Omniphage Invasion

Omniphage Invasion

  by

  Claudette Gilbert

  SmashWords Edition

  Copyright © 2011 by Claudette Gilbert

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  Chapter 1: Jak

  Big and broad-shouldered, no one came near the lean, scar-faced stranger who sat alone in a dim corner of the bar. His name was Jak and nothing more. He had no family name, no clan to claim, and on Shadriss that made him less than nothing. His clothing attested to his poverty—scuffed boots, work pants, and a vest worn for the sake of its pockets. Worse, his red hair and green eyes marked him as alien among the dark, slight people of Shadriss.

  Shadriss had been a thriving colony once, although there were few signs of that now. That had been nearly four generations ago, when the Confederacy ruled the region. Today, all was a failing mix of old Confederacy technology and barbarism. If not for the trade in ancient alien artifacts, there’d be no starships landing here at all.

  Jak eyed the crowd warily as he sipped his mug of the Regent’s ale, given free this feast day to honor the coming mating of the Twin Moons. In two weeks both moons—children of Nish, the war god—would be full in the night sky, and Leath, the male moon, would eclipse Liss, his sister, in the mating. It was easily the most important date on the calendar of Shadriss. Even more, this particular mating marked the Joining of the young Prime with the God Core and his elevation to Overlord of Shadriss.

  Jak squinted against the multicolored light from the holo screens that flickered throughout the bar. Mounted on the dozen pillars that held up the two stories overhead, the screens showed scenes of the ongoing ceremonies that preceded the Joining. The ever-changing images cast colored light on painted faces, cascades of dark curls, and slim-fingered hands that Jak knew would be equally quick to grip a knife or to pick a pocket.

  The Pit was a dive; the kind of bar where many went in and some never came out, but no one there bothered Jak. The long scar that ran from right temple to left cheekbone pulled up his lip in a permanent snarl so that what had never been more than a passable face was now something too ugly to look at for long.

  Tonight, the Twins were full, abet still two weeks from the eclipse of their annual mating, or so the priests told it. Mating moons or too much free ale, it seemed to Jak that tonight everyone in the Pit was a little edgier, a little louder than usual. Like most of the people in the city of Namdrik, Jak had come here for his share of the feast day bounty. He was out of credits and out of options. He’d long since passed through anger and despair into numb acceptance. Now, as he approached what he was sure would be his last days in this life, he watched and waited, hoping to see the one person he cared about on this forgotten ball of dirt.

  While he waited, he pretended to watch the holos. He’d rather have see the usual sport and sex shows, but today all the screens showed multiple views of the ceremonies taking place in the temples, especially in the capital city of Tekena. For nearly two thousand years, since the first settlements rose on Shadriss, the priests in their temples had celebrated this festival. The nearest screen showed the Regent of Shadriss, dressed in n’Chall blue and wearing the traditional wide-brimmed had with its veiling cascade of silver beads. The man hidden beneath the costume poured offerings of water, wine, and ale over the head of the statue of sweet Lady Ur. No doubt, the goddess needed the bath. In Namdrik, the river Ur reeked of the sewage that washed from the Great Market, where the merchants set up their tents each day and left their trash to be sluiced into the Ur each night. Tekena, home of the Black Palace of the Overlord, would be no sweeter.

  Jak didn’t believe in the Lady Ur, the Great Nish, or even the Lost Gods whose worshipers were dust and whose names were forgotten. Those deities seemed too small, their priests too involved in unending power struggles to have any meaning for the likes of him. He watched the crowd and smiled a little with an irony too bone-deep to be bitter, while bits of other lives fluttered through his mind like leaves on the wind. Only his own past remained hidden from him. If ever he could remember who he was, where he’d come from, maybe he’d remember a god he could believe in. For now, he’d give lip service to the gods of Shadriss and enjoy the free ale their priests provided.

  He took another careful sip, grimacing at the taste of the dregs of the murky liquid in his tankard. He wished they’d hand out food instead. He was hungry, but with no money to spend, he’d stay that way. He was stranded on Shadriss, a one-port cesspool with no use for a down-on-his-luck pilot. Or no use that Jak was desperate enough to agree to.

