Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy Book 1) (17 page)

Chapter TWENTy-two

JAILED, AGAIN

“You had to kick the man.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“We would not be in this mess if you had let me do the talking.”

“Yeah, right.”

Brother Cavil snorted and turned his back on Ray, folding his arms. Ray left him alone and inspected the room. They were locked in a storage room full of crates smuggled from the core systems judging by their shipping tags. The walls were full of scrap parts from crashed ships displayed as souvenirs at the back of Joe’s Hole.
Storage room with two jail cells.
The place smelled like piss, and some drunkard in the next cell was emptying his stomach every five minutes.
Counterfeit whiskey for sure.

Brother Cavil’s visage was a constant, painful grimace, his wrinkles deepening each time their neighbor retched.

“We have to get out of here, Raymond.”

“Don’t you have one of your bright ideas, old man?” The bear named Jake had battered him well. Now he was most definitely sure about a broken rib or two.

“And they took the Arinar as well!” Brother Cavil deplored.

“Yeah, well, about that”—Ray tried to comfort himself before continuing, leaning against the wall and letting himself slide slowly to the floor—“I’ll go back to Earth and settle this mess with the Consortium.”

“Earth?” Brother Cavil raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. When we get out of here, I’ll help you go wherever you need and then make my way home. If we can find that Arinar of yours before we leave, all the better.”

“Earth!” The old man leaned in, looking dangerous.

“Yes! Earth, damn it!” Ray burst out. “I don’t want to be part of all this. I just want to go back to my life. Prophecies, assassins, glowing statuettes, I don’t want any of it.”

Brother Cavil moved even closer, his eyes flaring with anger. His whisper was as threatening as his stare. “You want to crawl back into the cave you call ‘life’ and pretend nothing has happened?”

Ray raised his head. “I couldn’t care less about your mad prophecies. People are right; Bunari
is
a stupid, mad place!”

“Boy, unless you know how to reverse time, those
mad
prophecies and evil men haunting you will be your new reality,” the old man snorted, folding his arms again. “And mine as well.”

“You know what? I don’t care. You can take your statue and shove it up your—”

A slap, or a sledgehammer, depending on how one perceived it, shut Ray up, showing him stars in a whole different way.

“I am bored to death with your whining! Some higher power beyond our understanding chose you to carry out an important task, divine even. A hundred thousand people died because of it and people who do not care about killing hunts you. And all your ignorant oak-headed brain can think of is to go back to Earth and tell that you are sorry!”

Ray was stunned. He raised his hand slowly to his cheek, rubbing it to ease the pain, but suspected it would be harder to soothe the hurtful shame.

“Do you know what I left back there? My home, my life!” Brother Cavil scolded, “And all because I found a dying man in the forest and gave him some herbs!”

“I—”

“And his pod killed a fox. A beautiful, furry fox!” The old man knit his brows. “Although I believe they are not quite like the foxes on Earth,” he nodded. “But I call it a fox!”

“I—”

“Shut up and listen for once! Life is bigger than your cozy captain’s deck and your immature feeling of self-pity.”

“I know. It’s not like that.”

“It is not like
what
,
Raymond?” Brother Cavil snapped. “That ship was your escape from reality and now it is gone, and you want to crawl back into another lie by going back to your home. What will you do then, eh? Find another ship to carry you away from your burdens?”

Ray opened his mouth to argue but realized he was out of words. When had his legs started trembling? The crazy old man had opened his Pandora’s Box with a few words and he felt naked.

“A hundred thousand people! Your friends died.” The old man waited for his words to sink in, then touched Ray’s chest with his finger. “You yourself almost died, son.”

“Perhaps I should’ve died.”

“Perhaps, but you did not and that is all there is to it. I do not know why you are in the spot of all these things but the Arinar reacts to you and some people clearly do not want it to be used. You are somewhat connected to something much bigger and older than anything we know. Better to make peace with it and solve the mystery then to ignore the reality.”

Silence followed their exchange. The old man fiddled with a small tear in his robe. Ray instinctively raised his hand to his neck. A wave of agony rushed through him and he cursed himself for letting the limping man take the locket.

“This is the second time I have seen you carried away.”

Ray looked at Brother Cavil. “I was never good with handling responsibility, old man. I try to care, I want to care and then, I find myself running, as fast as I can.”

“How are you and your daughter parted, son?”

Ray’s tongue was a marble stone. He tried to speak but only mumbled, accompanied by tears.

“It is all right, son.” Brother Cavil put his hand on Ray’s shoulder.

“Elaine refused me as her father,” Ray finally blurted.

