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

by Ben Hale

  “She is very engaging,” Ero said, an answer to both comments.

  The dakorian chuckled menacingly. “That’s one word for it.”

  Brand sidled up to Ero. “You didn’t tell me you were involved with a member of the House.”

  “One does not typically like to reminisce about those who betrayed them,” Ero murmured.

  Brand released an explosive breath and did not respond. Ero hoped she never felt the stirrings of the heart, for in his experience, such emotions inevitably led to ruin. That thought reminded him of Brand’s observation about his race, and he looked out the window, not wanting to dwell on such truths.

  The corridor was a glass tube that extended straight out from the domed chamber. It ended at a gravity riser, a larger one with enough room for a dozen dakorians. It was also glass, but the exterior was covered in black dust.

  When they were on the riser, the dakorian used a code crystal to unlock the riser, a necessity, given that slaves were known to attempt escape from Ironden. Ero couldn’t blame them. The conditions were hot and dangerous, not that House Kel’Ray cared.

  The riser began to descend, dropping down into the dense clouds. Lightning briefly flashed, the riser rattling from the thunder. Then the tube passed below the clouds into a faint drizzle.

  Brand sucked in her breath and leaned against the outer glass, her attention drawn to the enormous mines, which dominated the landscape. Huge towers of iron scaffolding, the mines extended deep into the earth, holding seracrete pipes that funneled liquid metal to the surface.

  The molten ore spurted from the pipes and poured onto molds to cool. Thousands of slaves worked on the many levels of the upper smelting, their faces blackened with soot, their skin blistered from proximity to the liquid metal. They worked the controls, opening and shutting valves that were twice their size. A handful of dakorians mingled with the slaves and occasionally barked orders.

  Ero had seen the planet many times and never really thought about the slaves. This time he noticed Brand’s reaction of shock and revulsion. He realized she’d never seen so many humans in one place.

  “Is it always like this?” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” he felt to say.

  They reached the surface and the riser tube plunged into the rock. The ground beneath the planet’s surface was hollow, with huge girders supporting the surface above. The supports extended in every direction, an endless maze of beams supporting thousands of giant pipes, all glowing red from the flowing metal. Cracks were common, and liquid metal dripped onto the many slave platforms, adding to their hazards.

  Giant boulders rested on gravity carts, the trains bringing raw ore to the smelters, where slaves worked enormous cranes, lifting and placing the ore in reservoirs the size of capital ships. More slaves managed the temperature of the heating rods.

  The riser came to a halt in a structure that looked like a nest in the scaffolding. Half the size of a capital ship, the structure connected to the riser through a short, glass-walled corridor. The dakorian again used the coding crystal to open the door, and the trio exited into the hallway. Just thirty paces long, it connected to a wide, beautiful wooden door that seemed to shimmer with embedded golden light. A female krey stood in the open doorway.

  Beautiful and statuesque, the woman wore a black cloak over a yellow dress. Diamonds sparkled on the jewelry embedded in her skin, making her seem to glow. Her yellow eyes resembled the poisoned flowers that had once grown on Kelindor, highly prized for their beauty, and highly feared for their lethality. Brand actually shuddered as her eyes passed over her and settled on Ero.

  “Ero Bright’Lor,” Olana purred. “I am so grateful you have come to visit.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The door opened and Olana guided them inside. Ero stepped past the glowwood doors and surveyed the room. Expansive and richly adorned, the office represented a stark contrast to the mine, which was visible through the floor to ceiling windows.

  More glowwood had been carved into the desk, making it shimmer as well. The unique trees had once grown on the planet before Kel’Ray had scorched the atmosphere with ash and smoke. Olana had sold the last trees for a fortune, but secretly maintained a grove for her own use. She’d used some of the wood to furnish her office.

  Olana leaned against the desk, the position opening the slit in her dress to expose most of her leg. Ero chuckled, surprised that he did not find her seductive pose as commanding as it once was.

