SHADOW EMPIRE Read online

  "Wherever you go, I go."

  It’s a nice sentiment, but how far can I trust someone who would murder his own brother? "And where exactly do you think I'm going to go?" she asked.

  He leaned closer to her, his lips inches from her ear. "Something tells me you'll be seated on a throne overlooking this entire damned galaxy."

  His words burned at her conscience. She had no ambition for sitting on a throne. The only thing she wanted was to live in a galaxy free of fear and free of the looming threat that Greshia would soon devour them into their empire. But he was right about one thing: someone was looking down at the galaxy from a seat of power, and if they had any hope at all, then CERCO needed to level the playing field. How they got to that point would ultimately be inconsequential. Survival was the only measure of success worth noting.

  "I want to thank everyone for coming out," the minister said, his voice projecting louder than before. His eyes cut towards Hespha and Ka’Hor’al, a knowing smirk on his face telling Hespha all she needed to know, that the minister knew she was there in person but not mentally. What do I care, she thought, I don't believe in any higher power; I'm just here because it is expected of me.

  As the crowd dispersed, the minister stepped towards Hespha and Ka’Hor’al, the gait of his steps showing that he favored his left. It's always nice to identify weaknesses, she thought. "It was a lovely memorial, Minister," Hespha said. Ka’Hor’al stepped forward, placing himself between the minister and Hespha.

  The minister smiled as he extended his hand towards Ka’Hor’al. "I'm so glad that you thought so," he said. "From my vantage point it did not appear that you are paying attention, but I'm sure I could be mistaken."

  Hespha watched as Ka’Hor’al took hold of the minister's hand, gripping it tightly. "I'm sorry, minister. We've been under a lot of stress since T’anoi's death; I am sure you can understand that."

  "Of course," he said. His smile led Hespha to believe that he was lying, that he knew something that he wanted to hold over their heads. Hespha knew it was all bullshit, that he had nothing on them. If anything, T’anoi's death could be blamed on any number of disillusioned people in his life. Besides, Hespha had insured only certain people had seen his body after his death.

  "What are your plans for this afternoon, Minister?" Hespha asked.

  "I have none," he replied.

  "Would you like to join us for lunch?" Ka’Hor’al eyed her warily, but she knew the minister's reply before it left his lips.

  "No, thank you. I don't tend to dine with politicians," he said, not trying to hide the disdain his voice.

  Hespha fought the urge to slap her hand across his face, but she knew that was his goal, to get under her skin and force her to act out. She had seen this type before, how they manipulate people and force them to do things out of character. She would be damned if she fell for that.

  "We are not politicians, Minister," Ka’Hor’al said. Hespha could tell he was having a hard time controlling the tone of his voice, but he did not raise it, which was a good thing considering the crowd.

  The minister smiled. "I understand, son, that your scientific advances have thrust your organization into a political realm that none of us have ever wondered going to. With all due respect, your actions are going to alert the Greshian Empire of our vast resources. How do you propose that we defend ourselves against such actions?" the man looked at them expectantly.

  Hespha fought the grin threatening to stretch upon her face. He was trying to lead her to a confession of guilt, that she had nothing to feel guilty about when it came to protecting their home. "I believe that what we're trying to do is in the best interests of our society, minister," she said. There was sincerity in her voice that was not faked, but also dread at the idea she could be deceiving herself.

  "I'm sure you believe that," he said with a tinge of sarcasm. "But I'm not sure you could convince the rest of us of your good intentions."

  Hespha felt as if her skin was about the crawl off her body. It wasn't easy being the leader of an organization shrouded in mystery, but she had a duty to uphold.

  "We appreciate your time, Minister, but we have other obligations," Ka’Hor’al said. Hespha felt herself relax as Ka’Hor’al took her by the arm and led her away from the minister. There was silence between them, but the glare in his eyes as he stared them down said more than enough to know what he was thinking from Hespha's point of view.

