Prodigal (Maelstrom Chronicles) (5 page)

“Niko is assigning a team lead by Raniya GelDan to study it,” Ship said. “Raniya is what you would call my personal physician, Adam, an IT specialist.”

“IT?” Adam asked. “Because you’re a computer?”

“In a sense,” Ship said. “Though I am far more than a computer. IT stands for Interstellar Transportation. My previous physician was Dr. Bronson, who was an actual Ship specialist. Raniya and I are making do.”

Adam rubbed his arms. “Interstellar, huh? Did you call Raniya because the silver thing I was in came from outer space?”

His conclusion made sense to Claire—how he’d come to be in a spaceship, though, was the mystery.

Ship, however, wouldn’t confirm. “We do not know. We must first secure the area and scan for entity presence before we can begin research.”

When the Shipborn descended dirtside, extra care had to be taken so there was no chance a shade could attack them. Once a planet reached what was called the leviathan point, if the shades tasted Shipborn DNA, they summoned the leviathan—a massive, unconquerable entity that was the bane of the Shipborn fleet.

Shades ate sentients. Leviathans ate Ships.

“You’re right to be careful. The buffer zone isn’t as secure as it used to be, and there were definitely shade traces at the site,” Claire confirmed. Granted, entities weren’t the only danger. In addition to unified towns like Chanute, the buffer zone was filled with survivalists and dregs who refused to cooperate with the Shipborn and the United States. It was like they’d been waiting for the opportunity to set up their own fiefdoms or some shit.

“A stasis pod is a logical explanation,” Sarah said. “While we do have a type of hyperbaric chamber that preserves life for a time, it wouldn’t explain how Adam came to be in one or how it was detached from Ship.”

“We aren’t missing any of our pods,” Ship added helpfully. “An individual unit wouldn’t have functioned for the entire time Adam has been missing.”

“Which is how long?” Adam asked.

“I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you that.” Sarah blinked three times—a sign she was probably accessing her sensor array. “About two and a half Terran years.”

“Shit.” Adam ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s a long time. How old does that make me?”

“You’re in your early thirties, chronologically.” Sarah slipped her tablet into her personal medical kit. “Physically, I would have put you in your early twenties if we didn’t have historical records that prove otherwise.”

“Historical records he’s going to come in contact with at Camp Chanute, no matter how much I try to maintain his status quo.” Claire patted a chair back for emphasis. “That’s another reason why you should fly him to Yellowstone. No Blu-rays, magazines, or nosy neighbors.”

Adam suddenly took her hand. She tried to yank away, but he was surprisingly strong. Rather than engage in a childish tussle, she pretended she didn’t care he was touching her. She pretended she didn’t care that his hand, the press of his fingertips, was doing thrilling things to her insides.

“I won’t get in your way, Sheriff,” he promised, “but I’m staying in Camp Chanute. With you. You allow survivors to join you, and that describes me. I read the sign.”

They’d posted a welcome to citizens of Terra at the front barrier of the former air force base, which had been converted to a number of things after being decommissioned. Now it was their home for as long as they could manage it.

“We welcome survivors who don’t cause trouble,” Claire said stiffly. Only her outsides were stiff. Her insides were a muddle of confusion and physical attraction.

Well, hell. He wasn’t just academically hot—she was hot for him. What a complete pain in her ass.

Adam placed his other hand on top of hers. The solidity of his grasp unnerved her. “I won’t cause trouble. Scout’s honor.”

Claire’s breath caught in her throat like she was some kind of ninny. She expelled it in an exasperated huff. “You don’t even remember what a Boy Scout is.”

Adam smiled slowly, his famous, sly grin rushing all over her. Up close and personal, the man was more appealing than he’d been on screen. Granted, she’d hated his movies, but in the flesh, he was impossible to dismiss.

Or extricate herself from. Claire squeezed his fingers. Hard. At least Sarah couldn’t see that she was childishly trying to outmuscle Adam.

In a moment they’d be arm wrestling.

“I promise on your honor, then. I won’t cause trouble.” His finger caressed the inside of her wrist. Brief, subtle. Could be an accident. Could be he wanted to get a rise out of her.

Claire wouldn’t give it to him.

Okay, fine, she probably would. She had a quick temper, barely mellowed by motherhood. “You’re already trouble. I should be working right now, not babysitting you.”

He tugged lightly, and she almost took a step closer to him. “Good thing I’m not a baby.”

