Shadow Seed 1: The Misbegotten (64 page)

Beyond that, there was nothing between them.  There hadn’t been communication in more than a century.  The Federation had been completely autonomous by then.  They had cut themselves off from the Sixteen Worlds, content to exist outside the ebb and flow of the other seven hundred sixty-six point eight billion souls scurrying about them.

We put each other on the map
, he thought as he watched clouds form, blow away and then reform again.  His mind was half-guessing at their shapes, the other half still pondering the mission before them, the price of it, and the consequences if they were discovered.  Was it worth it?  Did he really owe that much to the Federation?  Did it make sense to risk his family?  His delving into his corrupted youth hadn’t provided answer enough to the question yet.  He had written enough to understand how much each of his wives meant to him.  He had even been able to pinpoint exact moments when those bonds become more than concepts of an aged mind and made into the firmament of his bygone reality.  Whether it was Katie and their love for one another since early childhood or his realization that, after so much bad blood had passed between them, he still loved Tirza, he knew precisely.  No, he
remembered
precisely, when those seemingly innocent decisions shifted the course of his life – forever.

The list of those decisions went on and on, each as
important to him as the next, but it helped little when it came to the risk of possessing the Shadow Spark, especially when weighed against this mysterious Destro-Mancer.  They still hadn’t gleaned a single useful thread of information regarding the man.  If he was, in fact, a man and not a figment of someone’s wild imagination.

For some reason, he thought of Jacob, the nagging sensation that he should’ve heard something from him by now growing with each passing hour.  He had no doubt, in another day, it would feel like some impending doom, a feeling he hated crawling about the mantle of his shoulders.

He pushed the thought aside, making a mental note to redouble their efforts to scrape up something, anything, on this so-called Destro-Mancer, this heretofore, unique Celeste.  One who could wield a Mutation unlike any seen in three hundred and fifty years.

A warbling sound filled the Bridge, deep and resonant, like a bell toll, only drawn out.  It was the chime the A.S.S. Stingray used to signify someone was hailing them.

The Captain, in his own chair, flicked a finger over the left side of his cocoon and in the center of the transparent Diatainium shield an ultra-high definition image appeared.  Within it, stood a middle-aged man with a broad face, kind eyes and a large nose holding spectacles typical of a graduate student.  He was dressed traditionally, in a Classic Arabian Shora and a formal slate–colored Furwah richly embroidered at the seams, cuffs and neck.  It was a garment typically worn for cool weather, which seemed appropriate, since he was on the surface of Europa.  He should be wearing it over a full-length Dishdashas, but Estefan couldn’t tell for sure due to the angle of the transmitting video device.

A smile spread across his wide face, making his eyes squint.  “As-salamu alykum!” he began, then paused dramatically, spreading his hands to either side of him.  “The Keeper of the Peace, never would I have thought to lay eyes upon you, after you’ve been away from my people after so many years.  It is good to see you, Honored Guest.”  He
bowed slightly at the waist, his head dipping as well.

Estefan came from his Command Chair, returning the bow, making sure its depth was exactly the same as his host’s had been.  “
Wa `alaykumu s-salāmu wa rahmatu l-lāhi wa barakātuh,” he replied in the most ceremonial fashion he could muster.  It had been a long time since he’d spoke Arabic.

Almost everyone on the Bridge turned to look at the Keeper, astonishment clearly written upon their faces.  Even the Capta
in reeled back on his heels, his gears there whizzing noisily, but he stayed otherwise silent.

Somehow the man’s smile broadened even more.  “I was told you were well versed in our ways, but I must admit I am shocked to hear you speak one of our many languages so well.”

“I had a very good teacher,” clarified Estefan.

“Ah yes, my long lost ancestor…  Tell me, Your Eminence, how long has it been since you spoke a tongue of the blessed and true believers of Islam?”

“Too long, my friend, it has been too long.”

The man on the sim-screen seemed to consider this for a time, his smile locked upon his face, his mind racing with thoughts Estefan could only guess.  Then he seemed to catch himself and said in a rush: “Forgive me, Lord Keeper; it has been a long time since I’ve addressed anyone other than my brothers and sisters of the One True Faith.  It was not my intention to waste your time.  I apologize.”

