Shadowsiege

Two

Two

The rec hall was quiet. A few people sat around tables, eating and drinking, but they either spoke in low voices or sussed. The odd clatter from the servery echoed around the room, interspersed with soft thuds from the games table where two people batted a ball back and forth. The large screen was blank, and the few people on the sofas had their eyes closed.

That was fine by Ryann. She didn’t want noise at the moment. She only wanted the shakes to stop.

They’d started after the medics had come for Dana, and after she’d persuaded Brice that he should get his arm checked out. A shower had done nothing to calm her, and only now were the shakes little more than occasional tremors. Still, she gripped her drink firmly to stop it slopping over.

Arela sussed.

Ryann didn’t ask about the dockets, knowing this was just the chief’s way of saying she was busy. Sometimes it was dockets, other times it was forms to complete, or mandates to initial. If she was going to be longer, she’d have a report to write.

To be honest, Ryann had no idea what Arela did in her office, and she didn’t want to know. Running missions was tough enough‌—‌running the whole of Haven must be a nightmare.

The chief appeared only a few minutes later, coming through the door to the stairwell and making for the drinks machine. Ryann watched her tap for a coffee with an extra shot, no milk, and she knew it must have been a tough morning. And beneath the smile, Ryann saw the lines radiating from Arela’s eyes. Her hair was tied back, as always, but a few strands hung loose.

She sat on the seat adjacent to Ryann, so that both of them could look over the hall. she sussed. No preamble‌—‌things must be serious.

There was talk of returning for his body in the morning, but Ryann didn’t know if anything would come of that. From the sensor feed she’d forced herself to watch, there would not be much left.

Then Arela looked at Ryann, holding her eyes.

Ryann nodded. Of course Arela spoke the truth. It was still daylight, and they had torches. For the shades to attack like that was suicide.

But the smell of blood from the bait had been too much.

Over by the recliners, a few others started to watch the players at the ball table, although Ryann couldn’t figure out why. The match didn’t appear that engrossing. The players knocked a couple of green practice balls back and forth, moving in a way that might be described as rhythmic, but bored would be a better term.

she sussed.

But Arela wasn’t finished with her unofficial debrief.

Ryann nodded, thankful that Turi had agreed with her suggestion to keep things quiet. This place didn’t need any more problems. And nor did Brice.

she sussed.

There was silence for a moment, and Arela cast her gaze over the hall, avoiding Ryann’s eyes.

Arela nodded.

Ryann’s heartbeat increased for a moment, before she sent signals to her lattice to get it under control.

Ryann had been by his bed-side, reaching out with her lattice and ignoring the stench rising from his body. She hardly recognised him now, but her old commander was in there somewhere, deep down. She felt the spark, even though Cathal‌—‌or whatever Cathal was becoming‌—‌locked her out.

Because he was changing. That was what happened when someone was bitten by a shade. Turi had done what work he could, trying to determine how the shades passed on this virus or whatever it was. But he had come up with nothing. He couldn’t explain how the impossible was happening.

Get bitten by a shade, and you became one of the creatures.

Apart from Brice. Maybe.

One of the ball players missed a shot, and the green ball flew off, landing not far from a table. One of those around that table reached down and picked it up. Ryann recognised her‌—‌Wynne, a tracker fresh from training. Pretty solid when she was concentrating, but easily distracted. She muttered something and threw the ball back to the closest player. He was Torrey, one of the mechs involved with the craft‌—‌not someone Ryann had dealings with. He muttered in return, and it might have been to thank her, but neither smiled.

Torrey returned to his game, striking that first ball hard, almost catching his opponent off guard. Wynne turned back to her drink and her friends, and they returned to their silent conversation.

But the girl kept turning to watch the game. No‌—‌to watch Torrey.

Arela sussed.

Wynne was gesticulating now, and her friends at the table were clearly trying to calm her. But Wynne was agitated.

Arela was watching the room, taking in just as much as Ryann. Probably more. She was coy about it, but apparently she’d breezed through tracker training, like it was second nature from the very first day.

