Shadow Games: A Space Opera Adventure (Shades of Starlight Book 3), page 1
SHADOW GAMES
©2023 B.L. DEAN
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ALSO IN SERIES
Rogue Pursuit
Pirate’s Code
Shadow Games
Final Break
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Thank you for reading Shadow Games!
1
The roar of the crowd eased tiredness from Finley McGrath’s muscles. Fed her. Filled her with energy and an overwhelming sense of aliveness. Though only minutes remained in the two-hour match, she felt great enough to play all day.
Down the court, Cartier, her fellow striker, intercepted a pass from the other team.
“Blue seventeen,” he shouted.
Finley scanned the obstacles filling the court. Each grav-ball arena was unique, and this one differed from the familiar layout at home in Cobalt City. She’d spent as much time as possible the last two days familiarizing herself with it.
The central half-pipe would be perfect.
Her heart surged. “Upside-down,” she called.
He nodded.
Yes! They were doing it. They’d practiced this maneuver for weeks but had yet to use it in a game. The fans would love it.
She pressed her left foot to gun the thrusters on her hoverboard and accelerated toward the curved ramp, crouching. Spun around a defender. Dodged a column. This speed was what had earned her the nickname Flash.
Her board, designed to hover two feet off the ground under normal conditions, zoomed up the half-pipe. Momentum carried her several feet above it. She kicked her legs so the board sailed over her head.
Cartier lobbed her the ball. She caught it at the height of her flip, the board above her, head facing the floor. As gravity pulled her toward upright, she used the extra power from the rotation to hurl the ball at the goal. Her speed carried her through another rotation, and she added a twist at the end.
The goalkeeper lunged, but the ball sailed past the woman’s fingertips. Square goalposts lit up green, and overhead, a bell chimed.
Finley clenched core and thigh muscles to bring her board to a stop, hovering in place at the base of the half-pipe. She thrust her arms into the air and whooped. Her teammates cheered. The crowd roared and fell into a chant of Flash-Flash-Flash, despite the fact that she played for the away team and that two-point long-range shot had put them up by fifteen over the home squad.
The announcer went wild, an excited voice repeating, “Finley ‘The Flash’ McGrath, folks, Finley McGrath,” as if she’d reduced his vocabulary to those words alone.
Cartier pointed to her, and she returned the gesture. Her blood hummed, and the cheers lit her up like the goalposts.
This. This was what she was made to do.
She waved toward the stands. Many fans wore the bright blue of her team, the Cobalt Cruisers, rather than the local squad’s light green. Others waved holo-banners showing her face, her dark skin and her wide, dimpled smile three times their actual size and slightly transparent, grinning down at herself from above. Always weird, and yet flattering at the same time.
She zipped toward center-court, where Cartier and three other teammates swarmed her while Eriksen, the goalkeeper, saluted from across the arena.
“That was epic,” Wix crowed, removing his helmet long enough to ruffle his curly blond hair.
Ileana slapped Finley’s back hard enough to jolt her. “Well done, kid.”
Finley was too thrilled the play had worked to scowl at her mentor for the term the other woman loved to tease her with.
“Very impressive.” Shiro saluted as Eriksen had.
Finley’s face might burst from smiling.
The ref-bot whistled, indicating their celebration time was over. Still grinning—would this ever get old?—Finley soared to her position as the bot launched the ball into the air again.
The other team’s striker caught it and raced toward the goal, only to be cut off by Shiro, who bumped the man and knocked the ball loose. Wix did a squat swing to scoop it from the ground and hurled it to Ileana.
Finley almost pitied the opposing team. They were the best players this secondary colony had, and they were trying hard, but they were no match for the Cobalt Republic’s A-League reigning champions. Still, since this was a friendly match, what mattered was the fans had fun, and Finley and her team got practice before the upcoming Galactic Cup tournament.
She made loops around the large padded obstacles, watching for an opening to receive a pass.
The arena lights flickered.
Finley blinked, but when the lights stabilized, she kept moving. The distraction gave her a clear path to catch a pass from Ileana and send the ball on to Cartier.
He wove around a series of pillars, and she shot up the opposite sideline, parallel to him, using a switch spin to dodge a defender in her path.
