Shadow Run

by Michael Miller

  I couldn’t argue. Telu had spent a lifetime learning how to temporarily reroute drones during Shadow runs, something others would go to the Academy to learn. But to deploy a script ordering so many at once, of such a variety, onto a single task, was on an entirely different scale of skill. Now it was a question of her ability to thwart the efforts of the royal security team as they attempted to override her programming. Given her muttering about encryption and hashes, I didn’t envy them.

  I had scant seconds to appreciate the thought as we hurtled downward, the drones rushing up toward us with terrifying speed. At the last moment, Qole brought the nose of the Kaitan up and we were in the flood of drones, weaving in and out of them.

  I ignored every screaming part of me that had been trained to stay well away from them, and focused on the task I had been given. “The Air Guard is right behind us,” I reported, “but they’re thoroughly confused. No one has yet been foolish enough to…Ah, never mind. They’re shooting.”

  Sure enough, one of the starfighters decided to take a crack at us and hit a drone instead. In a flash, it was upon him, tearing into the aircraft. It had ripped its wings off as if it were a fly by the time another fighter came to the rescue. The new arrival unloaded a string of plasma torpedoes and blew the drone to bits before he registered the screeching order to stand down. But by then it was too late.

  The drones reacted with escalating violence to any damage done to another, and in the space of seconds, we were passing through a maelstrom of fighters and drones engaged in a furious firefight. The image of the young guard that Eton had killed rose in my mind unbidden, and I wondered how many other people might die in this battle. I pushed the thought down, somewhere deep. Now was not the time.

  Qole deftly threaded the Kaitan through the chaos, and for a moment we were in the clear, heading toward the Atrium. Plumes of dust were rising nearby, where drones were burrowing into the mountainside, churning up rocks and soil as they labored to reach the ancient shafts once again. They’d only keep at the task for as long as Telu kept hacking their signals and sending them refreshed orders to do so.

  “I think we have a clear shot—” I was cut off when the Kaitan lurched and slewed, tossing us in our harnesses.

  “Tractor beam,” Qole said grimly. “One just locked onto us.”

  I hadn’t worried too much about those, not in this chaos. We’d been dealing with starfighters, not the big destroyers that were equipped with them, and the latter still had to be fast enough to catch you within a relatively close range. Which, apparently, they had been.

  “Right, listen up.” Qole eyed the feed that showed us slowly drifting toward the hull of the giant, wedge-shaped ship that my family favored. To think there had been a time when the sight of destroyers had reassured me. “Eton, I want you to fill the air with every last bit of ammunition left in the mass driver. Give the tractor beam something to chew on. Basra, jettison everything in the hold and on my mark, divert all power outside of navigation to the engines.”

  “Is that wise?” Basra asked. “If I do that, life support and gravity dampeners will go offline.”

  Qole ignored him, her eyes hard, watching a feed of Eton firing at the destroyer. The flecks of mass filled the air, slowed, and then spun off along the beam. I knew I should have been focusing entirely on my duty to scan the info feeds, but I couldn’t help glancing up at her periodically. If pure determination were enough to break us free, there wouldn’t be a tractor beam in the galaxy that could hold us.

  I looked back at the feeds. “Qole, fighters are incoming.” Tension crawled up my spine. I suddenly understood that following a leader was fine in concept, but trusting your life to the cryptic word of another person was nothing short of nerve-racking. How many of my family’s followers had felt the same tension as they followed Dracorte commands?

  “Mark.” Qole gave the order, and the lights went out. The only thing that remained was the glow of the console and the blinding glare of the Kaitan’s engines on overdrive as she strained against the grip of the destroyer’s tractor beam. Debris began to tumble toward the port side of the ship as planetary gravity took over. No doubt our oxygen and heat were offline as well, but we were in Luvos’s atmosphere, and besides, before long, we wouldn’t need either of those things. Either we’d be dead or…

  Slowly, agonizingly, we began to creep away. It was a victory of sorts, but in my heart I knew that would never be enough. Those starfighters were almost on us, and they would take us apart.

