towards the room where Marda lay. I never would have guessed how powerful she is. After what had happened, he felt certain she would leave his grandson. Instead, she’d allowed him to remain by her side, but she had yet to speak to him. Can’t say as I blame her, I almost denied Jordan and Laresse’s union when I found out. Still, they’ve been through so much, and she does seem to really love him. If they can make it through this, they have a chance.

  Seeing Tadeh Qudas lead the security team aroused even older memories. How the Sheol is that bastard still so nimble after all these decades? It doesn’t seem fair. The Telshin had done a good job of squelching any rumors, silencing everyone at the bar, except for some buzz that Electrolites had made a play for an unnamed cadet.

  Admiral Sadrick climbed back to his feet. There was something he had to discuss with Tadeh Qudas, an old debt. After the cycle they’d just gone through, it was time to pay up.

  UCSB Date: 966.352:Teshtid System, Teshtid Prime, Classified Telshin Encampment

  Thirty-five annura earlier, young Admir Sadrick took in a deep breath as he exited a rover at the edge of the Telshin camp. A few Death Helm-clad Tadeh Qudas soldiers looked his way as he grabbed his gear and strode through three rings of tents towards the heart of the encampment. He kept his bearing tight and exuded authority as best he could. If he faltered, showed weakness in any way, his appointment to liaison with the Tadeh Qudas would end before it had started.

  He walked past more sparring matches then he could count. A few he wanted to sit and watch. They were more intense than the last few professional martial arts matches he’d been privy to. Soon, however, he came upon the three War Chief tents in the middle of the encampment.

  He looked between them for the symbol of the War Chief he was to liaise with. That War Chief’s Tadeh Qudas had proven instrumental in taking the planet even though they’d taken significant losses in the process. His commander had briefed him on the announcement protocol. To enter a War Chief’s tent unbidden could spell certain doom.

  Admir jumped when a warrior in a Fershing Death Helm seemed to appear out of thin air behind him. Before he could say anything, the warrior shoved Admir into one of the tents.

  “War Chief,” the warrior called out. “I have our Confed Liason Officer. He was waiting outside your tent.”

  From behind his simple folding metal desk, the War Chief in his fearsome Shinekian Death Helm looked up from his
console. “I see that, Sergeant. You show bravery to cross a Tadeh Qudas camp without escort, Anulian.”

  Admir bowed to reveal a set of oversized, fish shaped Kuhks across his back to the War Chief. “I am no mewling kit, War Chief. I can defend myself.”

  The War Chief’s face was impossible to read through the mouth full of needlelike teeth dominating his otherwise featureless death-helm. “If you could down any warrior of mine, I would honor your death.”

  Good, I’ve impressed him, Admir sighed, and relaxed. “Officer Admir Sadrick, Confed Special Operations,” he announced. “I am here to ensure the successful hand off of Teshtid Prime following your clean up sweep.”

  “I welcome you Officer Sadrick. Your name?”

  “Admir, My parents had high hopes for me.”

  “How so?” the sergeant asked.

  “Admir as in Admiral.”

  The War Chief waved down the Sergeant’s next question. “Their ranks are different than our own, Sergeant. An Admiral would be War Master of a fleet.”

  The Sergeant scoffed. “Fleets! Warriors prove their mettle on the field of battle, not in a vacuum.”

  Admir turned to the Sergeant, careful to keep the War Chief in view. “I have served in Special Operations Command my whole career. But even I acknowledge that without the fleet, there can be no way for warriors to reach or take the field.”

  The Sergeant bristled.

  “Enough,” the War Chief barked. “Sergeant, did you come just to deliver Officer Sadrick to me, or have you other news as well?”

  “Our replacements are inbound, War Chief,” the Sergeant replied. “The combat controller has their dropships on sensors now. I thought you might want to inspect them.”

  “Have you read their files?” the War Chief inquired as he climbed to his feet.

  Admir had to look twice to be sure. Though the War Chief stood taller than Admir, he was a full head shorter than the Sergeant.

  The Sergeant nodded in a sign of genuine respect. “For young bloods, they are quite adept. Two campaigns, short though they may have been, with an impressive kill count. I’m still curious, however, why we even have this cleanup assignment. It seems an insult to us and to them,” he said, glancing at Admir. “We should be leading them into glorious battle against our enemy, not treating them like raw recruits in need of weaning.”

  “You call my judgment into question?” the War Chief replied, fixing the other with a menacing stare. The empty eye sockets of the Shinekian Death Helm, the lens covering his eyes masked by a dark exoskeletal skull, would send a lesser being running.

  “You requested this assignment?” the Sergeant asked, saving face by diverting the accusation rather than backing down.

  “Of course I did, Sergeant. Just as I have requested every campaign I ever fought in.”

  “But why?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of confusion. “I would think, after our campaign to take this world, they would have moved you onto the War Masters Council.”

  “They tried.”

  The Sergeant stared at his War Chief in silence.

  Admir could not stay as quiet. “You turned down an appointment to War Master?”

  “Of course,” the War Chief replied, stepping around the desk. “Were I to join the council, I would no longer lead warriors to battle. The council is filled with old War Masters who will never see combat again. I have no wish to join them, not so long as I can fight.”

  “I see,” Admir replied. The Telshin were a tough lot, and Admir had worked hard to gain a liaison position with them. It wasn’t a much sought-after position, in truth, but the War Master council was particular about embedding non-Telshin into their units. The nature of this assignment may be the only reason they allowed me to come.

