, or a bookstore near you.(Readers from the United Kingdom and abroad can also find Clouds of Darkness on Amazon.co.uk )
Chapter 1
THE WAR WAS GOING BADLY, but War was an alien thing, never meant to go well for the g’Khruushtani.On a great ship a few units away from the line of battle, as he had done each day for nearly two cycles, the Imperator’s Supreme Lord Commander sifted through reports from each of the divisions under his direction. The Imperial Flagship enjoyed all the comforts of a modern haven. On a nearby table, Ga’Glish had the most sumptuous meal prepared with the finest sauces that the Flagship’s culinary staff could devise. Bright murals danced across the walls, and an intricate tapestry of richest velvet cushioned the feet of all who approached his chambers. Yet amid the trappings of wealth and civilization, Ga’Glish found himself wishing for the simplicity he had known as a child. Alone with his thoughts and his work, he sat facing a table littered with charts and graphs. His mind ached for rest, for he had not slept in two days. The latest Terran offensive threatened to shatter their crumbling defenses. Along the entire front the Terrans advanced relentlessly, showing as little fear of death as of the g’Khruushtani.
This was the third such push in the past month. Each time, the Terrans pushed forward along a broad line of battle, intent on ripping holes in their enemy’s battle lines. Each time, they pushed the Forces of His Worthiness to the brink of disaster, stretching the g’Khruushtani defenses to their limit and beyond. And each time, the longnoses had been driven back, more by the force of sheer desperation than anything else.
But the strain was exacting its price. The Empire’s reserves were depleted, their ships falling like the petals of dayflowers. For the thousandth time since the war began, Ga’Glish sensed that all was lost, that the end was drawing near.
A great sadness swelled within his breast, a sadness he could share with no one. Ga’Glish rose and strode to the viewing panel on the west wall of his cabin, looking toward skies now under enemy control. The stars burned in the blackness like distant embers, their silence tormenting him with unanswered questions, mocking his small efforts to change the tide of Fortune. In his heart self-hatred burned with a royal flame.
Why did the Terrans not press their advantage, he wondered, his jaw locked in anger. Instead, the longnoses toyed with him, prolonging the agony of the g’Khruushtani ordeal. It was obvious that the barbarians had the power to obliterate anything in their path, yet they advanced cautiously, tentatively, as if fearing that the smallest misstep would change the currents of reality. They clung to the edge of the Great Cloud like children to their mother’s leg, though the g’Khruushtani had yet to find the strength to contain them in open skies. There, the hated Terran warships could form vast, charging phalanxes, powerful enough to shatter anything rising against them. And they had not yet unleashed their most potent force, the most evil weapon Terra possessed within her ranks and the one that Ga’Glish had given them so freely, like an innocent girl on her wedding night.
Though hailed as a hero in all corners of the Empire, Ga’Glish took no pride in anything he had done since the outbreak of hostilities. In the earliest days of the conflict he had squandered what he now knew was their best chance for victory. Without thinking, he had condemned his people to war with a foe as merciless as it was bloodthirsty. No matter how heroic they seemed to others, his efforts only postponed the wickedness looming in the emptiness of space.
He had come to hate himself for saving the ugly, vile creature that he now realized would prove the destruction of all he knew and loved. Killing the monster had been within his grasp. He chanced, on the eve of war, to have the monster at his mercy, and Fate had handed him the power to destroy the Evil One upon his own barest whim. It would have saved his people oceans of grief and suffering, and he could blame none but himself, and his naive sense of honor, for sparing both the Beast and his ghastly ship. It was the Terrans’ proudest engine of death, one which they had used but sparingly in the past cycle-and-a-half, as if sensing its importance and taking pains to preserve it for the conflict’s final phase.