  Qole wrenched the controls, and the Kaitan twisted in the grip of the destroyer. She wrenched again, and we thrashed like a caught fish. With the screech of tearing metal, the entire ship shuddered, something gave way, and we were free.

  None of us cheered. I knew what Qole had just done: she had ripped a part of the Kaitan—a part of herself—clean off.

  For a moment, we flew toward the spire, and then our momentum slowed. I realized the familiar rumble of the engines was gone. The Kaitan was all but dead in the air, and we were about to go into a free fall.

  “Ancestors, let this work,” whispered Qole, her hands flying over the console in front of her. Then she grasped a lever I had never seen her use before and engaged it.

  As the Kaitan fell through the sky between the spires of the citadel, I stared in awe as the boom used for Shadow fishing swept to a new position. From it, a shimmering metallic web unfurled, flapping in the air until it snapped tight.

  The lights flicked back on in the bridge, artificial gravity returned, and the ship flitted into the latticework of the citadel.

  I wanted to shake my head in disbelief, scream for joy. A solar sail. Virtually unused now, it had been the primary method of propulsion for the natives of Alaxak until traders had brought more advanced engines to the planet. Somehow, I’d forgotten about this bit of history that was now saving our lives.

  “Telu, pick a drone for me,” Qole instructed. “Same as we did with that asteroid our first season together.”

  Telu sounded uncertain. “We had Arjan to make the call when we should…”

  “You get the drone, I’ll make the move. It’s time to end this.” Blackness crept into Qole’s eyes as she spoke, and I felt the pressure in the cabin change.

  The Kaitan Heritage swept through the spires of the citadel, pursued by starfighters from every direction. Photon blasts sliced through structural work, and plasma missiles left scorched holes in the citadel itself as the Air Guard threw everything it had in an attempt to stop us.

  Not one hit landed.

  Climbing, spinning, diving, Qole made the Kaitan dance like a kite in the wind. Hurtling impossibly close to the structures around us, we spiraled down through a honeycomb of supports in a stomach-churning drop that I was certain would make me throw up over the dash.

  “Drone bearing zero, thirty-one, twenty-eight,” Telu announced.

  Starfighters scattered in every direction as a massive mining drone dove straight for the root of the mountain. It passed them, and from their vantage, the Kaitan must have vanished.

  Impossibly, Qole had latched us on top of the drone itself, and we crashed into the Atrium like a planetoid, utterly demolishing it. Plasma torches flared to life as the drone began boring straight down through the palace grounds as though it were made of paper, not stone and steel.

  It should not have been possible to peel off the drone into the interior of the citadel. It shouldn’t have been possible to do that at the exact moment the drone hit the abandoned hangar we’d escaped through, right before it refreshed its own orders and gave up on its mission, blasting back out into the chaotic sky.

  It shouldn’t have, but Qole did it. The Kaitan scattered a million sparks into the air as it slid across the floor of the decimated hangar. Container units, power couplings, vents, everything blew apart before us until Qole brought the ship to a halt. I sat back in my chair, trembling hands scraping back through my hair.

  We’d made it. We were inside the citadel.
>
  With the exception of Telu, who remained at her station to try to keep the drones on task, we gathered in the hold, armed like a military platoon. This was entirely thanks to Eton, who distributed fusion grenades, photon rifles, plasma pistols, and even knives, along with instructions that none of us could possibly remember.

  But it was what he was wearing that really tipped the scales from “ragtag group of rebels” to “dangerous military force.” He had nothing less than two plasma cannons strapped to his back, attached to a frame that stretched up from either shoulder. As a finishing touch, a shield emitter circled him, protecting his entire body from any sidelong attacks.

  “What in the Unifier’s good name are those?” I pointed at the plasma cannons. “And how did you even get them? They’re usually mounted on interceptor-class fighters.”

  Eton’s expression was the deranged, murderous cousin of a smile. “This is Verta. I made her to punch holes in things that need more holes.”

