Penumbra

Chapter One: A Tragedy of Errors

His senses returned one at a time.

The taste of blood in his mouth.

The smells of ozone and dust in the air.

The cold, hard concrete of the floor beneath him. Something wet and sticky.

A deafening silence around him, and in the distance, sirens.

He opened his eyes.

Dim yellow light. A single, flickering bulb listlessly illuminated what seemed to be a warehouse of some sort, windowless and musty. Old machinery, long since stripped for parts and rusted from disuse, towered menacingly overhead, steel tentacles rising up out of the floor like a matanma out of the sea. But unlike the leviathan of Rakhanian legend, this monster sat still and silent, harmless, and inanimate.

Thane pushed those fanciful thoughts aside as he dragged himself into a sitting position, every muscle screaming in protest. He gasped as the movement pulled at a deep laceration in his left side that he didn't remember sustaining. Pressing one hand to the wound, he realized he still held his dagger in the other. The blade was streaked with blood, glistening and black in the semi-darkness.

His head throbbed in time with his accelerating pulse as he struggled to remember where he was. He'd taken a contract—Aselda Ceris, an asari mercenary on Illium, was the target. He remembered packing his things. Booking passage into Nos Astra. He remembered…

I am about to board the ship when a hand catches my arm. The smell of spice on the spring wind. I turn, and Irikah pulls me to her, into a kiss that tastes of longing and loneliness and, ultimately, resignation. She wants to beg me to stay, but she knows I cannot. Knows I… I will not. And so she whispers only, "Arashu protect you." Sunset-colored eyes shimmer with unshed tears.

Kolyat's eyes are full of tears, too, and disappointment. He has no words for me at all, and turns away.

He remembered the ship lifting off from Kahje. He remembered approaching the mass relay. And then… nothing. Nothing until waking up here, covered in blood, weapon in hand, with police sirens approaching.

Logic suggested he'd made it to Illium and begun tracking his target, but had been attacked and overwhelmed, and presumably left for dead. He must have been struck on the head during the fight. If he was concussed, as he strongly suspected he was, that might account for the missing memories. Might it not?

A few minutes' worth, perhaps. But he had to be missing at least a day, if not more.

No, it still didn't add up. But there wasn't time to puzzle it out—he had to get moving before the police arrived with questions he could not answer.

As he staggered to his feet, dizzy and aching, more blood gushed out over his fingers. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and he had to brace himself with one hand on the wall to remain upright. His eyes wouldn't focus. The frayed edges of panic started to unravel more rational thoughts. He didn't know where he was, or how he'd gotten here. He had to get out, to get away from here, he had to go—

There, a door. He reached for the controls, his arm responding sluggishly as though he were trying to move through deep, icy water, and keyed it open with trembling, clumsy fingers. He stumbled out into light so bright it rang in his ears.

Orange sunlight. Glass spires in shades of cerulean and indigo. Illium, indeed.

But this place was abandoned. Thane sank to his knees as blood continued to splatter the floor in lurid red. At this rate, he had minutes remaining. With the last of his fading strength, he activated his omni-tool and composed a message. A short one: a NavPoint location and the word… the word… what was the code word they had agreed upon? The one his contact would know meant he was in dire straits? His mind felt as blurred as his vision, and the word escaped him. So he added only, emergency, and prayed she would come.

And then the darkness claimed him.

He awakened again to the sound of beeping monitors and the smell of antiseptic. The pain of his wound was gone—no, not gone, but buried beneath the floating numbness of powerful medication. He could still feel its presence as a… a wrongness, a violation. A curious sensation. But no more actually painful than the IV line in his arm.

I'm alive. Arashu be praised.

"Sere Krios? Are you awake?"

Thane's eyes snapped open. There was only one person on Illium who should know him by name, and that voice was not hers. He shook his head, trying in vain to clear the drug-induced fog from his brain, and searched for the source of the voice.

In a chair beside his bed sat a human woman he did not immediately recognize. He studied her for a moment, taking in her angular features, her thick black hair with its scattered strands of silver, and the dark glasses covering her eyes. A thin white cane rested within easy reach of her hand. No, this was nobody he knew. "Who—" he began, but dissolved into a fit of coughing before he could continue. His throat was scratchy and so dry as to make speech nearly impossible.

"Careful, you'll rip your stitches," the woman said gently. "It was touch and go for a while there, and they had to intubate you while you were in surgery. Don't try to talk." She leaned forward, one hand fluttering along the bedside table until she found the glass of ice water that waited there, and held it out to him. "Here, take a drink. Slowly, now."

