The Shadow's Justice

Heavy armoured footsteps stomping over metal grates as Commander Fendaxe and his core retinue of marauders marched into the hedrium refinery’s guts. Furs and a few skulls from fallen foes adorned the imposing human warriors’ ferasteel armour. Churning chemicals and superheated gas flowed through immense pipes running every which way through the dim facility. Newly landed corporate work crews repaired battle damage and hauled away karansi resistance corpses.

A head and a half shorter than the large marauders, a well-dressed corporate liaison shuffled to keep in step with Fendaxe. “Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, commander. I’m simply relaying our employer’s concerns.”

The gruff commander maintained his gait and raised an eyebrow as he bit into a palm-sized fruit. He spoke with his mouth full as juice ran down his beard. “Is that why you’re shadowing me like a buzzing gnat? I’ll have to charge extra if I have to listen to this prattle much longer.”

The liaison opened his holopad and pulled up their contracts. “In terms of the operation itself—“

“The operation was successful. We cleared the rules of engagement with your bosses and executed the plan. We stomped the resistance, taught the locals their place, and the refineries are up and running now.”

Crossing an elevated catwalk, Fendaxe gestured to some karansi technicians working under armed guard. The hunched and hooded rodent-like humanoids turned toward the retinue. Reflections of eyes accustomed to the dark glowered in their direction.

The liaison mumbled, “I thought they were still refusing to work…” He shook his head, then swiped over to some graphs and reports. “There are some debatable aspects in the finer details, but we could’ve optimized better in terms of PR.”

Fendaxe laughed. “War isn’t pretty or kind, desk jockey. You hired us because you didn’t want to get your hands dirty. You don’t get to bitch and complain when you come down and see how we get results.”

The liaison leaned in and raised his voice. “You could have at least been more tactful about it! There are images on the extranet of burning bodies stacked out in the open. The smell carries halfway across the continent. There was some creepy karansi in ragged robes performing some ritual outside one of the pyres. The twitchy freak looked right at me even though their face was covered with cloth. Gave me the creeps.”

Fendaxe’s right-hand man jostled the liaison. “Is the mewling desk jockey scared of g-g-g-ghosts?” The others guffawed as the man fumbled and dropped his holopad.

After wiggling out of the hold, the corpo pressed the holopad to his chest and looked around with concern. “What about the disappearances? Aren’t you worried about what’s happening to your men?”

Fendaxe scoffed. “I’m not their mother. The boys always loosen up after a job. Everyone who hasn’t reported in is too busy enjoying themselves, skipped town, or can’t communicate because of that storm on the edge of the system. Either way, mind your business, suit.”

As they moved through a section of natural caves where their voices echoed about the cold rocks, the liaison whispered, “What about the remnants of the resistance? There’ve been murmurs of retribution among the locals and one of the leaders tied to the clan who formerly administered this system is still missing.”

The entourage squeezed through some tight sections of stone, then moved down a silent and still hallway. Fendaxe sighed and made a tight ring with his fingers to demonstrate his point. “Unlike you, my ass isn’t so perpetually puckered to waste energy worrying about one scurrying rat. We’re down here on this irritating stroll to get information on your dreaded resistance. My boys caught some of the rodents trying to sabotage the storage tanks down here. Figured I’d introduce myself and get some info on their fellows personally.”

The liaison went to speak once more, but a heavy gauntlet clamped around his mouth. Fendaxe lifted him off the ground and held him close as the man blanched under the ruthless merc’s breath. “One more word out of you, and I’ll turn you into one of those ghosts that’s got you shitting your pants.”

He dropped the quivering man and his right-hand man shoved him against the wall as they passed. The retinue entered a deep, dark chamber with a massive cargo lift leading deeper underground toward the hedrium deposits. Immense pipes lined the walls. Small rocks rumbled off the stalactites above as the flow of volatile gas rumbled the stone. A dim light from above cast long, uneven shadows about the room.

A lone marauder stood in the centre of the platform facing away from them. Fendaxe called out as he approached, “This better not be a joke. I am not in the mood for fuckery. Where are the rats? And where’s the rest of the boys?”

He clasped a firm hand on the marauder’s shoulder and turned him around. The body spun around and collapsed in his grasp, but the head stayed in place. As if held by an invisible wire, the head slowly turned to face the commander. A dead face inside the helmet spoke with a voice forced from beyond the grave. “The rats are here. Some of the boys lost their heads.”

The liaison shrieked as the retinue closed ranks and raised their rifles in all directions. A light above flickered and flared, revealing the crumpled corpses of marauders tucked into the corners of the platform. Power to the chamber cut, leaving everyone in darkness. The marauders activated the night vision in their helmet optics, but the liaison was trapped, unable to see his hand in front of his face.

Sound soon seeped in on the edges of their perception. They coalesced into whispers, multiplying and overlapping each other, speaking in an ancient tongue unknown to digital translators. Eyes all along the edge of the platform materialized, staring at them.

Realizing the darkness was too deep for their optics, Fendaxe called for his people to light up the illuminators on their rifles. The peering eyes vanished in the harsh light, but two figures blocked the entrance.

A karansi man, clad head to toe in black armour that bended light around it, knelt holding a hi-tech blade across his lap. Slightly larger than most of the others, his peak condition warrior physique was apparent even with the armour. Behind him stood the more diminutive form of the gray-robed karansi woman with covered eyes the liaison saw earlier. She held a strange staff and whispered under breath as the voices continued to thrum about the chamber. As she twitched, she left ghostly after images in the air that interfered with the illuminators’ light.

