Empire of Ashes: An Epic Space Opera Series (The Augmented Book 1)

by Ben Hale

  “Why isn’t the World Gate guarded?” Ero asked.

  “The krey here use the Gates in their domes to reach the shipyards in orbit. This chamber hasn’t been used decades.”

  “Smells like it,” he said, waving his hand through the haze.

  Ero limped to the World Gate. The tall arch rose to thirty feet, the black Gate material absorbing the light from the room. Jent was probably screaming at the dakorians for the destruction of his chambers, the image making Ero smile.

  “They will know we are still on the planet,” Skorn said, hurrying to the Gate controls. “Jent will know we used his pocket Gate, and it had enough energy to get us across the planet, not enough to escape Rodelan. It won’t take them long to figure out where we went.”

  “Is that a thank-you?” Ero asked.

  “I’m not going to thank you for almost killing us.”

  Skorn’s hands flew across the cortex that controlled the Gate. A small map of the Krey Empire appeared above the control panel, the constellations turning and rotating. Such displays had been popular centuries past, but the cortex was slower than the newer models with more intuitive holos.

  A dull whine sent a thrum through the Gate chamber, the reverberation rising until it shook Ero’s feet in his boots. Both Ero and Skorn looked up, and then at each other.

  “They sent a ship,” Skorn said. “And from that sound, it’s a Gerlon class.”

  Another rumble sent a shudder through the Gate chamber, and then another. The distinct sound of starships dropping through the atmosphere. Ero hurried to one of the windows and skidded to a halt.

  No less than four ships were dropping from the orbital platforms, the largest of which was at least a Beldoria class, with a crew of two thousand. The hulls of the ships were glowing with heat from the atmosphere, while Ro fighters streamed from their cargo bays.

  “They must really want to catch us,” Ero said.

  For all of Rodelan’s squalor on the planet, it made up for it in orbital assets. The mines on the surface extracted iron, silicate, and other trace materials required to produce seracrete, using them to assemble starships at six shipyards in low orbit.

  “Tertious Jent wants revenge,” Skorn said, his fingers flying across the controls.

  Ero gauged the distance to the approaching ships, the faster ones zipping through the clouds, the ion rods burning white as the weapon systems were activated.

  The fighters had vertical hulls that resembled a blade, with horizontal wings extending to the sides. With twin independent gravity drives in the wings, the fighters could execute dizzying maneuvers. Unfortunately for Ero and Skorn, the ones headed their way looked to be the latest models, with two ion rods at the ends of the wings and a small plasma cannon in the nose.

  “Can you hurry it up?” Ero called. “Those fighters are going to be here in thirty seconds.”

  “This thing is ancient,” Skorn said, twisting the enormous star holo. “And we can’t let them know where we are going.”

  A voice entered the chamber. “To the intruders attempting to escape, we are deactivating the World Gate and you will be trapped. Submit or be killed.”

  “Tertious Jent sounds angry,” Skorn said.

  “He should be. We destroyed his room and stole what he’s contracted to protect.”

  “Will the Empire kill him?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Skorn said. “Kel’Ray produces too many starships for the Empire.” He cocked his head to the side. “But they will probably force them to sell their ships at a discount.”

  “Maybe we can buy one,” he said, smiling at the cost to House Kel’Ray. Olana would not like that.

  Skorn actually laughed. “You want to get their House punished . . . and then buy their ships at a discount?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we have no glint,” Skorn said. “Or it would have been a good plan.”

  The symbols across the panel lit up, some flashing red, others turning green and orange. Skorn reached into the floating star map and touched a system. The projection changed into a map of that specific system. Skorn touched a world, and the map zoomed in, showing just the globe. Hundreds of dots of light glowed on the surface, and he touched one in the central continent.

  “Go,” Skorn barked.

  He pressed a final rune, and silver light gathered inside the great arch, expanding to fill the entire opening until it shimmered. Skorn and Ero sprinted to the Gate as Jent’s voice again filled the room, his voice rising in fury.

