Shadow Worlds: A Space Opera Fantasy (Shadow Corps Book 2)

by Justin Sloan

  He remembered a walk along a bridge, Nora’s hand in his, her warmth literally sending tingling sparks along his skin. It had been the first sign that they were truly meant to be together, and for his people a sign that the universe had accepted their union. The tear in her eye had caught him off guard, but when he had felt his own eyes moisten, her image blurring, he understood. It was his first moment of true, perfect joy.

  Turquoise flower petals had drifted past, one landing in her near-golden hair. When he’d reached out for the petal, she had leaned in for a kiss—their first kiss. In times like these, when he needed her with him, he often thought back to that moment, and wondered about that flower petal. If not for it, he might not have had that kiss that day, might not have had everything that had followed.

  A tingling spark began in his hand, and it was almost as if he could feel her again. Then the golden glow was there, illuminating his surroundings, and he knew her visage had taken over.

  With her energy flowing through him, her powers of the mind there to block out external interference, he saw that he was in a large room. Pillars stood against the walls, roots growing along the ancient stones.

  An underground temple?

  Hadrian was alone, but surely they knew he was there. He moved with caution to the only visible door, watching the golden glow cause shadows to dance. With each flicker, he was ready for an attack to come.

  None did, and soon he was standing at a doorway formed by the mouth of a massive carving of the face of a Scrapulent. A series of glowing jewels glistened where the black holes of eyes normally sat.

  Interesting.

  To walk through that door would certainly lead to some sort of ambush. But to not do so would mean he would have to return without answers. He had been able to follow the Scrapulent here because they had been connected when it had touched its portal. Now that Hadrian was here himself, he could set up a jump point, and maybe return that way.

  However, the enemy might find it and destroy it. That was the dilemma…

  He had to find the answer now, in case he wasn’t able to return.

  Taking a deep breath, he walked forward and into the Scrapulent’s mouth.

  The room was dark, its walls covered in scurrying shadows as the Scrapulents scrabbled about, cringing as if the light of Hadrian’s glow burned their skin. In the center of the room was a statue of a woman, her upper body nude, her lower body that of a snake.

  Hadrian stepped forward, hands outspread, ready to fight, But the Scrapulents all vanished into holes in the ceiling and walls.

  “You can’t run from me,” he said calmly, shimmering back to his normal form.

  “Ah, but it is you who should run from us,” a feminine voice replied. A metallic slithering followed, and then she appeared, circling out from behind the statue.

  But no, he saw when he looked again. She had been the statue. It was there still, but only in a glimmering form, as if a projection of herself formed out of an absence of light had been left behind. Her nude upper half would have made many mortal men crave her, if not for the glowing, purple crystals where her eyes should be and the subtle purple, glowing veins running down from those eerie sockets. Her lower half, however, was a metallic snake. So if the eyes didn’t turn you off, the snake body probably would.

  “I’ve heard tales of your kind,” Hadrian said. “Making modifications, biotech that you control with your minds. But it eats away at you as well, am I wrong? Controlling you just as you control it.”

  She smiled, hands moving across her body seductively. In truth, it might have worked on some, especially as her mental powers would have made the monstrosities unseen. What was her game? To lure them in and then wrap that tail around them, cutting off their life force?

  “You are neither woman nor man,” the Scrapulent declared, sensing the lack of her ability to seduce him. “It must be difficult for you, tiring even. Come, rest upon my bosom, confess your insecurities, your worries… Give me it all, so that I may cleanse your soul and leave you whole again.”

  “And I’ve heard of you, Saraleigh,” he continued, ignoring her attempts. “The great goddess of the Scrapulent. Is this your temple then? What I don’t understand, though, is the crystals. A new form of jewelry?”

  “A very valuable gift from some new, dear friends,” she replied with a wicked smile. She slithered toward him, circling him, assessing him. “Who is this woman whose skin you wear? I sense a great connection with her. I sense…” Suddenly her form vanished, and in her place was Nora, staring right back at Hadrian. “…I sense a longing.”