Those who saw the monster’s ship and lived to tell spoke little of the grace and artistry of he who commanded it. They told instead of the fire in its wings, and the terror it brought in its wake. It would appear from the emptiness just when the battle seemed about to turn in favor of the g’Khruushtani, destroying all hope of victory and sending the Forces of His Worthiness into panic and despair. As for the Beast himself, he was the One feared throughout the Empire. His mere presence brought death and destruction to all that the Imperator’s subjects held dear. But to the longnoses—and to those who would gladly die to kill him—he was simply the One Called Khu’ukh.
Ga’Glish struck his fist against the wall. The pain only inflamed his anger. Again and again he pounded the wall, until his bloodied hand ached from the pain. Looking out onto the distant skies, hatred flaming in his soul, he vowed that he would see the longnoses driven from g’Khruushtani skies.
And he vowed to see the destruction of the One Called Khu’ukh, or to die in the attempt.
* * *
A FEW DAYS later, a slightly built youth walked nervously down the great hall of the Imperial Flagship. The wide, arching hallway reminded him of the grand palaces of the capital, and the aroma of morningsong blossoms filled his nostrils with the smells of spring, and his mind with memories of better days. He was a Small One, of common birth and low station, and so approached the Lord Commander’s quarters with trepidation. Ga’Glish was, after all, nephew to the First Minister and, if gossip¬mongers told the truth, a stern and demanding superior. Yet the last two cycles had seen changes sweeping through the Empire as never before. Even one such as he, without pedigree or connections, could be summoned to serve His Worthiness at levels unimaginable under the Old Regime. A dozen days earlier he had graduated with top honors from the newly constituted command school on the Planet Zha’Rabi. Now, he was about to meet the Lord Commander in person.
Laying his baggage sack on the floor, fa’Shenali of g’Khruushte paused to read a sign hanging on the wall. The directions here were as ponderous and indecipherable as the lectures of most of his professors, he thought. Anyone without advanced study in the science of cartography would find the labyrinth as impenetrable as the Zha’Rabine jungles.
“Subaltern fa’Shenali?”
Shenali turned his head to see one a little older than himself, clad in the purple sash and golden armbands of the Imperial Guardsmen. The Guardsman’s markings gave him the rank of subcommand¬er. From the officer’s arrogant smirk, the young subaltern surmised that this one was a senior staff aide to Ga’Glish, and doubtless from a royal family. The lad had seen the type before, and was unimpressed. The accident of birth often left those such as the subcommander with a heaven-endowed smugness. During the course of his studies Shenali had left dozens of this young one’s ilk foundering in his wake.
“I am fa’Shenali,” he replied with a bow.
“I am Va’Nazze, Chief of Protocol to the Lord Commander. His Lordship has asked me to escort you to his chambers.”
“He expected me to become lost, then? Hardly a vote of confidence.”
Va’Nazze smiled, but Shenali felt no humor in the words, nor warmth in the subcommander’s heart.
“The Flagship can be rather confusing, especially for newcomers. Follow me, please. The Lord Commander is waiting.”
Shenali followed Va’Nazze down the vast corridor, through the Engine Room Bypass, finally coming to a hallway marked “Command Center.” Soon they neared a large, semicircular doorway. Beyond the door, the young man could see hundreds of officers and soldiers, each scurrying madly from station to station.
“What is he like?” asked Shenali.
“I beg your pardon.”
“The Lord Commander—what is he like?”
Va’Nazze chuckled acerbically, taking no pains to mask the contempt he felt for the commoner now standing before the corridors of power.
“You shall know soon enough.”
“I have heard— ”
“His ways are not for you to judge, Small One,” Va’Nazze said sharply, through a mirthless smile. “Your role is not to question, but to serve.”
Resentment burned, then simmered in the subaltern’s heart, and the grandness of the Flagship soon passed unnoticed before his eyes. The two men walked the rest of the way in silence.
* * *
THE LORD COMMANDER’S chambers were the grandest the youth had ever seen, with carpets as plush as bedpillows, and art¬works and other relics of grandeur surpassed only by the private collections of royalty. The two sat on cushions as soft as air, and Shenali paid attention less to the regal furnishings than to the gruffness of his superior’s voice.