  “You cannot escape! The Gate will lose power before you reach your destination! I will rip your eyes from your—”

  Ero plunged into the Gate, and for several seconds, he wondered if the Gate would power down, and they would be erased from existence. Then he stepped out of the terminus into a matching Gate chamber, albeit far more modern.

  Just as he stepped free, the silver light extinguished, slicing the end of Skorn’s blue cloak. The remainder of his cloak fell to his knees, the angled cut so sharp it left no loose threads.

  “Welcome to Mylttium,” the krey standing at the controls said, a frown on his features as he eyed Skorn’s cloak. “I cannot say why the Gate closed early, but you are fortunate to have made it through. I will order a Reckoning—”

  “No need.” Skorn flashed a disarming smile. “Rodelan’s World Gates are ancient. Not much can be done.”

  The krey’s hand hovered over the symbol for inquiry, but he chuckled and leaned back. “Indeed. Please enjoy your visit.”

  Ero and Skorn descended from the platform as it came to life again, opening for a pair of dakorians to exit. Ero and Skorn passed the short line of krey waiting to depart the second Gate in the chamber. Mylttium was heavily trafficked, so each of the World Gates had twin openings: one for departures, one for arrivals.

  A handful of slaves were with the krey in the line, the men loaded with packages, the women holding the cloaks of their krey masters so they would not touch the ground.

  On Rodelan, the Gate chamber had been built of seracrete, the metal painted red and black, probably to hide the buildup of red dust. The Gate chamber where they’d exited was made of glass, allowing an unbroken view of the city.

  Mylttium was one of nine merchant cities so large they shared the name of the planet. The city stretched to the horizon in all directions, covering the entire central continent and extending onto the other two continents. Known for bright-blue waters, Mylttium was one of many worlds controlled by the Empire.

  Krey Houses rented space in Mylttium, creating an endless array of shops, artisans, restaurants, and respites. Other krey came to purchase the exotic wares available on Mylttium.

  Most of the krey spent several nights in a respite, the glittering structures offering lodging for travelers. Ero lifted his eyes to a tower so high it passed the clouds: the Starview, a respite known for clandestine meetings.

  Restaurants were common and served an assortment of culinary delights. As Ero and Skorn walked the street, they passed a four-level restaurant at the base of a nearby structure, with smaller Gates allowing krey to walk through the main entrance and exit on the upper terraces. The meals being served included roasted ebbin tails, steamed frodis, and much more. Ero watched the steaming plates and licked his lips. Oh, how he missed the white ridgefish seared on blue ion flames.

  “Stop drooling,” Skorn murmured.

  “I’m not drooling.”

  “You’re salivating.”

  “I’m hungry,” Ero retorted. “We aren’t eating much.”

  Skorn sighed and looked away. “It’s been twenty years since the fall of our House. It’s time we adapted.”

  Ero eyed an artisan as they passed. It contained creations of glass and seracrete, some of its decorations studded with diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and other jewels, as well as crystals that created a custom holo of various worlds. Ero wondered if he’d ever regain what he’d lost and quickened his pace to keep up with his brother.

 
; Thousands of ships dotted the waters of the bright oceans, many floating on gravity repulsors, while some glided on the smooth surface. At one time, the storms had made sea passage dangerous, but the stormdial—a massive black obelisk—now controlled the weather.

  Ero and Skorn passed a dakorian guard walking with a pair of krey dressed as Primus and Secondous. The dakorian had three lines across her horns, the captain one less than the coveted rank of Bloodwall.

  “Whatever happened to Wiq?” Ero wondered aloud.

  “Your Bloodwall on Kelindor?” Skorn asked.

  “Father terminated his contract because we couldn’t afford him,” Ero said. “But didn’t he get hired by the Imperial line?”

  “He went with Mother,” Skorn said, his voice tinged in irritation.

  Ero grunted in irritation. He’d liked Wiq. He’d actually been amusing, for a dakorian, and seemed to have enjoyed Ero’s inclination for conflict. But like everything else Ero and Skorn had possessed prior to their fall, an expensive guard dedicated to protecting Ero’s life had been lost.