Sarah adjusted her sensor array. “May I propose a compromise? Accompany us to deliver the medicines to Riverbend, and then Adam can see Yellowstone Base for himself. The trip doesn’t take long. Can you spare the time, Claire?”

“Maybe.” She glanced at Adam. “Will you give the base a fair shot? It isn’t a prison.”

“If you come, I’ll agree to go look,” he said with a small smile. “Since I get to fly in a spaceship.”

“Technically our medical vessel is not appropriate for extended space travel,” Ship clarified. “Raniya’s people were not able to make that many alternations to it. It is only capable of trips inside a solar system. I, on the other hand, am considered a spaceship.”

“We’ll come.” Claire didn’t want this burden or the uncertainty Adam represented, for her people or her peace of mind. Hopefully he’d like Yellowstone. She’d sing its praises all the way there. “But if he picks Chanute, Frannie’s coming back to Ship with you, Sarah.”

Adam let her go. She fisted her hand to erase his touch.

“Who’s Frannie?” he asked curiously. “Roommate? Pet?”

“Daughter,” Claire said gruffly.

“That was your room last night, wasn’t it?”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “We all have to share. I share with Frannie. It was the only room we could clear on short notice.”

“Let me get this straight.” His eyebrows arched, and a strange expression crossed his face. “You want your daughter to leave if I’m going to be in Camp Chanute?”

“It’s a scheduled visit to her father, Sarah’s husband Niko.” The visit wasn’t scheduled for another week, but Sarah didn’t correct her.

“General Nikolas,” Adam said. “The guy in charge of Ship.”

“It is more of a collaboration,” Ship demurred. “We are linked but Nikolas is not in charge.”

Claire redirected as well as she could. “Niko and I have joint custody of Frannie. Mostly because I like Sarah so much.”

Adam stared her down. The sea-green of his eyes darkened. “Do you think I’d hurt a child?”

Her redirect hadn’t worked. “I don’t know you,” she hedged. “There are a lot of unanswered questions about you.”

He bristled visibly—jaw clenched and posture stiff. “I don’t know myself either, but I do know I’d never hurt a child.” He strode toward the exit of the shuttle and grabbed his coat off a hook. “What the hell kind of person was I?”

“Not somebody who’d hurt a child,” Claire called after him. One thing about Adam Alsing—he was kind to his fans. Kids, especially. He’d visited children’s hospitals wearing the various costumes from his films, whatever was most popular at the time. “Look, you don’t know the situation at Chanute like I do. Frannie’s better off on Ship for a few weeks. We’ve had some changes lately, security issues. Those shade deaths I was talking about. I’m going to be busy. It’s not about you.”

“Don’t lie to me. I realize you can’t tell me everything, but don’t lie to me.”

It was completely about him. He might be amnesiac, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Come get me when the shuttle’s leaving. I need some air.” Adam yanked up his hood and exited the craft without looking back. The door slid shut behind him.

“Adam’s blood pressure was heightened when he left. I would say he was very upset,” Ship observed.

“Yeah, I could tell.” Unaccustomed guilt burned in her gut. She routinely spoke out of turn, spoke rudely, spoke whatever words she thought were needed. She was brash, bad-mannered, and bullish. She understood these things about herself, but they seldom interfered with her duties. She rarely went too far because there was always so far she needed to go, as a black woman in a society biased against women of color, as a sheriff in a post-apocalyptic town, as an able-bodied human on a planet under attack by aliens.

But she wouldn’t apologize for taking extra precautions with her daughter.

“Of course Frances can stay with us.” Sarah snapped her medical kit closed. “She’s welcome anytime.”

“I will continue reading Frances the tale of
Alice in Wonderland
,” Ship put in. “She seems to enjoy it. Raniya has been attempting to create a way for me to…do voices.”

“That’s all we need. You, doing voices.” Claire had lived on Ship the first couple months of Frannie’s life, luxuriating in the amenities and extra hands. But she’d grown impatient to return to her planet, needing to be dirtside where the danger was, helping people, running patrols, killing entities, and teaching her baby girl to grow up and do the same. Even though General Nikolas, Ship, the trine, and all the crewmembers had committed to the Terran cause, bending their own code to do so, the war wasn’t over by half.

With the increased activity from the shades in the past six months, the war, it seemed, was just getting started.

More and more, Claire’s duties kept her tied to Camp Chanute and Nikolas tied to Ship. All the buffer zone settlements were becoming less suitable for children, but not all parents had the co-parents Claire did, ones who resided on Ship with all its advantages. She had to keep Chanute stable for those kids, too. Deep down, she didn’t think Adam would destabilize her town, but he threatened to destabilize her confidence. She couldn’t show weakness as sheriff. Or as a mother.

