The Plasma Shadow Page 4

  Chapter 3

  A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the garden foliage as the long stream of guests arrived, delivered by horse-drawn carriages, as was the current style among people who were so rich that they could pay people to deal with the hassle of owning animals – at least in this sector. Exotic fabrics and elaborate hairdos rustled and swished as the occupants disembarked and stepped onto the stone path that led toward the mansion, their voices mingling in idle gossip, interspersed with the occasional complaint or insult. Everyone who mattered was coming to this party, but not all of them were happy about it. Least happy of all was the woman in the orangeish outfit and simple black ponytail, who entered not from a carriage but from the walkway that led along the garden wall. Somehow, the perimeter sentries had missed her, and she mingled with the crowds of approaching guests without attracting attention.

  Mirana Kelar inwardly bemoaned her fate as she walked the winding path, alert to the conversations around her and to the movement of the guards concealed behind the nearby foliage, but at the same time she wished that she could just tune it all out and be rid of this particular mission. Infiltrating a party meant blending in, which would require a certain amount of social interaction. But if she could delay that for a few minutes by remaining inconspicuous, that would certainly be ideal.

  There was really no need for the secretive approach; although she hadn’t technically been invited to the event, it had been a small matter to forge the necessary documentation to satisfy the guards and entrance scans. To be honest, Mirana would have preferred to just sneak in and meet with the event’s host after everyone had gone. Experience had shown the sudden appearance of the Shadow Master could provide a lot of motivation to provide any information asked for. But this was a delicate matter; Ruggles Girx was a very paranoid man – although, to be fair, there were a lot of dangerous people who would like to see him dead. Confronting Girx in private would just cause him to panic, which would result in his security forces converging on Mirana and allowing the man to escape. And if he decided to disappear, Mirana might not get another chance to talk to him. So she had resigned herself to the necessity of speaking to him in the open, surrounded by guests in front of whom Girx would feel compelled to maintain an air of civility and calm. And that meant attending this cursed party.

  Of course, it was already clear from the conversations she was hearing that the party was just a thin façade for a hundred different business deals. The other guests were being vague as they discussed the various deals and threats they were planning to make later, but it was obvious that few if any of them were expecting to actually enjoy the event. Which was just fine, because that at least meant that Mirana was not alone in her loathing of this whole situation. Her irritation started with her wardrobe, which comprised a silky, pale-orange fabric that swished audibly as she moved. It was hideous, but anything more practical would have called into question her motive for being here, so again, she had no choice. But her self-pity was short-lived; despite the frivolous atmosphere and aristocratic pretense everyone was making, Mirana knew that she was in as much danger here as she would be infiltrating a starship. At least a dozen weapons would be trained on just this group of guests. So she buried her feelings about the event itself and forced her thoughts toward her objective. The mission was no simple task, but it was hardly the most difficult one she had set for herself recently.

  Soon the path found its way up to the mansion’s main entrance. The large, wooden doors were left open, letting light from inside the building pour out into the night. Guards were scanning guests individually now, making sure they were on the proper list and were not carrying weapons. Mirana had considered bringing along a concealed blaster or maybe even just a knife, but in the end she had decided that doing so would just create a distraction for her. The guards completed their scans and waved Mirana through. She climbed the steps and walked through the door, finding herself in a large entrance hall that opened out into several halls and staircases. Everything around her looked antique – crystal chandeliers, wooden bannisters and tables, velvety furniture. The artwork on the walls showed painterly brushstrokes, sacrificing a measure of realism for an emphasis on a “natural” look. Mirana thought it odd that a planet that had been colonized eons after technology had made space travel possible would go to such an effort to pretend that technology did not exist. In any case, Mirana knew that the décor, like everything else around her, was a lie: Behind the wood and fabric, this mansion was a fortress. Unseen cameras were watching everything, and there were probably even more hidden weapons trained on the guests here than there had been outside.

  Mirana followed a group into a larger hall, trying to stay close enough to other people to avoid standing out, but far enough away to avoid having someone try to actually include her in a conversation. She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at some of the outfits. Ostentatious silks and feathers in flagrant colors or hideously random patterns graced some of the dresses and suits, but those were just the more subtle ones. One woman was wearing a gown that appeared to be forged of chain mail, and another seemed to be woven and braided out of her own, impossibly long hair. Then music started on a stage somewhere ahead, and people started to dance.