“You are not at all what I expected.”
Ga’Glish looked sternly at the newcomer.
“I am sorry, Lord Commander,” Shenali said, struggling to master his instinct to melt into nothingness. He was surprised when the Lord Commander started chuckling good-naturedly.
“No, it is I who must be sorry, One Called fa’Shenali, for my words did not convey my meaning. But you must admit that you do not look the part of a staff officer.”
The youth looked at himself: the markings on his armband show¬ed his lowly rank of Subaltern. His white sash showed his inexperience and lack of permanent assignment. Not stylish, perhaps, but military dress made him uncomfortable.
“I fail to see— ”
“You look rather like a shop clerk in a bookstore,” Ga’Glish smiled, humor radiating from his eyes like the warming sun of morning. “Hardly the sort to set the green blood of the g’Khruushtani to boiling.”
“If you are displeased, my Lord— ”
“We can get you properly attired,” Ga’Glish interrupted, silencing the young man with a wave of his hand, “for all the good it will do. Besides, I requested you myself, Subaltern, and not because of your pedestrian appearance.”
Shenali looked at the Lord Commander warily.
“I sense your disquiet,” Ga’Glish said, with a regal blandness. “But remember that I am of Gal’Shenga’s blood. And for good or ill, I share much of the First Minister’s contempt for polite society. You will find many without pedigree in my service, fa’Shenali. And you will find that like my uncle, I reward ability, rather than rank.”
“I am grateful, Lord Commander.”
“I prefer my officers to express gratitude through their work, One Called fa’Shenali. And I am afraid that your task will be among the most difficult of any on this ship.”
As Shenali kept guard on his thoughts, panic started to grow inside him. Ga’Glish rose from the floor and walked toward the far entrance to the drawing room, toward the large situation room beyond. Turning to see that his new subaltern was still seated, he beckoned for the young man to follow.
“Here.”
As Shenali neared his side, Ga’Glish gestured grandly, the sweep of his arm encompassing the entire command hub, his lordly speech honed by dint of frequent repetition.
“This is where the fate of our people will be decided. It will be determined by all of us, fa’Shenali of g’Khruushte, by our dedication and resolve. And it will require a willingness to endure all manner of privation to defeat the dark tide that threatens us.”
“Yes, my Lord.” The young man felt a wave of strong emotion flooding his mind as his Lord Commander spoke. Like others before him, he was becoming one with the task before them, willing to give his life and his soul freely for his people and his Imperator.
“We must know our enemy, Subaltern. We must know how the longnoses think and breathe, how they love and how they reason—if we deign to call it reason.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“I have assigned analysts to study all the Terran commanders, fa’Shenali, in the belief that if we cannot yet match Terran power, we can still out-think them.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Ga’Glish turned to face his new staff aide. Shenali could see the fire and determination in his commander’s eyes. Such a fire would soon burn within himself just as brightly.
“I hear that you were the brightest student in your class, One Called fa’Shenali. A student with a gift for sensing enemy movements and an ability to detect and exploit small changes in enemy tactics.”
Shenali’s heart cringed. Standing before the One on Whom All Depended, he was less confident of his abilities than at any time since his first day at the war college, when he faced the cruelties and taunts hurled at him by sons of the nobility.
“I must confess certain failings— ”
Ga’Glish dismissed his remarks with a wave of his hand.
“Yes, yes—we all have our failings, Shenali,” said the Lord Commander, using the familiar form of his newest subordinate’s name for the first time. “Even the Terrans have their failings.”
“Some more than others, Lord Commander.”
Ga’Glish chuckled darkly. When he spoke again, it was in the hushed tones of conspiracy. Yet his words carried a grim fascination, which fa’Shenali could sense as clearly as the stars burning in the blackness around them.