Sarah glanced between Claire and the shuttle door. “You should go after him. We’ll depart in five minutes.”

“You’re probably right.” Reluctantly, Claire did as suggested. How she hated apologizing. She was right to be cautious, but Sarah, Niko, Ship—they all wanted her to take care of Adam, anyway. Figure him out. Keep him safe.

Like she was capable of handling the situation with the kid gloves the guy deserved.

It wasn’t every day you came back from the dead. If he reacted this poorly to the simple fact that he was a problematic and unknown variable, how would he react when he found out he’d nearly destroyed the world?

Chapter Four

As he stared out the shuttle windows, the sweep of crystalline blue sky in every direction brought tears to Adam’s eyes. With the patchy snow on the ground reflecting light, the sun seemed extra bright. It brought back memories of airline travel, seeing the ground from this high up, but nothing he could recall specifically.

Every time he tried focus on anything beyond basic, sensory details, the whole memory slipped away like water through a colander.

He’d taken a seat in the front compartment, which was separated from the waiting room, the lab he’d been in, and other areas. Sarah and the pilot were at the front, in the cockpit. Windows surrounded the cabin, providing everyone a good view. Claire, across from him, passed a tablet computer from Sarah to Cullin, and two soldiers Adam assumed were aliens sat on either side of him.

Hemming him in.

They seemed as human as Sarah and Cullin seemed to be—as human as he supposedly was. The fancy machines had affirmed his species, but Claire was only willing to shelter him in Chanute because other people wanted her to.

So he gazed idly at the horizon, trying not to brood over the fact Claire wanted him gone, until he realized he was watching a couple of dots in the sky that weren’t specks on the window. They’d grown in size since Adam first noticed them.

What birds did he think he could see from this distance, anyway? Condors?

He nudged the soldier on his right. “Hey, are those some of your ships?”

The guy glanced in the direction Adam pointed. “I don’t see anything.” His accent wasn’t familiar, but Adam didn’t have trouble understanding him.

“Above the horizon.” He knew zero about aeronautical distances and had no idea if he’d known in his former life, either. Hell, he wasn’t even sure which direction they’d traveled. Since they were eventually going to check out the Yellowstone base, he assumed they must be going west.

The soldier blinked a few times, squinted, and frowned. His sensor array lit up faintly. “Horatio, focus the shuttle sensors east northeast.”

“In a sec,” the pilot replied. Cullin turned, too, staring at the dots. “I’m downloading some entity map updates.”

Like everyone else, Claire studied the sky in the direction Adam had indicated, but her expression didn’t change. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting him at Camp Chanute. He didn’t know who he was, where he’d been. The connection he’d imagined between them didn’t exist. She’d helped him because she’d help any naked person she found shivering in the snow.

Wherever he’d been—say, Hollywood—he’d taken care of himself. His body boasted a lot of muscles and little fat. He’d caught Claire inspecting him more than once with a certain appreciation, but her admiration of his physique didn’t make up for the fact she didn’t want him around.

The pilot finished his task and flicked some switches on the console. “I’ll be fracked. Looks like we’ve got a pack of daemons trailing us. Dr. Sarah, should we take evasive maneuvers?”

“Shit on a stick. Why didn’t the sensors pick them up?” Claire complained, her brow furrowing.

“They’ve only just come into range,” Horatio explained. “We had to reduce power to scanners and thrusters on any shuttles retrofitted with weaponry.”

Cullin rose and hung over Sarah’s shoulder, staring at the information on the console. “It’s daemons, all right. Too late for evasive maneuvers. The bastards will be on the civilians in the settlement next.”

From his position, Adam could see Sarah’s profile pretty well. She grimaced. “Their population’s been weakened by a breakout of the measles virus, and I don’t know what they can handle. Probably not much.”

“Ship, are you getting this? Daemon activity near the Riverbend settlement,” Horatio said with a quick glance at the intercom speaker. “Can you scan? We need to know if the daemons are a scouting party or defenders for a shade horde.”

Daemons. Those were the red flying monsters. He was about to see his first actually alien-aliens. As the silence and tension grew, Adam found himself straining at his seat belt.

“Can’t we shoot them?” Adam asked the twitchy soldier beside him. “The ship has guns.”

“We can try,” the man responded, “but shuttles aren’t as maneuverable as the daemons. It’s easier to tackle them hand to hand.” He and the other guy exchanged a glance. “Should we wing up, Dr. Sarah?”

