Shores

The colors of the gem-like halls were dazzling. He was foggy about the details, but that stuck in his mind like a nail in wood. The iridescent hues folded and bent the soft lights all around him so as to evoke sensations of intimacy with nothing more than a shimmer. The stone underfoot changed from unyielding marble to that of putty, hardening only when touched by a questing boot. He was held enraptured by the concept, convinced that it would be as malleable as soft clay should he surprise the stone.

Come to Me.

The insistent whisper brushed alongside his mind, vapors off the ocean carried far inland on a breeze. The notion was absurd. He'd never seen an ocean, he thinks to himself, yet to something else also. A vivid flash of undeniable impression floods his mind in response, the tactile crush of being hit by a wave. Saltwater floods his mouth, his ears, then passes and is gone. He can see only the black tunnels which hint at colors beyond his range of vision, marred by a single grey pressure door that was so geometric its presence defied the colors beyond sight all around him.

A waking dream? Was he even awake? He was asleep on the Cat before this. He runs a hand through his hair and chases the memories that scatter from his waking mind of logic and facts. As the hidden truths leave his open subconscious, the lingering exhaustion replaces it twice over. Then the pain comes.

"I'm definitely awa-" A brutal fit of coughing overtakes the assertation as he bends double and vomits. His muscles falter, bringing him to his hands and knees to endure the glowing ruby tide that pours from him. The shades flatten, and the pain beckons him back. Throat raw and ribs aching, he gathers his bearings.

Not the Cat or the Shadow. So this is either that junker station he'd left from or their job site. Too clean for a typical station, so not the junkers then. Either a lab or a hospital seemed likely, glancing down at the red pool much smaller than the lake it was a second ago, he was hoping for the latter. Looking at the door, he wondered where he was, not generally but specifically. The harsh glare of blackness saturated with a captured rainbow from the tunnel walls yielded no hints as he pooled his strength to stand.

He limped away from the door, his left side sluggish and weak. His mind was as bleary as his body but of a different measure, akin to trees and purple. Though the colors had shifted from black to midnight to void, the glaring brightness didn't dissipate in the slightest. If anything, it was paradoxically growing deeper, richer even, with every shuffling step he took. The light burned out from the brilliant darkness in a way that left his skin feeling raw and electric. He could feel the inverted light of it burning through his skin, saturated sunlight searing into his soul. Another series of no-so-dry heaves graced him, and when it passed he walked on, more crimson trail markers left behind. Yet still he pushed forward, willpower and dread impelling his movement even as his flesh protested. When he could force his eyes to focus, he saw empty halls. There was nothing here.

Come to Me.

"Nothing here except whatever that is." Shores reached for his pistol and found the belt holster empty. Again, he checked for speakers and wasn't surprised that none were present. The wall dropped away from his shoulder. He crumpled, a marionette flailing for strings no longer holding it aloft. Already beaten prone, he could do little except curl inward, desperate to cling to his aching ribs and burning insides but aware that any touch would only worsen the agony.

Why was he so bruised and bloody? He didn't remember where the pain had come from even as the terror of its source haunted him. He needed to leave, to escape. But what was he running from? The pain didn't care whether he knew or not. It persisted. He tried to follow suit.

He looked to the treacherous wall which had abandoned him and was shocked by his distorted reflection in the polished black stone. His black hair was a faint blurring with the first sparks of gray brightly reflected in the black mirror. Those distant glazed eyes held him, a familiar stranger with the eyes of a corpse. He reached out to touch this wounded man he didn't quite know, to wipe the dried blood from his face with hands not much cleaner.

Come to Me.

Shores held his hand there on the cold stone, moving his fingers to obscure the familiar stranger's face. Maybe he was dead. Walking alone forever could be his personal Hel. So who was calling out to him? He doubted it was the All Father.

Come to Me.

Slow to rise under terrible pain, he imagined his bones becoming spiked and distorted as they tore at his flesh from within. Standing was too great a feat for him now. He managed only to prop himself into the sitting position against the revenant in the wall. Shadows swam in his vision, blacker than the true void of space rippling across the semi-solid canvas of obsidian. As they flickered through the colors beyond mortal sight, they rocked him like soothing waves. The pain, that had become so constant as to cloud his mind, diminished somewhat along with the dizziness as a gentle numb claimed his spine, and soon his pain faded entirely. The shadows slowed in their dance, reverently standing poised while undulating above the other Shores, now in the far wall.

Come to Me.