  Even her voice sounded like Nora’s, and now their surroundings changed. They weren’t in the temple to the goddess, but in another temple completely. It shone of white marble and gold trim, overlooking waterfalls as glimmering dragons flew overhead. Not massive ones like the Guardians—the Three Kings—but smaller. Their offspring that had come to visit from the faraway Hoydrin, near the planet that housed ancient warriors known as the Trilords. An odd thought, for the moment, but seeing them made him think about what good allies the Trilords would make for the alliance, and he made a mental note to ensure Earth would work to incorporate them when the time came.

  Enough of those thoughts, he told himself. His mind was wandering, and this was the least opportune time.

  He was back, head rolling as if drunk, at the ancient temple with Nora at his side. Her robes had fallen to the floor, the warm light gentle on her skin.

  A whisper in his ear, warm breath sending a tingle down his spine, along his thighs… hands moving, caressing.

  Resist, the real voice of Nora said. Resist this false goddess, resist this false me.

  “How are you doing this?” Hadrian demanded, mind forcing her out as he recalled days spent in Nora’s arms, days telling each other their dreams and plans for making the universe a better place. The gentle touch of her fingers as they caressed his cheek, the sound of her laughter.

  The golden glow returned, all else fading, and Saraleigh was back to her half-snake form.

  She hissed, bearing sharp, pointed teeth. “Impossible!”

  She pulled back, arms spread, and the crystals’ glow intensified. Hadrian could feel a pressure in the back of his mind as she attempted to force her way in, but he refused. Nora was with him, or at least her essence was, and her mental magic had always been the strongest among his kind.

  As the Scrapulent began to scream, the crystals in her eye sockets cracked, one splitting down the middle and the other shattering. Now her scream was a roar as she pulled back, hands to her face as purple blood seeped down her cheek.

  “KILL HIM!” she screamed, slithering from the room. “I want his flesh on my table when we feast tonight!”

  A sound like stone breaking came from all around him, and Hadrian spun to see warriors breaking free from the walls, emerging from the stone itself.

  No, they were the stone, and he could sense there was no mind there. If these creatures had ever lived, they had lost any sense of their minds and souls.

  Which worked out well for him, because that meant he wouldn’t have to think twice before killing them.

  Hadrian transformed into the visage of his warrior friend, a male named Moratus, and charged into the stone creatures, drawing his sword as he did so. While they were fast, trying to pound him with rocks, he was a beast. He shattered several with blows from his sword, and then knelt and sent a shock wave of energy out, tossing the rest against the walls.

  He lifted a hand and latched them there, creating an isolated point of gravity so that moving away from the wall was impossible.

  One of the stone fighters began to glow red, and then the others, and he knew it was his cue to leave. Throwing himself through the passage Saraleigh had escaped down, he barely made it as the room behind him erupted in flames and splinters of rock. The ceiling groaned and creaked, and then started to fall in on him.

  He charged through tunnels as the walls and ceiling behind him collapsed, unt
il he was out of the blast radius and in a large room. He rolled in, safe. Well, safe from the collapsing walls. When he pulled himself up, he looked around and had a much better idea of what was happening out here on the fringe.

  Saraleigh wasn’t here, but many of her Scrapulent were, along with an array of other forces. Giant mechs were being built in a way he had never seen—long reaching tentacles, large mandibles, and weapons that seemed to form out of thin air.

  A team seemed to have been alerted to his presence, because they came charging in. They quickly set into formation, with walls of blue shields in front of them and blaster spears in the openings. It reminded him of the old Roman way of fighting. A force field turtle formation.

  With a twist of his gold cloak, he was out of there, pushing himself through one of the side exits, running… fleeing. He knew his limitations. While he was powerful here, taking on an army like that one was unthinkable.