The lights dimmed again.
The quality of arenas in colonies varied greatly—some places they played had cracked obstacles or crooked goals or insufficient padding—but power had never been a problem. Surely that’s all this was. Right?
The latest message she’d received flashed through her mind.
No. Vague, anonymous threats warning her to stop her video logs couldn’t be tied to power failures in an arena.
She raised a hand, preparing for Cartier’s pass.
Total darkness engulfed the court.
Her stomach clenched, beyond the core strength needed to halt her board.
The ball smacked her shoulder, and a thud indicated it landed nearby.
A whistle echoed, shrill, from somewhere to her right. The sole illumination came from the boards’ hover cells, twelve pale blue-white glows spaced throughout the court.
Finley swallowed. Colony world power sources. Not anonymous commenters.
“Halt! Halt play,” shouted the human referee.
She wiped her face with her sleeve, shivering despite the layer of sweat and the temperature regulation fibers in her uniform.
Emergency lighting flickered on, from the goals and the edges of the arena, allowing her to see the other players. The stands remained in total darkness, like a giant shadow bubble engulfed her. Anyone could be up there…
The coaches ran onto the padded floor, meeting the ref to confer.
A yellow light flashed across her chest, the beam from the stands illuminating her body. It left spots in her vision and vanished so quickly she might have imagined it, but it sent a chill through her.
Finley nudged her board toward a padded conical obstacle and edged around the side to put it between herself and the nearest section of spectators.
The ref blew the whistle again, a four-note pattern that usually came from the ref-bot to indicate the end of a match.
“We’re calling it,” the ref yelled.
The announcer’s voice, on an amplifier, filled the arena. “We’re experiencing technical difficulties, everyone. The coac hes have agreed to end the match early. Please remain calm and stay in your seats until backup power is restored.”
Coach waved a come-here motion, and Finley flew toward him along with her teammates. Game energy and unease fizzed inside her, searching for an outlet after the abrupt ending. She wanted to zoom around the ring, do flips, throw a ball. Her muscles quivered.
They formed a ring around Coach, exchanging frowns. From the height of her board, Coach seemed extra short as she looked down at his graying head and trim form.
“Sorry, everyone,” he said, “but with only a few minutes left and the game decided, we agreed it was safer to stop. Don’t want someone flying into an obstacle or a wall in a game that doesn’t count.”
Everyone sagged, but no one argued.
“Once power’s back, head for the locker room. Good work today. McGrath, Cartier, that’s going to make the highlight reels.”
The praise, and the anticipation over seeing her maneuver on video later, failed to elicit the excitement they should have. Finley felt tense, edgy. Unfinished.
They hovered, waiting, until running lights flickered on in the stands and in the tunnel leading from the court to the arena’s interior. Voices rose as fans shuffled out. Normally, the team would take a victory lap, wave, pose for pictures. She loved that part, seeing smiling faces. But today, the mood was subdued, quiet.
Finley sighed and followed her team toward the locker room.
The familiar post-game rituals helped restore some normalcy, as they stripped off their uniforms, pads, bio-monitors, and mag boots, then showered, stretched, applied regenerative spray to muscles, drank electrolyte hydration packs.
“We’ll wait to break everything down in tomorrow’s meeting,” Coach said. “That’s enough excitement for today.”
Wix spread his arms. “The joys of playing on secondary worlds.”
“Some of us are from secondaries, rich boy,” said Eriksen.
“You have my sincere apologies.” Wix said it with a grin that earned him an eye-roll and a punch in the arm from the goalkeeper.
As if secondary worlds were backwards places. The secondary Finley had grown up on had hardly been a wilderness relying on candles. And this planet wasn’t a remote colony; it was more a retreat for wealthy primary residents to own second homes or retire somewhere beautiful. Wix should know better, after the several planets they’d visited on this tour, and more the year before, and that was just since Finley had joined the team less than two years ago.
Oh, well. If team responsibilities didn’t resume until tomorrow, it left more time for her other activities. Although, without knowing what caused the power problems, maybe that wasn’t the best idea.
But she’d committed to this task. SilverSpark was counting on her. She refused to let vague threats and brief darkness stop her from her mission.
