The Shadow Mind

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.” The sound that had torn through Ensign Levyx’s mind did not care. So it was that he woke to a terrible echo drumming inside his brain amid an envelope of silence. Cold, deathly quiet was his only awareness now, and it spoke danger into the young officer’s barely conscious mind. As his awareness grew, Levyx realized he was laying on the deck with his shoulders and head against the bulkhead. Above him, an alarm claxon blared and warning lights flashed. He could feel only the vibrations of the alarm through the bulkhead. He shook himself, wiped dust from his visor, and struggled to assemble his thoughts. Blinking, he looked around to see that his gunnery squad was nowhere to be seen.

“Squad report!” Ensign Levyx’s words were thick as he spoke into his helmet microphone. He had bitten his tongue in the explosion. For an explosion was the only explanation for his current circumstance. Ahead of him was a bright red force field, beyond was space. As the truth hit Levyx, he struggled not to be sick in his helmet. “Bravo Squad report! Anyone report status, now!” He gazed at the red force field and knew no one would answer.

He tried to order his scattered thoughts. They had been heading for the escape pods. He had been standing at the door, waiting for his squad to get to the safety of the pod bay before he stepped through. He had wanted to make sure every trooper under his meager command had made it. Now the pod bay was gone; they were all gone. Suddenly a sharp pain in his side brought him back to himself. He glanced down to see a red blossom forming around a bit of shrapnel. Looking back at the red barrier, he knew how lucky he had been. To his left, a blue force field stood steadily, the second protection against decompression. Levyx tried to stand but his vision flickered as a thunderclap of pain stabbed his side. He knew the red force field could break at any moment. He needed to get on the safe side of the blue barrier urgently and find a medical officer.

Bracing his side, he struggled up. Each step was its own agony but he forced himself onward. The danger of the cold, dark expanse was ever-present. With the tear in his suit, there was no chance of surviving decompression. A distant explosion rumbled through the ship causing the ensign to stumble to his knees. Everything blinked out of existence for a moment as he fought the urge to faint. Gasping, he lurched toward the blue force field. As he crossed it his ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds. The claxons rang out their shrill, gut-wrenching melody. The pitiful and desperate cries of injured troopers unfound echoed throughout rubble and debris like a morbid chorus. The screeching strain of metal on metal could be heard at random as the weakened bulkheads began to give way to the sucking vacuum of space. When they finally did, a swift explosion could be heard reverberating across the entire ship like a thrumming base but it was always followed by a sudden silence. The crackling fanfare of fire filled the empty spaces between. This was the dissonant dirge of the dying Tíber, once a proud Sigor class frigate.

Amid all was a cool voice repeating, “Abandon ship, abandon ship. This is not a drill. Abandon ship, abandon ship.”

All of this assailed the young officer upon crossing the blue force field. Then, cutting through the din, a second shuddering cry rang through Ensign Levyx’s brain. He collapsed and instinctively brought his hands to his ears, despite his helmet. The mental scream continued. He could feel it clawing at his mind, digging deep, drinking in his thoughts and memories. Helpless, he could do nothing but hold his head in his hands. Presently the scream ended and the groping fingers in his mind were gone again. Levyx’s head pounded and he mustered his strength to gasp weakly through his helmet mic.

“Medic!”

The cry was met only with the discordant symphony of the dying Tíber. The Ensign shouted again but the pain in his side cut the call short. Struggling to catch a breath he forced his limbs to obey. Rising once more he wrangled his thoughts. He briefly entertained the idea that he was the only one left alive but pushed the notion away. If there was no medic, he would have to acquire aid himself. Once his side was taken care of, he would find the remaining crew. The nearest medical bay was one deck up and three compartments aft. He could do it; there was no other choice. Bracing his side once more, he started for the nearest ladder well. Each step sent tremors of pain ricocheting through his body. Levyx stepped around rubble and corpses alike. His throat tightened as he recognized another ensign from the forward battery group. Swallowing he forced himself down the passageway. With every passing second, he feared that the mind scream would again rend through his thoughts. Finally, the ladder well hatch appeared. He gripped the latch with slippery, bloody hands. It clunked open and shut with satisfying weight behind it. Now at least there was something beyond a force field between him and the expanse.