  “You need something left for there to be a hole,” I said incredulously.

  “And what about your secret weapon, Basra?” Qole asked, unfazed by Eton.

  “It’s launched. It’ll take a bit of time to detonate, so to speak. But we shouldn’t wait around for it. So, in the meantime…” Basra hefted a photon rifle as if he knew how to use it. I had no idea how he knew.

  “Um, guys.” Telu’s voice filtered in over the comm. “Can Verta punch holes in that?”

  We spun to look at the feed showing the outside of the ship, and my heart sank. A sea of troops surrounded us.

  “That makes no sense,” I protested. “They couldn’t have known how we were going to get here, or even that we would.”

  “Does it matter?” Basra said coldly. “They’re here.” He flipped the safety off his rifle, and it began to hum with deadly purpose. “If Arjan is on the other side, we go through them.” He wore an expression on his normally impassive face that I couldn’t begin to place.

  “That’s all well and good,” I said, “but if we drop the ramp, they have enough firepower to take us all down, even Eton.”

  Eton opened his mouth, but stopped. I understood why when I felt the hair standing up on the nape of my neck.

  I turned around to see Qole standing, hands clenched in fists, all-black eyes staring at the feed. “They can’t stop us.”

  “Qole…” I searched for the words. “Dying in an attempt is one thing, but it presumes some small chance of success. Dying as a gesture simply means my family will get everything they want.”

  “Not entirely true,” Basra said. “If we die, my secret weapon still detonates. They won’t get everything, trust me.”

  “Still, we don’t have a way of getting through that army.”

  Qole spoke as though she hadn’t heard me, as though she were someplace far away. “They can’t stop us. There’s Shadow nearby. It’s everywhere.”

  She suddenly gasped in pain, bending over. Eton and I moved to help her, but the next instant she was back up, her black eyes staring through us.

  “No, I don’t care,” she snarled, as if at someone else. “I’m using it. I’m using it!” The pressure in the hold changed again, and a metal plate crumpled on one wall as though something heavy had hit it. Qole gasped for breath like a drowning woman.

  I opened my mouth to call her name, to reassure her, to ask her to stop, but nothing came out. Whatever she was going through, distracting her with pleas for sanity would do little good.

  Even so, I could barely rein myself in as she clutched at herself and staggered sideways. I couldn’t see her face, but I realized that the light reflecting on the floor underneath her had a purple sheen.

  Her head snapped up suddenly, and the blackness in her eyes was gone. They were alight from within with the purple of burning Shadow.

  Eton and Basra stepped back, but I stayed rooted to the spot. It wasn’t that I was unafraid, or that I even understood what was happening. I didn’t. I had no frame of reference for this, any of this. I was betraying my family, killing my own people, and watching a friend fall apart.

  All I understood was that she was on a journey far more difficult and painful than she—or I—had ever been on. All I could do was stay with her, and be a witness.

  For the briefest of moments, Qole lifted into the air, her hair fanning out around her as though she were underwater.

  The entire world contracted on her, and all sound ceased to be. I staggered but could neither hear nor feel, and the next moment pure energy radiated out from her in a shock wave, a purple corona of force. Sound came rushing back into my ears; they were ringing. Qole fell to her knees on the floor.

  At first, I thought that nothing had happened. Then I realized that all the troops outside the ship were simply gone.

  A trickle of ice ran over my skin. Whatever had just happened was exponentially more extreme than anything else I had seen Qole do so far. From the feed, it looked like she had snuffed out the lives of an entire platoon through solid walls.

  Our way was open, but at what cost?

  “Is she okay?” Eton asked huskily, obviously dazed as well.

  I’d reached down to see if I could help her up when rivulets of purple light began seeping through the ship’s vents.

  Qole knelt, pressing both palms to the floor. The glowing runnels traced their way to her fingertips, where they disappeared with a pulse. Her fists tightened, and the metal peeled back under her fingernails.

  I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry. “Qole, should you be drawing on that much Shadow?”