  This wasn’t the time for that fight, he knew.

  Right now he had to focus on breaking the mental links between Earth and his people, and taking back the ancient Guardians of Orion, freeing the space dragons so that the enemy could use them no longer.

  Would he have liked to have his presence here less known? Certainly. But the intel he was obtaining on this trip was priceless.

  Even more so, when he stumbled into a room down the hall that was clearly a cross between a prison and a torture chamber, filled with half-dressed men. They were all fit like Greek warriors, and clad in a way that Hadrian instantly recognized as a style similar to Carma. Strange devices kept them hostage, metal tubes that glowed purple and blue, and their eyes were rolled back into their heads so that they appeared white.

  They were milking them of their powers! He had suspected that the Scrapulent would need Carma’s people’s help to achieve what they had, but this was beyond his comprehension.

  He returned fire to push back his pursuers, then ducked around the corner and into the room. Machinery and flesh moved to combine into a face, that of another so-called Scrapulent god, if he wasn’t mistaken. This one opened its mouth and a bright light formed, preparing to fire on Hadrian. But he wasn’t sticking around for this fight.

  He darted back out into the hallway, using his energy to cause an explosion behind the warriors with their blue energy shields. Then he charged.

  He knew the mission now, and needed the Shadow Corps there with him to see it done.

  They needed to return to this place, release these men, and then destroy Saraleigh. The enemy likely had many bases like this where it was building up its armada, preparing to reach out and conquer the universe. Destroying it would do so little in the grand scheme of things. But if they could at least take out one of the Scrapulent’s gods and see that the power of Carma’s people could not be abused like this in the future, they would have accomplished much for the alliance.

  And then he meant to return to Entono Fos and see everything put back right. That was his home now, and he refused to be a fugitive from his home.

  Taking one of the shields from a fallen warrior, he charged back the way he had come, straight for the rubble as shots went off all around him. The use of his power was beginning to drain him, but he was counting on having enough to make this work. If not, he might be trapped in the rubble forever, or soon be found and killed.

  He had to hope that wouldn’t happen.

  As he approached the walls, he extended the shield and then pushed out with energy so that rocks exploded—and then again, and then again. He was like a drill charging through the mountain of fallen stones and temple bits, the shield protecting him from explosions and rock as it collapsed down upon him. As long as he kept moving, as long as he kept blasting, he would make it.

  The shouts and attacks from behind quickly faded away, replaced with the sounds of rocks falling. He tried not to think of the tomb he was creating for himself, about the walls and ceiling closing in on him, as they were quite literally doing. And when the shield started flittering, drained of energy, he tried not to scream in frustration and terror.

  Then the shield was out of power, and a rock was coming for him. He used the last of his might to explode the stones ahead of him and threw himself into the opening.

  He was out of energy… but he had made it. He saw open space as he started to emerge from the mouth of the Scrapulent carving, and then the rocks caved in on him, crushing bone and tearing flesh as armor bent. His armor could take a lot, but the pressure of a mountain—apparently not.

  Dust filled his nostrils, and he was brought back again to images of a tomb. How fitting that he was in a temple. But, he had also closed off the room the Scrapulent had used for jumping. Maybe that also meant they couldn’t jump back to Earth?

  Their hold was likely still on the Potentate, however. Once they got into a mind, there was no going back. He might have stopped the tampering, but the Potentate’s mind was likely permanently damaged.

  That meant that, if he wanted to have a chance at putting a stop to Saraleigh, he needed to get the Shadow Corps together and return as soon as possible.

  Pulling his leg free of the rubble, he clenched his teeth and growled in pain, then rolled back and looked at the ceiling. He closed his eyes, focusing… but nothing came. Explosions sounded. They were already trying to get back in here!

  If he didn’t regain his energy to create a jump point, and soon, they would be upon him. If that happened, it would all be over. All for naught.

  The alliance would have, effectively, lost.

