Hybrid: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 4)

by Valerie J Mikles

  Hybrid

  The New Dawn: Book 4

  Valerie J. Mikles

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  FREE SHORT STORY!

  The Gray Market: The New Dawn Book 5

  The Qinali Virus

  Also by Valerie J. Mikles

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 Valerie Mikles

  All rights reserved

  Dedicated to the strays and to those compassionate souls who take us in

  Prologue

  The attic was dank and moldy, the floorboards rotting on one side, having never dried out after a water pipe burst eight years ago. An old service bot had fallen through the attic floor, breaking the privacy blind on the floating bed in the room below. The house hadn’t been looted since the owner died at the hand of his own nurse bot who still lurked on the lower level. The people of Boone called this the ghost house. The doors and windows seemed to open of their own accord, and no amount of boards nailed over the entrance could keep out adventurous and bored children.

  Earlier that morning, a teenage girl climbed through the second story window on a dare, and fell through the rotting floor. She swore that an angel grabbed her hand and slowed her fall. She ran out the front door of the house on her own two feet, her screams of panic drowning out the cries for help coming from the attic.

  Kerris Abell was not an angel, and he knew when the girl’s story got back to his captors, he’d be in trouble. It didn’t matter that he’d saved a life and failed to reveal his presence. The Praet wanted to control his telekinetic ability and use him as a weapon. The fact that he refused to help them but had helped the girl would give rise to new punishment. Though only twelve, Kerris knew more about politics and human ruthlessness than men three times his age. From birth, he’d been different. He cried and the walls shook. His powers were impossible for his parents to hide. Three days ago, a foul smelling gas was pumped into Kerris’ schoolroom and he’d woken up here.

  The wall that Kerris was chained to had been reinforced with wood and stone so that he couldn’t escape again. His arms were shackled over his head, his toes barely reaching the ground, and the Praet would leave him hanging for hours. But when they came back, he’d be giving his arms a rest, standing on a chair or a box—bits of furniture that had not been in the attic, and sometimes not even in the house before. Today, he’d found a decommissioned janitor droid strong enough to support his weight and flat enough to be comfortable. If it fit through that hole in the attic floor, Kerris could lift it. That was the power the Praet wanted to hone.

  The door opened and Kerris remained completely still, legs crossed, back to the wall. He glared accusingly at the silhouette of his captor. Despite the bright light flooding in through the door, he was determined not to look away. He kept note of where his captor tucked the keys to the shackles, but Kerris wasn’t yet skilled enough to pick a pocket, even if he was staring directly at his target. The Praet wouldn’t train him until they’d broken his will to escape.

  It was too soon for his next meal, and Kerris assumed they’d come to punish him for saving the girl. The burly guard, Garrison, knocked the droid out from under Kerris and smacked him across the face with his exoskeleton-reinforced fist. Kerris flexed his arms, trying to control his fall. The shackles dug into his wrists, and he clenched his jaw, trying to block out the pain and find the floor.

  “This is not meant to be your palace,” Garrison growled, kicking the droid through the hole in the floor, laughing as the machine cracked open on impact. He pointed at the droid, then fired a disintegrator that was mounted into his enhanced arm. “You use your power to bring this droid to you, but you can’t get free. You are useless.”

  Kerris sneered, a snarky comeback on the tip of his tongue; then he noticed the second guard in the doorway with a new prisoner slung over his shoulders—his sister, Liza! The second guard was a slight man whose name Kerris had never caught. Garrison had any number of derogatory names for the man, but Kerris called him Dillweed, because of his foul smell.

  “What’s that one do?” Garrison asked.

  “This one’s a memory extraction specialist,” Dillweed replied, dumping Liza on the floor, hammering new shackles onto the wall. Dillweed also had mechanically enhanced arms and drove in the heavy-duty stakes with a single whack.

  “A mind reader? I hate those,” Garrison spat.

  “Not present thoughts. Memories. Listen, dumbass!” Dillweed smirked.

  “You must know her,” Garrison said, his dark eyes glistening with malice.

  Kerris shook his head.

  “Never seen you tongue-tied boy,” Garrison jeered, grabbing Kerris’ jaw and jostling him until his chains clinked and he could barely keep his toes on the ground. Garrison gave Kerris a swift kick in the gut, making Kerris’ legs buckle. He fell until the chains jerked him back, nearly yanking his arms out of socket.

  Concentrating hard, Kerris brushed the tufts of red hair from Liza’s face. He gave her a mental hug and she whimpered. Her clothing was rumpled, but not torn. Her feet weren’t bound, but the tiny eight-year-old was too little to outrun two soldiers in exoskeletons.