  Mirana ducked around a group of women gossiping, then moved behind another group when she spotted a couple of men several meters away. There was nothing to suggest danger, but she had no desire to start chatting herself. Ruggles Girx was nowhere to be seen; he was probably deeper into the mansion, entertaining more important guests than the ones in this room. She was almost to the far door when a man in a suit covered in black-and-white diagonal stripes stepped in front of her.

  “Good eeeeevening, my lady,” he gushed, removing his very tall hat and bowing slowly. He made such a show that other people nearby turned to look, and Mirana knew that running off would draw unwanted attention.

  “Hello,” she responded simply, knowing what was coming next.

  “May I have this daaance?” the man asked, already stepping forward to take her hand. Something about his eyes made her sick; he was a good ten years older than she was. She had to think fast.

  “I am so sorry,” she replied, bowing a little herself but in the same motion evading his hand. “But I have already promised this dance.” She did a very quick scan of the people nearby and grabbed the one who looked most sincerely happy about the party – a younger fellow who was gesturing wildly as he told a story to a group of other young people. He let himself be dragged to the center of the room by his arm, tossing a quick apology over his shoulder to the group he had been talking to. “Nice to see you again,” Mirana said amicably as they started to move in time with the music.

  “Hi,” the man managed, looking a little confused but not the slightest bit nervous. “I, uh…”

  “Mirana.” She held his gaze with a smile, and he lost a bit of his look of shock.

  “Tolgo,” he replied. “I’m here with the Stag Cleat group, but, you know, it’s really about the food.”

  Mirana nodded. Tolgo was technically leading, but she gave a subtle twist away from the people they had left, in the general direction of a different doorway. “Was that part of a business deal?” She wanted to keep him talking so she could keep her eye on the room and focus on where she was headed next.”

  “Not really; Arfaxad handles most of that. I was just… so anyway, what brings you here?”

  “I need some information about an archaeological site,” she replied vaguely. I heard someone here might know about it.” And then, to avoid the obvious next question, she added, “Too bad I had to spend an hour getting ready just to get here!”

  “Yes, I suppose women do have it rough, having to deal with those dresses. Although…”

  He glanced down at her outfit, and she knew what he meant. Although the orange fabric hung down from her waist, it was obvious from the slits in the sides that she was wearing pants of the same material underneath. “It’s not really a dress,” she admit
ted.

  “Making a fashion statement?”

  “More like a personal rule. I never wear anything that would prevent me from running, climbing, or kicking someone in the face.”

  He was shocked, then laughed a little, then lost his train of thought, probably trying to figure out whether she was serious. Mirana just smiled back, willing the seconds to pass more quickly. She was well-trained in many areas, but ballroom conversations were not something she practiced regularly.

  Fortunately, Tolgo did not have the same problem. He started talking again, this time about some animals his brother was raising to show off in some competition. Mirana said just enough to keep him talking. Finally, the song ended. Mirana thanked Tolgo for the dance, then darted off toward the other exit, eager to get there before too many of the other men started looking for their next dance partner. She almost didn’t make it; another man was trying to catch her eye just short of the door, but she grabbed a tiny muffin off of a table and stuffed the whole thing into her mouth. Just as the man started talking, she nodded her head and pretended to say something. The garbled sound that made it past the pastry stopped her would-be partner just long enough for her to move past and into another crowd of people. Then she was through the doorway and out of the room.

  This hall was more dimly lit than the last. A man and a woman were having a heated conversation halfway down, but they stopped and looked at Mirana as she approached. She walked past them, not making eye contact. If people were making secretive business arrangements here, then maybe she was headed in the right direction.

  The hallway led into another ballroom with a quintet of some kind providing music, and Mirana stopped to survey the room. A broad staircase arced upward from the center of the room, and the landing above stretched around the sides, partygoers lounging along the railing and looking down at the people mingling below. Mirana spotted Ruggles Girx almost immediately; his flamboyant red-and-orange suit practically cried out for attention as he talked with a pair of men on the upper level. ­No good, Mirana thought. She could probably make it up there and get a word in when his current conversation ended, but the upper level was too well-secluded and there were several exits up there. She needed to talk to him where everyone would see them and no one would care, where he wouldn’t be able to leave without upsetting his guests. She looked at the people on the ground floor and recognized a few of them: local business leaders, politicians, and crime bosses. She had not been able to acquire a guest list, but she had memorized the faces of as many influential people in the sector as she could.