Climbing the ladder was a monumental task. Ensign Levyx forced himself to think of all the mountains he had climbed when he was young and during his time at the Academy. Better yet, how many times had he climbed ladders like these? It was nothing. He had only to put one foot on each step and push. The pain in his side was excruciating and his muffled groans filled the cramped ladder well. Finally, he made it to the top. His body was drenched in sweat beneath his space suit. There was the second hatch. The latch was stiff and heavy. Levyx tugged, pulled, and screaming from pain and exertion, forced the latch to move. The metal shrieked and the hatch swung open on dry hinges.

His vision flickering, the ensign stumbled forth from the ladder well towards the aft of the Tíber. Crimson droplets marked his passage. This deck was in better shape. Alarms still flashed and claxons clanged angrily but there was less debris; fewer casualties of all kinds. Automatic doors read his identification marks on his suit and hissed aside. Pausing a moment, he leaned on the bulkhead while trying to catch his breath. He thought of calling out again but something stayed his tongue. A cold feeling settled on the back of his neck and crept down his spine. He dreaded feeling the mind scream tearing through his skull. His head still ached from the last attack. For it must have been an attack of some sort. It was debilitating and for all Levyx knew, the scream was also responsible for the destruction of the Tíber. This was his home, the young officer thought bitterly. A sense of belonging and of great loss swept over him as he realized that the Tíber had likely seen her last days in service. She was a proud ship, but old; they would scrap her. A small, red puddle had formed around his left boot. Losing a lot of blood, he thought, not much time. He dragged himself off the bulkhead and continued. Another automatic door and the roar of the fires were quieter now. Aside from the red flashing of the alarms, the passageway was neat and clean, but eerily empty. Levyx was shivering now. The pain in his side seemed dulled; his limbs clumsy. Finally the blue and green of the medical bay came into sight. He staggered on.

Levyx fell upon the medical equipment, his slick, clumsy fingers scattering the tools. He groped at stims, bandages, and utensils. Removing his helmet, he began peeling off his suit. He rolled it down just above the shrapnel then, putting one of his gloves between his teeth, he wrenched the metal piece out of his side. His vision darkened and he felt the deck pitch as his body fought the loss of consciousness. Breaths short, heart racing, hands shaking, he rolled the suit below the wound and cut away the mesh undershirt. Grabbing a scanner he held it over the injury and waited for a readout.

After a few agonizing seconds, the instrument flashed, "No foreign objects present. Warning: infection. Recommend cleanse, suture, stim protocol."

Levyx tossed the scanner aside and, wiping the blood away, applied the cleaning gel. It was an opaque light blue which quickly mixed to purple when applied. The sting of the substance soon subsided but there was one more hurdle to clear. The ensign took up the suture gun. With eight stitches and another wipe down, the wound looked, and felt, much better. He applied three stims locally and a large one in his chest to aid the blood loss. At last, he placed a bandage over the sutures and wrapped himself to keep everything firmly in place. The final step was mending his suit. Gingerly he reached down for his left leg pouch and retrieved two suit patches; one for the inside and one for the outside. They melded with the suit material automatically and even took on a similar weave and color.

Relief flooded through the ensign and he thought he would sit a while and rest. Without the urgency of his pain, exhaustion overtook him, demanding his attention. Surely a few minutes sitting here in the safety of the medical bay would do him good. His eyes wandered to the single small porthole on the back wall of the medical bay. The stars gazed back at him passively where once they had beckoned him to the sky; full of hope, beauty, and adventure. Levyx thought of his squad. There was Aebrox, a city boy from lower Cyne, growing up in the capital had afforded him many chances to see military parades. He had joined the Imperial Enkeli Navy as soon as he was old enough. Always following Aebrox was Tuoran, he was the son of a farmer on the planet Gincoa. The two had butted heads in basic but had graduated as inseparable friends. Then there was Ghirsk, ever steadfast and reliable. Hailing from planet Naulde’s dense forests, she had been the squad’s best shot. Also, there was Chali, who had come from a long line of army officers. She had been the first to enlist and the first to choose the navy. That was not where her rebellious streak had ended but she had never pushed Levyx too far. Lastly, there was Treag. He was studious, driven, and wanted to go to the academy one day. Levyx had promised he would do everything in his power to help him achieve that dream. Now he was gone; they were all gone.