  “We garnered too much glory in our last campaign,” the War Chief continued. “It would be best to lay low for a short while. Then we’ll come back stronger than ever. These cubs lost their War Chief in their last campaign and going into a new one without first learning my ways could prove disastrous.”

  “I see your point, War Chief. Shall we inspect the troops?” the Sergeant asked.

  “Yes,” he answered, moving past the two of them and out of the tent. “Have you a full helmet, Admir?”

  Admir nodded.

  “Good, put it on. The unit will have a hard enough time accepting you at best, without insulting them by approaching bare-faced.”

  “Of course, War Chief,” Admir replied, pulling his helmet from his bag and slipping it on while they walked. The assembly of composite armor and silicasteel proved a marked contrast to their skull-faced Death Helms.

  “Did you see their roster?” the War Chief asked his Sergeant, as the roar of braking thrusters echoed across the field and drowned out the question. The War Chief looked up at the trio of tactical dropships and escort gunships setting down in the first ring beyond the tents and flashed his personal link channel to the two of them before asking the question again.

  “Of course,” the Sergeant replied. “I noticed that three of them are sired by council War Masters.” A moment later, the venting sound of the dropships’ Zero Kinetic Energy Pods, ZKEPs, echoed through the arena, expelling waste heat built up in atmospheric entry.

  “Including War Master Schido? You know that I served with him?” the War Chief asked, seeming in that moment to outsize even his sergeant.

  “Schido? But War Master Schido last fought in the Quetil Campaign.”

  “It was my first campaign.”

  “I was just a pup,” the Sergeant replied.

  Admir sucked in a breath. That could be a major insult.

  “You are already an Elders age Chief. It surprises me that you have not been forced onto the council,” the Sergeant continued.

  “Many think that,” he replied, ice in his voice.

  If I said what the Sergeant had just said, they’d deliver what’s left of my bits to my folks.

  “I was but a cub myself, granted special circumstances to skip battle training. I was birthed on a battlefield and have never left.”

  “I see. Speaking of pups, were you aware that one of these young bloods bears your sire name?” the Sergeant asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is he yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Never. I only ever heard of him from his mother, before she died. It will be interesting to see how he turned out. His mother was a strong and capable warrior in her own right.”

  “Speaking of names,” Admir commented. “I’ve been given none of yours. I was given only your unit symbol to find you.”

  “And you will receive no more. We do not speak of names in the presence of strangers. Perhaps once you have proven yourself. It is the way of all Telshin and within the Tadeh Qudas’ even more so,” the War Chief replied.

  Admir said nothing more, and they walked in silence to the landing area. Their new squad members waited at attention behind the three sizzling dropships. Standing in a single line, each one wore their own unique death mask, adorned with the colors and etched markings that spoke to their hereditary and personal glories.

  The trio made their way down the long line, looking over each young warrior. “War Master Schido’s cub is easy enough to recognize,” the Sergeant commented.

  “The black Lodran Helm is distinctive, of course. Did you notice War Master Gild’s cub?” the War Chief replied.

  “The Red Drashig with daggers etched in the back?” Admir asked. Gild had signed Admir’s orders.

  “Yes. Well done, Admir. I find War Master Asina’s Cub’s most impressive, you?”

  Admir looked but wasn’t sure who that might be.

  The Sergeant’s answer saved him. “Very much so War Chief. I understand that the Chret beak is fully articulated. Like her mother’s, it should reveal a set of Lodran’s teeth within. Have you spotted yours yet?”

  “No, none of these are wearing Shinekian Death Helms. But I
wager the one we just passed might be my cub.”

  Admir couldn’t help but look. “The blue Pharad Mask?” he asked, seeing the midnight blue helmet. The flight gear integrated into the cub’s armor marked him as a pilot of one of the sizzling craft behind.

  “Yes, I had one similar in my younger cycles,” the War Chief replied, his own uniform also showing where his flight gear attached.

  “He has modified his helm somewhat,” the Sergeant continued.

  Admir had noticed that, and the anatomy of the skull puzzled him. “It is clearly modeled after a male Pharad’s skull, but instead of the cartilage mane he made the rear more bulbous, like a female’s.”

  “It does make him look larger,” the War Chief commented. “However, it is more likely that a larger ridge would interfere with moving his head in the cockpit. My own helm, in my youth, featured a removable mane ridge. Even my current Shinekian helm allows me to remove the rear skull spikes when I fly. It is common for pilots to fit such accommodations.”

  Admir looked, and sure enough, he saw a seam there. “I feel like I’m back in my Xenobiology courses, with all these different skulls staring back at me.”

  “You don’t find it intimidating?” the War Chief asked.

  “I’ve done field surgeries on dozens of species and killed more Geffers than I can count. A Death Helm won’t faze me.”

  The Sergeant scoffed. “We will see, Anulian. Take a look at this one, at the end.”

  The War Chief didn’t bother to turn his head to look at the warrior at the end of the line of soldiers as one last Telshin ran from his gunship and snapped to attention. He was smaller than the rest, rivaling the War Chief for lack of height, and on his war helmet he wore a graying human death mask.

  “A Human Death Mask. It’s a long time since I’ve seen a warrior wear one. It’s not very intimidating,” the sergeant commented, not mentioning the smaller stature of the young warrior.

  “Not to most, but against Terrans it can be quite effective. I knew a warrior who wore one. She was quite brave,” he recalled.