  A starship descended from orbit, clouds wreathing its hull and trailing off its engines. Krey ships were named by length: the longer the name, the bigger the ship. The arriving vessel looked to be Beldoria class and resembled the one Ero had owned before their House had fallen. Envy curled his lips when he spotted the same ship in a holo of a nearby shop.

  The spacious shop contained holos of every type of ship, from Meltia-class cruisers to Bor personal transports. A handful of krey browsed the holos, probably discussing the cost of the ships.

  “Stop thinking of everything we lost,” Skorn said.

  “How do you know what I’m thinking?” Ero replied.

  “I can see the envy in your eyes,” he said.

  “These aren’t my eyes.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Skorn said, his lips twitching with amusement. “Whatever face you wear, I’ll know it’s you.”

  Ero sighed and ducked into an alley between a shop selling shimmering cloaks and another filled with exotic pets. When they were out of sight of the street, Ero reached to the pendant at his neck and deactivated the crystal.

  He winced as electrical charges surged into his face, burning like fire under his skin. The power radiated into his bones, up through his hair follicles, then it reached his eyes. The charge seeped into his irises, burning the colored filaments that Ero had placed prior to infiltrating the planet. He sucked in his breach and clenched his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry out.

  All krey possessed the same anatomy—the gray skin, angular features, and thin body. The yellow hair on Ero’s head changed to his usual white, and Skorn’s turned black. Their yellow eyes, marking them as members of House Kel’Ray, turned to the radiant blue of House Bright’Lor.

  “Next time, can we find ones that don’t hurt?” he said through a clenched jaw.

  “They always hurt.” Skorn’s voice was equally as pained.

  The sting in his eyes finally began to diminish. Last to change, the identity modifier shortened his tongue back to its normal length, deepening his voice. Then the pendant died with a shower of sparks. It had been relatively cheap for an identity modifier, but the illegal item would only work once. He regretted not purchasing a higher quality one when he had the chance. He ripped it from his neck and tossed it away. It clattered on the stone street, and a cleaning mech appeared from the shadows, picking it up and skittering away to a recycling facility.

  Rubbing his eyes against the lingering ache, he watched his brother’s face return to normal. Skorn’s features were a shade darker than Ero’s, a trait he’d inherited from their mother, who had come from the Imperial line. Both were tall compared to other krey, standing several inches above a standard human male. They were both muscular, and since the fall of their House, Ero had lost the pudginess around his stomach.

  Skorn was dressed in black pants and a gray shirt that had blue stripes from one shoulder to his hip. Ero wore gray pants, his black shirt gradually turning into the dark-blue cloak that hung to his knees. He winced as he tied the fabric where the ion bolt had burned him, obscuring the damage.

  “The identity modifiers cost us most of our remaining glint,” Ero said, “but I’d say it was worth it.”

  Skorn nodded. “Kel’Ray will spend ages hunting two krey that don’t exist.” Skorn tossed his pendant away and watched it disappear in the clawed hands of another mech. Then he withdrew a small, yellowish crystal and held it up to the light. “We nearly died for this, so I hope Dragorn is pleased.”

  “You make it sound like we were in danger,” Ero said as he plucked it from his brother’s hands and hid the cortex crystal in a pocket of his tunic. Then he threaded their way back to the street. “Were you really worried?”

  “We’re over sixteen thousand years old,” Skorn said. “Death is always a threat.”

  “Seventeen thousand,” Ero said.

  Skorn rolled his eyes. “Does it matter?”

  “Whether it’s twenty thousand years or twenty days, we can still be killed.”

  “True. So let’s hope the data on that cortex was worth the risk.” Skorn glanced behind them and checked the crowd for anyone following them. “I just hope a map of the outer systems has what Dragorn wants.”

  “It will.” Ero fingered the crystal in his pocket. “We may hate him, but he is usually right.”