Guilt, grief, and anger weighed heavily on Levyx’s heart. He replayed the last few minutes before the blast in his mind; turning over different scenarios, second-guessing the orders he had given, the moves he had made. None of his training had prepared him for this. It was some new devilry wrought by the Vrausk, the ancestral enemy of the Enkelí. They were slippery shadow users who struck only in darkness and confusion. They were cowards, jealous of the light of the Enkelí. For decades the Vrausk had lain silent, some Enkelí even claimed that they had all at last been slain. Most, however, knew it was only a matter of time before their long shadows would again stretch over the light of the empire. Not for the first time Levyx wished that he had been given the gift of light. The thought of controlling pure energy, holding the power of the stars in the palm of your hand, the idea was intoxicating. If the stars had chosen him, he would have been able to save his squad, maybe even the whole of the Tíber. Alas, they had not chosen him and he, like many others, had been left to jockey for significance in Enkelí society.

The young officer sat in the quiet of the medical bay, his side lightly throbbing. But the chill on the back of his neck returned and something base within him, like an instinct buried deep within the script of human evolution, stirred to panic. He had not noticed while mending his side, but the alarms had stopped. Not even the distant wail of claxons could be heard. His stomach turned. The Tíber had become silent and still but an energy hung in the air like a coiled spring. Levyx suddenly felt watched, as if a stalking dread was growing near.

Adrenalin surged through Levyx, aided by the stims. As quickly as he could, he put his suit back on, easing it over the bandage. The sound of his helmet seal comforted him. He was as ready as he could be for whatever came next. Moving to the medical bay door, anxiety filled him. His hand drifted to the holster on his suit belt but he was shocked to find it empty. Cursing once more, he peeked down the passageway, fore to aft. It lay empty but somehow emptier than empty.

“I need a weapon.”

Levyx had vocalized the words without meaning to do so and the sudden sound in the hollow stillness startled him. His syllables fell away down the passage like stones down a well. Frightened for a reason he could not express, he dropped into a crouch and began moving. Swiftly he passed through the compartment, heading for the aft armory. He knew not what was pursuing him but only that his instinctual fear drove him on. Fueled by adrenalin and by the discovery that his side pained him no more, he reached the armory quickly and punched in the code. The heavy double doors rumbled open revealing the dim weapons room. Row on row of shelves laden with small arms, ammunition, grenades, and combat armor stood like silent, threatening monuments to the might of the Enkelí Alliance.

The ensign rushed to equip himself by strapping on an armored vest. His hands found the fasteners and buckled them with practiced ease. He fell into a familiar rhythm. Many times he had been in this very room doing exactly what he was doing now, however, he had always had company before. Jamming a pistol into his holster, he turned his mind towards revenge. He took a rifle from the racks and loaded a magazine. The small metal magazine was warm to the touch he knew, though he could not feel it through his glove. There was a sharp, white glow about the warm metal that hinted at its power. Levyx took a bandolier and strung it across his frame. It boasted ten pouches, each housing two magazines inside. Even so, the young officer wondered if it would be enough. Lastly, he took two grenades and clipped them to his vest. He turned back to the passageway.

“Now, at least, I can give them a fight,” said Ensign Levyx.

The passageway was darker now. Some of the lights running along the ceiling were losing power. The young officer had heard that the Vrausk always worked in darkness. If there were Vrausk agents on board they would likely be trying to take control of the bridge. Levyx resolved to try and stop them. He brought his rifle up, flicked the safety off, and started for the bridge. Taking another passage he crossed to the starboard passageway, hoping it would be less damaged. Ever the feeling that he was being watched dogged him. Routinely, he checked the way he had come for followers. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he could feel it trailing down his back. It grew darker.