Ryann forced herself to keep watching the rest of the hall. She swallowed. How could she respond to a cry for help like that? Her first thought was to deny that anyone would ever want to force Arela out, but then she remembered the man from the company.

Arela shrugged.

Arela’s shoulders shook with an internal laugh, but it wasn’t the type that held any joy.

Ryann immediately bit down hard on her lip.

Arela took a sip of coffee, looking at Ryann over the rim of the beaker. She raised both eyebrows, creasing her forehead. She looked older, Ryann thought. Must be the stress.

When did Haven become a hell-hole? A coldness ran down Ryann’s spine.

She paused.

Torrey swung his bat round, sending a ball flying past his opponent’s head‌—‌a poor shot, especially for someone who spent most of his free time at the table. There was a staccato burst of laughter, harsh in the stillness, and Torrey glared at Wynne.

Ryann asked.

Of course, that formless group of hackers, idealists and anarchists weren’t above embroidering the truth, but there was usually some basis for their mumblings. And if a rumour developed its own name, it was serious.

Golem. The name brought images of Cathal rising like some undead thing, but then she saw him as he was, silent and still in quarantine, covered by a sheet, the monster’s mask all that was visible.

But Cathal was‌—‌had been‌—‌a person. A golem was a creature created for a purpose, the inanimate given the semblance of life.

She shuddered. The name came out worryingly easily.

Torrey missed a shot, and the group at the table snorted. Torrey turned to them, waving his bats in the air, and said something, the words lost over the distance. Wynne stood, arms raised, her brow furrowed and her head jutted forward.

Ryann sussed, keeping her eyes on Torrey and Wynne.

It was easy to ignore Murdoch, because he always seemed to be in Daman’s shadow. Ryann must have seen him a dozen times, and heard him on more than one occasion, but she couldn’t remember what he looked like or the sound of his voice.

Torrey dropped his bats on the table, the sound echoing across the rec hall. He stepped towards Wynne. Someone‌—‌Ryann recognised him as Eljin, a pilot on Haven for about a month now, not someone she knew well‌—‌grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. But he shrugged the hand off, and leaned in to Wynne. She didn’t flinch away. The others from the table formed an arc around her, backing her up.

Ryann sussed.

Voices were raised, and words reached across the rec hall, something about monsters and how they should all be destroyed. Even though Wynne was almost a head shorter than Torrey, she squared up to him.

Arela rose, and Ryann followed her across the hall.

But they were not in time. Torrey reached out and pushed against Wynne’s shoulders, both hands forcing her back. She responded with a fist to his stomach, and he doubled over.

“Hey!” Arela shouted, and she ran, Ryann close behind. They only stopped when they stood between Wynne and Torrey.

Torrey straightened up, one hand against his stomach. Wynne kept a fist clenched, and she breathed deeply. Ryann knew she could let fly again at the slightest provocation.

“What’s going on?” Arela demanded, hands on her hips. Her face was stern, and she met everyone’s eyes, even those watching from the sidelines, with a cold, hard determination.

“Bloody i***t wants to kill us all,” Wynne said.

“I’m not the one trying to justify murder.” Torrey muttered the words, glancing at Wynne before returning to meet Arela’s gaze.

“They’re monsters,” Wynne said before Arela could utter a word. She glared at Torrey. “You let them wake, and you know what will happen.”

“They’re contained.” This was from Eljin, and he sounded nervous. “And who says they’re monsters?”

“‘Course they are! Just like the shades.” Wynne stepped towards Torrey’s friend, and her arm tensed.

“Enough!” Arela raised her hands, palms out. “Explain. One at a time. Wynne first. Talk.”

Wynne moved to look round Arela, but the chief shifted, blocking the woman’s line of sight. She sighed, and her fist unclenched.

“It’s those things in quarantine. They’re bad news. Everyone knows what’s happening. They’re not human any more, and when they wake up, they’re going to be hungry. And we’re going to be the food! How the hell can we justify keeping them alive? They should be‌…‌I don’t know, destroyed. Or kicked out. Let the bloody shades look after their own.”

Wynne’s face was red, and her fingers curled round into fists once more. She opened her mouth a couple of times, but clearly there was no more she could add.