She forced cheer into her voice. “Anyone want to go out with me?”
Her missions were more challenging with a group, but it was more fun to explore with others. And since that had long been her habit, once she’d started using her outings for espionage-related activities, she had to continue inviting the others or people might get suspicious.
Cartier snorted, slicking dark hair away from his face. “Are you filming again?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll pass.” He grabbed his bag and his board.
Shocking. Despite how well they played together on the court, off it was a different story. She might have been bitter, too, in his situation. He’d been the most talked-about athlete on the team before she came along. But that didn’t mean she’d stop trying to win him over.
“I’ve heard they’re known for gourmet cheeses,” she said. “Don’t you love cheese?”
“No, thanks.” He left.
She huffed. “Eventually I’ll find something he likes.”
“Well, I can’t say no to cheese.” Wix slung an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll come. Besides, I never miss a chance to meet good-looking locals.”
“Me too. The coming along part. Wix can have the good-looking locals.” Eriksen shrugged on a jacket over her muscular shoulders and wove her blonde hair into a braid.
“Still seeing that mysterious man you won’t let us meet?” Wix wagged his eyebrows.
“Only an idiot would introduce someone to you before knowing the person was committed. You’d scare them off.”
Wix released Finley and spread his arms. “I’m famous. People love me.”
“Not as much as you love yourself.”
“Yes, yes, we love you, Wix,” Finley said. “And one day I’m sure Eriksen’s not-at-all fictitious boyfriend will, too.”
Everyone laughed.
Finley was the youngest on the team by a few years, and Ileana and Wix were a decade older, but they usually treated her like an equal and a friend, and she was grateful.
She looked at the others. “Ileana? Shiro? You coming?”
“Not today,” Shiro said. “It’s the annual Harvest Day holiday on my home planet, and I have messages waiting from my family.”
Ileana shook her head. “Me either. Going to spend extra time on my knee.”
“You didn’t hurt it again, did you?” Finley asked.
“No, just being cautious.”
Probably wise. Ileana had only recently returned to the court, and they’d need her fully recovered for the Cup.
Finley bounced on her toes. “Everyone ready?”
They found the equipment manager and dropped off their uniforms for washing and their boards for a check-up. Though she trusted the woman who cared for their gear, Finley would go over her board later herself, to make sure it remained in top condition.
From her room in the suites attached to the arena, she grabbed her camera, a cube not much bigger than her fist that flew so she could capture the scenery and film herself talking. A wristband contained controls. She also pocketed the listening device from SilverSpark and double-checked the map of the city, confirming where her target was located, before joining the others in the hotel lobby.
When they’d landed the day before and traveled from the small landing port into the city, she’d seen glimpses of the landscape—towering, snow-capped mountains, tall and spindly thanks to a lower-than-average gravity. Rivers spanned by ornate bridges. A brilliant green valley, a crystal-blue lake, and a charming downtown with an old-world feel, dotted with majestic spires. She couldn’t wait to inspect it up close, talk to the people who lived here.
When they exited the hotel, fans lingered, cheering and waving. Finley waved back. Wix did too, though Eriksen settled for a nod.
Finley scanned them. No one seemed out of place or threatening. No reason to be nervous or suspect any of these people were responsible for the threats. It would be fine.
They greeted the fans and posed for pictures. The arena behind them was built against a mountain and offered a beautiful backdrop.
Did it make her prideful that she loved this part of her job? Not people telling her how great she was. Just that her presence made people happy. Knowing her playing brought them joy and she could brighten someone’s day with something as simple as taking a holo-pic. Several fans complimented her maneuver, one of them showing her the video they’d taken of it. It looked impressive, her blue and black hair streaming as she somersaulted several feet above the ground.
When they finally climbed into the waiting hovercar, Finley said, “Destination Old Town.”
The auto-driving car zipped off.
Reports about this city mentioned the district that was designed to incorporate the Cobalt Republic’s love of art and sculpture. The area next to it contained the best food and shops—and it was a block from the chocolate store she was supposed to visit for her mission.
Wix nudged her leg with his toe. “This is why I like exploring with you. No matter where we go, you know the best places.”