  "I can't stand that man," she said. Hespha's heart beat rapidly in her chest as she inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself down. "It's people like that that will send me to an early grave." Saying that made her thoughts drift to T’anoi, and she stared at the marble coffin his body lay in. She fought back the urge to feel regret at what had happened, knowing it was for the greater good, even if no one else could see it.

  "I know what you mean," Ka’Hor’al said. He was still pulling her by the arm even though they were far enough away from the minister to be out of ear shot. Ka’Hor’al walked fast, causing Hespha to take quicker and shorter steps to keep from falling over.

  "You think we can slow down?" She asked.

  "I just want to get out of here," he replied as they arrived at their vehicle. It was shaped like a sphere and tinted on all sides. It rested on four pads beneath it, but hovered inches from the ground when it moved. Looking at it made her think of T’anoi because it was his design. You aren't the only one, she thought as she looked back at T’anoi's casket. This was more haunting than I thought it would be.

  Ka’Hor’al opened the door to the vehicle and let Hespha in first. The seats were cold as she sat back and made her feel as uncomfortable as the awkward exchange they had with the minister. I hope I never see that man again," she thought.

  Ka’Hor’al entered the vehicle after her and sat across from her. The ball the shape of the vehicle made it feel more confining that she likes. A vibrating sound interrupted the silence and startled her. Ka’Hor’al pulled the com-unit from his pocket and answered, "Yes?" She watched as his brow furrowed while he listened to the person on the other end. Wondering what the call could be about, she sat in patient silence. "I understand," he said. "I'll pass this information along. Thank you." Ka’Hor’al close the device and shoved it back into his pocket. "We found evidence that the weapon still exists."

  "Carista?" Hespha asked. She felt a sense of impatience and anxiety about what he was about to say.

  "More or less," he replied. "What T’anoi didn't tell us was that there was more than one weapon." His words hung in the air as she tried to comprehend how there could be more than one weapon.

  That wasn't how we designed the program, she thought. "I don't understand," she said. "I thought Carista was the only one."

  Ka’Hor’al nodded and adjusted his collar nervously. "That's the thing," he said. "She was the only one, but the one we knew was not the only one."

  “So, where is the weapon now?”

  Ka’Hor’al readjusted himself in the seat. “They found evidence from four years ago that T’anoi made more than one. It’s poor quality video footage of another installation where Carista and others like her were held. The whereabouts are unknown, but if we can find a paper trail, then we will find the weapon.”

  Hespha thought about what he said and realized they had been deceived by T’anoi the entire time they worked with him. She pulled a tear from her eye before it ran down her cheek. "I wonder what else we did not know.”

  "I'm not sure I want to know the answer to that."

  "Neither do I," she said. "But it seems T’anoi's past is going to haunt us longer than we anticipated. Your brother had more things in the works than he wanted us to know. So, the girl was a clone. That means all of T’anoi's research wasn't wasted after all."

  "What do you want to do about it?"

  She looked out the dark window of the vehicle as it moved quietly down the secluded road. Rain began to fall, creating staggered streams against the glass. The change in weather reflected her mood
perfectly. "When we have the weapon, then we'll use it. Until then, let’s keep it business as usual."

  Three

  Anki

  The room chilled Anki, causing her to curl under the blankets on her bed. No matter what she did, she could never shake the shivering sensation coursing through her body. It was like being caught in a blizzard neither she, nor anyone else, could see. It had been only a few weeks since their ordeal with CERCO, but the crew was at peace in a way she had not expected, and it made her uncomfortable. With Brendle on the bridge, she was alone with her thoughts, which often drifted to Carista. The young girl had made an impression on her despite their having known her for only a day. It was because of CERCO that Carista had been imprisoned and forced to act as a weapon by people who considered themselves scientists. To Anki, they were not scientists: they were monsters.