“Why?”

“Because I left them when they needed me the most. Ran away.” Ray’s voice cracked. “I…” Sobbing took over his words.

The old man leaned forward to hold him. “Let it out, son,” he whispered. “You cannot face the future if you keep fighting your past.”

“I saw his face, Brother. Every time I looked at them, I saw him and…”

“Who, Raymond?”

“My son. They don’t want to see me anymore. Elaine, she refused me, saying I left them.”

“It will be all right, son.”

“Years have passed, old man. I have no hope.”

“In the kingdom of hope, there is no winter, Raymond.”

Ray’s voice was so fragile, the old man looked as his own heart was crushed under the agony. “How did he die, Raymond?”

Ray shook his head and turned away. “He—”

“How touching.” The snake-tongued man appeared from behind the crates. “So, you clowns are lovers?”

Ray watched the man without a word, inspecting Joe’s injuries. His right eye was completely swollen shut. He was also missing two teeth. Ray also noticed the limping was more pronounced and Joe used his cane more. Ray didn’t feel sorry.

“Now—” Joe started, but the puking sounds from the adjacent cell stopped him. He turned his head slowly, his stare cold as the winter breeze, drilling into drunkard’s head. “Jake… Jake!” he yelled for the mooncalf goon, and the towering man rushed from the door like a puppy.

“Yeah, Joe?”

“Toss this drunkard off the rails.”

“What!” Brother Cavil protested. “He is merely sick!”

“Shut your pie-hole, old man.” The snake-tongued man pointed his cane at the priest. “No one asked for your input.”

The hulking giant entered the cell and lifted the drunkard as if he was a paper doll, placing him on his shoulder. “I like it when they fly!”

Joe smiled wryly as Jake left the room with the half-protesting, half-babbling man. When the room was silent again, the snake-tongue leaned slowly against one of the crates and pulled out a bundle he’d brought with him.

“So, what do we have here?” He removed a dirty, brown sheet and revealed the statuette. “Ah, so this is what you were trying to hide,” he mocked, watching Brother Cavil’s jaw tighten. Joe was clearly enjoying the old priest’s agony. “Now”—he stopped and spat on the floor—“you’ll tell me all about this trinket or Jake will see that you, too, learn how to fly.”

“It’s my family’s symbol stone,” Ray said, stopping Brother Cavil before he could react, hoping to avert another naïve admission.

Joe nodded, pursing his lips. He turned the statuette in his hands, inspecting the markings on the cold stone.

“We mark our traditions and family tree on the stone,” Ray continued, hoping Joe bought his lame story. “Each carving represents a generation,” he made up, ignoring Brother Cavil who watched him with goggling eyes. For once, luckily, the old man kept his silence.

Brother Cavil thought everyone else in the universe was like him; respecting the core ethics and living a simple, honest life. Ray prayed to the gods for the old man to keep his mouth shut for once. If this Joe character got a hint of the stone’s true value for Bunarians, they were doomed.

“Is that so, Mr. Raymond,” the snake-tongued bar owner responded, watching the two with jeering eyes.

“Yes.” Ray said. Joe wasn’t buying the story but there was no turning back now. “Here,” he reached for the statuette, “let me show you.”

“You stay where you are.”

“It’ll react to me. It’s a family stone.”
This isn’t going anywhere.
“Here,” Ray dashed to the bars and reached for the stone, hoping he could touch it before Joe pulled back.

“What are y—” As Ray laid his hands on the statuette, it glowed in all kinds of bluish colors, stars swirling within the stone.

“I’ll be damned,” Joe whispered, his eyes following the swirling lights.

“Joe!” One of the goons rushed into the room, hearing Joe’s protests but Joe stopped the man with a move of his hand and waved him away. “How did you do it?”

“It reacts to my DNA as a family member.” Ray hoped he wasn’t sweating too much.

The limping man pulled the statuette back from Ray and watched the lights die as fast as they had appeared, turning the statuette back to its stone form. He licked his lips, and put it in his bag, then raised his eyes slowly and nailed Ray with his stare, accompanied by his signature evil smile.

“I do not like this, Raymond,” Brother Cavil whispered.

“Hush!”

“So, Mr. Raymond and Brother Cavil,” Joe spoke finally, “This is your family statuette.” He nodded at Ray.

“Yes.” It wasn’t a question but Ray answered anyway.

“Well, Mr. Raymond, you are a terrible storyteller.” Joe pushed himself up from the crate.

“See, I told you!” Brother Cavil thrust Ray with his elbow.