  “You are as beautiful as ever,” he said.

  “The krey may have perfect bodies, but beauty is still rare.” She flashed a dazzling smile.

  Ero swept a hand to the mine. “You are as stunning as the sky of Ironden before your House began to dig.”

  She chuckled, misinterpreting his veiled barb. “I remember the last sunset before the smoke claimed the sky. Would you like to see it?”

  She did not move, but the glass walls of the office began to change, shifting from the stark girders and dripping molten ore to that of a forested hilltop. Grass and trees stretching to the horizon, where a bright-yellow sun sank from view.

  “You could have kept that view,” Ero said.

  Olana swept a dismissive hand. “There are worlds aplenty, but glint is far more precious.”

  “Because of the power it can buy.”

  He used the very words she’d said to him on many occasions, but this time they sounded hollow. Is that really all the krey cared about? He recalled years of plotting with Olana to acquire more, and countless nights spent in laughter and passion. He’d enjoyed the intrigue immensely, but now the memories seemed hollow. What had he really gained?

  Olana smiled and pushed off the desk. Gliding close to him, she reached up and caressed a graceful finger down his cheek, a touch of yearning appearing in her eyes.

  “Power can be rather lonely, and another passionate connection would be welcome,” she said.

  “It would,” he replied. She leaned in, lifting her lips to brush his. Then he stepped back. “If I had not been betrayed.”

  She retreated, her expression incredulous. “Don’t tell me you’re still sore over the fall of your House. It’s been ten years.”

  “A short time in the life of a krey.”

  She chuckled and moved back another step, just enough to provide an ample view of her body. It was an invitation to look, and to rekindle desire. Instead, Ero turned and strode to the window, where he tapped the glass, ending the holo and returning the view back to the subterranean mine.

  “The final sunset was beautiful, but you cannot hide what now lies beneath,” he said.

  Brand smirked at the veiled insult, and Olana’s yellow gaze darkened ever so slightly.

  Ero smiled, pleased he’d managed to get a rise from the woman. Their entire relationship had been a contest of wills, and it was all too easy to slip back into the never-ending duel. Brand might be right about the krey, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the moment.

  “I had forgotten your intellect,” she said. “A pity it was insufficient to save your House from falling.”

  Anger threaded into his reply. “Did you have to force the other Houses out of the bidding?”

  “Did you really expect us to buy your assets at full value? After what happened on Kelindor, your House was tumbling down the ranks like a bleeding gelden in a pack of vormiks. You were dead, so why try to delay the inevitable?”

  “Because it was me,” he said. “And I thought we were allies.”

  “We were.” She joined him at the window. “We could be again, if you desire.”

  “I don’t like allies that turn against me when I’m vulnerable.”

  Her laugh was mocking. “Have you ever met a krey ally that didn’t do the same?”

  Ero glanced to Brand, who stood in silence near the door, her head just high enough to watch the conversation under her eyebrows. Of the two in the room, it was the slave he trusted.

  “You’re right,” he said to Olan
a, “but I find my taste for allies has soured.”

  “That’s only because you have none.”

  “I have one,” he said, and again his eyes flicked to Brand, who smiled faintly.

  This time Olana noticed the shift in attention and turned to Brand. She regarded the slave for several seconds, but Brand kept her eyes on the floor. Good girl. Olana cocked her head to the side.

  “Look at me,” she said to Brand.

  The command could not be ignored, even from a krey that was not a slave’s owner. Brand looked up and regarded the woman, her features submissive, borderline crestfallen.

  “Why does your slave carry a ferox brand?” Olana asked.

  “I don’t care.” Ero shrugged. “I just know she was cheap.”

  The honest answer brought a measure of pity into Olana’s features, and she advanced on Brand. Ero remained at the window as Olana came to a halt in front of the branded girl.

  “Is this what you are reduced to?” Olana asked. “You have only one slave, and she’s a ferox?”

  “She’s obedient enough.”