“Oh, yes—and you will learn that the Beast can be most elusive, Shenali. Yet of all the Terrans, his is the mind I know best, for it is the one Terran mind I have touched. He is an animal—wild and frenzied, devouring all he sees like a starving predator. Yet his mind is probing and curious, desperate in its quest to understand. We feel his power at every turn, for he, as much as the Terran death ships, dictates the course of the war. For all his barbarism, his is a stronger, more majestic mind than any I sense around me. And he is by far the most dangerous enemy we confront. He once fooled me into thinking him civilized, and his simian capacity for deceit has brought us all to the brink of disaster. If he comes again within our power, he shall not escape me a second time.”
“What do you want of me, my Lord?”
The mind of Ga’Glish relaxed, as it came to focus upon more immediate concerns. “Your assignment, fa’Shenali, is to study the Beast—to study the One Called Khu’ukh. Follow his movements, as well as our monitors can detect, and probe whatever you can find that reveals his thoughts or his moods. You must learn to understand him—how his mind functions, how he thinks, how he will react. You must come to know him as you would your own brother, and sense his thoughts as if he were your son.
“Most importantly, you must find us a way to stop him.”
“I shall do my best, my Lord.”
Ga’Glish laughed without humor; the young aide could feel the bitter truth beneath his Lord Commander’s words.
“Our survival may rest upon whether your best is good enough, Subaltern fa’Shenali,” he said. “I shall give whatever help I can provide. Go refresh yourself, now. You will start work tomorrow. I expect the data from the Grulanashi Campaign to arrive in the next few days, and you must master what little biographical information we have on the Beast before you begin.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“And fa’Shenali?”
“Lord Commander?”
“Welcome to the Flagship.”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
* * *
SOME DISTANCE TO the East, where the skies were still free and war had yet to come, work was proceeding feverishly.
“Rest period—cease work and relax.”
As the groupleader repeated his command to the work squadron, ls’Shen of Gr’Shuna breathed deeply, his gasps sounding dully within his helmet. Countless stars adorned the black, airless sky overhead. Coldness pressed upon his outer covering like the specter of death, but within his pressurized clothing all was comfort, for he could adjust the temperature and air to the settings best suiting him.
“Shen— !”
The young man turned to face Shl’Lanasha, his workmate and elder. Like most men in the Shunnite Sector, commoner and noble alike, the two had been impressed into the service of His Worthiness. But they were lucky, if Luck still visited the troubled worlds of the g’Khruushtani. They were not consigned to stop the Ter¬rans with their bodies, as little more than fuel for the war machines. They were assigned as builders—here, close to home, helping to erect the defenses that would shield their homeland, if the Barbarians succeeded in overrunning the precarious interstellar defenses of His Worthiness. Then they would be the last bastion left standing against the Terrans. But such thoughts belonged to a different time; now was the time for thoughts of rest.
Shl’Lanasha sat down on a nearby rock, and ls’Shen sat beside him. Shen could hear his comrade panting heavily over the intercom. Though the lifeless world’s small mass made them stronger than if they had been walking the sands of home, they tended to compensate by overexerting themselves, and the final result was the same: exhaustion.
Shl’Lanasha smiled and motioned toward the horizon. A large, bluish star was rising in the east—or was it a star at all?
“She rises, Shen,” breathed Lanash. “Like the Spring, she rises even in the midst of despair.”
Ls’Shen looked again, and then he knew. It was home: it was Planet Gr’Shuna, nearly as distant from them now as their hopes were from thoughts of rest. But as it rose above the horizon, his heart filled with renewed hope and determination. The Terrans were strong, but the g’Khruushtani could be stubborn, and their cause was a just one. Though the heavens’ silence echoed through eternity, the Universe could not be so cruel as to let civilization fall to the forces of barbarism.
Soon, a sharp command called them to resume their work. The defense station would be large, and its guns would be strong. If one day the war came to Gr’Shuna, they would be ready
© 2011 by Jeffrey Caminsky
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