Estefan shook his head.

“Please, our space defenses have been neutralized down a narrow vector suitable for a Skycar to navigate to the surface of our home.  Whenever you are ready, please come and meet with me, so we may talk further of times long past.  We are sending you the coordinates to New Jerusalem as I speak.”

“Thank you, I will join you at once,” was all Estefan said, nodding briskly.

Before him, the man projected on the screen smiled,
placing his hands, palms up to either side if his head as if he were about to pray.  “Good, and may Allah grant the last leg of your journey be uneventful.”  A second later, the image vanished.

Estefan glanced over at his wives.  “Come let’s get this shit over with!  I want the package safely aboard this ship in less than two hours.” 

There were nods all around, followed by a flurry of movement.

By then, though, he was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~♦~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Earth Summer – 2385)

The Specter

“I am afraid it is unavoidable, my friend,” said the same man with the broad smile, wearing the richly embroidered Furwah and, as Estefan had guessed, a stark white Dishdashas underneath.   His feet had encased in heavy black boots.  They appeared mechanized, but without a very close look, Estefan couldn’t be sure.

Flavia seem to have noticed this as well, positioning herself in such proximity to Estefan, she could come between him and their Host in a fraction of a second.  The rest of the Synod stood behind the Keeper, arrayed in an arch.

Mechanized boots could do a variety of things – increase
or decrease gravity, contain tools to assist one when walking over rough terrain or conceal weapons (or gases) of any sort as long as it was small enough to fit within. 

His name was Hamza Ahmed Khali-Bhall and he stood with his hands clasped before him, attempting a reassuring expression that fell flat on the lot of them.  He had told them he was a direct descendant of the Synod’s first contact within the Federation, but from Estefan could recall of him, Hamza looked nothing like the man.  He was too tall, his face too wide, and his nose was far too large.  His eyes were blue not black.  Though he seemed intelligent, he didn
’t possess the sharp wit and biting intensity of Ali Ibn Bhall.  To the Keeper, when he placed the two men side by side, he couldn’t see the resemblance – even with the generational dilution of characteristics.

He didn’t quite trust the man either.

“I will not be blindfolded, my friend, and neither will any of my wives.  That’s all there is too it,” said Estefan firmly.

Hamza’s hand parted palms up.  “Then, I’m afraid we can proceed no further, Your Imminence, it is the law of the Federation that all Infi-,” he caught himself, “…Guests!  Yes, I meant to say,
guests
visiting the surface of our beloved home must be blindfolded.  Our secrets are now as important to us as our women.”  He glanced around at Estefan’s wives, who were all dressed in long flowing robes of black, covering them from head to foot.  Even their hands were covered.  Their faces, on the other hand, were not.  Whatever laws may exist for the Muslim women of Europa, they didn’t extend to his wives.  It was an agreement worked out hundreds of years in the past.  Besides, he never would’ve subjected them to wearing a veil.  Even if he’d empathized with their embarrassment and feelings of misuse, trying would’ve got his ass kicked.  Once they got him alone, they could prove quite dangerous.  Why risk their wrath?

Hamza’s eyes strayed longer than propriety allowed a Muslim man to look upon another man’s wives, but the
Keeper ignored his mild ogling.  Estefan wasn’t Muslim.  In fact, he wasn’t anything, so why should he give a damn?  His wives were gorgeous, who couldn’t help but stare a little?  He didn’t mind it.  He felt sort of complimented by it; after all, there were
eight
of them…

“When, exactly, did the Federation decide it
was a prudent policy to insult its’ longtime friends, it doesn’t seem to bode well for business, does it?  We are the Aegis Synod, or have you forgotten?” asked Estefan, both his tone and inflection even.

The other man merely stared back numbly
, as though the Keepers’ words had little meaning to him.  This made Estefan scowl.

“It has always been our policy,” he restated his position.  His teeth clenched of a sudden
.

W
as he trying to keep his temper in check?
  The Keeper let some emotion creep into his voice.  “Hamza Ahmed Khali-Bhall, I don’t mean any disrespect, but my wives and I have been coming here since before your grandfather’s, grandfather was born.  We have more right to walk about Europa than you do.”  Estefan’s face was becoming stony.