Thane eyed her suspiciously as he caught his breath, debating the wisdom of accepting a drink from this stranger. He had no idea who she was or what she was doing here. But if she truly wanted to harm him, she'd certainly had more than enough opportunity to do so before now. And refusing would accomplish nothing but to delay his recovery.

Though it was clear she could not see his face, the woman read his hesitation for what it was, and smiled reassuringly. "Relax, Sere Krios. My name is Cecilia Draiman; I'm—I work with Deena T'Neri. She sent me to keep an eye on you." She chuckled. "So to speak."

Ah, that would explain how she knew his name. It would seem his contact had indeed received his message and sent help, though it concerned him that she had shared such information with her associate. Deena had always respected his insistence on absolute privacy, even if she only thought she knew what he was so fiercely protecting.

He took the cup from Cecilia's hand and sipped slowly at the water. Swallowing was difficult at first, but the water felt so good it took a considerable exercise of discipline to keep from gulping it down as fast as he could. Finally, though, he felt ready to venture a few words. "Thank you, Ms. Draiman," he said, his voice coming out hoarse, but at least audible.

"Please, it's just Cecilia."

"Very well." Thane took another sip of water, allowing the cold to soothe the burning in his throat. Speaking was decidedly uncomfortable and probably ill-advised, but he needed information. "Cecilia, I need to speak with Deena immediately. It is a matter of some urgency, and I must—"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door: more announcement than request, as it slid open immediately to admit a tall, purple-eyed asari whose anxious fidgeting relaxed the moment she saw him. "Thane! Oh, thank the Goddess you're all right!" She rushed to his side and took both of his hands in her own. "I came as soon as I could. I've been worried sick."

"Deena," Thane croaked, the warmth of his greeting masked by the roughness of his voice. He cleared his throat with a wince before continuing, "I must thank you, for saving my life."

"After what we learned about Ceris, I was almost expecting something to happen," Deena replied, shaking her head. "Dreading it, hoping it wouldn't, but expecting it."

Thane raised his brow ridge in surprise. "We've spoken about Ceris?" The beginnings of a headache coiled tightly behind his eyes. Just how much time was he missing?

"Of course. You came to me the moment you arrived in Nos Astra." Deena frowned. "You don't remember?"

"No, I… no." He glanced over at Cecilia. "My apologies. May we have a moment?"

Cecilia nodded and stood, taking her cane in her hand. "Sure. I'll be right outside."

"That's all right, Cece, you can go home," said Deena. "I'll stay with him for a while. Tell Maralei to cancel the rest of my appointments, and I'll see you later, okay?" She stopped Cecilia briefly with a hand on her elbow, and kissed her cheek. "And thank you."

When they were alone, Deena pulled up the chair Cecilia had vacated and sat down. "Thane… what happened out there?" she asked in a near-whisper.

"I don't know." Thane gritted his teeth, hissing in frustration. "My memory stops shortly after leaving Kahje. I can recall nothing from then until waking up in that warehouse."

Deena's eyes widened as she gasped, "But that's nearly four days!"

Her words coursed through him like an electric shock. Four days! As far as he could tell, he had said goodbye to Irikah mere hours ago. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as he struggled to remember anything that had happened since then: arriving at Illium, speaking with Deena, tracking Ceris, anything. But he was rewarded only with a headache like an ice pick being driven into his temples, and a wave of dizziness and nausea. The memories were simply, impossibly, gone, torn away, leaving ragged edges raw and bleeding.

Four days. The contract on Aselda Ceris was supposed to be a simple one; he should have completed it by now. But clearly, something had gone terribly wrong. "What can you tell me?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice calm. All he really wanted to do was pepper her with questions until something jarred his memory loose—but panicking would accomplish nothing. He forced himself to keep his breathing even and tried to slow his racing heart, silently cursing the monitors that so loudly betrayed his agitation.

Deena blew out a long breath. "Well, like I said, you came to me as soon as you got here," she replied. "You told me about your contract, and I gave you what information I had on Ceris." She kept her words carefully vague, Thane noticed, acutely aware of the hospital's security cameras. It was one of the things he appreciated about her: her operational security was unparalleled, except perhaps by the Shadow Broker himself. "I still have the files available, if you need them again, though I don't know how much help they'll be anymore. You were able to find her and, ah, arrange a meeting. That was yesterday morning, and I didn't hear from you again until… this." She gestured helplessly at him. "When I got your message, I sent an agent who was already nearby to investigate. EMS had already been dispatched by the time he arrived; I can only guess you called them before you passed out. The police are still processing the scene, but the only weapon they found was your knife—and the only blood on it was yours." Clenching her fists, she all but snarled, "She somehow managed to stab you with your own blade."

