Shadowstrike

by T W Iain

<‍It’s what he commands,‍> Keelin told her. <‍But he only wants you held. Don’t worry.‍>

  Ryann couldn’t help but worry. Piran and Eljin were going to die. “You couldn’t believe I’d watch and do nothing.” As she spoke, her breathing came back under control. Her pulse still raced, though. “They’re my friends. Not that you know what one of them is.”

  The last sentence was a mistake. Ryann knew that as soon as it slipped from her lips, as soon as the sickening smile dropped from Murdoch’s face. She saw his arm tense, hand flat, ready for another slap.

  It didn’t come. Instead he stepped back and shook his head. His eyes glazed as he sussed, and the door to the office opened. Ryann didn’t turn, but she heard Enya entered the room.

  “You’ve become a problem, Harris. And you know how I deal with problems.”

  Enya stepped forward, next to Murdoch.

  “But not yet,” he said, and the smirk returned. “You deserve to see the endgame. Even though the lessons will be short-lived, you will learn the cost of meddling with me.” He shrugged. “Who knows‌—‌maybe, before I have you killed, you might even understand.”

  Enya stared at Ryann, but Murdoch turned back to the screens. Ryann followed his eyes.

  Four images.

  Her friends trapped within the Proteus.

  A NeoGen at the hatch, hammering hard.

  More NeoGens racing through the forest.

  Brice, staggering back as the thing that had been Ronat attacked him.

  And there was nothing Ryann could do to stop the inevitable.

  “Get this thing off the ground!” Siren screamed, standing in the doorway between cabin and bridge.

  Deva shuddered. She’d imagined things would improve when they were all on the Proteus and the hatch was closed. She thought Piran and Eljin would only take a couple of minutes to get the craft in the air.

  Siren obviously thought that too, and she wasn’t taking the delay well. She glared into the bridge, then turned to Soldier, who stood by the main hatch.

  Whatever was outside hammered on the hatch once more, the metallic sound ringing round the craft.

  “Go away!” Siren shouted, lifting her gun up. A film of sweat coated her forehead, and there were dark stains under her arms.

  Soldier took a step back and raised her own weapon. She pushed the stock against her shoulder and tilted her head, looking along the sights.

  They both ignored Deva, and that was fine by her. She stayed at the back of the cabin, near the unused sleeping pods. She glanced around‌—‌the lack of table, the benches set higher than usual and folded back against the walls, and the storage units all closed. It felt devoid of life.

  Like a tomb.

  Siren turned back to the cabin. “What’s taking you so long in there?”

  “This extra security’s tricky,” Piran called back. From her vantage point, Deva could watch him, hunched over his screen, with Eljin over his shoulder.

  “Thought you said you were good.”

  “Just need more time. It’s not like this screen’s top quality.”

  “I don’t want excuses. If there’s a problem, you fix it. I want this tub off the ground. Clear?”

  Piran nodded, biting his lower lip.

  “And while you’re at it, get that woman back on. If she’s a friend, she needs to help us.”

  They’d all heard the voice that warned of the returning ghouls. Piran and Eljin had said a name‌—‌Ryann?‌—‌and frozen for a moment, eyes wide and mouths open. Of course, Siren had yelled at them to get back to work. She’d shouted at the voice to go away.

  Deva had never seen Siren this wound up, and it scared her. The way she swung that gun around didn’t help matters.

  Deva looked to the gun she held, the one Siren had said was perfect for her‌—‌but she’d said it with that sarcastic, bitter smile on her face. It was small, the barrel thin, although obviously designed to be held in two hands. It was light, too, like there was nothing to it. Deva had examined it, and it seemed to work on compressed air. It was pathetic. Compared to the weapons the others had, this was a toy.

  Which, Deva knew, was why Siren had said it was perfect for her.

  The thing outside clouted the hatch again.

  “Soldier, check out what keeps banging. And get it to stop.”

  Soldier looked to the hatch, then back at Siren. “You want me to open the door? Won’t that let it in?”

  “Of course I don’t want that! But find some way. You’re our security, so make us secure.” Then Siren spun back to insult Piran and Eljin.