“But I’m looking forward to the part where you tell me how you and a preacher ended up on Tarra in a crashing doll with weapon blasts all over it.”

Ray didn’t reply. He wanted to rip the man’s throat out there and then, but he was angrier at himself for not being able to come up with something better. His story had too many gaps and now he’d not only lost his locket, his only valuable possession, but the artifact as well.

“I thought so,” Joe said after a moment’s pause. “Birds say there’s something going on in the Green.”

“Green?” Brother Cavil turned to Ray with questioning eyes.

“The
Green,
” Joe repeated, pointing at the sky.

“He means Bunari, Brother,” Ray explained.

“Oh,” the old man nodded. “Because of the jungles, I see.”

“You clowns probably looted this from some poor believer there.”

“What!” Brother Cavil’s eyes bulged with the accusation of thievery. “Now wait a minute—” he protested, but Ray intervened again before the old priest made things worse.
If something like that’s even possible.

“Look,” Ray scrubbed his face. “I apologize for our sour exchange earlier. We just want to be on our way.”

“Oh, I don’t think so Mr. Raymond,” Joe said gleefully. “I believe I’ll turn you in to those light-loving fanatics for a prize.” He licked his lips, his greasy face disgusting. “Who knows, maybe you two are worth something to those baldies.” He turned to leave. “Oh,” he said, glancing back, “and you probably
lost
the trinket when you crashed your doll.”

His departing laughter echoed in Ray’s ears.

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

HER STORY

Ga’an watched the dense fog form shapes around the hover bike as he and Sarah made their way through the artificial cloud. The thickness of the mist prevented Ga’an from seeing anything but the dizzying flow of rocks and sand beneath them. No matter how fast they moved, it felt as if they were standing still. The only thing suggesting otherwise was the surface texture, which became rockier each minute. His new-met friend talked non-stop. Ga’an sensed both excitement and fear in her voice.

“…So, I ended up here on this moon. The stupid pod didn’t stop the thrusters. Some ugly space ride, I tell you.” she said. “An old man named Lucas helped me off the pod and gave me shelter and now, I’m collecting scraps for some slime back in town.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Ga’an felt the surprised elevation in Sarah’s voice. “I don’t have zip,” she said. “I need some cash to book passage off this rock, let alone food and shelter. The old man Lucas suggested I work for it. He thought I’d have a better chance with my gun than with my buns.”

“Does this Lucas work for the same man?”

“Nah,” Sarah shook her head. “Actually, I haven’t seen him since he brought me to Joe.”

“I see. What is ‘cash’?”

“Please tell me that was a joke.”

“That was a joke.”

Sarah gave a heavy sigh, barely audible over the engine noise. “That wasn’t a joke, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I crashed and they saved me. This is one of those no man’s land type places. You do what you have to do survive. I’m alone and I need to survive. At the moment, this work’s all I have and it gives me cash. Money.”

“Enough to leave this planet?”

“Nah, nowhere close. Maybe I’ll make my way to the top and find a job on one of those smuggler ships.”

“Were you a smuggler before?”

“Me? No! I was a security officer. I know it sounds horrid, but I’ve to keep it going long enough to go back home.”

“Life changes and we adapt.”

“You said that right. Sometimes you have to compromise to survive. You experienced anything like this?”

“I am alone on a planet with a species I have never met.”

Sarah laughed out loud. “Good one! So, you don’t have money where you come from?”

“No.” Ga’an found the concept of working for purchasing power ridiculous and unjust. The more Sarah told about their economic system, the more alienated Ga’an felt. The Empire had its own problems and the Praetor was known to be a voice to criticize when necessary—
one in a million
, he thought bitterly—but even with those issues, the Empire still felt better in comparison to what the humans had established. At least no one was hungry or homeless back at home.
If there is a home left.

“Well, we
have
to work our bottoms here for food, big boy,” Sarah said.

“Your species are weird.”

Sarah chuckled. “That’s fair.” She slowed down the hover bike; they were now climbing a rocky path with boulders popping up from the fog every now and then. “So, what did you do for a living back in your home?”

“I was the Praetor,” Ga’an answered.

“What is that? Praetor?” Sarah repeated the word a few times to get a feel for it.

“I commanded the armies of the Emperor.”

“Like a general or something?”

“Generals reported to their First Dearants. The Dearants reported to me.”

“First deodorants?”

“Dearant. A Dearant controls the full force of a planet.”

“Wow!” Sarah faked surprise but Ga’an caught the teasing tone. “So you were this big army commander?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Yes. They were the Emperor’s armies. I commanded them in the name of the Emperor.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t end well?”