  Jak raised his empty tankard, gesturing to a passing priest of Nish. A belly full of ale was better than a belly full of nothing. Red robed from head to foot, black cloth mask covering his face—or maybe her face, Jak couldn’t tell—the priest moved toward his table. He held a ladle in one black gloved hand and a bucket of ale in the other. Without speaking, the priest poured one scant ladle into Jak’s tankard.

  "Is that all?" Jak demanded. If they were going to give alms, they could at least do so with a free hand. "Is Nish running out of worshipers? Is the temple so broke you can’t provide a full tankard?" Okay, maybe he wasn’t so resigned to his fate as he’d thought. Challenging a red-robe was likely to lead to a knife in his throat, at best.

  Jak saw a flash of eyes behind the mask as the priest glared at him, then began ladling ale into the tankard. He didn’t stop until the ale slopped over Jak’s fingers and onto the floor. Then he stood back, glaring silently from behind the mask as if daring Jak to ask for more.

  "To the honor of Nish," Jak said. He smiled, leaning forward into the light so the priest could see him clearly. With his scarred face, his twisted smile frightened children. Add red hair and green eyes—demon hair and demon eyes here on Shadriss—and he was enough to make grown men pause in their tracks. Hastily, the priest stepped back and turned to find another thirsty worshiper.

  Jak sat back, his grin fading along with his anger. He was in trouble, but that was nothing new. Four years were all he remembered of his own life, four years trapped on Shadriss. In that time, he’d been in danger more often than not. The memories of other lives that drifted through his mind often ended in death, so maybe now it was his turn to take that final journey.

  He scowled as he rubbed work worn fingers over the side of his jaw. The scar that slashed across his face was just one among many. He had other scars, no doubt from fights and accidents, from battles he couldn’t recall. The memories that sometimes swept over him were fragments of other people’s lives, not his own. He’d discovered that strong emotion was the trigger: fear, anger, even love. It was as if the feelings woke some echo in his soul. When they came, the memories swept him up into other times, other places, into other lives. For the time that he was caught, Jak was that other person—man or woman, young or old—and his own life was gone as if it had never been. He’d never told anyone about the memories, about the difference in himself that he called the strangeness, not even his beautiful, clever Tessa.

  He’d come here hoping to see her, at least for a while. She’d told him earlier that she might stop in at the Pit tonight. Even as Jak thought of her, he saw her step into the room like a dancer stepping onto the stage. The sleeveless sapphire silk dress she followed her lithe figure like a caress. A shawl of blue swirls embroidered with gold wrapped her shoulders. Most of the men and many of the women watched her walk across the floor to where Jak sat. Despite the dim and flickering lighting of the bar, she went to him as directly as if he were sitting under a spotlight. Sometimes, he had the feeling that she could find him no matter how dark the corner where he hid.

  "Hello, Jak, sweet man."

  She bent to kiss his cheek
in greeting, and her dark hair brushed his face. He was caught in the scent of her perfume, a scent like the first flowers of spring when the river Ur ran high, and memories welled up in him.

  I am a young man lying on the grass with my first love in my arms beneath me. I smell the scent of her, and it is the scent of springtime, of green growing things, their sap full of sunlight, and moist earth where countless tiny lives churned to make it fertile. Her skin is warm and soft and wondrous. She smiles at me as I bend to kiss her.

  Then Jak shook himself and was back in the Pit as Tessa slid gracefully into the chair next to him. He was glad that she hadn’t noticed his lapse. At least her scent had stirred only a brief fragment of memory.

  Tessa was Veloran, from a colony that had spent the past fifty generations breeding for perfect beauty. She’d told Jak that by the standards of her people, she was badly flawed; but for him, just looking at her was enough to stop his breath in awe. With an elegant motion, she shook back the jeweled bracelets that banded her left arm from wrist to elbow. They were the mark of her profession, gifts from her clients, and their number and quality showed her high standing. She was a courtesan, a Hired Companion of the first rank, once a slave, then a brothel girl, then a well-paid, much-desired companion. Now, she could choose her customers and the services she provided them. Jak had never been able to understand why, when she could have anyone she wanted, she had chosen a man like him for her friend. For reasons of her own, she’d dragged his wounded body out of the alley where she’d found him and then nursed him back to health.

  And of course, Jak loved her.