  The sound of her crying got Dillweed’s attention. Scooping Liza off the floor, Dillweed carried her to the new prison and chained her to the wall, being frighteningly gentle with her. She didn’t kick or scream; he had her scared silent. Kerris wanted to kick and shout, but if he started, the guards would only stay longer.

  “Is she stirring your memories, boy?” Garrison asked, noticing Kerris’ attention on her. Kerris backed away, making a show of falling off his feet again.

  “She’s stirring mine,” Dillweed growled.

  “Don’t touch her!” Kerris shouted, shoving Dillweed as hard as he could with his mind. His telekinetic power didn’t give him additional strength so Kerris made a grab for the soft tissue. Dillweed screeched and dropped to his knees, but couldn’t fight a phantom fist.

  “Ooh,” Garrison cackled. “We might have found the motivation we need to activate this weapon.”

  “Easy for you to say. He nearly ripped my jewels off,” Dillweed whimpered, covering his crotch protectively.

  “That’s nothing compared to what she might do,” Garrison said, nodding toward Liza. “Memory manipulator? She’ll put things in your head that make you want to rip your eyes out. That’s what these Panoptica do. They’re weapons; not people. And those who don’t make themselves useful will be slaughtered with the rest of the Xentu.”

 
He addressed the last threat toward Kerris, daring him to strike out again. Then, with a malicious sneer, Garrison turned on his heels, grabbing Dillweed by the collar, and dragging him from the room.

  “Liza?” Kerris whispered as soon as the door was closed. The only light in the room now leaked up through that hole in the floor.

  Liza curled into a ball, burying her face in her elbow. Her chains were generously long enough so that she wasn’t left hanging like he was. Her little fingers closed around one of the chains and her whole body quaked.

  They chained me up. They think I’m like you.

  “I’m sorry,” Kerris said. It took him a moment to realize she’d spoken the words directly into his mind rather than using verbal communication. Projecting thoughts was a skill they’d practiced, but he wasn’t good at it. For him, the challenge was building a sufficient mental shield to block her from reading his mind. If his thoughts weren’t in turmoil by her arrival, he’d have let those shields down so they could have a non-verbal conversation. He didn’t want her to see what pain the Praet had caused him with their physical abuse. “Can you talk?”

  “They killed mommy and daddy,” she said, projecting the memory at him in concert with the words. Kerris winced, bringing up a mental shield to stop her, but he still saw and felt everything. Dillweed’s mechanical hand clamped around Liza’s jaw, forcing her to watch the execution. Their father’s severed head rolled to Dillweed’s feet and he stamped the skull, spattering blood on Liza’s skin.

  “Did they hurt you?” he asked, afraid to know the answer.

  “They chained me up.”

  “I know,” Kerris said.

  “Can you get us out?”

  “I need a key. They figured out I can’t trip locks on my own,” Kerris said, fidgeting helplessly. He could push, pull, and move things, but some tasks required a tool, and he couldn’t conjure those with his mind.

  “The guard has a key. He can get us out of here,” Liza said, lifting her tear-stained face. Kerris was relieved to see she wasn’t physically injured.

  “Only if he’s on our side,” Kerris frowned. If Dillweed were an ally, he wouldn’t have smacked Kerris around in private. “I can’t make him give us the key. Can you?”

  “He’ll help us,” Liza insisted, crawling closer to Kerris. “I know he will. He keeps thinking about it—about taking me out of here to some place quiet and safe, where he can hug me, give me new clothes, and tell me not to cry.”

  Kerris’ blood ran cold. “That’s not what he’s thinking about.”

  “I see it!”

  “What you see is what grown men do to hurt little girls,” Kerris said, stumbling over the words. There were horrors he didn’t want to explain to her, and if his mental shields faltered for a moment, she’d know anyway. “Trust me, Liza. I’m your brother. I will keep you safe.”

  “You can’t even unchain me,” she complained, hugging her knees and pouting.

  Kerris cringed at the insult. He was just a boy, but he should have been able to protect his baby sister. He’d seen the way Dillweed looked at her, and Liza’s insight only confirmed his fear.

  “Do you remember what Mom and Dad taught us? Do you remember how to fight with your mind?” he asked.

  “I can’t do it,” Liza moaned.

  Kerris bit his cheek. Liza was a memory reader and she could no more fight than a toddler could cook, but triggering the right memory could cripple even the strongest person.

  “Don’t let the Praet win, Liza. We are not weapons of war. When the guards come in here, you have to fight as hard as you can,” he said.

  Liza whimpered and reached out to him, but his chains were tighter than hers, and he couldn’t close the gap. His arms ached from being stretched over his head, and his legs hurt from standing on tip-toe.

  “Is there anyone you can reach for help?” Kerris asked. He could create a commotion to draw the Praet away, but it wouldn’t do much good if they were still chained here.

