Tide of Shadows and Other Stories by Aidan Moher

the last of whom lived until the Tide of Shadows, settled an uninhabited planet. Swampy and rich in precious gasses, Uwe'hhieyth, we were all alone in a solar system with two suns and a near-impenetrable belt of asteroids. Let peace reign. Let us heal.
    My family was third-generation colonials and damn proud of it. On Uwe'hhieyth, the culture and practices of my people flourished. This quiet corner of space was filled with our songs, and the asteroid belt that protected us shook thunderously with every step as we danced.
    The Unitarian government didn't exactly have a great track record for peaceful expansion. Most colonials pitched their first tents on blood-soaked soil and built their societies on the broken backs of survivors. Life is good when you're better armed and (if you swallow the gruel your commanding officer forces down your throat) more intelligent than the prey lined up in your sights.
    The Unitarian government loves conquest, loathes the conquered.
    We weren't alone on Uwe'hhieyth. Just blind to our neighbours.
    They came from the ground. Not from caves, crevasses or valleys, literally up from the ground, like locusts. We were not armed—civil war did not exist yet on our young planet—and could not defend ourselves. They were darker than a starless night and brought shadows with them; shadows that somehow drowned out the light of Uwe'hhieyth's twin moons. Imagine fighting shadows whose very touch would chill the blood in your veins and freeze you from the inside. Imagine fighting thousands of them, endless waves, night after night. We did not last long.
    Those few of us who survived fled. We were mostly young men and women living away from their families in one of the three airborne academies that all Unitarian citizens were required to attend from ages ten through thirteen. Like cowards, we fled. No more than twenty thousand or so made it to the ship.
    Five thousand six hundred and thirteen days later, after a stop of several years on the massive Unitarian refugee station, Cygnus 3118 , our ship, The Spirit of a Sudden Wind , was on course back to Uwe'hhieyth with a simple mission: recovery.

    78 days 17:03:38 until drop

    Her ruby-coloured skin seared my fingertips as my hand trailed from her navel to her breast. Bioluminescent light followed my touch, ecstasy and pleasure on the visible spectrum, like starlight sparkling on midnight waves. She shivered, and I sighed. I lay down beside her, nuzzled into the crook of her arm.
    There's a certain peace that comes with the forgetfulness that envelops you as you lay beside your equally blissful and sated partner. Ear pressed against skin, the beat of her heart is all that exists; our little room shrinks until it is the only thing in the universe, a warm womb that promises to protect you and nourish you. Forget about everything outside the door. Breathe. Sleep.
    On a ship fuelled by vengeance and anger, any relief can be lifesaving.

    54 days 03:21:22 until drop

    She was a hunter, you see. Spear in hand, my mum could best almost anyone else in our settlement at hunting or sport. Unlike some of the largest settlements on Uwe'hhieyth, my settlement, Q'atxin, was small enough that we still relied on our hunters to bring in food from the surrounding land to supplement the rations delivered yearly by Unitarian dropship. Some of these hunters were more foragers—they picked berries, dug through moist earth for the deepest, thickest roots—others were fishermen or farmers, and some, like my mother, were hunters in the purest sense.
    Heroes were born that day. Heroes died that day.
    Rummage took my hand in hers. "That's why you fight," she said. She looked me straight in the eyes; a small quirk of approval touched her lips.
    I still remember the first time I tried to pick up her spear. Was I six? Seven? It was...only a year before the Tide of Shadows.
    I nodded. "I think it's what she'd want. She loved Uwe'hhieyth more than anyone else I ever met. She'd do the same if