“I don’t know yet.” She shaded her eyes, concentrating. “Let’s see what the scan reveals.”

“I am afraid I have bad news,” Ship announced. “I have completed the focal area scan and detected a discrete blotch of shades.” It shared coordinates that meant nothing to Adam.

“That’s the settlement.” Claire cursed bitterly. “This is nowhere near a primary horde. How the hell did this many soul suckers get so far into the buffer zone?”

“Unknown,” Ship said. “I fear this proves that my energy conservation efforts have interfered with global monitoring. I should have detected a horde of this magnitude.”

“Gods.” Sarah paled. Cullin whirled away from her, stalking to a window to glare out. Adam didn’t understand most of what they were saying, but their reactions meant this was bad. Really bad. “If the shades are alive, the humans—”

“Might not be,” Claire finished for her. “We gotta land and rescue anybody we can. Looks like you called it, boys. Wing up.”

Horatio swiped the controls of the shuttle and half rose. “There are too many daemons. I should go with them.”

Claire waved him down. “If something happens to you, none of us can fly this bird. You stay with the shuttle.”

Though Claire wasn’t the soldiers’ commanding officer, they followed her orders. From a cabinet, they attached giant white wings to their backs somehow, grimacing in pain, before flapping them experimentally in the cabin. Adam leaned out of the way. Thin silver armor like Claire’s covered their torsos and upper thighs, and metal bands covered their forearms. The wings folded compactly after the initial test.

He’d seen winged men before.
Angeli
. Adam focused on the déjà vu too hard, and it slipped away.

Dammit.

“Do not, under any circumstances, get near the shades,” Claire ordered the soldiers. “Your job is the daemons. Watch each other’s backs and activate emergency protocol if things go wrong. The rest of us will handle the retrieval of survivors.”

“Understood.” The men exited through the back of the passenger cabin.

The shuttle slowed, and seconds later the daemons grew to more than dots. Adam could make out bat-like wings. The clunk of a hatch or doorway in the back of the shuttle preceded the appearance of the two soldiers, airborne, their bodies surrounded by a slight glow.

Sarah manipulated some levers on the control panel, scanning the data. “It’s confirmed. This shade blotch has no connection to the primary hordes. Closest one is over eight hundred miles away. They’re just…here.”

“I feel obliged to point out this is not how shades operate,” Ship said. “This is not a situation in my databanks. There is some possibility that shades cannot exist for long independently of a horde.”

“We’ve been dirtside past leviathan point longer than anyone in Shipborn history,” Cullin snapped at the AI. “We have shade deaths all over the buffer zone, and nobody’s spotted any shades running free until now. Clearly shit changes.” He shot a quick glance at Adam as if seeing him with new eyes.

Claire pointed at the screen. “Can daemons, I don’t know, carry shades from place to place?”

Cullin laughed humorlessly. “We can pen a few temporarily, but shades escape airtight containers.”

“What about mysterious silver pods holding shades?” Claire asked. Adam tensed, waiting for the answer.

“Doesn’t matter what that thing you found turns out to be. The fracking shades could escape it,” Cullin assured her.

Sarah frowned at the brusque scientist, but Claire rolled her eyes.

“There is no evidence that the entities use tools or technology,” Ship said.

“Shit changes,” Cullin repeated. “Daemons change—we know that, and we’re getting more proof of that every day. Daemons never used to eat, and suddenly they’re consuming flesh. So if daemons can change, why can’t shades?”

Ship had no response, so Adam asked a question to clarify one of the many things he didn’t understand. “Why can’t the soldiers get near the shades?”

“You guys didn’t tell him anything?” Cullin huffed in disgust.

Claire and Sarah exchanged a glance. “We can’t let the entities know the Shipborn are in this solar system.”

Jesus, he’d only been conscious a day, and he knew about the Shipborn. The monsters had been here a lot longer. “Don’t they have eyes? Sensors?”

Sarah motioned Claire and Cullin to their seats as the shuttle accelerated toward the settlement. Their altitude decreased rapidly, pressure building in Adam’s ears. “These creatures don’t have the same type of intelligence as we do. They don’t realize the Shipborn are in the vicinity until the shades—that’s the black ones—eat somebody from a Ship.”

“Eat?” he asked, horrified.

“Did you expect them to pat us on the head?” Cullin asked.