  “Everyone I can talk to with my mind was captured. We were the last ones free,” she said. There were less than a hundred natural born Panoptica in Boone, captured by the Praet and selectively bred to draw out paranormal powers.

  “But are they alive?” he asked. “Tell me what you see.”

  Sighing, Liza closed her eyes and concentrated. Her fingers extended, and her breathing settled. Before she could say anything, the door opened, and Dillweed came in, leering. Kerris tensed, expecting a brutal beating for what he’d done. Expecting Liza to be forced to watch. He didn’t want Liza to see the way the man pounded him, but he also didn’t want Dillweed touching her. Liza screamed when Dillweed looked at her. Kerris felt a short burst of mental energy ripping through his mind, but the slam barely fazed the guard.

  Extending his spirit hands, Kerris pushed with all his might. He was still a child throwing his weight against a grown man, but the impact got Dillweed’s attention. Kerris felt another burst of mental energy, and then there was a massive explosion. A shockwave hit, followed by a deafening blare, and his body flew through the air at the force of the explosion.

  When Kerris lifted his head, he was lying under a pile of ash and dust. His hands and feet were shackled, but the wall was gone. The stone foundation and stairway still stood, and a legion of battle droids were lined in the exposed basement, deactivated and powdered with dust. Everything was deathly quiet. Liza prodded him worriedly, and he wondered if her ears were ringing as much as his.

  Two exoskeletons were strewn on the stairs. Kerris picked up the metal arm that had once enhanced Garrison’s strength. There was no blood, and no trace of anything human. Kerris clicked open the compartment that held the keys, and removed the shackles from his wrists and feet. His skin was red and bleeding. He released Liza next, then picked her up and ran out of the ruins, ignoring the sting of fractured rock on his bare feet.

  The shockwave had broken windows and street posts. All the motorcars had stopped in their tracks. Kerris didn’t recognize this neighborhood. He’d thought they were in the ghost house, but he couldn’t see the orchard trees, and there were no familiar gardens. He ran into a grocery store, but the store was vacant and covered with dust. The place must have been abandoned when the war started. There had to be people somewhere, even if it was more kids vandalizing the vacant lots.

  Kerris set his sister down on the cashier’s counter and froze. There was a heart carved into the counter—etched by the owner in memory of his wife. Kerris had watched the owner do it just last year.

  “Where is everybody?” Liza asked.

  The ringing in his ears subsided at the sound of her timid voice, but he had heard with his physical ears. He could hear the sound of her breath and the rustle of her clothing, but that was it. The world had gone silent.

  “I don’t know,” he said, sinking to the ground, his splintered feet throbbing, his mind spinning. “Can you read anyone?”

  Liza closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her fingers extended, her breath hitching with every silent sob. “Just you,” she said.

  Kerris shook his head, his throat getting tight. “Liza, what did you do?”

  1

  Kerris ran his thumb over the tattoo on his wrist, then pulled his sleeve down to cover the marking. Hooking his water buckets to a wooden yoke, Kerris hefted them onto his shoulders, and trudged across the barren, Boone landscape. He was big enough now to use Garrison’s exoskeleton, and with it on, he barely felt the weight of the buckets. Little had changed in the ten years since the disaster. The plants never came back. The animals kept their distance.

  “Kerris!” Liza sang, poking her head through the window of the stone house they squatted in. She climbed out the window when she saw his weepy state. “Brother, don’t cry. I have exciting news!”

  Kerris sucked the dry air through his lips, unleashing the tears he’d been holding back. He clung to her more than ever these days, overwhelmed by the betrayal that drove them out the Gavameti tribe—the
latest in a long line of nomads who had taken them in and subsequently driven them out. Over the years, they’d stayed fed and clothed, passing themselves off as human and hiding their power. Kerris made sure his sister had a mother figure through most of their teenage years. She’d never grown tall, but when she hugged him, she gave him more strength than the exoskeleton ever could.

  “Kerris, look,” Liza sang, raising her chin, eyes closed, inhaling as though she smelled fresh flowers. The sun made her cheeks glow.

  “At what? The inside of your eyelids?” he sniffled, shrugging off the yoke, being careful not to slosh the water. Liza refused to return to the home they’d grown up in, and he couldn’t blame her. Her last memory of the place—seeing their parents slaughtered—haunted him every time he walked past the doorway. They stayed on the opposite side of the Dome, closer to the quarry, where more of the houses were made of stone, and it still looked like a city.

  Liza giggled, her eyelids fluttering. The only thing she’d gotten from their mom was her deep, brown eyes. Everything else—the red hair, the round cheeks, and the dimples—was from their dad’s side. With his blond hair and blue eyes, Kerris didn’t look like anyone in the family, which further drove home the fear that he’d been engineered as Panoptica, not born into his power.