“No. I lost and the Empire has fallen.”

“Ouch. You liked being a Praetor? The fighting and all, you know.”

“I lost my sons in the war. Perhaps, all my people and my family even.”

“I…I’m sorry, Ga’an.” Sarah didn’t push the matter any further but focused on the road.

Ga’an was a man of few words even for his own people, and this human talked a lot by his species’ standards. He looked around hoping to see something of this planet other than the sticky, moist mist covering everything. It was depressing.

“Why is this mist dangerous?” he asked after a while.

“Something in it fries your brain if you linger in it too long,” Sarah yelled over the engine noise. “Those poor freaks you saw were probably human once.”

“An interesting phenomenon.”

“The sooner we’re out of here, the better,” she said. “That slime I told you about, one of his scouts reported a big ship appearing in the distance and he asked me to check it out. I guess it was yours.”

“It is possible.”

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

“No.”

The rest of the journey was peaceful and silent.
Silence
, Ga’an smiled. Up until now, he’d been too focused on survival to think about the implications of his stranding. He was
alone.
Mira
had no one left on board but him when the ship hit the black gate. Now, he was stuck on an alien planet. Silence helped him think and face the reality.

They rode for another hour and a half before the bike abruptly exited the fog. They were near the mountainside, the huge rock formation overshadowing them. He looked back at the dense cloud, observing its precise edges. He thought he saw
Mira
’s silhouette in the far distance but couldn’t make out the details to be certain. It was already evening, the sunset providing the last light. It was very easy to lose track of time within the fog’s bleak, gray infinity.

“Anyway, here we are,” Sarah announced. “I suggest you cover your face.”

“Why?”

“Not everyone’s as open as I am, Ga’an.” Sarah saw the puzzled look on his face and nodded, smiling. “You’re an alien and probably the first one my kind ever met in person. If someone gets the idea, you’ll be a high prize, especially on Tarra.” She pointed to his chin and gestured as if to punctuate his angular face, “Your height attracts attention but it’s not weird to see tall people, although rare. You look like a very tall human. But,” Sarah touched her lips, deep in thought, “as much as there are similarities, that face would attract attention. I don’t think anyone here ever heard the name
Nucteel
and your nose and eyes are all right, but your chin and jaw are
too
angular to pass by. Large planets have all kinds of weirdoes with different faces and implants. This place, however, it’s a risk.” She frowned. “I don’t want a regular gang harassment turning into some twisted scientific discovery. They may very well take you for a Core Systems weirdo and be done with it. Let’s not give them any other ideas.”

“A prize for whom?” Ga’an knitted his brows as he ripped a piece of clothing from his uniform to cover his face, tying it behind his neck.

“Corporations, scientists, military, you tell me.”

“I cannot tell you.”

Sarah’s laugh was full of life; she seemed to be enjoying his company, “Just do as I say.”

The two came near a crude town gate made of scrap parts and old vehicle plates. Ga’an’s eyes wandered over the pieces plundered from various craft and felt sorry for the poor
Mira.
He eventually spotted the guards on the wall, chatting to one another. They looked more like a flimsy militia than an armed force to him, with their rusted armors and cheap-looking helmets. Their faces lacked any hint of courtesy and they appeared to be more like savages with guns than soldiers. For Ga’an, it would be a disgrace to let such scoundrels live, let alone harboring them within his ranks. He could probably crush their skulls with his bare hands, helmet or no.

One of the guys moved to a spotlight mounted on the rails and turned it on the bike, shouting down with a crude, edgy accent. “What do you want?”

“I work for Joe, brought him some stuff,” Sarah shouted back.

“You’re the new girl, right?” the militiaman said, grinning to his friend.

Sarah gave a fake smile, probably trying not to think about what those two were fantasizing.

“All right, you can pass,” the guard finally said, lazily opening the gate. They both laughed, staring at Sarah the whole time.

The duo passed through the gate and rode toward one of the elevators inside the valley. The Crater was a city carved into both sides of the canyon dividing the big mountain crater. Ga’an looked at the caves connecting to each other with jerry-rigged platform ramps. Some of the ramps were big enough to have small metal buildings on them, made of chunks ripped from old ships and buildings thrown together without any aesthetic concern. The whole town reminded him of a scrapyard.

Joe’s Hole was on top of the left-side wall, illuminated with a huge, neon sign.

“This place looks disgusting.”

“Most of the houses are located within the cave system and the lower you go, the more dangerous life becomes.” Sarah explained. “I had to avoid three mugging attempts in the last two weeks I’ve been in the city. All kinds of lowlifes reside in the forsaken city and Joe’s the king. I, like everyone else in this dump, work for Joe.”