  Olana touched her chin and lifted it up so she could see the brand on her throat. The scar was uneven, as if she’d been struggling when it had been given. Olana turned to Ero.

  “A branded slave will turn against you,” she said.

  “I didn’t have much choice.”

  “Now you do.”

  She touched the crystal embedded into her wrist. “Bring me a slave, subservient, young, female.”

  “As you will,” came the reply.

  “What are you doing?” Ero asked.

  “It’s the least I can do.” Olana waved in dismissal.

  Ero glanced to Brand, who suddenly seemed uncertain. “What do you mean?” Ero asked.

  “I’m going to replace your slave, of course.”

  He folded his arms. “Are you going to charge me?”

  Her smile turned wicked. “Not in glint. But perhaps in other favors.”

  “I don’t like debt.”

  “Not a debt,” she said. “A favor.”

  “I’d rather have a different sort of favor,” he replied.

  “You did not come for a social visit?” Her tone feigned shock. “I’m wounded.”

  Ero was not fooled. Olana had known Ero had come for a purpose, and the entire conversation was merely the preamble. She was offering a gift, making herself appear magnanimous before he could even make his request. He hated her tactic, even as he admired her skill.

  “I’m hoping to find a slave,” he said.

  “I’m already giving you one, and you want a second?”

  “This one was attached to mine”—he pointed to Brand—“and they want to breed.”

  Brand coughed, a borderline sputter. Olana frowned in irritation at the disturbance, and Ero gave Brand a warning look. Olana leaned back on her desk, her expression turning curious.

  “You come all this way for a single human?” she asked. “And why would you want to breed a branded slave? The offspring would most certainly carry the rebellious attributes of the parent.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Playing coy?”

  He smiled. “Always.”

  She regarded him with amusement. “Does this slave you desire have a name?”

  “Kensen,” Brand blurted.

  Ero held his breath, but Olana merely seemed amused at Brand’s bold outburst. “Ferox indeed.” She tapped her beamcast crystal again. “And bring me the slave named Kensen.”

  There was a pause, and then a confused response. “All eighty-seven?”

  “Do I have to do all the thinking?” Her voice hardened. “Young, male, probably handsome.” She winked at Brand, who flushed bright crimson. “Probably recently purchased.”

  “I’ll retrieve him and bring him to your office,” the beamcast speaker said.

  The beamcast ended, and Olana shook her head in chagrin. “Dakorians. So powerful with a weapon, so weak with a cortex.”

  Ero didn’t bother to argue. Dakorians were as intelligent as krey and were more than capable of mastering cortex coding, but the way Olana treated them made them seem dim-witted. Ero still wasn’t sure if Olana knew their intelligence, but she enjoyed making them appear stupid. She had a talent for such condescension.

  The door swung open, and the dakorian with white horns entered, a young female slave in tow. Her posture slumped, her eyes downcast, she was the perfect display of obedience. Her clothes were immaculate, so she’d probably been a servant in the office or perhaps Olana’s personal mansion, an enormous structure build on one of the peaks extending above the smog of Ironden.

  “Excellent.” Olana’s eyes lit up.

  She walked up to the new slave and examined her as she would a beast. The girl stood silent, her eyes on the floor. Next to Brand, the difference was stark. The new slave wore a pristine shirt and pants, her blond hair tied back. But the contrast went deeper than clothing.

  The girl’s posture was low, like her spine had been permanently bent. Her eyes never left the floor. Her hands were calloused from labor, but they hung limp at her sides.

  Ero’s slave, although she was obviously trying to hide it, conveyed an aura of strength. Her head was bowed, but not so far she could not see the room. Her hands were still, with the faint tension of one ready to fight. Even her feet were slightly wider, her weight on the balls of her feet rather than her heels.

  “The difference is obvious,” Olana said, circling to stand in front of Brand. “Do you not see it?”

  “Blue eyes are not blind,” Ero replied. “But what I require in my slaves is not the same as what you prefer.”