  Deva turned to Soldier. “There’s always the escape hatch,” she said, pointing to the circular door in the craft’s ceiling.

  Soldier considered it, her head to one side. “That open straight to the outside?”

  “No. There’s a chamber, like a tube, about so long,” and Deva held her arms out, about shoulder width. “There’s another hatch-door to the outside.”

  “And when that’s open, anything could come in.”

  Deva shrugged. “Just a thought.”

  Soldier looked at the hatch, her face screwed up in thought. Her eyes darted to Siren.

  “Don’t suppose there’s any way you can find a hole.” She smiled at Deva. “Any more magic you can do with that screwdriver of yours?”

  “Take too long. There’s inner and outer hull, and all kinds of‌…‌stuff between.”

  Soldier turned back to the main hatch. She breathed heavily, and her fingers twitched where they held her weapon.

  A shout came from the cabin. Siren’s face was red, a vein throbbing above one eye. She had one arm back, and Eljin cowered.

  Soldier shook her head and muttered something that sounded like ‘bloody woman.’ It was hard to hear clearly, even though everything was quiet now.

  Soldier’s brow furrowed, and she turned back to the hatch. “When was the last crash? Haven’t heard anything for a while.”

  It was true. While they’d been talking, whatever was outside seemed to have halted its attack on the craft.

  Siren must have noticed too, because she stepped into the cabin. “Still might be out there,” she said. “Still a problem. While those idiots get this thing working, we need to make sure. See to it, Soldier. Live up to your name for once.”

  Deva wanted to laugh at that ‘for once’. Soldier took orders, did whatever Siren asked, even if it made no sense. She always led the way to a drop, and had killed more demons than any of the others.

  But now she hesitated. “I don’t want to risk whatever’s out there coming in.”

  Siren snorted. “That’s what you’ve got a gun for. Open the hatch, and kill anything that appears. Don’t go soft on me, Soldier.” And she brought her own weapon up‌—‌not exactly aimed at Soldier, but definitely pointed in her direction.

  Soldier nodded, then turned to Deva. “Might be time to use your screwdriver again.” Then she smiled. “At least you’ll be hidden away.”

  Deva nodded. She placed her pathetic pop-gun on the floor and pulled her trusty screwdriver from her pocket.

  It would be easier from inside. She’d have the panel off in a matter of seconds, and then she could turn the cog to open the hatch.

  But Deva hesitated. What if that thing was still out there? And‌…‌and what if the ghouls returned?

  “Do it!” Siren’s spittle hit Deva’s face.

  With a shudder, Deva got to work.

  As Ronat lunged, Brice shifted. Muscles moved of their own accord.

  Her talons sliced the air in front of his face, a warm blur brushing his skin.

  And she’d over-extended. Just like she used to in training.

  Brice spun, and before Ronat could recover, he ran to the Proteus. The sun beat down on him, but he focused on the shadows beneath the craft.

  Ronat roared, too close behind. Brice dove to the ground, felt the back of his jacket rip, then he hit the ground and rolled.

  It was cooler under the Prote
us, but Brice couldn’t stop. Already Ronat was crouching, reaching her arms out. But she was too big to follow.

  The underside of the craft was not smooth. There were bulges of metal, rivets, other things Brice didn’t know the name of. But they could help him.

  He grabbed what he could and he pulled, kicking with his feet, propelling himself under the Proteus.

  Beyond his legs, Brice saw Ronat rise to her feet. He saw her boots stomp away, then she broke into a run.

  Heading round the Proteus, ready to cut him off.

  She reached the nose of the craft. He pulled harder. And then the sun hit his eyes.

  Brice rolled, pushing with his hands as he leapt to his feet, ready to face Ronat. He felt her trace, saw her running toward him.

  And then he felt the other trace.

  A grey mass blocked his view.

  An arm shot out, a fist hammering at the hatch, the sound ringing in Brice’s ears. And then the ghoul turned to face him, the tiny eyes in its grey head growing wide with surprise.

  Brice jumped out of the way as it swiped. He pushed off the Proteus’ hull and ducked as the ghoul swung again. He staggered forward, closer to the creature, as it brought another arm round.

  He threw himself at the ghoul’s legs. He hit them hard, his body jarring.