A memory floated unbidden to the surface, drawing him away from the bright darkness and back to the ocean. Those distant suns hammered warmth into his exposed chest, bronzed from the frequency of this ritual, while the rocking waves lulled him beneath the surface. That annoying itch, so recent yet so forgettable, was fading as his legs sunk deeper into the sea.

Come To Me!

He was more relaxed than he had been in his entire life, certainly since he has signed on the Stalking Shadow to get away from… What was it again? That itch! He swats at it from habit and pain erupts within his chest. His eyes opened, unfocused, while he gasped for stinging air, trying to pull forward. The sensation of color surrounds him, beyond any of his mundane perceptions' abilities to detect, but there all the same. He can't move. He can feel nothing of his limbs except a numb, burning ache. He was so weak now.

His eyes latched onto the far wall, having finally gained enough clarity through his tunnel vision he saw himself in full scope. The familiar stranger had changed, the eyes were the same but the rest was off: brown hair, clean shave, weak jawline and a big phony smile. What do you have to smile about? His eyes weren't clearing, still too dark around the edges. He tried to turn his head but found it stuck fast to the wall.

No, in the wall.

COME TO ME! The phantom screamed into his mind from the far wall.

"ODIN'S BONES!" Were the only words the primitive monkey in the back of his brain could scream out as terror grabbed him and slammed him into the pure instinctive panic that had kept generations alive when they were otherwise paralyzed. He tried to run, to rise, to escape. The black mirrored glass clung to his fading flesh with the draining touch of something worse than death. His clothes, his hair and his very flesh tears away with an inhuman surge of adrenaline-fueled desperation as he breaks free of the all-consuming black glass. Now his eyes focused. The shadows weren't a fault of his vision. They were in the world. Grasping for him. Clawing at his flesh. Killing him.

He screamed, and while he screamed, his reflection laughed.

* * *

Princess

The overhead lights in the massive server room flickered, casting sporadic shadows from the towers of complex machinery. The flickers only lasted a dozen seconds, long enough to have me shifting my slung shotgun into a low ready. Not far enough to seem threatening but close enough it was there if needed. Some people have safety blankets, I had a firearm.

"All combat and subjugation models in quadrant seven, access the nearest uplink for new instructions." A bland, programmed voice blared from hidden speakers.

"Looks like we're getting ditched again." Jhordan said.

"This unit shall comply with prior instructions and designate an alternate." Helper slowed to a halt, hastily extended its optics to cast its gaze about the intersections between the rows of severs. It settled on a small, spidery maintenance bot exchanging delicate parts from a tower in mid-assembly.

Helper charged the small bot as if suddenly possessed, its unnaturally smooth gait granting the illusion of flight as its legs blurred. If I blinked, I would have missed the instant when all that mass came to a dead stop on its lithe, coiling legs. For a moment, I was reminded not of mechanical legs but squirming tentacles, and somehow I was glad the designers only gave it four of the serpentine limbs. The bots interfaced, extending their humanoid hands and gently interlocked their fingers in a surprisingly human way before they each socketed their data spikes into the others' waiting receptacle.

Both robots idled into dormancy while I continued peering down nearby isles, looking for the source of the disturbance. These towers were tall enough to get lost in, the uncomfortable thought made all the worse by the watching shapes in the mist. I couldn't see much beyond the low-hanging tube lights spaced regularly throughout the room. Maybe an arc flash here or there, nothing determinate, but there were a whole lot of indeterminate phantoms that all seemed to be heading one way. It was probably just the ventilation. Everyone knew ghosts weren't real.

"I don't like this." Jhordan said.

"I'm sure you'll tell me why." I dryly replied.

"I didn't see any of the servers flicker with the lights."

"They're probably on a separate grid."

"There has been an urgent development on the station." The more miniature maintenance machine said while separating its fingers from Helper's. "This unit will lead you on an alternate route back to your ship in hanger one."

"Is my team okay?" I asked.

"That is unknown to either of these units." The small robot replied.

"Unit designate AD-4A will act in this unit's place, follow all directions from said unit until you depart from this station. This unit thanks you for your cooperation."

Helper deployed its industrial claw over its inner humanoid arm and gave the rotary laser a test spin to ensure it was functional. Both shoulder-mounted weapon systems swiveled in their gimbaled sockets. An energy shield that would have been invisible to anyone else wrapped around the spherical hull to conclude its combat preparations. Satisfied, Helper turned from my group and rapidly strode away with long, unnaturally fluid steps.

