by Ben Hale
Dressed in customary boots that covered their bony feet, they also wore the black-and-white pants given to dakorian fighters in the Crucible. They smelled like the Crucible, a touch of sweat and blood mingled with rust and the burning metal of ion lances.
“Ero Bright’Lor?” the leader asked, reaching up to tap his cut horn in greeting.
“Indeed.”
The captain jerked a thumb to himself. “I’m Reklin, of clan Hammerdin. These are Worg, Alina, and Teridon, of clans Rogonith, Retison, and Helvor. It’s a pleasure to be at the service of your House.”
“Even a fallen House?”
“Every House has merit, and despite what we’ve learned of your history, you’ve proved yourselves resilient.” The captain nodded to Ero. “A credit, I assume, that goes to you and your brother.”
Ero gave an appreciative smile. “My brother said you were elites, but I didn’t expect it.”
A dark tinge passed over the captain’s eyes, gone quick enough to dismiss, even as it spoke to a darker story. Ero cocked his head to the side, recognizing the tiny glimpse as regret. Why did Ero’s comment about the soldier’s former rank elicit regret? Was it because he was hornless?
“Skorn was . . . resourceful in acquiring our contracts,” the captain said.
Ero considered the slight hesitation to the soldier’s comment. Dakorians all had contracts and were usually employed by the Krey Empire for a hundred-year service. After forty, their contract became optional, and a House could offer to purchase the contract. Although most Bloodwalls were created to serve the military, Houses could pay the astronomical cost to build a genesis machine, an investment that usually secured the dakorian’s loyalty for ages to come.
But here were four elites, former Shards, top-tier dakorians in the military, whose contracts were probably worth a billion each—more if their specialties were in high demand. How had Skorn managed to get sufficient glint to make a legitimate offer?
“Glintmongers?” Ero said.
One hung his head sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”
The captain shrugged. “We were not as good—or dare I say—as bad, as I’d hoped.”
Ero noted the rigidly controlled voice. Again, there was more to the story, but if there was, Skorn would know. He always knew. And if Skorn was not worried, then Ero had no reason to be concerned. Ero dismissed his doubts and pointed to the rear of the ship.
“We’re on our way to getting a retrofit,” he explained. “Also, you should be aware I’m permitting the female slave to learn combat techniques with an energy blade, and to use the holochamber.”
“You’re training her to fight?” Worg raised an eyebrow. “Is that wise?”
Ero managed to keep his smile contained. “Are you worried she could kill a dakorian?”
The soldier snorted at the absurd notion. “Slaves do not kill dakorians.”
“But it would be unwise to teach a slave how to use a weapon,” the captain said. “And it’s my duty to remind you of the illegality of training a slave for combat without a permit.”
“Which I do not have,” Ero admitted.
Ero wasn’t concerned that the dakorians would speak of his plans to Reckoning. All dakorians had clauses in their contracts that required strict confidence, and they would not speak to anyone, even a future employer, of House Bright’Lor’s actions. Since all krey operated in a gray area of law, such a clause was only prudent.
“It’s not like the girl could learn to fight,” Alina scoffed. “A blade would be like a toy to a human. She’d be more likely to get herself killed than harm a dakorian.”
Ero recalled the girl’s raw skill when fighting the two dakorians but thought it best not to disagree. Ero would get to witness their shock when she showed them her skill. Ero hoped the silence clause that Skorn had put in their contracts was stringent.
“Be that as it may,” Ero say. “I’d like for you not to kill her.”
“We won’t,” Reklin said.
Ero’s holoview blinked, and he raised it, noticing a message from Telik. The message was brief, but urgent. The krey scientist liked to speak in long script, so the brief message was an anomaly.
“You need to come to my station. I’ve made a discovery.”
Ero smiled faintly, pleased that he would not have to be present when the Nova was repaired. He hated doing maintenance work. Fortunately, they had four shiny new employees to help.
“Reklin,” he drawled, “I’m afraid I’ll need the four of you to help with the installation of the gravity drive.”
“You want us to do engineering?” Alina and Teridon exchanged a confused look, and Teridon jerked his head in the negative.
“Dakorians do not do maintenance.”
“In this House, you’ll have to.” Ero turned and opened the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “The krey at the station will let you know what to do.”
Just before the door shut, he heard Worg grumble under his breath, “Worst. Assignment. Ever.”
Smiling, Ero returned to the bridge and rapped his knuckles on the edge of the bulkhead, drawing his brother’s attention. When Skorn looked up from the controls, Ero motioned to the Gate chamber down the hall.
“Telik has a message. Looks like he found something.”
“Don’t tell me he thinks he succeeded in creating an augment.”
Ero considered a lie and then opted for the truth. “I have no idea.”
Skorn stared at him, the silence lasting until he closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. Ero had expected Skorn to be angry, but instead of an outburst, he just spoke with a cold voice.
“I had hoped you would give up on this foolish idea of augmented slaves.”
“I know,” Ero said. “But you cannot deny the appeal. An entire harvest world of augmented slaves would be worth hundreds of trillions.”
Skorn regarded him with a mixture of exasperation and irritation. “You’re very aggravating, you know that?”
He smirked. “You know me so well. Do you want to come?”
Curiosity ignited in Skorn’s eyes, and then he shrugged. “If I have to.”
Chapter Forty
Ero and Skorn exited the Gate and were immediately accosted by Telik, who had been pacing at the terminus. Dressed in a disheveled gray-and-red cloak, he looked like he hadn’t changed his clothes since their last visit.