Adam didn’t mind sarcasm, but he wasn’t going to let the scientist mock him. Granted, the guy seemed like an equal opportunity mocker, but still. “Do you remember what happened to you before yesterday? You do? Then lay off the guy with amnesia while he’s relearning everything you already know.”

Cullin raised his hands in a universal gesture of surrender. “Fine. Shades are shapeless globs of interdimensional matter that eat people. Technically, they absorb sentient life force and leave the body behind, but they’re surface-bound and slow. Daemons scout food sources and drag sentients back to the shades, which tend to cluster and pool. Shades do not tend to show up eight hundred miles from a primary horde without any connecting tributaries.”

“There was a movie.” His memory pinged, fuzzy and strange, like when he’d imagined wrecking his bicycle or having blood work done. “A fog that covered a town and killed people.”

“Not a bad way to think of it.” Claire studied him as if measuring him with a ruler. She seemed calmer than Sarah, Cullin, and the pilot, more equipped to handle the unexpected. In a world where he couldn’t remember his past, her steadiness reassured him.

Even if she didn’t want him in Chanute.

Cullin blustered and bristled while Sarah conversed urgently through her sensor array. The pilot offered a few too many nervous updates of their approach to the settlement. He hadn’t been able to raise any survivors on the comms.

“I understand that the soldiers don’t want to die, but I’m picking up that it’s more dangerous than that,” Adam said.

Claire answered him instead of Cullin, for which he was grateful—less disdain. “If the shades detect the Shipborn by eating one, they create a big ass monster called a leviathan, and it eats Ship, everybody on it, and maybe the planet. The Shipborn aren’t too sure, because they’re always too dead to find out.”

“Holy hell.” Adam glanced out the window. “And you sent Shipborn outside this shuttle?”

“All Shipborn who travel dirtside agree to certain emergency protocol now.” She waved toward the window, where the flying soldiers had gone. “Let’s just say they have the ability to obliterate their own DNA. Do you really need more information?”

“No.” That probably meant they were supposed to suicide if it looked like shades were about to get them. Adam’s respect for Shipborn bravery—for setting foot on the planet knowing they might have to commit suicide—increased. “How much danger are we in?”

“The Shipborn can evade a horde in a shuttle as long as no daemons interfere,” Claire said as they zoomed across a landscape, trees and highways passing in a blur. “Right now we’ve got to do a shade assessment at Riverbend. This is a big shuttle, so we’re going to load up the survivors if it looks like things aren’t going well.”

“I’m helping,” Adam decided. “I’m Terran. I don’t need emergency protocol.”

They reached the settlement, where part of a town near a large river with many branches had been converted into a walled-off village. The walls hadn’t stopped the black sea of shades. It lay beneath them, oozing over the fortifications and through the streets. The wrongness of it hit the back of his throat like vomit.

Cullin couldn’t stay silent long, but at least he came at Adam objectively. “Bad idea. He doesn’t have any training. He only learned about this two minutes ago.”

“He does have training,” Claire said grimly. Adam raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t explain. “And I need the help.”

Cullin frowned. “But he doesn’t remember—”

“I don’t care what I remember,” Adam interrupted. “I know right from wrong. I’m going.”

“Sentients do have free will,” Ship said blandly.

Claire nodded sharply and motioned toward a cabinet, expression serious. “You ever fired a gun before?”

“I have no idea.” Adrenaline sizzled through him. His hands fisted. “Can you teach me in five minutes?”

…

The black, oily shades hissed like pressure brakes on the world’s largest Mac truck. Adam pointed the laser pistol, held down the trigger, and melted the waist-high blobs. He swept the shimmering beam back and forth as the shades went up in stench and shrieks.

Claire hadn’t had time to show him much, but the pistols were point and shoot.

“Go, go, go!” Hustling survivors toward the bridge that led to the shuttle, Claire’s urgent shout broke through the whistle of the shades. Adults carried children and helped the elderly. Adam tried not to stare at the occasional bodies strewn on the ground. Grungy banks of snow and slippery footing didn’t make his task any easier.

He drilled more shades over the hood of an SUV. Each sizzle increased their vile odor, a combination of rotten meat and chemicals. Sometimes they sent out tentacles of evil that flowed from the central body. Less frequently, one or two would break off from the herd and go exploring.

Small clumps slid faster. They had the town pretty much infiltrated. It didn’t help that the river bordered the settlement, reducing escape routes.

Killing the blobs, watching them dissipate, wasn’t as satisfying as it should be. Was it because there were so many that his efforts didn’t seem to help? Or was it because he had a primal need to conquer the enemy with his bare hands?