"Guess we get to see just how stable their AI really are."

"Now's not the time Jhordan."

"My guess is either one of the 'experiments' went insane and got loose, or Tony started running his mouth and the client needs a firing squad." She offered as she fell in step behind the diminutive robot. "How much you wanna bet this little killing machine is gonna be the one that does us in?"

"Stop that! It's taking us back to the ship, so watch your tongue or bite it."

"You are mistaken. This unit's primary role is that of an automated maintenance drone, not a killing machine." AD-4A said politely while handing off its supplies to another worker bot and leading onward.

"Ah, of course. Lead the way oh great and wise guide whom I respect so deeply because my fearless leader has ordered it so." This time a glare from me silenced her. Without replying to Jhordan's jeers, the bot turned and led us deeper into the station.

We walked for what felt like hours. I checked my mission clock and saw that my estimate was accurate, it really had been hours. I was no slouch; I could march a day and night with enough ordinance to flatten a city block if I had to, but I was fading. I needed a place to take off my helmet and eat a meal with some heft to it instead of just bitterly tart nutrient cubes. After crossing what could have been the fiftieth junction, I realized that if AD-4A sparked out or wandered off on us, there was a very real chance I might run out of air.

With the perpetual chemical mists fluttering around my guide and unto me, I brought up my suit's display. A little less than an hour left of my starting twelve, more than enough to get me out of hard vacuum in a pinch. If I'd brought a spare refill, I could replace the narrow non-reactive tank nestled in the square of my back under the bulged plate. Of course, if I'd changed my tank when we'd landed, I wouldn't be worrying about it right now, I noted with growing frustration. I didn't have nearly enough air left to march across this entire tainted asteroid again. Soft-skinned bodysuits weren't meant for prolonged exposure to hostile atmosphere without a break.

"How long until we reach the hanger?" I asked in a curt, professional tone. Not that the bot minded what tone I used. I was tempted to use some which were quite unprofessional.

"We are close." AD-4A replied with mechanical politeness.

"Close, you don't say?" Jhordan offered, the strain in her voice partially hidden by her speakers' output. "And here I thought we were taking the scenic route so we could appreciate this beautiful station."

While the robot didn't fall for—or even notice—Jhordan's attempt to spur the conversation onward, it did pan its blocky optics about the corridor. As it looked around, I wondered if Jhordan could see its ranging laser diffusing in the thin, infra-reflective fog. Its digital eyes kept pivoting in circles with no respect for the anatomy of living things until finally stalling on me.

"What! You out of juice?" I snapped.

"The air quality has changed." AD-4A stated before stopping entirely to survey its surroundings with more than just optical sensors. Damn it, did the little guy actually spark out on me? Was this the mechanical equivalent of 'I smell toast?'

"Okay, that's great. You can deal with that as soon as you get us back to the hanger. So we can leave and you don't need to guide us."

"The air quality has changed." AD-4A stated again as if that answered some fundamental question about the universe. Much to my annoyance, Jhordan grasped the meaning before I did.

"This part of the station is sealed. It can't just change unless something fails. This used to happen on the stations I grew up in." Jhordan said.

"This entire area is unclean. You must return to your ship at once and leave immediately."

"Great, glad we're on the same page. Just take us to our ship, and we'll be out of here as soon as we can." Assuming Boomer got the hole patched, I added internally.

Close turned out to be another half hour at a quick march. I could finally see the industrial black and yellow stripes of an internal airlock. One more clean room, and then we were home-bound. For all the bad luck on the way to the job, I felt confident we were on the tail end of it all now. I would definitely get chewed out for the damage to the ship—not that it was my fault—but it would give the Shadow's crew a project to work on and keep a few idle hands busy. Some people couldn't handle downtime, but looking forward to it was always more enjoyable than the actual time off in my experience.

Whatever catastrophe was taking place on the station, I wanted nothing to do with it.

The rear doors lumbered shut with a squealing note, good air cycled in and I tried to force myself to focus on the present, yet immediately got caught in the past. As big as space was, the Cat had still taken a hit, and everyone knew that a mission wasn't over until we were all boots down back on the Shadow. I was less than overjoyed I might have to pilot the Black Cat home if Shores still wasn't in top condition. I was a reckless pilot at the best of times and with the Cat's guts spilt, these definitely weren't the best of times.

The outer door cycled open and I could see Boomer's boots poking from the shuttle's underside, the proverbial light at the end of a not-so-proverbial tunnel. I wasn't surprised he was still working while the others were nowhere to be found. I didn't know them all as well as I knew Boomer, but I knew them well enough to know they wouldn't all be sitting on the shuttle, patiently waiting for my return like well-behaved professionals.