This made Flavia edge a bit closer to her ward.

Hamza’s fists clenched, but he didn’t respond.

The Keeper waved a hand in his general direction.  “We practically built this place, you know,” he added
, continuing to wave his hand about the small ante-room outside the main hall of the maglev station.  He actually meant everything
ever
built upon the large moon, not just the complex that housed them.  The Synod had constructed everything imaginable upon Europa for more than two centuries. 
What the fuck was this idiot talking about?

“It.  Is.  The.  Law,” he replied, clipping each word.  His head twitched awkwardly upon his neck, his eyes beginning to look wild.  He took a scraping, half-step toward Estefan.

The Keeper smiled thinly.  “You see, Flavia, I told you this trip was a waste of our time.”  Then back toward the man in the long garments.  “This seems to have been a mistake, coming here.”

“Noooo, nooooo, not at all, you can stay
, just let yourselves be blindfolded and all will be well,” he cajoled, but the strange way he stood made the words ring false, almost menacing.

Flavia glanced quickly at Estefan.  He merely raised his eyebrows.  The rest of the Synod stirred, sharing uneasy looks.

An eerie silence befell them all.

Outside, because of the lack of sound in the immediate area, the Keeper heard a distant “popping”, followed by a string of what sounded like “ratta-tat-tat-tat”.  His eyes shifted back to Hamza.

His lips were stretched, rictus, bloodless.  His eyes narrowing, he had heard it too.

No one moved.  The sounds outside became louder, more insistent, a faint tremor reached them through the thick ice that covered the whole of the moon.

Estefan sighed loudly, raising his hands at the impasse.  “Very well, my friend, we will take our leave of you.  Since we were asked to come and didn’t come here of our own accord, and have no real desire to be here in the first place, there is no need for any laws to be broken on our behalf.”  He could feel his wives stiffen.  They knew what was coming next.   “We will return to our ship and be gone.

“My beloveds, let us go!” commanded Estefan with a flourish of his right
arm as he spun on his heel.  He began to make his way back down the long corridor they had walked through minutes prior, upon leaving the space hangar.

“What makes you think you can leave?” inquired Hamza, gazing at the Keeper through the lashes on his eyelids, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Estefan froze, not bothering to turn around, his mind suddenly filling with the scene behind him, but from a different perspective.  Ramona was supplying the images.  Her mastery of her Mutation allowed for near-perfect mental projections into anyone she chose, even to those who resisted.  Since Estefan was not only willing, but well-practiced, it made the process all the more, simple.  He saw everything, she saw down to the slightest detail.

None of the Synod had moved.  Flavia was still somewhat between him and Hamza, the others were still standing in a parabolic line, facing their Host.  The image in Estefan’s head seemed to zoom in as Ramona began to focus solely on the man’s visage.  He was sweating.  His body was going stiff.  He was poised on the balls of his feet.

The ground shook.  No one could deny it this time.  Tendrils of dust fell about them all.  Some sort of concussion hit the chamber – from above.

“Hamza Ahmed Khali-Bhall, you wouldn’t believe how many times I
’ve heard someone say precisely that to me.  The first time, it frightened me to my very core.  The second time, not so much, but I was still wary.  I was young.  After the tenth or the eleventh time, maybe it was the twelfth.  I lose track.”  He stopped, swallowed.  “I lost interest, you see.  The threat began to bore me.  It illicited nothing, caused nothing, made me feel nothing.  It didn’t even anger me.  I became immune, I guess.

“I have been alive for three hundred and eight-four years,
and not a single time, was anyone capable of stopping me… although they tried and tried and tried.  And, from where I’m standing now, it is my contention that you too will wish to try as well.”  Only the Keeper’s mouth moved.  “Hamza?” asked the Keeper.

The man was breathing heavy, his chest expanding and contracting to far greater extent than he should be able to do.  His orbs were insane.  “Yyyeeessss,” he hissed, balling his fists, the cords on his neck to bulging horribly.

Again, the ground vibrated, more violent, then the building itself creaked and groaned against the onslaught.

“Don’t do this.”  Estefan’s voice was just above a whisper.  At his side, his fingers flashed, no more than a second.

