Thus Falls the Shadow
Martin Swinford
Published by Gable Press, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THUS FALLS THE SHADOW
First edition. December 1, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Martin Swinford.
Written by Martin Swinford.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
A Kind of Beginning
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-eight
Some Sort of End
Afterword
The Warrior
About the Author
A Kind of Beginning
THE PACKAGE FELT HEAVY in my hand. Heavy with promise. Heavy with regret. Heavy with the weight of wasted lives.
I'd taken it from the dead hand of an old friend, cut down by a hail of bullets half a system away, taken it and ran. I'd been chased through the rings of Kwa Prime. I'd hidden among the asteroids with the detritus of the system. I'd carried the package through blockades and checkpoints, and finally brought it here, to a half-forgotten moon, deep in the mining colonies of the outer system. I ran my fingers over the coarse fabric, felt the roughness of it, the scratch against my skin, then slipped the package into my pocket, taking care to zip it securely closed. I’d carried the package too far and for too long to lose it now. I took a deep breath and let it out, listening to the rattle of the respirator, and then punched the access code on the airlock. The door ground slowly open and I stepped through, tapping my fingers against my leg as I waited for the grind of the closing door to be replaced by the high-pitched whirr of the fans as the air began to cycle, I enjoyed the breeze on my face as the light above the inner door blinked from red to green. My left hand pulled the respirator so that it hung from one strap, my right slipped inside my jacket to feel the comforting weight of the automatic.
The smell hit as soon as I stepped inside, the unmistakeable smell of artificially purified air, spiced with a heady mixture of drugs, body odour and cooking fat. It was the smell of a thousand habitats across the system, places where life could only exist in tiny artificial bubbles, places where I'd spent much of my life. Others seemed to be used to it, like they'd smelled it so long it had faded to normality, but that was never the case for me.
The dome wasn't particularly small but it was so crammed with junk that even a few people could make it feel crowded. Fragments of machinery, stacks of raw materials, and packing cases piled almost to the ceiling formed a maze to trap the unwary or hide the shamed, a shadowy hinterland around the bright oasis that was the bar. I pushed my goggles up and rubbed my eyes, then headed for the light.
I bought a drink and sat down at a table remarkably free from grease. Like any other place that served shift workers the bar simultaneously sold breakfast, dinner and hard liquor, but I was taking it easy. A shot of whatever fire water they served here might stop your hands from shaking but I wanted my reactions keen.
“Have you got it?” A short balding guy with an open smile slid into the seat opposite me. “Have you?” he asked again.
“Shut your face!” The speaker leaned over and put his calloused hand on the other's shoulder. This guy was big, the solid bulk of a man who had laboured hard. He fixed me with a suspicious stare. “How do we know he's the one?”
“Well who else is he gonna be Seb?” the little guy replied. “Right place, right time, and he's the only guy here we don't know!”
“He's a stranger for sure.” The one called Seb still stared at me. “Doesn't mean he's our guy!”
“Does this convince you?” I leaned forward holding the package in my left hand, a gesture that allowed me to reach under my jacket with my right.
“You have got it!” The little man's eyes opened wide with delight as his hands reached eagerly.
“Not so fast!” I pulled my hand back. “Money first!”
“You'll get your money!” Seb growled. “But we see the goods first.”
“Uh-uh!” I shook my head. “I've smuggled this half way across the system. Show me the money!”
“Look, we have to have it!” The little guy was staring at me wild eyed. “The data on that chip will break open the whole monopoly. The stranglehold that the Company have on the outer worlds will be lifted. Millions of people will be freed from grinding their lives out for slave wages, finally they will have hope!”
“Save it!” My voice was intentionally harsh.
“What?”
“For someone who gives a fuck,” I continued. “I'm here for the money, pure and simple.”
“But...” The little man gulped and fell silent.
“You're wasting your time, Mal.” Seb's words rumbled through contemptuous lips. “There's only one language the likes of him understands.” He stared at me for a moment and then spat messily on the floor. A trickle of saliva ran down his stubbled chin. I felt a cold hard knot forming in my gut.
“What is this?” I asked looking from one to the other.
Seb's hand flashed up and something thumped into the side of my neck. I was half out of my seat and raising the gun before the pain registered, but then could only watch in horror as the gun fell from my suddenly nerveless fingers. I tried to grab the table but my arms flailed uselessly as my legs gave way and I crashed to the floor.
“Is he dead?” Two faces peered down at me.
“Nah, just paralysed for a while.” Seb smiled. He reached down and pulled what looked like a mechanical spider off my neck. “Always thought this little beauty would come in handy,” he said, clicking a button that made the needle pointed limbs retract. I wanted to scream at him, but it was all I could do to keep breathing as my body twitched and my limbs shook.
“Won't he come after us?”
Beyond their faces something caught my eye, a sudden light through the translucent roof of the dome.