  And the ghoul staggered.

  It wasn’t much, but it was enough. That movement enabled Brice to stand, and to back away.

  It also angered the ghoul. It clenched its fists. Its face contorted as it snorted.

  And then another ghoul appeared by its side.

  Ronat.

  The ghoul nodded to her, then turned to Brice. “You might be able to outrun one of us, but not both.”

  Brice backed away, slowly and deliberately. The ghoul laughed. “Thought you were supposed to be tough.” It took a few steps toward him.

  And away from the hatch.

  That was enough to give Brice an idea.

  He continued to back up, body side on, arms raised. The creature followed. Its shoulders were hunched, ready for attack, but its arms were lower than before. When Brice looked at its face, there was almost a smile. It was confident. And that gave Brice something he could use.

  “I‌…‌I don’t want to fight,” he said, adding the stammer for effect and letting his voice trail off.

  “You think I care what you want? And who said anything about fighting. I kill you, that’s all.” The ghoul laughed again. “The arrogance, to think you could actually fight me.”

  Brice saw trees beyond the Proteus now, as the distance between himself‌—‌and the ghoul‌—‌and the craft grew. Soon, he could make that distance even bigger. But he needed the creature to follow. He needed to rile it further.

  So he curled his hand into a fist, and he swung upwards. Even though he knew it would do no damage, he punched the creature on the side of its face.

  The ghoul grunted, and its arm jerked round. Brice stepped back, but still the talons caught him, ripping through his sleeve. A shard of pain shot along his arm, and warmth spread. He staggered, but retained his feet.

  Then he turned and ran.

  He felt the trace behind him, red with anger, as the ghoul followed.

  Brice’s legs burned. He couldn’t outrun this thing, but he could make these few steps count. He could get that beast away from the Proteus, give his friends a chance.

  The ghoul roared. Brice dipped one foot, lurching off to his left, and he felt a rush of air as something brushed past his back. But it didn’t hit him, and he ran on.

  The ghoul yelled something, and he heard its voice in his head. The words were fragmented, but it spoke of catching, of killing. At one point it sounded like it was arguing with someone.

  Brice’s heart hammered. Blood raced round his system, pushed to breaking point. He knew he only had a couple more steps in him.

  When the ghoul roared again, the air behind Brice rippled.

  His legs buckled. He hit the ground hard. Specks of light scattered across his vision.

  Air rushed over him, a shadow obliterating the sun. The ground shook as the ghoul crashed into it, beyond Brice’s head.

  He had enough strength to roll over, his chest complaining as he gulped in air. He brought a hand up, shielding his eyes from the brightness. The Proteus lay in the distance. There was no movement around it.

  A shadow fell on him. Brice turned his head.

  The ghoul stood over him, laughing. It turned for a moment, and Brice followed its gaze.

  He hadn’t heard the Hermes come in, but now he saw it land, and the ringing in his ears morphed into the whine of the craft’s engines shutting down. It towered over the two Proteuses. Displaced air flowed over Brice, hot with the smell of burnt fuel.

  “Nice to have back-up,” the ghoul said. “Not that I need it.”

  And the beast fell on Brice.

  <‍Do something!‍> Ryann screamed. Keelin felt her friend’s body tremble through her own hand.

  Keelin admired her. The emotion struck her, suddenly. Murdoch had all but told Ryann she was going to die, yet she was still more concerned with Brice.

  She had always known Ryann was strong, but this‌…‌this was a special kind of strength. This was real power.

  On the screen, Brice disappeared under the Proteus, and Murdoch muttered. But Keelin was impressed‌—‌he’d been quick, and it was a smart move.

  But not smart enough.

  <‍Ronat, get round the Proteus. Don’t let Tess get Brice.‍>

  It was too late, though. Tess had seen Brice.

  <‍Tess, leave him,‍> Keelin tried. <‍The others inside‌—‌they’re more important.‍> Her stomach clenched at her own words, but she had to help Brice.

  <‍They’re not going anywhere. And who are you to give me orders?‍>

  <‍Just trying to help.‍> But that sounded weak. It came across as the excuse it was.

  She couldn’t expose herself. Not yet.