  Her first thought was to find someplace to disappear so she could freely spy on the room’s conversations. That might give her an idea of what she could say to someone in the right position to lure Girx downstairs. The only problem with that was that she had to assume that there were cameras and guards watching everything, and if she suddenly vanished – even in a seemingly empty hallway or closet – there was a good chance she would set off alarms. That meant that she was going to have to work the room the old-fashioned way. She started walking around, looking at the room’s furnishings, listening for what people were talking about. But people moved away from her or hushed their voices as she approached; it was starting to seem like everything going on here was secret, even though everyone was standing in the open. In any case, walking around alone like she was doing was starting to draw stares. She knew she looked out of place, precautions notwithstanding. She had to do something before she drew attention from upstairs.

  Fortunately, Mirana had not been so naïve as to think that she could infiltrate a business meeting without spending some cash. Again she scanned the room, this time looking for someone who looked worried. She found her almost immediately. The woman was one of four people standing near an abstract painting, nodding and frowning at each other. The man next to her looked angry, while the other man – Zox, the others were calling him – exuded smug patience; obviously some deal was going his way. The woman next to Zox interjected the occasional comment with a sympathetic look, while the woman Mirana had spotted looked frantic each time she spoke. Her gown seemed to be made of twisted thorns, with roses dotting it at random intervals. Mirana walked up to the group, ignoring the irritated looks they gave her.

  “I am so sorry to intrude,” she said, touching the woman’s arm as if they were friends. “But could I borrow you for just a moment? There’s an urgent matter we need to discuss.” Her companion, the angry man, started to object, but Mirana pulled the woman aside, holding her attention with her eyes. “Quinella, right?” She had just made up the name to get the woman talking.

  “Yisel, actually. I think you…”

  “Of course,” Mirana said, still ignoring the others and turning Yisel away from them. “Listen, there’s something you need to hear. It’s important.” Mirana’s diversion was urgent enough that Yisel let herself be led another step away from her companion, who apparently felt that he could manage well enough without her, because he seemed to have resumed his previous conversation. “That deal isn’t working out to well, is it?” Mirana whispered. The twitch of Yisel’s mouth was enough of an answer. “Well you’re not going to fix it with diplomacy. You need some leverage.”

  “Who are you?” Yisel asked, finally. Mirana knew what came next: No matter how Mirana introduced herself or what she proposed, Yisel would be wondering why a stranger would come up and offer help. Yisel would want to know what was in this for Mirana. Mirana reached into one sleeve and slipped out a wad of cash.

  “You need some bargaining power. And I need to get Zox away from your friend for a moment.” She held the money up a little. “Two thousand for a quick bit of help.”

  Yisel eyed the bills suspiciously. “What do you want me to do?”

  “See that couple over there?” Mirana asked, subtly tilting her head toward some more businessmen across the room. Yisel nodded. “Go back to your conversation for a few minutes. Then go tell those men that Girx wants in on their deal.”

  Yisel raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Why?”

  Mirana ignored the question. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do if this didn’t work, but she couldn’t start sounding defensive now. “Take it or leave it.”

  Yisel thought for a moment, then took the money, looking over her shoulder nervously. “Can’t hurt,” she said. “At least, it can’t hurt me.”

  Slowly, Mirana started wandering away from the group, She needed to keep an eye on Girx and time her approach just right. She was counting on a complicated set of events and circumstances to draw Girx’s attention. Right now Yisel would be talking to a Talgorian merchant, informing him that Baron Dorquis was planning to sell a shipment of irithium crystals to Horgt Enterprises for a certain amount. The merchant, who was one of the men Mirana had researched previously, would want that shipment for himself, and would head over to talk to Dorquis – in fact, from the look Mirana saw on his face across the room, he was on the way to do that right now. In order to undersell Horgt, the merchant would have to offer the baron a shipment of Vituperate ion cannons, which he had been stockpiling for months in order to drive up the market price. And, if Mirana had done her research properly, Ruggles Girx needed the ion cannons even more than Horgt Enterprises did. With any luck at all, someone in that convoluted set of business deals would get word to Girx about what was going on, and the party’s host would come down to capitalize on the opportunity. And hopefully no one would think to trace that bit of information back four levels of indirection to Mirana. Her heart raced as she paced the room, trying not to let her nervousness show. There were a lot of uncontrollable variables in play here, with no way to really track whether the plan was working out. After a few minutes, though, Mirana could tell that Girx was wrapping up his conversation. She started slowly to the staircase.