Diaz should have been creeping around keeping a perimeter. Tony should be bugging someone or poking into something he shouldn't be. There was a chance Nye could be in the shuttle entertaining herself, but there was no way all three were hiding in the dropship. It was more likely I'd sprout wings and learn to fly.

"Your ship appears to be damaged. Do you require assistance?" AD-4A offered.

"No, we're fine. You go fix your thing, and we'll fix ours. Then we'll be on our way." I needed it to get clear before it could realize anything was amiss. I didn't want the Client to learn that this job was shifting from a rocky start to a legitimate string of bad luck. As Jhordan and I absconded from the airlock doors, which were already starting to cycle shut, the bot turned and moved on to its next task. I tried to copy its detached, mission-oriented focus.

"Boomer!" I shouted, raising my helm's volume to carry my voice through the hall and across the hanger ahead of me. The squealing airlock doors sealed as I entered the hanger devoid of any sound save for my own quickening footsteps. As I closed the distance, I realized what was missing along with the peculiar tendencies of my team. The sharp metal on metal noise of repair work. "Hey Old Man, I'm talking to you!"

The subdued, strained whirring of Jhordan's suit and her heavy, booming tread were my only answer. With a curse ready on my lips, I refrained from sprinting the remaining distance. That changed when I saw the limp form of my mentor, lying in a pool of fluorescent alchemical runoff, wheezing in jagged breaths of toxic air in the narrow space. Thin trails of blighted mist spouting from his mouth with every puff.

"Shit! Get him in the Cat's Bay!" My mind was cold and limbs leaden. I drunkenly pushed myself away from him and ran for the triage bag it seemed I had just used. I sidestepped Jhordan's bulky suit as it accelerated to obey its operator's needs. I leapt up the ramp and gawked at the empty bay. The triage bag was right next to Shores's upturned helmet. I stood frozen, staring at the helmet, the vacant spot where Shores should have been, and at the empty shuttle where my team should have been.

Where was he? Where were they? Why is no one here?

"Move it Blondie!" A deafening bellow shattered the ice in my limbs but did nothing to cut through the haze in my mind. I dove for the med bag in a frenzy, scattering its contents on the bay's floor in a flurry of action. The roaring tempo of my pounding heart was the only sound I heard now. I was on autopilot, deft well-drilled motions sent my hands flying independent from my mind as I administered detox, oxygenation and adrenal hypos before leaping at the sealed rack Boomer had stored his gear in. The compartment was filled to bursting with explosives, I cataloged them all in a millisecond. At first glance, there were only instruments of death within the stowage until I saw an old, wrinkled photo of a younger Boomer and a cautious girl with silver hair and shaded eyes.

"Where's his damn helmet!" I roared.

I was answered in an instance by a blow to the shoulder that caused me to stumble, halfway sprawled onto the bench. I spun around to face this new attacker, raising my slung shotgun one-handed to fire blindly on anyone trying to kill my wounded friend. I steadied myself instead when I saw Jhordan, one arm cradling Boomer, the other thrust out holding his helmet.

"I can't put it on him. My gauntlets..." Jhordan meekly offered.

I dropped my weapon to a dangle and released the partial breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Taking the helmet from her in hands I wouldn't allow to tremble, I fit it onto Boomer. My mind started returning while I was checking the seals around his neck. Jhordan loomed over us, a monument of killing metal rendered powerless to offer aid by her own lethal strength. I realized she was waiting for me to surrender him; she'd need all the space she could get to position him somewhere more comfortable without crushing us.

What was happening? Where did everyone go? The others should have been back by now. Did they get lost? Questions burst inside my skull like shrapnel in a sealed room, bouncing everywhere and causing pained confusion. It all filled my mind and left me paralyzed. I didn't know what to do. This wasn't right!

As my heart slowed its raging beat and steadied into a quick throbbing pound, I could hear a new sound. The faint trilling of my own suits alarm, not desperate yet but insistent. Warning me to refill my air supply before I too succumbed to the toxic atmosphere. This wasn't right. Diaz and the rest should have been back here hours ago. Where was Shores? Why was the air system failing now? So many questions raced inside me that had no readily available answers, Jhordan echoed the most pressing ones aloud.

"Where is everyone?"

"I don't know." I weakly admitted.

"What should we do now?"

I didn't know.