Fendaxe lowered his weapon and laughed. The laugh turned into a guffaw that doubled him over. Once he collected himself, he pointed at the newcomers. “I bet that routine works on lesser men, but it’ll take more than cheap tricks to shake me, rats.” The other marauders chuckled, trying to buoy their apprehension with their leaders bravado.

A deeper-than-expected voice emerged from the karansi man’s mask. “The price has been paid. Kin call for retribution. The shadows answer. It doesn’t translate neatly into Galactic Common. We could dissect the distinction between retribution, justice and vengeance, but I suspect we’re alike in knowing that the result is the same either way.”

The commander planted his mitts on his hips and stood tall. “Ha! I like you, pipsqueak. I think I’ll kill you last. Here, speak to my assistant to negotiate your final wishes.”

The liaison tried to crawl into a corner, but Fendaxe reached down and hurled him forward. He landed hard, stood up, adjusted his broken glasses, then turned to face the karansi. “Ahem, I know there’s been some… misunderstanding here, but let’s chat and see how we can optimize our path forward.”

The robed karansi, her ragged hair peaking through the cloth wrapped around her head, ceased chanting and stared at him. She said, “Y-you saw… the p-pyre… th-the… bodies.”

He swallowed hard as a bead of sweat trailed down his head despite the cold. His breath stuck in his throat as he blinked and she appeared right in front of him saying, “Th-they want you… to have… a closer… look.”

She pressed her staff into his chest and the top unfurled like twisted roots. The liaison screamed as the pyre’s flame she helped the spirits contain earlier engulfed him.

Fendaxe clapped. “Well done! You rats are much more fun than the weaklings we tore apart earlier. What do you say, pipsqueak? How about you show me your metal one on one?”

The karansi man extended his sword and removed a marauder’s severed head from a wicked blade on the end of his strong armoured tail as he stood up. “Sure. I can indulge the final wishes of a dead man.”

A wicked grin creased the marauder commander's face. “This will be good. Too bad your freaky friend isn’t invited. Kill her.”

The retinue raised their rifles and unloaded on the karansi shaman. She shifted to the side and slammed her staff into the ground. A deafening cacophony filled the room as she released the rest of the vengeful spirits. A whirlwind of emotion and energy created a storm in the chamber so intense that it splintered stone and spun the bullets back on the marauders.

A bullet punctured one raider’s helmet, then another got impaled by a stalactite that shook loose. Fendaxe called for the others to close ranks in the eye of the storm. “Hold fast, boys. It’s just more tricks. There’s only two of them. Give her everything you got out the other side. The pipsqueak is mine.”

When the storm subsided, shadows leaped from all directions as real assassins swarmed the marauders. They fought hard, but only so much they can do getting stabbed and clawed by multiple attackers in the dark, cramped corners. A handful of raiders attacked the shaman, only to get cut down as she shifted and cut them down with an otherworldy scythe blade that extended from her staff.

Unbothered by his men being cut to ribbons around him, Fendaxe let out a war cry, raised his axe and charged for the karansi warrior. He extended his left arm and fired a shot from a gun in his bracer. His opponent caught the movement and maneuvered out of the way as the round grazed his armour. Rushing forward with cybernetically enhanced strength, the ninja’s armour emitted a cloud of supernatural darkness.

In the split seconds he had to react, Fendaxe saw three of the warrior emerge from the cloud slightly delayed from each other. One spun off to the right, another to the left, and one leaped straight at the marauder to slash at his head. The veteran fighter chortled. More tricks, he thought. He pushed off with his right foot, spun to the left to dodge the attack, and bit his axe into the pipsqueak’s torso with great force.

Such force that the illusion dispersed into nothingness.

The warrior descended from the left wall he kicked off of to land on Fendaxe’s back. The hi-tech blade punched through a weak point in his collar between the chestplate and pauldron, shredded his heart, then ripped out in one smooth motion. Fendaxe crumpled to the floor alongside his fellows.

As the warrior leaped off and landed, he flicked blood off his blade and sheathed it saying, “Good fight.”

Standing on top of the fallen marauders, the shaman raised her staff to the still roiling storm of vengeful spirits above. Despite the wards placed on her headwrap to make the world semi-parsable, her cursed perception saw them clawing at the soul energy of the recently deceased raiders. It was all so overwhelming after the exertion of battle. Too many voices, too much hatred whipping around her. She dug her claws into her head begging them to stop.

The karansi warrior, known as Vashskar, placed firm hands on the shoulders of his sister, Spectra. She steadied her quivering breath, then completed a ritual to disperse the soul energy into the Spirit Realm.

Stillness soon returned to the dark chamber. Vash held his sister tight and nuzzled his head into hers.

Their ears perked up as they heard footsteps rushing from the long hallway. The door opened with a hiss and one of the local karansi workers rushed inside. They slid to a halt and turned their illuminator on the pile of dead marauders and burned corpse of the corporate liaison. No sign remained of whoever killed them.

A similar scene littered the rest of the refinery. Marauders, guards and corporate techs lay dead as the locals filtered in to investigate the sudden silence.

The price was paid. Kin called for retribution. The shadows answered.