  Skorn gave a noncommittal grunt and turned up another street. Above their heads, gliders soared, their wealthy occupants speeding over those forced to walk on the ground. The gliders resembled miniature ships, and their hulls glowed purple as a result of their small gravity drives keeping them in the air. Lower air traffic flowed south, while a hundred feet above them, those going in the opposite direction traveled north.

  Ero recalled the days after their House had fallen, the ache in his legs as he was forced to walk rather than ride. Gates on most planets cost glint to use. Krey in the upper Houses didn’t give it a second thought and Gated wherever they desired. The wealthiest possessed a Gate within their own homes, while the middle classes of krey used the portals on the street. Still, many employed the gliders to move within the city, as much to browse the wares of shops as to display their wealth.

  Slaves occupied the street with Ero, many carrying new clothing purchased by their owners. Others bent under the weight of heavier objects, such as decorations purchased for homes, crates of crystals, or smaller mechs. Four humans struggled to carry the base of a hologram, and one tripped.

  The entire base tumbled to the street, and the krey woman scolded the human for his clumsiness. She tapped the holoview embedded in her wrist, causing the human’s earring to brighten. The man cried out and writhed in pain.

  “Drop it again and see if you make it home,” she snapped.

  Ero stepped around the man and caught up to Skorn. “You think Dragorn will be pleased?”

  “Only if the map has what desires,” Skorn said. “Now hurry up. We’re late.”

  Ero spotted the giant pyramidal structure rising from a hill and sighed, dreading the coming encounter. He fleetingly hoped that their successful return would ease the blame he carried, but knew it would be insufficient. The fall of their House had happened while Ero had been Primus of Kelindor, when most of his siblings had been on the world. His mistake. His failure. Ero reluctantly followed his brother toward the Tribunal Tower, and their awaiting father.

  Chapter Five

  Ero and Skorn worked their way through the lower streets and to the mountain ridge beyond. Built within an entire mountain, the Tribunal Tower merged existing rock with seracrete spires and glass arches. Rivulets of water cascaded down the slopes, forming ethereal patches of mist that obscured the many porches, balconies, and gardens.

  Ero and Skorn entered the Tribunal Tower by passing a gauntlet of ten dakorians, five to each side. They stood in front of slim, inverted waterfalls, the liquid swirling as it passed through eddies created by small gravity generators. The wa
ter fell into a pool of water bound by the gravity on the ceiling. Wreathed in mist, the inverted pond gave the giant entrance hall a majestic quality.

  The corridor opened into an enormous pyramidal chamber, where krey in ceremonial robes spoke in small groups. Red robes, worn by tribunal judges, contrasted with the white garb of the condemned. Slaves stood by their owners, dressed in the customary brown or gray. Only the earring embedded in the lobe of the left ear marked their House affiliation, the color matching the eye color of their respective House. Reckoning officers were also in abundance, the dakorians wearing a cloak of red and carrying a short-handled, red hammer lance.

  Ero and Skorn advanced through the crowd, and Ero tried to avoid the gaze of the red-robed krey. Each spoke for the Emperor and possessed the power of the Empire in every word. Although Ero and Skorn tried to avoid them, one of the judges separated himself from a group and approached.

  “The sons of Bright’Lor,” he said. “How good of you to visit your father.”

  “Voice Malikin,” Ero said.

  He kept his voice even as he regarded the krey. With the bright-green eyes of House Eter’Quen, Malikin liked to flaunt his affiliation to the third-ranked House. His eyes slid off Ero, a faint sneer forming on his lips. Ero resisted the urge to punch him in the nose.

  “How far you have fallen,” Malikin lamented. “From Primus to Houseless in just ten years.”

  “Our House is not yet destroyed,” Skorn replied.

  “A formality.” Malikin gave a dismissive wave with his clawed fingers, emphasizing another feature of his esteemed House. “When the tribunal for your father convenes, I will have the pleasure of dividing the remainder of your father’s House assets to those more . . . deserving.”

  “Like House Eter’Quen?” Skorn asked.

  “I have shown what a true Primus can achieve.” Malikin’s lips curled in condescension at Ero. “Would you not call that deserving?”