  The scary thing for Anki was the lost time she experienced when she escorted the young girl onto the CERCO ship called the Yeopa. How did seconds turn into days? And how was it that she could hardly recall her experience on the ship while she was gone? It was confusing, almost as if she experienced amnesia after waking from a coma. She almost wished that was the explanation because it was something she could at least wrap her head around. That changed nothing though. The outcome was still the same, and Carista died saving them. Witnessing the blue orb surrounding her lifeless body in the dark filled Anki's mind. The haunting vision kept her up at night and there was nothing she could think to do to block it out. Sleep evaded her, and when she did sleep, she was haunted by ghastly memories making things worse.

  Things are always worse before they get better, she hoped.

  A knock at the door caused her to stir. "Come in," she said, hardly needing to speak loudly to be heard because the door was not fully closed.

  Malikea stepped into the room, his crimson robe flittering at his heels as he walked. "Are you feeling all right?" His voice was soft and unobtrusive despite its being the third time he stopped by that day. Each time, Anki had smiled and nodded, hoping for him to leave her alone. She thought a different approach now might help.

  Anki sat up and shrugged. "I suppose. Why do you ask?" The slight change in her behavior seemed to work.

  He smiled at her and she thought he might call her a liar, but he did not. "I was hoping you would come up to the bridge during my shift, so we could talk," he said.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't know there was anything in particular you wanted to talk about." She felt sorry for leaving him alone, but that was precisely how she wanted to be left at the moment. It felt as if she was constantly drowning in her thoughts and inner conversations. All she wanted was silence where there was none.

  He sat down next to her and shook his head. "It's not that, I'm just worried about you, is all. We used to talk all the time before..."

  He stopped talking and Anki knew exactly what he was going to say. "Before Carista?" no one else seemed to want to mention her name, but that was the least difficult thing for Anki to do. It was having a moment when the girl did not cross her mind that proved the most challenging.

  Malikea looked as though he had been kicked in the teeth. "Yes."

  Anki leaned closer to him and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I'm fine and I love you for caring enough about me to check up on me. I'm just having trouble processing what I went through, and the fact I can hardly remember most of it isn't helping me at all." The nightmares and lack of sleep aren’t helping either.

  "I understand," he said as he rose from the bed. "I didn't mean to imply anything." Malikea’s face turned red, and he shifted uncomfortably.

  Anki was worried that she might have offended him. "No, it's not that," she said. "Thank you for looking after me, but I'm not sure what will help pull me out of my own head right now."

  He nodded apologetically, the look on his face breaking her heart. Malikea is the one I know I can always talk to, she thought, and it’s clear I haven't been doing that enough lately.

  "I'll tell you what, why don't we plan a day on the next port, and just the two of us go out? We can grab some food and drink, and just have a good time without worrying about what may or may not be lurking around the corner," she suggested, more for her own benefit than his, but he didn’t have to know that.

  "That sounds fun," he said. "But don't you think Brendle might feel a little jealous?"

  Anki chortled at the thought. "No, I think he would like to get out of a day of potential shopping and walking around carrying my bags." Malikea laughed at her response and Anki could see his eyes light up. Maybe he needs these talks as much as I do. "Besides, Deis and Brendle get along great and would probably enjoy going out together. Brendle can drag Deis around to look at gadgets and all kinds of other things we have no way of affording."

  "Deis would hate that," Malikea said. "As a priest, he was well taken care of. Money was never an issue for us. Of course, the tech was one of the things our society shunned. The only reason we had port umbilicals was because other worlds put them there to use our planet for resources."

  "Really? I thought Lechushe' was just as advanced as Luthia?"

  Malikea shook his head. "No, we were not a technologically advanced society. All our electronics originated from somewhere else, and only a small percentage of Lechuns used any of it, mostly those not of the faith. Deis and I eased into it slowly. That, in part, led to our curiosity about moving off-world and experiencing what life was like on other planets. Of course, you know how that turned out."

  "Crase?"

  "Yes."