“So, this is how humans live?” Ga’an asked, looking around with both distaste and amusement.

“I don’t know much about this rock but from what I’ve heard, Crater is the only known major settlement on this moon,” Sarah said as she removed her helmet and activated the elevator, “and I ended up on their doorstep.”

“These people feel safe here?” Ga’an looked around them. Two women covered in dirt were fighting over what seemed like a piece of spoiled food on one of the platforms the elevator passed. A considerable crowd watched and cheered the fight.

“No, but they don’t have much choice,” Sarah answered. “No one wants to be in the underbelly but they can’t leave. These people are poor Ga’an. They have nowhere to go. You don’t have to live here long to see that.”

“The Empire wouldn’t allow for such abominations.”

“Yeah? How did your Empire deal with it?”

“Execution by decapitation of those who disregarded the settlement rules.”

“Gross.”

They rode the elevator up to the garage behind Joe’s. Parked there were at least a dozen bikes like the one Sarah had used, all made of collected scrap.

“Joe has a scavenger team that he sends into the desert to collect stuff for him,” Sarah said.

“What is it the sand holds?”

“Well, I’m a newbie, so they’re not taking me on deep hunts,” Sarah said, locking the bike to one of the stations and connecting the fuel line. “Word is, there are abandoned military installations out there.”

“I see.”

“They say there are trackers who wander in the mist and sell locations of loot points to Joe. I heard they’re immune to the fog’s effects.” Sarah shrugged. “Anyway, come on, you need to meet with Joe.”

“I do?”

“Those guards probably told Joe about you already. They know I left alone today.”

“I see. Then I will meet with this
Joe.
”

***

A few lights brightened the bar but the poky hall was gloomy at best, smoke from the tables creating the Hole’s own fog. Some men in dirty boiler suits were playing a card game in the back, making equally dirty jokes about the serving girl’s bosom and grabbing at her while she served their round. Off-key music filled the background from an ancient radio scrapped from some shuttle.

The noise in the room died as Ga’an and Sarah entered the bar and every face turned toward them. The only sound was some ancient tune Sarah couldn’t remember the name of, cherishing two youngsters’ “summer love.” Sarah had gotten used to the harassment already. When she’d first arrived, one of the patrons had pinched her ass. She’d broken the man’s arm in one swift move, pulled his own gun from under his shirt and made him beg her not to shoot. After the incident, they mostly left her alone. Mostly.

However, the eyes were on Ga’an now.

They moved toward the bar slowly, whispers following them as they passed each table, comments about Ga’an’s height and weird clothes. Sarah cursed under her breath for not thinking of digging him up some pants instead of his weird uniform. It didn’t resemble any organization operated around these parts
.

One of the goons pointed to Ga’an and said something inaudible. A stupid-looking one laughed out loud, standing up from his table and walked toward them.

“It’s Jake. No brains, all muscles,” Sarah whispered.

“I don’t layke you, stranger,” the grunt said in a drunken voice, blocking Ga’an’s path. The man was almost as tall as Ga’an.

“I am not used to your oral communication, but I believe you said it wrong.”

Ga’an, don’t judge him by his speech, he’s a walking tank!
Sarah knew what the monster was capable of. More than once, she had witnessed Jake carrying out Joe’s dirty work in this last two weeks. Ga’an seemed uninterested though; if his story was half-true, he was a battle-hardened veteran with over a hundred years of experience.

“I said, I don’t
like
you,” Jake repeated, pushing Ga’an.

“Jake, he is a visitor,” Sarah tried to intervene, “this is not necessary.”

“Shut up, bird!” he slapped Sarah, “I call your name when I need you!” The power of the blow threw her back. She landed hard on a nearby table, scattering the drinks of two ugly men.

Ga’an rushed to her and gently pulled Sarah back on her feet, then turned his stare on the thug, his eyes death itself.
Oh boy, here it starts.
“Boys, no need to start on the wrong foot.”

“What now? You—”

Before Jake could finish his words, Ga’an punched his throat. Jake hadn’t even risen a hand before a thundering second blow hit his right eye. Ga’an moved with lightning reflexes, jumping on a table and turning to kick Jake’s face. As his foot met with the goon’s jaw, Sarah heard the satisfying sound of cracking bone.
I thought your leg was injured.

Jake howled painfully and fell on his knees under the power of Ga’an’s strike. The towering
visitor
grabbed the thug by the neck when a snake-like voice stopped him.