“Torrey. Speak.”

“She’s inhuman. She has absolutely no compassion. What would she think, if one of those shades bit her? Would she be okay about being killed, just because she’s infected? She calls them monsters, but as far as I can see, she’s the monster. She’s the one who wants to murder others in their beds.”

“Yeah? I’m a monster for wanting to protect myself?”

“They’re no danger. They’re in quarantine, and we’ve got this damn bright light everywhere now. You’re sick!”

“People! Watch your words.”

Ryann heard everyone breathing as they looked at one another and then, in the case of both Torrey and Wynne, to the ground. It was Torrey who broke the silence.

“Sorry. It’s just‌…‌Brikita’s up there, and she’s a friend. She’s been bitten, but she’s still Brikita. And we don’t know what’s happening, do we? We don’t even know when they’ll wake. We can’t throw them away. It’s‌…‌it’s wrong.”

Of course it was. Cathal still existed, as did Brikita, and the others. Deep down, they were still friends and colleagues. Of course they couldn’t turn their backs on the infected.

“But we can’t risk it!” Wynne spoke through clenched teeth.

“And we’re not,” Arela said. “The area around quarantine is burning sol, just like everywhere else in Haven. Whatever happens, our colleagues in quarantine are contained. We’re monitoring the situation. We want what’s best and right for everyone.”

“But we don’t know.” Wynne glared at Arela.

“We don’t. And so we learn. We don’t make rash decisions.”

“What about rash indecisions?”

That surprised Ryann, and there was a moment where Arela almost flinched. Wynne had her hands‌—‌fists‌—‌planted on her hips now, in imitation of Arela’s earlier stance. Or maybe it was in mockery.

“This isn’t easy, Wynne. There are no clear answers.” Arela lowered her arms. “But the situation is as contained as we can manage. I wouldn’t do anything to endanger the lives in Haven. Any lives.”

No-one could fail to notice the stress on ‘any’.

One of the group around the table rose. “Come on, Wynne. We need to get ready for training.”

“That’s fifteen minutes.”

“We can run through some prelims in the corridor. Hit the arena hard.”

Wynne nodded. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Arela. “So we don’t know everything. But I hear the shades have a weak spot.” She brought a hand round to her collar. “Back of the neck, right? Lattice’s focal node.” Her eyes flickered towards Ryann. “That right?”

Arela sussed.

“I’ve seen it myself,” Ryann said. “But it didn’t kill the shade. We still had to use sol.”

“But it weakened it. And if the knife cut deep enough, or stayed there for long enough, it might have killed the shade. Right?”

“Possibly.”

Wynne nodded. “So that’s what we aim for. Back of the neck.” She turned to her friends. “We train. Then, when those things wake up, we’re ready.” She glared at Torrey, then strode from the rec hall, her friends following.

Ryann felt the tension fall back. Torrey swallowed. “Thanks,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have to step in like this,” Arela said. “You lost control. You should have walked away.”

“But what she was saying‌…‌I couldn’t let that go. Not when Brikita’s‌…”

“I don’t care. I won’t allow senseless fights.”

“She wants to kill them!”

“I know. And I understand. They do pose a potential danger. But I have friends in quarantine, too, and I don’t want to see them go unless there is no other option. Understand?”

Torrey nodded.

“I need to do what’s right for everyone, and I don’t need distractions. So I suggest you get back to your game.”

By the games table, Eljin held Torrey’s bats out, handles forward.

“And put a bit of effort into it,” Arela said. “The way you’re playing, I reckon I’d wipe the floor with you.”

A smile cracked on Torrey’s face. His eyes opened wide for a moment, and Ryann caught the twitch in Arela’s face. Then Torrey nodded, and turned back to the games table.

Ryann sussed.

They started walking back to their table, and Ryann wondered if Arela’s coffee would be cold yet.

Was the choice that simple? Of course it was‌—‌if Cathal was as bloodthirsty as the other shades.

And honestly, the thought of going up against Cathal seemed ridiculous.

The whole situation was ridiculous.

Arela smiled, but it was a melancholy expression, and there was sadness in her eyes.

she sussed.