  She lifted her face to me, and her eyes were shockingly clear. “I have to. I can feel Arjan nearby.” She smiled ruefully. “Nev, I’m sorry, I need to do it again….” She winced, took a deep breath, and her eyes went pitch black.

  Purple fire drifted from her fingertips as she stood. Her face was so calm it was almost devoid of emotion, and she spoke with a certainty I had never heard her use in the grip of Shadow. “I am going to go get my brother. Nev, I’m leaving you, Eton, and Basra here to defend the ship and Telu while I’m gone.”

  I opened my mouth to protest: What if she passed out? Was she even in control?

  But Qole was ablaze, not just with Shadow, but with a resolve that brooked no disagreement. Besides, she could apparently vaporize people. My blades would do Eton and the ship more good, especially since the guards would be less inclined to blow up the Kaitan with me standing in front of it.

  It was nevertheless with a sinking feeling that I nodded. “Understood. Just…come back.” It sounded foolish out loud, but it was all that was repeating in my head.

  Please come back.

  “I’m going too.” Basra stepped forward, his voice and face carrying the same peculiar quality I had noticed earlier, and it dawned on me that he was angry.

  No, it wasn’t anger. Fury. Qole trained her black gaze on him, and he returned it without blinking.

  “I’m coming with you to find Arjan,” Basra insisted. “No royal family, no captain, and no friend will stop me.” He walked toward the hatch and slammed the pad that opened it. “And then, after I’ve killed whoever has hurt him, I’m coming back with him.”

  I felt the absolute certainty of his words. With a groan, the ramp lowered, and Basra stalked out.

  “Okay.” Qole glanced back at us in a flash of darkness, and her hand grazed mine so quickly I almost wondered if I’d imagined it. “Be careful, I didn’t get all of them.”

  She followed Basra into the murky gloom of the hangar and was gone.

  Eton and I only took a moment to collect ourselves. I checked that both Disruption Blades were ready in their sheaths on my back, then hefted a photon rifle, while he tested the straps of Verta.

  “Are you ready for this?” I asked him, turning for the ramp.

  “Are you?” Eton bit back.

  His eyes flashed from deadly serious to surprised as I held out my hand. “Whatever happens, it has been an honor.”

  His gr
ip came just shy of crushing my hand this time—probably only so I could still use it. He smiled, and it was oddly genuine. “Don’t make me regret meeting you more than I already do.”

  I shook out my fingers and took up my rifle, and with that, we strode down the ramp.

  Qole and Basra were nowhere to be seen in the wrecked expanse of the hangar. It was disorienting to walk across the same floor that I had dashed across with Solara just last night.

  Solara. The first time we’d ever worked together on something, and now I might never see her again. Or Marsius. Or my parents.

  I scanned the ruined girders that outlined the gaping hole where the entrance to the rest of the palace had once been, like the crooked teeth of some monster. The drone had already redirected itself and flown out of the citadel, so I wondered why none of the starfighters had followed us down—perhaps they had been fooled by Qole’s incredible disappearing act.

  “See anything?” I called to Eton, feeling uneasy. Qole had said there were others here, and I disliked not knowing where.

  Instead of an answer, the whining spit of one of Eton’s plasma cannons echoed across the hangar. By the time I ducked and spun, the air had filled with the flickering blasts of a firefight.

  Our attackers poured into the hangar from a far corner, a full platoon, running in a low crouch and obviously intending to pummel us into submission with overwhelming numbers and force.

  I knew that segmented armor, those mirrored visors, the smooth precision of their movements: Bladeguards. But not just Bladeguards. Their blue and silver armor meant that they were the Home Guard, the elite personal entourage of my immediate family. They were the best the Academy had to offer, as skilled with conventional weaponry as they were with a blade. Their presence typically meant one of my family members was here, but I had no time to wonder now that all that firepower was now trained on us.

  The blue bursts of photon rifles pitted the floor and the Kaitan as they found their range. Ignoring me, the blast marks began to trek steadily toward Eton. Energy shield or no, that many would overwhelm him soon.