  Girx was moving slowly through the crowd on the upper level, stopping to greet individual guests, but moving steadily toward the top of the stairs. Mirana pretended to study a chandelier as sh
e started up. Girx smiled as various guests said hello. He greeted them politely, but kept moving. Mirana slowed a bit to time things right and edged away from the center, then started moving again. Girx was halfway across the landing in the center of the staircase when Mirana took his hand, shaking it firmly.

  “It’s so nice to meet you!” she said, pulling him to face her before he really noticed that she was there.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to meet with…”

  “Just a quick question, Mirana said, leaning in close, Girx’s hand still clasped in hers. “Where did Trelan Thendrak find the Matrix Crystal?”

  Girx stopped trying to move away, but his eyes narrowed. “My dear lady,” he said quietly. “Whatever would make you think I would have information like that?”

  “There’s a six-month period of missing files in the Imperial Council’s records that show fake data about Thendrak’s travels just before he started training the other Holders. Information about you has also been erased for that period. But I met some people on Nirga that saw you with them on multiple occasions. I think you were transporting them.”

  “That doesn’t mean I know where he got the Crystals.”

  “No, but here’s the thing: I think you know. And if you don’t tell me, or if you lie, the results would be… bad for business.”

  He chuckled mirthlessly. “Is that a threat?”

  “No,” Mirana replied calmly. “I am a threat.” And with that, she glanced downward toward their clasped hands. Girx followed her gaze and went instantly pale. The skin on his arm had disappeared, and the muscle was fading as well. It wasn’t bleeding; Mirana knew that he wasn’t even feeling pain. But the man was clearly terrified. “Don’t try to alert anyone if you want to leave here safely,” Mirana warned, her voice almost a whisper. “I’ll fix it when we’re done. Just answer my question.”

  Girx looked back into her eyes, straining as if to figure out who it was he was talking to. “Please,” was all he could manage. “Not here. He’ll kill me.”

  Mirana nodded understandingly, forcing a smile for the benefit of anyone watching. She was tempted to let him take her outside so her escape would be simpler when this was finished, but she could not allow Girx any time to reconsider. “Just tell me the location, and I’m gone,” she said.

  “It’s not that simple,” insisted with a hint of panic. He looked back down and saw nothing left of his forearm but bone and blood vessels.

  “Enlighten me.”

  “He… he saw it in a dream.” Mirana remained impassive, but her heart was racing. Someone would eventually notice what she was doing with Girx’s arm, but she could not really rush him, either. “Stars,” Girx continued. “He told me about it – he described their movement and their location precisely. I pinpointed the location that would be able to observe the constellations he was describing, but there was no planet there. Not even a nearby star system. Nothing.”

  “But Thendrak went anyway.”

  Girx nodded. “He had me take him. I guess he figured I could cover our tracks better than he could. We went to the spot and there was nothing, but then he closed his eyes and started giving me instructions. We were moving around in empty space, and then all of a sudden everything lit up, and then we were in orbit around a planet. I have no idea where we were at that point; scanners showed nothing except the planet and a nearby star. Space was empty beyond that.”

  “Is that where he got the other Crystals?”

  “Thendrak never said what he did down there. And we never went back – at least I never took him. It was years before he gave the Crystals to the others.”

  “He never told you how he got his power in the first place?” Girx shook his head emphatically. “Where did he take you?” She let the Shadow Plasma inside Girx’s arm flare a bit, sending heat into normal space. The pain caused him to wince as he started to speak; hopefully that would ensure he didn’t have time to fabricate a lie.

  “About ten light years hubward of Deltarion. I don’t know if the spot was orbiting the galactic core or a particular star or what – even if I…”

  He kept talking, but Mirana had decided that this was all the information she was going to get out of him. She wasn’t happy about it, but she needed to start her exit before Girx realized what she was doing.