  Olana leaned down to look into Brand’s eyes. “You make an admirable attempt at humility,” she said to the girl. “But you cannot be what you are not.”

  Brand lifted her chin to look directly into Olana’s eyes. She did not speak, but her features were set in an unapologetic expression. Olana chuckled and stood before turning to Ero.

  “You see? A ferox cannot be trusted. They are dangerous and defiant. Some slaves are just not meant for service.”

  “Or maybe they’re suited for a different type of service.”

  “You surprise me, Ero.” She closed the gap and traced a finger down his chest. “But you always did. If was my favorite thing about you.”

  “Apparently not enough to stay my ally.”

  “You know our race,” she said. “Alliances are always temporary.”

  “Maybe I’m looking for something more permanent,” he said.

  She cocked her head to the side, a touch of confusion lighting her yellow eyes. She didn’t understand, and Ero doubted she could. But the moment he’d said it, he liked the idea. He did want something more than tenuous alliances and constant betrayal.

  “Where is the other slave?” Olana called to the dakorian.

  “On his way,” the dakorian said. “He was in mine sixty-seven, so he’s taking a Gate.”

  “Bring him in when he gets here.”

  “As you will.”

  “And kill the ferox.”

  The dakorian drew his hammer, which had been modified to include a curved axe blade on the back, and raised it above Brand. The girl’s eyes widened in shock, and for an instant Ero considered letting her die. The girl was trouble and would always be trouble. At the rate she was going, she would be a master bladesman in a few years, and the way she flew a ship, she would be able to outfly most of the krey pilots in the same time frame. She would be dangerous to Ero’s plans with his House.

  But he couldn’t let her die.

  “That will not be necessary,” Ero said.

  The dakorian paused, the hammer still raised for the killing blow. Ero met Brand’s terrified eyes and knew that whatever happened in the future, he could not bring himself to betray her, the only one in whom he had real trust.

  “I still need her,” he added.

  “I offered a replacement, not a gift,” Olana said.

/>   The woman’s voice had turned cold, and Ero rotated to face her with a smile. “Is not the loss on your end the same?”

  “Perhaps. But you have yet to tell me the reason why you want to keep a branded slave. Or the reason you want the other one.”

  “I thought you liked the secrets we kept between us. Did you not once call it mysterious?”

  “Then. Not now.”

  He realized the ultimatum. Ero had spurned her advances, and this was a retaliation. If Ero did not tell the truth—or provide a lie she would believe—Olana would not help. She raised a finger to the white-horned dakorian, and he placed the axe blade on Brand’s neck. To her credit, the girl stood in place, unmoving except for her chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

  “Tell me why you want Kensen,” Olana drawled.

  “Are you really going to kill the slave of another House?” Ero kept his tone incredulous.

  “She’s a rebel that accosted me. My guard had no choice.”

  The door swung open, and another dakorian entered. He did not seem surprised that blood would be spilled and merely shoved a young male slave into the room. He followed the boy inside and shut the door. Disheveled and covered in soot and dirt, the boy had dark hair, a strong frame, and bright-blue eyes. He noticed Brand, and surprise washed across his face. Brand caught his eye, and the fear turned into tears.

  The look spoke volumes. In the span of a second, the two humans shared a connection that Ero had never had in his long life. The thought made him marvel. Was it possible that humans possessed something the krey lacked?

  “Your request has arrived.” Olana gestured to Kensen. “Is this the one you want?” Her cold eyes settled on Brand, and when she did not respond, she advanced upon her. “Speak, or lose your head.”

  “He is,” Brand said.

  Ero had expected a whimper, but she spoke with hatred and anger, her eyes suddenly blazing. Olana chuckled as Brand trembled and turned to Ero with a smirk.

  “I can see why you like her, but I still require a reason to spare her life.”

  “You kill her, and you’ll never again see my lovely face,” Ero said.

  She burst into a laugh and inclined her head. “Let her live.”