“We'll be long gone,” Seb replied.
Now a shadow, and a thump. A cloud of dust began to float down, drifting in and out of the light in a series of phantom waves.
“Besides,” he continued. “I've got his gun!” He hefted it in his hand and smiled. I clenched my right fist in anger and was suddenly filled with relief as I realised the paralysis was wearing off.
“You got the data chip?” Seb asked. The little guy nodded but he wasn't really listening. He was staring upwards, watching the dust falling and seeing the light above the dome. Seb followed his gaze.
“What the fuck?” he muttered.
I took a deep breath.
The concussion as the roof of the dome blew out was immediately swallowed by the roar of air hurtling into space. Debris rained down, adding to the chaos of packing crates, tables and even bodies scattered by the blast. Around me people were struggling to their feet. Some shouted for help, wasting their precious few remaining breaths. I concentrated all my will into lifting my right hand, my breath starting to burn in my lungs. With a convulsive jerk I flipped my arm over into my chest and then used my fingers to drag my hand up toward as my face. People start
ed to fall around me, gasping and choking, clawing at their necks. My hand made it to my neck as the pressure reached breaking point and the air burst from my lungs. In a last desperate push, I grabbed the respirator and pushed it over my face, tears of relief starting from my eyes as I breathed deeply. I pushed my feet against the floor and felt them respond. Tried my arm again and was able to lift it enough to push my goggles over my stinging eyes. As they cleared I looked up just as something long and sinuous descended from the shattered dome above, followed by two, then three more. Dark shapes began to descend. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I muttered as I looked around desperately. Tilting my head back I could just see a gap below a long bench. Reaching over my head I grasped the bench in both hands and pulled as hard as I could, pushing and scrabbling with my feet to get my body sliding over the floor. For a moment I thought my strength would give out, but imminent death is a powerful motivator. After a desperate couple of seconds, I was wedged underneath, head tilted to one side, watching through the narrow slit for any sign of the attackers. From here I could see the sprawled body of the little man, the one called Mal. “Where's your hope now?” I thought as I stared into his bloodshot eyes, empty now of any sign of life.
I listened to the thump of boots as the unseen attackers landed. Red dots blinked on and travelled over the bodies. Desperately I tried to slow my breathing and stay perfectly still as both boots and lights came steadily closer. One dot of light swept over Mal's body, then returned and steadied. Two boots appeared in my line of vision. A hand reached down, flipped the body over and then pulled something from the dead man's pocket. The black glove opened briefly and I saw the package, still in its rough casing. The hand disappeared, boots walked away, lights blinked off. I lay in the darkness and fought back a scream.
One
TWO DAYS OUT FROM KWA 9 the dust takes a different form. The pulsing nebula of colour dominates the sky of every planet in the system, but now it changes, now the pattern becomes clear. Trapped by the interweaving gravitational fields of three suns is an ocean in which the tides of dust ebb and flow.
“Ok Drd, close enough. Cut the engines.”
“Fdwrp!”
“I know you know,” I replied. “Just thought I'd pretend I was in charge for once.”
He gave me a toothy grin and then busied himself at the controls. The clever, long fingered hands on each of his three arms danced quickly over the instruments. He was typical of the Kwa-nrt, the small, intelligent race that had dominated the Kwa home world, in spite of the fact that the other sentient species, the Kwa-doon, were much larger and stronger. The two had formed a symbiotic relationship with the Kwa-nrt running the show and the less intelligent Kwa-doon providing the muscle. I once explained this to a girl in a bar and she said she could see which one I was. I took it for a complement, but I was younger then.
The ship fell silent as the engines cut out. We were gliding now, sailing the gravitational fields, the great electro sail spreading out to capture and harness the forces that held the dust cloud in place.
“Bring her in slowly,” I said. “I'll see to our guest.”
Mr H was already on deck, sitting on the step of the fighting platform, beer can in hand. The open stern was surrounded by a field that contained the air but allowed solid objects to pass through and as I watched he pitched the empty can out into space. It sailed out over the stern before being caught and drawn in a tight loop towards the cloud. It vanished into the dust leaving a bright orange swirl that eddied and grew before fading away. He looked up at me.
“How's it looking?” he asked.
I looked out over a sea of purple and indigo, shot through with touches of green. One of the suns was high in the sky while another was slowly dipping below the horizon as we moved over the great curved surface of the cloud.
“There.” I pointed to starboard. We were running parallel to the line where two great currents converged, flowing in the same direction but at different speeds. The line where they joined was a hazy mist of yellow, white, silver, and orange as the dust particles collided. A ring appeared on the surface, a circle of orange, then, a second later, another, before fading away. Suddenly the surface was alive with rings and splashes as a cloud of creatures, slick metallic green, burst from the surface.
Mr H blew out a long breath. “Skitters,” he said, nodding.