  There was quick humming sound, and Mirana’s feet raised a few centimeters off the floor as her clothing pressed in close to her body, splitting the lower fringe of the tunic and pinning it to her pant legs. At the same instant, Girx belted out the command, “Kill her!”

  Immediately laser fire erupted from two snipers and three or four wall-mounted lasers. The blasts deflected off of the air just short of Mirana’s skin. Her eyes went cold as she abandoned any pretense of cordiality. Grabbing Girx around the collar, she lifted him off the ground with more strength than she should have had. When she spoke, her voice came out as a menacing hiss. “You have made a very poor choice,” she said, taking a bit of pleasure at the look of terror in his eyes. He was hyperventilating; she had been right to make him talk before showing him just what she could do. But there was no time to celebrate now; more laser fire erupted against her invisible suit, and additional security officers were closing on her.

  “Enough!” The Shadow Master’s voice silenced everyone in the room. Many guests backed away into various hallways; evidently the party was coming to an end. That was fine with Mirana, but she did not want Girx sealing the entrance; it would be just too much of a hassle to have to fight her way out of this place alone. She sent the Shadow Plasma through Girx, once again making everything fade to invisibility except his bones. “Tell them to stop,” she ordered as he watched his skeleton appear.

  “Stop!” he cried. “Cease fire!” The snipers stopped shooting, no doubt already dismayed that their attacks had failed to kill their apparently-unprotected target.

  “Take us outside.” Mirana was still holding Girx in the air with his feet dangling helplessly, but he managed a frantic nod. She dropped him to the floor and let his body reappear. In the same motion, Mirana herself vanished completely. “Move.”

  Girx stumbled down the stairs, looking around but not daring to speak. Whenever he slowed, Mirana jabbed him in the back with her metal glove, and he hurried forward again. No one stopped them; the guests backed away in apprehension, and the security guards apparently sensed that Girx was in danger. Presumably, they overestimated the actual danger; Mirana had no intention of actually harming the man. But she would certainly make him uncomfortable if he resisted. Fortunately, Girx was anxious enough to get the Shadow Master away from him that he was willing to at least postpone his plans for her death.

  They slowed as they reached the front doors. They were closed, and about ten guards stood ready across the front of the room, their weapons trained on the space around their employer. The guards could not see Mirana, but they correctly guessed that she must be somewhere close. Mirana elbowed Girx in the back. Although the doors themselves were made of wood, Mirana knew that a concealed bulkhead and maybe a force field were reinforcing them from within and behind. “Tell them to open it.”

  “Let us out,” he said obediently. But his voice was more resigned than authoritative. Evidently the men were waiting for some further sign or code word, because they remained still.

  “You have violated the terms of entry,” one of the guards said, looking around the room. “Show yourself and allow Mr. Girx to leave the room. If anything happens to him, we will kill you.”

  Some of the men were carrying rocket launchers. They clearly wouldn’t fire with their master so close, but Mirana would have a tough time getting out of this if she lost her prisoner. Maybe she could talk them down, but now that her cover was blown, she had a reputation to uphold. Who would back down from the Shadow Master if she could be stopped at the door by some simple security guards? The men were starting to move forward, and Mirana sighed; her time was up. Why, why did people always have to make things so complicated?
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  She knocked Girx to the floor with a quick blow to his shoulder, then darted toward one of the men holding a rocket launcher. Her fist collided with his face before he even knew he was in danger, and the weapon dropped to the floor. Mirana dashed back over to Girx’s position and fired Shadow beams from her hands, throwing two more men to the ground. The black energy gave away her position, but she wanted them to know that she was still close to their leader; if they started firing rockets, things would end badly. More laser fire deflected off of her armor, but the damage meter was still in a tolerable range. She dashed toward another man, picked him up with the suit’s augmented strength, and threw him into another guard; both collapsed in a struggling heap.