  So he lay back again, eyes closed, focusing on his breathing. He meditated, remembering the dance on the night of his union with Nora. Everyone had come out for it, smiling, laughing, kicking up their legs and flinging out their hands in the crazy ritual he had so enjoyed. One of many aspects of his people he missed every day.

  But these memories didn’t just bring sorrow. They brought recollections of joy, as if he were there at that moment, reliving it. And with these recollections came laughter.

  As the laughter worked its way up and escaped through his mouth, he felt a tickle of energy in his ribs. The energy flowed in around his heart, and he laughed one more time before turning over, pushing himself up to his knees, and beginning the ceremony that would create a jump point.

  More explosions, but they would never reach him in time to cause harm. He had the gate open, and fell forward into it, escaping this hell.

  12

  Potentate’s Command Center

  Samantha reached the command center and landed at the now empty platform. Whatever forces had been here when they had arrived were likely off hunting down the LRR now, she realized.

  All but Rane and the Potentate. The former emerged, helping the latter to stand. Something was different about him as he stood there, remaining upright with the help of that bastard.

  Had Hadrian returned to fight them after all? Impossible. He would have won and those two would be dead. She knew enough to know they wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

  She drew her sword, eyeing them as she took a step forward, but then halted. As she watched, a figure appeared from the sky, reaching for her. Hadrian.

  She was tempted to push him away, to disappear into the rubble of Earth and continue to fight her personal battles. Instead, she let him grab hold of her. And then they were out of there, speeding back toward the location where the cloaked Noraldian waited.

  She watched Earth vanish below, and for the rest of the journey to the ship she could do nothing but bite her tongue in frustration. She hated that she was leaving them all behind, and that Hadrian was making her.

  Then they were on the docking platform, and Hadrian was dragging her in. She wasn’t fighting it, but her body had seemed to have lost its will to move on its own.

  He led her to the mess hall and placed her in a chair, leaning with his hands on the table as the others ran in to see what had happened.

  Now that they were on the Noraldian, Samantha’s emotions came burs
ting out. It wasn’t that she didn’t get what had happened; it was that she got it, and it pissed her off.

  “Human lives don’t matter to you!” she accused Hadrian, a finger in his face. “It’s all about this damn greater good or some bull like that, am I right?”

  “Samantha—”

  “No, NO!” She didn’t give a damn if everyone was staring at her. “Those are my people getting blown up. I’ve heard the argument. If we don’t save the universe, the people of Earth die right along with the rest of the alliance. Earth is wiped out. But guess what? If there’s nobody but evil bastards alive when this is all done, how the hell does that matter?”

  Hadrian blinked, jutted out his jaw, and then said, “Go then.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Go, if you can. Return to Earth, fight alongside your crush, leave the universe to burn.”

  “That’s… harsh,” Carma stated.

  “Is it?” Hadrian spun on her, cringing in pain and taking his weight off his left foot. “Perhaps it’s time you all go, if you feel like Samantha. For Heaven’s sake, wait until you hear what I’ve learned about your people, Carma. You’ll all be running for the hills, and our little Shadow Corps team will be disbanded, failed. The universe will fall into the hands of the Great Deceivers, and we’ll have lost. Everyone will die. Is that what you want?”

  They all stared at him, Samantha’s chest rising and falling quickly, her left eye twitching in a way that pissed her off. But now her curiosity was getting the better of her.

  “What about Carma’s people?” she asked. Carma’s expression was grim, her jaw jutting out as she waited for an explanation.

  Hadrian breathed deeply through his nostrils, eyes wide with passion. “You all keep treating me like I’m supposed to be perfect. I’m powerful. I see things, have visions. I know things. But am I perfect? Not. At. All.”

  “Clearly,” Samantha spat back.

  He ignored her, his posture softening as he turned to Carma. “I saw things out there. Your people… tied up, their energy, or powers, being drained from them. Harvested.”