"She is a mercenary—is she not?" Thane suppressed a shudder as he spoke; to be suddenly unable to trust his own memory was… deeply unsettling. "It stands to reason she would be a capable fighter. It would not be my first defeat."

"And she probably thinks you're dead," Deena mused. "We may be able to use this to our advantage." She stood and patted his shoulder. "You rest, and heal. I have an idea. I'll be back soon."

"Wait." Thane caught her arm before she could leave. "There is one more thing I must speak with you about." He waited for her to sit back down, then continued, "Deena, we have worked together many times over the years. I have trusted you with personal information that must never be shared, and up to now, you have never betrayed that trust."

"Of course not!" Deena jerked back, horrified. "I would never! Thane, what is this about?"

"Your associate. Cecilia." His jaw clenched. "You told her my name. You have endangered my—you don't know what you've put at risk. If our working relationship, if our friendship, is to continue, I must know how this happened."

Deena looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. "Ah, of course. You don't remember," she said tightly. "Cecilia isn't just my associate, she's my bondmate. And she's the best hacker I've met in five hundred years. She helps me keep my systems secure by breaking in and showing me where the weaknesses are. The other day, she found you." She raised her head and met his gaze evenly. "I guarantee you, no one but she saw anything. And I have sworn her to absolute secrecy. You can trust her as you would me."

A hacker. That was distressing. Though Thane had gone to great lengths to keep his private and professional lives separate, it was inevitable that some links still remained, however deeply buried. Someone with enough skill and sufficient resources—say, access to the systems of a well-connected information broker like Deena—could likely find out whatever they wanted to know about him, given the right starting information. That could make his wife and son targets, and he would do whatever was necessary to prevent that from happening.

It had taken a long time for Thane to come to trust Deena sufficiently to cease using an alias in his dealings with her. And even then, if it hadn't been for the very specific and personal set of circumstances for which he'd sought her aid two years ago, he might never have shared his name with her at all. It had been an enormous leap of faith on his part, and one Deena had never before given him reason to question. But this Cecilia, he did not know at all. He had to rely entirely upon Deena's word.

It did not escape him that she did not volunteer whether or not he'd forgiven her this security breach before. His first, suspicious thought was that he had not, and that she was taking advantage of the mysterious hole in his memory in an underhanded plea for a second chance. But that was unfair—he knew Deena better than that. More likely, he decided as he studied her, she was allowing him to draw his own conclusions and make the decision again, unbiased. She was showing him the respect they had always shared.

The question, then, was: did he trust her judgment, or did he not? "Very well," he said finally. "I am willing to trust her, if you do."

He could only pray he would not come to regret it.

As soon as she felt the automated skycar's flight path level out, Cecilia activated her omni-tool and called her contact. It chimed, unanswered, for several interminable seconds. You're toying with me. Pick up, damn you.

Finally, the familiar voice of Aselda Ceris replaced the insistent chime. "Hello, Cece."

Cecilia gritted her teeth. "You don't get to call me that, Ceris," she snapped.

"Of course, Cecilia darling." Her voice was patronizing and fairly dripped with cloying sweetness. It made Cecilia's stomach turn. "Do you have something for me?"

She hesitated, just a fraction. She could lie. She could probably escape Illium before Ceris found out. And if she couldn't… well, the fallout would be intense, but brief.

And probably fatal—or worse, knowing Ceris's uniquely creative mind. Cecilia bit back a resigned sigh. "He's alive. He'll recover."

"Good. And his memory?"

"Scrambled all to hell."

Ceris clicked her tongue. "No need to sound so disapproving, darling. It's all a part of the plan. I have what I needed, so now it's time for me to lay low. You will keep him off my tail until it's time."

"Time for what?" Cecilia demanded furiously. "You want me to keep an assassin from his contract? And not just any assassin—this is Thane fucking Krios we're talking about here, Ceris. You're putting the galaxy's biggest target on my back!" Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Ceris couldn't possibly know what she was asking!

But Ceris would not be moved. "I know. I need you to draw some fire for me for a while. Some things can't be rushed." Her voice darkened. "And it's not like you have a choice, darling. I own you. Say it."

Cecilia's shoulders slumped in defeat. "You own me." She hung her head. "How much time do you need?" she asked tonelessly.

"If all goes well, about eleven months, give or take. I'll keep you apprised."

"Eleven months?" Cecilia's jaw dropped open. "How the hell do you expect me to—what are you even planning that's going to take eleven… oh." The realization hit her like a sledgehammer, and her voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "Oh, fuck, Ceris. You didn't."

But Ceris laughed, high and loud and near-hysterical. "Oh, yes. I did."