The
Plasma Shadow
by Brian Rushton
© 2001-2014
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter Ф
Chapter ∩
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 1Ф
Chapter 1∩
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 2Ф
Chapter 2∩
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Interlogue
Afterword
Prologue
Starlight filtered down through the branches, faintly illuminating the dirt path that meandered through the night forest. A faint breeze rustled the leaves, but besides the intermittent calls of nearby wildlife no other sound could be heard. A young man walked the path, his hands in his coat pockets, his eyes to the ground. The furrowed brow painted a solemn expression on his face; the peacefulness of his surroundings had apparently failed to penetrate the somber mood that had struck him. Shivering slightly at the touch of the wind, he walked on.
He had been walking for nearly an hour now, and still the same thoughts kept circulating through his troubled mind. The same questions, the same feelings. The same dilemma. Something was missing. Something important.
The path slopped upward slightly, and the man followed it around a slight curve to its end. The forest opened abruptly to a grassy field, roughly at the center of which stood a small hill. The night was brighter now that the trees were behind him, but still he kept his eyes to the ground. He tried to clear his mind, to put his concerns to rest for just a moment, but the matter refused to be dispelled, and he was forced to continue with it as his companion.
He reached the hill and climbed. The wind had died down, and the silence left him feeling exposed, almost unprotected. But he needed the silence, he knew. He needed to be here, alone, so that he could face his challenge without outward influences. He could not afford to delay it any longer.
Finally he reached the top and stopped. He took a deep breath, this time managing to clear his mind to some degree. Then he looked up.
Reaching across light years and eons, the radiant energy of the stellar host beamed down upon him, welcoming him with its glow. He looked at one star individually, noting its color and brightness, then turned to another. He could imagine how the star might look up-close, the turbulent plasma of its outer layers churning and erupting, exploding with the thermonuclear energy blasting its way outward from its core. There was so much power in a star – in just that one – that it defied all comprehension.
Then he looked again at the sky as a whole, and the beauty of the scene almost brought a tear to his eye. It was all so glorious, so mysterious, and so distant. If only I could be there, he thought. If only I could go back.
It had been fully two years since Nedward Simmons had lived among the stars, and they had seemed to grow more distant with each day.
He closed his eyes and thought back on that time. His family had been overjoyed to have him home, and he had longed so desperately to return to them, but Ned had known that the events between his departure and return had changed him forever, and it had not been easy to readjust. It had been a simple enough matter to hide his starfighter, and despite the tremendously conspicuous circumstances under which he had left, the relative chaos that had gripped the rest of the world had managed to dispel any attention that might otherwise have been attracted to Ned and his family. But that chaos had subsided, and by the time Ned had arrived home it had almost seemed as if nothing had changed.
Ned had decided to continue his plans for seeking a career in engineering, and shortly after returning home he had left for college. He had readapted well to scholastic life and had genuinely enjoyed his classes, and yet even then something had seemed incomplete. Part of it, Ned knew, was the knowledge that whatever Ned learned regarding engineering or science or history or anything else was vastly insignificant compared to the knowledge held by the distant Anacron Empire; quite frequently Ned had felt obsolete in the seemingly petty intellectual accomplishments he had made. But the real source of anxiety, the real reason why he had felt incomplete, was the Plasma.
He had not used it since he had gotten back. Not even once. Ned couldn’t count the times when he had wanted to use it – to cut the lawn, to incinerate the trash, or just to stay warm in the cold. But the price just seemed too high. Aside from the obvious apprehensions his family would have about it, any use of the power would undoubtedly attract the attention of the government. And once they found out, there would be no keeping it safe, and certainly no chance at living a normal life. After all, keeping the power out of the political and military affairs of Earth had been one of Ned’s reasons for leaving in the first place. And so, while Ned had succeeded in blending in with the workings of his homeworld, he had also succeeded in suppressing what had been the driving force during the most influential part of his life. Little wonder, then, that he felt so empty.
It had always been difficult to suppress the urge to use the Plasma, but never so difficult as during the last few months. It was almost as if the Plasma itself had been calling out to him, accusing him of betraying the power that had preserved his life and brought peace to an empire. Couldn’t a power like that benefit Earth as well? Wasn’t there something more productive Ned could do than study? How much good might it do the world to have the technology that was contained in that one starfighter? Indeed, it seemed a crime to let such a valuable treasure lie hidden. The Plasma Master had saved the lives of strangers; what was he doing for his friends?
Ned did not have an easy answer, but he had felt so certain that now was not the time to unleash the power and knowledge of an alien civilization on the world. The ancient Anacronians had left Earth rather than divulge their knowledge. Smardwurst Varlon had refused to leave behind anything that might lead to a technological revolution. The world was in a state of disunity and corruption, and Ned had come to the conclusion that such a world was not ready for what he had.
But how could he be sure?
Ned sighed and opened his eyes. Looking again at the starry sky he smiled wryly. He was avoiding the real question, he knew. In the end, he really was confident in his decision to keep outside technology from the world. The real question was not so much what he should do with what he had, but what he should be. Deep down, Ned felt that his role as keeper of the Anacron Shield Crystal and its awesome power was more fundamental to his identity than the course he was now pursuing, and it was quickly becoming clear that he was going to have to choose between the two. Bury his talents and adapt to a world where he no longer fit, or unleash unprecedented knowledge and power on a world that was not ready for it so he could feel useful and complete. Those were the two options. Either that, or . . .
His neck was beginning to cramp from looking upward, so he decided to sit down for a moment to massage his sore muscles. He could feel it – the Plasma – even now. It was coursing through the space around him, hidden away in an ethereal state but yearning to break free, to act. Ned remembered how it had felt to first gain cont
rol of the Plasma and make it his own. It had seemed so harmless, so benign.
There was a third option, of course. There was a way to make use of his power without threatening the delicate balance of order on Earth, to whatever extent order now prevailed. But that option might have an even higher price than the other two. It might require the greatest sacrifice of all. And Ned was not sure he was ready to make that sacrifice.
What should I do?
In his mind, Ned pictured the faces of his family members and close friends. He loved them deeply. He had fought for them, even risked his life for them, although they would never really understand that. It would be so hard to leave them. Then he pictured other faces. Smardwurst. Marnax. X. Jenara. Koral. Mirana. This time the tears would not be restrained. They had sacrificed for him, as well, he knew. They had placed their hope and trust in him and helped him to become what he was.
Ned stood up and brushed himself off. He had hoped to come to a conclusion here, tonight, but he felt no closer to a decision than he had before. It was all so complicated. With so many ideas vying for his approval it was hard to say what he really thought. But he knew what he felt. He felt emptiness and confusion. He felt lost.
Ned clenched his teeth and grunted out loud at his frustration. Abandoning for the moment the process of reasoning he had been putting himself through, he thrust his hand skyward, his fingers spread, his muscles tight. He felt the Plasmic energy charging in his body, struggling to break free. Deliberately he let it surge out along his arm, writhing and humming in tendrils of blue light. When it reached his hand it rushed around his fingers for an instant and then exploded upward in a column of azure energy.
Still Ned let the power come, enveloping him in its mighty aura, penetrating him from head to foot. He brought down his hand and clenched his fists at his sides, drawing the Plasma into him. It came from the ground beneath and from the air above, and Ned could feel himself growing stronger. It had been a very long time since he had experienced this, and he remembered now why he had missed it so much. The Plasma made him more than he could ever hope to become alone. It made him strong.
When he let the light fade and started down the hill toward his apartment, Ned had no more of an idea what the future would bring than when he had arrived. But he did have a much clearer perception of who he was, and for now, that would have to be enough.