  Girx had managed to gain his feet now, and Mirana rushed back toward him. She let a cloud of darkness form around her to give shape to the man’s fear. She parted the Shadow field in two slits along her glowing red visor, giving the impression of eyes in her dark, ethereal form. She grabbed Girx by the throat and lifted him until his toes just barely touched the ground. “I have had enough,” came her mechanical hiss. “I have given you the chance to part peacefully, but if you do not open this door immediately, I will find my own way out, and I will not bother with doors and windows. I will destroy this fortress of yours. If you survive, everything you own will be lost.” The guards had ceased their attack, but just to drive her point home, she extended her free hand and sent out another Shadow bolt, knocking an additional man to the ground. Finally, the sound of moving metal behind her told Mirana that whatever seals had protected the front doors were being removed. She looked back to see them swing open. “Move,” she ordered again, and Girx resumed his obedient march.

  As soon as they were outside, Mirana opened a com link. “Ablithra,” she said, “Come and get me.”

  “Yes, Miss Kelar. Tractor beam?” came the very professional reply.

  “Yes. And fly low; I don’t want to give them a lot of time to react. If anyone tries to stop me, destroy them.”

  “Understood. On my way down.”

  As she had learned shortly after stealing Nemesis from the Sigma Omicron shipyard, its Shadow field could remain active for a time without Mirana aboard, as long as the field was maintained continuously. But while no one saw the ship coming, the sound of its graviton thrusters as it descended over the garden was enough to shake the trees. Ruggles Girx shivered as he looked up apprehensively, probably feeling more humble than he ever had in his life. “Keep walking.”

  “Just let me go,” Girx pleaded. The desperation in his voice was moving Mirana to genuine pity by this point, and she knew that life wasn’t going to get much easier on him once she left, now that he had been so roughly dealt with in front of everyone. But then, he had been the one to attack first. In any case, Girx’s problems were well out of Mirana’s hands now. A sudden rushing wind sent dirt and leaves launching into the sky as a tractor beam locked onto Mirana and lifted her upward, leaving the mansion grounds and their terrified leader behind. No weapons fire traced her ascent. Mirana was not surprised; no ground forces wanted to be shot at from a starship at close range, even one as small as Nemesis. In moments, Girx’s mansion and his cursed party were left behind and forgotten.

 

  As soon as she was in the landing bay and Nemesis was headed back into space, Mirana hurried to the pricom, visible again and with her helmet off. The crew saluted her, but she ignored the gesture; she could see the need for them to maintain the discipline they had learned as part of their training, but Mirana still had trouble thinking of herself as part of a crew. She definitely didn’t want to be called “captain.”

  “Heading?” Ablithra asked curtly. Her entire appearance radiated efficiency – the hair pulled into a tight bun, the tight-lipped expression. Even her clothing looked like she had gone to some extraordinary effort to make all the edges sharp and the surfaces stiff. Mirana had not figured out whether Ablithra’s stiffness was simply a matter of professional pride or of apprehension. It would certainly be understandable if it turned out to be the latter, of course. Leaving the military had been a risky career move for a formerly-Anacronian lieutenant, now that Marvis Harvey was in charge of the whole fleet. If things didn’t work out here, there might not be a spot waiting for her if she tried to return. And similarly, there was probably a certain amount of prestige to working aboard Nemesis; it was possible that Ablithra was anxious about other people trying to replace her. Actually, Mirana was quite satisfied with her selection of a crew, but that didn’t necessarily mean that it would be a good idea to tell them that.

  Ablithra was still waiting patiently; Mirana didn’t have a quick answer to her question. She fidgeted with her fingers, calculating. “He said the spot was near Deltarion, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where. Even if we go there now and find something, we might end up giving ourselves away. We might get in so deep we can’t go back for reinforcements without losing everything.”

  “Shields and weapons are at full capacity,” Ablithra observed.

  “Yes, but I think there might be might be one other thing we should pick up first. Head toward Orviria.” The navigation officer started typing at the console.

  “Orviria is not really on the way to Deltarion.” There was no hint of a question or criticism in Ablithra’s voice; she was merely offering information. Mirana smiled.

  “I have some calculations to make before I can give you a proper heading to our target. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

  “Aye.”

  Mirana cringed a little inside as she left the pricom – what kind of a word was “aye?” There was no helping it, though. Mirana had forbidden the crew from calling her “Captain” or “Ma’am”, and repeating the phrase “Miss Kelar” every time she gave an order would be even more tedious than “aye.” In the end though, Mirana had to smile. This was the first time she had worked with a team that never complained when she gave them obscure directions without any hint of an explanation. Maybe this “captain” thing would work out after all.