Before I could answer her, the light in the room flickered, then dimmed by half. I immediately straightened, on guard, and squinted around as I waited for my eyes to adjust.
“That’s another reason to hate Shadow: it’s unreliable as hell.” Qole sounded as if she wasn’t too bothered.
Sure enough, the pillar in the middle of the room had gone dark, and all that was left was the tiny bright speck in the center of the containment unit. Weak sunlight from the dirt-streaked window backlit the bar, and I could just make out the silhouettes of the few barflies shuffling in their chairs. I heard their sighs, too. Not all that uncommon, then.
“Great Collapse,” one of the patrons cursed. “Hey, Qole, give it a jump, will you?”
“Why, Hudge, we hardly know each other,” she said with such a deadpan expression that it took me a second—far longer than it should have—to realize she’d made a dirty joke. Another patron hooted.
Her apparent unconcern aside, she slid away from the bar after a sideways glance at me and slapped her hand on the cylindrical surface. Something shone under her palm, and tendrils of purple flame flared inside. A moment later, the eerie glow returned to the unit, and then the room.
An electric current ran straight down my spine. Everyone very studiously did not look at her. Not Larvut, who offered no thanks for getting his heater working again, and not even Hudge, who’d asked her to do it.
I almost couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t a comfortable thing to see and believe.
She hadn’t been kidding when she’d compared Shadow to nuclear fusion. For most anyone else—poisoned or not, native or offworlder—touching the pillar would have burned their hand to a crisp. And she wasn’t just immune to the heat; she sparked the Shadow.
Of course, there were rumors of people with the ability to manipulate Shadow. I’d followed such rumors here. Then again, there were many other far-fetched tales in the systems with no empirical evidence to support them. I had never imagined something so material was possible, not in my wildest dreams. Tolerance, yes. Some sort of impact on the chemical and nervous systems might follow. Direct interaction? I wasn’t sure I could reconcile that with anything other than a miracle.
But I’d found her, one of the few whose old family line had survived the short generations this business tended to produce. Judging by the lack of screaming and panic from the bar’s patrons, however, such instances weren’t entirely unheard of, at least not where Qole was concerned. And yet, for all I’d heard about her astounding piloting and fishing skills, no one had mentioned anything like this. It seemed the people of Gamut were keeping this bit of information rather quiet. With good reason, perhaps, other than their fear of her.
People would want to take advantage of her.
People like me, I thought with a bitter taste in my mouth. Although I didn’t actually want to take advantage of her. I wanted to help her, and so many others, if only I could convince her to let me.
“Qole,” I said as she came back toward the bar. I paused, realizing I hadn’t addressed her by her first name before, and it felt funny on my tongue. I liked it, but didn’t want her to think I was being presumptuous. “Captain. That was incredible. This could change so much.”
She drew up short and stared at me. “What do you mean?”
Someone like Qole, who had control over Shadow, whose biometric makeup could withstand its power—someone like her was key to unlocking Shadow as a safe energy source. Right now, outside Alaxak, its potential was largely untapped, a resource only for experimental or fringe usage. It was too dangerous to those around it. But it didn’t have to remain that way.
“If…if people understood what you can do, it would change everything. For you, for people here, for everyone. You could be the key.”
I was nearly positive she was. She just had to leave with me by tomorrow. Somehow, I had to make her understand this.
Her face didn’t betray any emotion. “Oh yeah? The key to our future, right?”
“Yes!” I couldn’t believe she was agreeing with me. This might be it, I thought, nearly sagging with relief. She’s going to understand what I have to say, and we can leave in time. In time to change everything. “Yes. You’re able to do things that would kill most people. If we could make Shadow safe like that for everyone, then everyone here benefits. You could use it for heat, for fuel, without it being deadly.”
Qole took a step toward me, closing the gap between us with sudden ferocity. “You really think you’re the first genius to have a drink and go on about that? It’s ‘amazing,’ they say. It’s ‘the key’…right up until they see what actually happens.” Her eyes were clear, but I could feel her anger radiating toward me with more heat than the pillar. “It’s poison, and it kills you. It’s just a question of whether it kills you faster than everything else out here.”
I held up both hands. “All I’m saying is that there’s more at play here than what meets the eye. Don’t you think that’s worth exploring a little? Wouldn’t that change the face of Alaxak?” I tried to remove all frustration from my voice, but some stubbornly clung behind. I couldn’t understand why no one I talked to here seemed interested in how the future could be a better place. Was I simply unable to communicate? What was I doing wrong?
Her eyes might not have been black, but they were blazing. “We’ve had offworlders before, trying to improve things for us, as if you knew what the blasted hell you were talking about. Not as many of you as the scum who want to see what else they can squeeze out of us, but you’re just as useless. It’s so damned arrogant of you to think you have the power to actually change anything.”
“But you haven’t even heard what—”
“Know what’s powerful enough to change the face of Alaxak?” She gestured around herself, an angry jerk that encompassed more than the bar. Her voice dropped to a hiss as she leaned even closer to me, her breath warm on my face. “Drones. Battleships. The money of kings, stolen from everyone else. That’s what. And we’re happy to go without, to be left alone, because no good has ever come of any of that.” She leaned back and nodded toward the counter, swiping hair that had come loose from her braid out of her face. “You’ve had your drink.”
I followed her glance. “But you haven’t even touched yours,” I said in one last feeble attempt to keep her from doing what she was about to do.
“I don’t drink.” She spun away from me and started for the door.
“Wait, Qole!” I caught her arm.
She looked at me over her shoulder, and her scowl was enough to make me let go of her. “It’s Captain Uvgamut, and if you really are here to fish for me,” she snarled, “be back on the Kaitan in five minutes, or I’ll find the next piece of trash that blows in on the wind and hire them in your place.” She strode away without another glance.
The heavy door slammed behind her, leaving only a gust of cold air where she’d been. I stared after her, at a loss.