Turning a corner he nearly collided with another person. They turned to face him. Recognition and horror dawned on Levyx simultaneously. Before him stood Tuoran with his helmet off. The sailor’s skin was ashen gray. His mouth remained slack and opened for ragged, rasping breaths. His eyes were unblinking, obsidian pools. Yet, they stared at Levyx, and he felt their gaze.

“Tuoran, what happened to you?” The young officer dreaded the answer.

There was a shuffling to the right and another figure came lurching out of a compartment. It was Aebrox. His mouth opened as if to speak but words broke only over Levyx’s headset and Aebrox’s lips did not move. “You will soon know.” The words chafed upon his ears

Horror gripped the ensign. Everything in his body told him to pull the trigger. But changed though they were, these were his squad mates. He stepped back a few feet so both sailors stood before him. Their black eyes watched him. Presently three other forms came slowly up the passageway, lumbering in the gathering darkness. Levyx knew who they were before they arrived. Soon his whole squad was before him, standing in the gloom. Each trooper took a shaky step toward their leader. He raised his rifle. A grating chuckle emanated from his squad having no apparent source.

“Would you fire upon us, sir?” Chali spoke this time. Her words rasped over the young officer’s headset.

“You are not my squad!”

Pulling a grenade from his bandolier, Levyx dropped it amid the black-eyed imposters. Turning aft, he sprinted for all he was worth. The explosion thundered behind him. Turning, he brought his rifle to his shoulder and dropped to one knee. He waited for the smoke to clear. Silence had again returned to torture him as he waited. But the smoke did not clear, only turned black and grew. Moving like a midnight squall, it seemed to prowl after him, gauging his strength. He fired his rifle frantically into the abyss that threatened to engulf him. The shots blazed with the light of the stars and tore through the shadow. No figures emerged from the dark depths. There was nothing for which he could aim so he fired at random hoping to keep the darkness at bay. Rising, he continued to retreat aft until finally, he felt a bulkhead behind him.

“Come on then, you Vrausk devil!” The ensign shouted.

With a roar, he fired into the shadow and spent the rest of the charge in his magazine. His hands moved faster than thought, falling into habitual actions. Eject the magazine while reaching for a fresh replacement. Insert the magazine and rack the rifle to ensure the new charge connection is set – fire. Three times Levyx spent his ammunition; three times reloading with swift, practiced hands. For all the flaming brightness of his bullets, the creeping shadow seemed little troubled.

Despair consumed him even as did the darkness. His only comfort was the feeling of the Tíber’s deck underfoot. The choking laugh returned as Levyx’s squad suddenly closed in around him. Cold hands, dead hands, clasped his arms. He jerked and wrestled but to no avail. He dropped his rifle, the barrel was bright with the heat of his bullets. They forced him to his knees and Treag appeared before him. He gripped the ensign’s helmet with gray hands. With no obvious effort, the sailor wrenched the helmet off without releasing the lock. Air rushed out of Levyx’s suit as the seal broke.

Then the darkness coalesced into a hooded figure. There was only a void where there should have been a face. As Levyx looked, for the third time, the scream rent his mind as if in two. Levyx’s mouth opened in a silent shriek of his own. Tears leaked from his pinched eyes but they came as black trails down his face. Levyx was vaguely aware of a great emptiness eclipsing the light of his mind. His childhood memories were swept away in a tsunami of shadow. Soon the darkness had consumed his memories from school, the academy, and every second of training. He could feel the pain of their loss but soon there was only darkness. An ambiguous feeling clung to his soul; a feeling that he had been something, needed to do…something. That too, passed. The terrible scream subsided and a voice like no other voice rang through his thoughts.

“Whom do you serve?”

The Tíber grew still as all light was extinguished and a terrible silence reigned.

The ensign opened his mouth and rasping said, “The Shadowmind.”