  Anki still remembered how Crase Tuin's grip on her neck felt as he choked her when he tried to reclaim the Replicade. In the end, the crew defeated him, but only because a Lechun man named Neular helped them. "I think it's normal to be curious about what else is out there," she said after an awkward silence. “I imagine part of the reason I joined the Marines was because of this. Of course, I’ve seen more of our universe while on the run from the Greshians than I did in service to my world, but then again, a lot has changed in my life.”

  "It was an experience," Malikea replied. "Not all of it was bad, but there was a time I thought my life was over."

  Me too, Anki thought. And it probably isn’t the time you think.

  Four

  Ilium

  Ilium’s eyes opened in the King Slayer’s smoke-filled bridge. He was disoriented, and his head throbbed. He tried to stand, but the harness strapped over his shoulders would not allow him to rise from his chair. The dimly lit bridge echoed the screams of the crew as a piercing alarm sounded. He could only imagine what horror was outside the enclosed space, spreading throughout the ship with the other men and women of the ship having been tossed and hurled, crashing into bulkheads, trying to avoid certain death. How many of them were successful? "What happened?" He croaked, his voice hoarse. Speaking made his chest hurt which created an image in his mind of a possible internal injury that he waved off dismissively. I’m not dead, so it can’t be that bad.

  "Sir, are you, all right?" Ensign Stavis asked. She hovered, a cut across her forehead oozing blood that she wiped away with the sleeve of her uniform. It took Ilium a moment to realize she wasn’t levitating, but standing over him as he lay back in his seat, the hinge of the chair reclined from the impact of what happened.

  "I think so," Ilium replied. "Where's the captain?"

  She looked at him, her eyes wide, either from shock or from injury, he could not tell. "He's in the med bay, Sir."

  "What? That's it? That's all you have to say? What's wrong with him?" Ilium felt powerless. Captain Crexon oversees the ship. He is more knowledgeable, more of a leader, more adept at making the decisions for this vessel, Ilium thought.

  "Where−" he meant to ask where the medical bay was, but he knew the answer. He was disoriented to the point he could barely piece together his own thoughts. He unbuckled the straps and let them fall to his sides as he rose from the chair. He thought each movement of his body was more painful than s
trictly necessary. With the captain in medical I'm in charge, he thought, but it felt like a question. "What is the status of the ship?" it was the only thing he could think of that made him sound as if he was worthy to be in command.

  "We have seventy sailors injured and three dead, Sir," Ensign Stavis said. Her response felt like a kick to the gut. Why so many, Ilium wondered. How could we have avoided this?

  Smoke tickled his nostrils as he forced himself to walk. Every part of his body felt as if it was bruised or broken, but he limped towards the exit and out into the passageway. "See to the rest of the crew. I'm going to the med bay," he said through a pain-induced gasp. Ilium felt something behind his ear and wiped at it with his hand, pulling it back to reveal dark, wet blood. That's not good, he thought, feeling queasy. I hate blood.

  “Sir, you’re bleeding. Let me assist you,” Stavis said.

  Ilium waved her off. “No, I need you to take care the ship. What better place for a bleeding man to go than to the med bay, right?” He meant it to be a joke, but her stern look suggested it was either missed or ill-timed.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll handle the ship until you return,” she replied, her face pale with noticeable fear. Ilium recognized it in himself as well.

  “I’ll send someone up to look at that cut for you,” he said, turning from the bridge and jogging down the passageway, one hand steadying himself on the bulkhead to keep from falling over. A duty not made easier as his left leg refused to cooperate, leaving him hobbling more than running.

  To get to the med bay, Ilium had to traverse down two steep ladder wells which was no easy task as he limped along, dizzy and bleeding from his head. He lost his footing on the last four rungs of the well and collapsed to the deck, his legs folding under him awkwardly. He barely had a chance to scream before slamming his face against the deck with a loud, nauseating slap. He lay there a moment, trying to muster the courage to keep going. But he rose slowly from the deck, pulling himself up with the handrail for support.