Flavia shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  Katie held her breath.  Tirza’s head dropped a fraction of an inch.  Sandy and Leda held hands.  Mena closed her eyes.  Ruby splayed her finger, palms facing the floor.  Ramona remained motionless.

“Wh-wh-wh-why?” asked the man through huge gasping gulps of air and thunderous explosions of it seconds later.

The Keeper half-turned to look at Hamza, “Because you will die…”

Hamza giggled like a
small girl.  “You -.”

The man had said one word when Mena yelled, “NOW!”

“- will
die!
” he continued, oblivious.

Around him, the Synod was all a flurry of movement.  Katie’s face began to glow furiously.  Flavia, blinding fast, took two steps toward Hamza and leapt into the air.  Ruby seemed to shimmer, suddenly indistinct.  Tirza charged
, a step and a half behind the Guardian.  Almost as fast as his one-time step-sister, Estefan pulled a handheld rail-gun from its holster and fired.

Typically, Mena could give them as much a seven second advantage, if she concentrated hard enough and the near-future wasn’t muddled with indecision.  Typically, this was all the Aegis Synod would need.  Their kills would be swift, clean, but something was wrong.  Though, she could see what was going to happen before it happened, the alien nature of it was so bizarre it had stopped her cold, made her hesitate.  She lost more than half the time – three seconds – before she had reacted, and because of it, none of th
em came close to the Europian.

They were struck as one, the lot of them, as something unnatural, nauseating, gross, slammed into them, throwing them all back.  It was unlike anything they had ever felt before, icky, inky, and it shot through their flesh and bones alike.  It touched them everywhere a
t once, freezing them in its ghastly hold.

Estefan’s weapon fell uselessly to the floor, misfiring
and nearly hitting Flavia.  The Guardian herself seemed caught in mid-air, her body suddenly motionless as if some unknown force could hold her entire body in mid-air.  Tirza was blown back and tumbled to the ground.  The fire in Katie’s face sputtered and winked out.  Ramona’s link to Estefan vanished as she went rigid with what felt like pain.

Then, a moment later, there was no doubt.  It wa
s pain.  Terrible, torturous agony as they all began to scream.  Whatever it was, it had a grip upon them, and it was beginning to rend, to tear them apart.  Estefan’s eyes were crazed.  He hadn’t felt true pain in so long, he was beside himself with panic.

“You know nothing of who I am!” shrieked the man before them, his blue eyes no longer in their sockets.  He had no eyes now, only gaping scoops of darkness that swam and swirled with darkness
, a black that had no limit, no depth.  They were abyss.

The ripping continued, their screams became shrill.

The creature’s eyes befell Sandy and Leda, who stood staring back at him without expression, their visages placid, stone-like.

“What…?” Hamza asked regarding them.  He was puzzled and, for a second, the a
wful shredding faltered.  The man’s brow furled and his chest puffed out hugely as he was throwing something at them from his body, though there was nothing to see.

For the others, the pain subsided, but was still excruciating.   They writhed and moaned, still unable to move.

Outside, the sounds began to take on the guise of battle.  Someone was fighting someone else out there, within the constant blizzard of the Europian climate.

“Impossible,” he said with a lisp that hadn’t been there second before, peering through eye
less sockets made narrow with strain.  He was focusing on Sandy and Leda, who seemed unaffected by what was seemingly sundering the others.

“You take
him the moment you can,” said Sandy to the smaller woman beside, though she hadn’t turned her head.

Leda nodded as a shimmering bubble of a million, million gossamer webs shot forth from the tall, shapely woman – from Sandy - billowing outward at tremendous speed.  The moment it touched the others, they fell slack upon the floor, rumpled sacks of flesh, unmoving, but no longer within the grasp of the awful rending.

Leda released Sandy’s hand.

Then, the webs engulfed Hamza.  His reaction was anything, but subtle.  He exploded with a howling ululation, so loud it hurt.  “
Hoooow!
” he shrieked, his hands claw-like, his fingers and nails impossibly long.  He looked like a puppet, yanked and pulled about.  His chest heaved immensely as he tried to bring back the pain, but couldn’t, as long as Sandy projected her Mutation about all of them.