  <‍Ronat, please,‍> she sussed, tight to her sister. <‍Do whatever you can to stop Tess.‍>

  <‍There’s nothing I can do. And‌…‌and it hurts.‍>

  Of course it did. The pain still throbbed behind Keelin’s eyes. But there was another pain, stronger, pounding in her heart.

  She watched. When Brice knocked against Tess’ legs, Keelin felt her surprise. When Brice ran, she felt Tess’ indignation that he’d try to escape, and her anger. And her excitement.

  Tess was looking forward to killing Brice.

  <‍Ronat. Follow them.‍>

  <‍Can’t. He‌…‌my instructions.‍>

  <‍Ignore him. Think for yourself, Ronat.‍>

  <‍I’m Treya.‍>

  <‍You’re Ronat! You used to live on Haven. You trained with Brice.‍> Keelin rummage through her memory. <‍You once beat Eljin on the games table, and he sulked for a week.‍>

  <‍In the past.‍>

  <‍But it’s who you are. The real you. Ronat.‍>

  The Hermes jerked, and Ryann fell against Keelin once more. Even Murdoch staggered.

  <‍Feels like Enya’s got us down in one piece,‍> Keelin sussed, but the levity was out of place. She concentrated on Ronat once more. <‍We’re here. Don’t know if that’s good or bad. But you can’t let Brice die.‍>

  <‍But what can I do? He‌…‌Tess has him.‍>

  It was true. She loomed over Brice now. Through Tess’ lenses, Keelin saw Brice struggling for breath, saw the dazed look in his eyes.

  <‍Ronat, please!‍>

  <‍I‌…‌I can’t! It hurts.‍>

  <‍Ignore the pain. You have to do something!‍>

  And Tess lunged.

  The strike never came.

  Brice kept his eyes open, but still he only saw parts of what happened. One moment, his vision was filled with the descending ghoul, fangs dripping drool from an animal smile, one arm powering forward, talons pointed to his chest like five perfect daggers. And then it was gone, the sunlight blind
ing.

  Two ghouls tumbled to Brice’s left, but they were on their feet in a second. They faced each other, attack-ready. The one Brice had lured from the Proteus faced him, and he knew its attention shifted from Brice to the other ghoul. The one with its back to Brice.

  The one that had saved his life.

  Ronat.

  <‍What are you doing?‍> That was the voice of the one facing Brice, and he heard its voice as clearly as if it were talking out loud.

  <‍I can’t let you kill him, Tess.‍> And that was Ronat. She sounded strong, determined.

  <‍But those are our instructions.‍>

  Ronat dipped her head, and even though he couldn’t see her face, Brice knew she was grimacing.

  <‍He is‌…‌Brice. He is a friend.‍>

  The two ghouls circled, both crouched, both with arms out wide.

  <‍He’s the anomaly. The boss wants him gone. Why do you refuse, Treya?‍>

  Ronat shook her head. <‍Not Treya. Ronat.‍>

  The one Ronat called Tess shook with laughter. <‍You’re talking about the past. You’re Treya. The past is gone.‍>

  <‍No. I’m Ronat. And you…‌who were you, before? Who are you really?‍>

  Brice focused on Tess’ trace, vibrant red, shaking with anger. But there was a slither of uncertainty.

  Her fingers stretch out on one hand, talons glinting in the sun.

  He wanted to shout a warning, but knew there was no time. All he could do was watch as the ghoul launched itself.

  <‍Shut up!‍> the one called Tess yelled. And she attacked.

  But Ronat was ready. She grabbed one arm and pulled, using momentum and mass to spin Tess round.

  Tess staggered. As Ronat released her grip, she pushed, and Tess reached out, one hand slamming into the ground. Enough that she stayed on her feet.

  <‍You protecting that thing?‍>

  Ronat shook her head‌—‌not as a negative answer, but with eyes tight, fighting off the pain inside.

  <‍Get out of here.‍> The voice was stronger, and Brice knew Ronat was sussing tightly, the words for him alone. <‍She says they’ll need you at the Proteus. Keelin.‍>

  The words slammed into Brice. Ronat and Tess circled once more.

  <‍Go!‍>