“A good sign,” I agreed. “Time to out the trails.”
I turned to the control panel and punched in the commands that extended the trail arm. Crane like, it rose from the side of the boat before opening on its central hinge. Using the joy stick I manoeuvred it into place and then punched a button. From the end of the arm five fingers spread, a giant hand reaching out towards the turbulent dust. From the ends of the fingers, cables unwound and on the end of each a curved mirror flashed before dipping under the surface. Five gold lines now ran parallel to the course of the ship. We didn't have to wait long. A chime sounded from the controls as one of the lines whipped straight and something swirled in the dust. Two more chimes in quick succession, then as I reached for the controls two more. Behind the trail arm the dust boiled as the skitters tried to escape, lines jagging from side to side, suddenly slackening as a skitter leaped from the surface. At the control panel I began to bring the trail back in. The five skitters jerked free of the dust, twisting convulsively as the trail arm lifted.
“Stone me!”
I looked up. Mr H was staring out to starboard, pointing a shaking finger to a huge eruption in the dust.
“Did you see it?” I asked.
He nodded and still staring at the spot where the great beast had surfaced, started to back up onto the fighting platform. Suddenly we were at full speed, Mr H quickly strapping himself into the fighting chair, while I swung the skitters inboard. For a second they twitched in the air before I killed the power to let them fall into the keep tank.
“Ready?”
He grunted in reply, eyes intent on the dust. My hand hit the controls again and the great rod swung up and out over the back of the ship. Mr H reached out to grasp the butt which hung, suspended above him on the power assisted cage. I grabbed the end of the cable, thumbed the controls again and dipped it in the keep tank. With a click, one of the skitters attached to the electromagnetic hook, and I flicked the cable up and out to trail over the stern. Mr H thumbed the control to let out more cable. I waited a couple of seconds.
“Enough” I watched the cable pull taught. Three ship lengths astern the skitter twisted and rolled just below the surface. Orange swirls appeared and then faded in its wake. We waited.
If you've never done it, you won't understand it. People think it must be boring: sitting, watching, waiting, nothing happening but they underestimate the power of the surge of adrenaline. When the alarm sounds and the cable whips taught, and you feel the strength of the fish through the rod, then you're on a high like nothing else. Your shaking hands grip the rod as your heart hammers away in your chest. One half of you wants to yell in wild exultation, while the other is just terrified you might lose this thing you've waited so long for. It's what keeps you fishing hour after hour, going out day after day, spending money you can't really afford. It's an addiction, and Mr H had it bad.
“Beautiful ain't it?” Mr H jerked his chin in the direction of a blue disk that was rising rapidly over the stern. Pulled from my reverie, I looked up and nodded in assent, grunting something that could be taken as a yes.
“You ever been down there?”
I shook my head. The water-world of Kwa 14 was strictly for the rich. “You?”
“Just the once.” He smiled wistfully. “Got lucky on a business deal. This guy invited me for a week while we worked up a contract. Spent most of it on his yacht as we cruised the archipelago. The man had three assistants, you know? One blonde, one dark, one red head. As I remember, most of the assisting seemed to be decorative.” He shook his head. “Good times eh?”
I grunted again. I had no opinion on whether they were good time
s or bad, but if the punter wants to talk, then you let them talk. Pretty much rule number one.
“This guy, I mean, he came across like he was a really nice guy. He was one of those 'What's mine is yours' kind of guys, you know? Getting his girls to bring me a drink, asking if the food was ok, did I like where we were fishing, did I want he should move the boat. Like nothing was too much trouble, you know?”
I nodded, like I'd met the type.
“And then I hooked into this fish.” Mr H stopped and stared over the stern, left hand tinkering ineffectually with the rod. “It was the fish of a lifetime.”
“Big?”
“As long as you are tall, but not just big. Fin like a sail, cobalt back, rainbow sides, colours like you've never seen.” He stopped again, eyes focussed on a different time and place.
“What happened?”
“Fought it for an hour or more. First thirty minutes I was getting nowhere, just hanging on, you know? But gradually I felt it tiring. It still ran but each time just a little less far. And each time I got a bit more back in the reel. You know how it works?”
I nodded again.
“Finally, I get it in close. I can see it in the water right by the boat, gills working, fins just flickering every now and then. And the guy, he's got the gaff ready there, and he reaches down for the leader with his other hand but then just before he swings the gaff there's a pull and a splash and it's gone.”
“Gone?”
“Just gone, and the line whipping in the breeze. And the guy he's all apologetic and saying we should get back out have another go, but I just can't face it.”
I let him sit in silence for a while. He didn't need to explain to me, that sense of irretrievable loss. Then just when I'm about to get up he speaks again, very quietly.
“The thing is, when I checked the line it wasn't frayed at all, like when it's snapped you know? Just a nice clean cut. I guess he wasn't such a nice guy after all.”
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