“Telik.” Skorn wrinkled his nose. “I know krey do not require sleep, but we certainly benefit from rest.”
“No time to rest.” Telik sounded like the frantic birds that had lived on Kelindor before the Dark. “Not with so many exciting developments.”
“Do these developments include personal grooming?” Ero sniffed at the odor from the krey. “Or perhaps taking a sonic shower?”
Telik didn’t hear, but Skorn grinned from behind Telik’s back. The scientist rushed them down the corridor to the biosphere. It was night, and the central sun was dim. Clouds drifted in the sky, gradually rotating around the sun, but the rain drifted onto the left quadrant, a soft patter on the plants all pointed to the sun. The air carried the scent of earth and rain, a welcome change from the stale air of the ship.
Ero reminded himself they needed to replace the air scrubbers on the vessel, one of many improvements that, although not necessary for life aboard a ship, certainly made it more comfortable. They passed out of the funnel-shaped corridor entrance, and Telik hurried them down the slope of grass, talking so fast it was hard to keep up.
“The change in their bodies is groundbreaking,” he told them. “At first I thought it was nothing, an aftereffect of the experiment.”
“Start at the beginning, Telik,” Skorn said. “I wasn’t here for the initial experiment.” He shot Ero an annoyed look, which he promptly ignored.
“Right, I forgot you weren’t present.” Telik ran his hands through his too-long hair. “I bombarded their cells with all known types of energy, while using the flaws in their genetic code as an anchor. I had hoped
that doing so would trigger a change, giving them enhanced strength or stamina.”
“If a slave could carry twice as much, they would be twice as valuable,” Skorn said. “But it’s been tried before, and always failed.”
“It did,” Telik said. “But only because they tried to affect the actual muscles and tissues. I targeted the basic genetic code.”
“And you think it worked?”
“Better than I imagined,” Telik said in a rush. “In the past, all my subjects succumbed to the damage in their cells caused by the energy bombardment. The challenge was in finding the exact amount of energy that would create a catalyst, without destroying the subject.”
“How many died?” Ero asked.
“Of the original eleven you brought, only three.”
“So are the others augments?” Skorn asked.
“That’s the exciting part.” Telik was veritably bouncing on his feet, a motion at odds on the normally dour krey. “They are augmented—just not in the way I had anticipated.”
“What do you mean?” Skorn wrinkled his nose when Telik leaned closer, wafting his breath across Skorn’s face.
“You’ll have to see it to believe it.”
Ero and Skorn exchanged a look, and then Telik opened the door, allowing them into the squat building of glass cells. He guided them down the hall to where the cells had been repaired and a containment shield added, the barrier preventing the slaves from seeing anyone in the hall.
At the first cell, a male human youth stood with a piece of wood in his hands. Fire curled around the small log, blackening it. The boy held it with his bare hands as the fire licked at his skin.
“He can’t be burned?” Skorn asked, surprised.
Ero stepped forward, drawn to the spectacle of the fire. The human boy marveled at the fire in his hands, his eyes bright with wonder. The flames trickled up his fingers and down his forearms, but his skin was unscathed. Then Ero’s eyes widened in disbelief.
The fire did not come from the log.
It came from the human.
The flames appeared within his flesh and flowed upward, toward the piece of wood. They poured out like water squeezed from his pores, igniting along his flesh to fuel the fire. The human boy was the source.
“He’s starting the fire?” Ero spun to meet Telik’s eyes.
The scientist nodded. “The subject is gathering heat from the air and channeling it through his body until it ignites. Notice the frost on the walls? He is chilling the room to create the flame.”
Skorn shook his head. “That’s impossible.”
“The evidence is right there,” Telik said. “At first the subject could only cause sparks and then a tiny amount of fire. He can now ignite wood, and he’s impervious to the fire unless it’s at a higher temperature.”
Ero noticed the healed burns on the boy’s bare shoulder and frowned. It was obvious the initial experiment had only been the beginning, and Telik was forcing the humans to endure more tests.
Telik dragged them to the next cell, where an older female was working with a bucket of water. The woman lifted the water and swirled it around her hand, turning it into a small human that stood on her hand. The water statue shifted and moved like a real person. Such an act should have been impossible, even with micro gravity repulsors.
“Gravity?” Skorn asked.
Telik shook his head, his eyes bright. “It’s actual manipulation of the water molecules.”
Skorn advanced to the glass and exchanged a look with Ero, who was equally astonished.
“This subject bonded to water instead of heat,” Telik was saying, the words tumbling from his lips. “The flaws in her cells allow her to control the shape of water. At first I thought her body could not sustain such an ability, but it appears that use of the ability has no lasting damage to her cells. She—like the others—can grow fatigued with extended effort. It seems evident that using the augment requires physical and mental strength.”
“Can a krey gain these augments?” Skorn used his calculating voice, but Ero noticed the trace of excitement.
Telik’s response was immediate. “Not possible. As you know, the krey possess a perfect genome. We don’t age after adulthood, and we are immune to disease and heal quickly. Only the humans, with their flawed and broken code, can absorb these energies.”
Ero turned around to watch another human boy, his features similar to the first, marking them as twins. He had the same ability and was shaping fire into a small creature that skittered about the room.
“What about this one?” Ero asked, pointing to the smallest boy, the timid one that had come with Brand.
“That one is surprising.” Telik appeared at Ero’s side, his voice eager. “He can alter his own body chemistry, making himself stronger or faster, or even heightening his agility or eyesight. It’s not a direct augment, and the ability is temporary, but it opens a world of possibilities. I’m still seeing what he can do with his body. He also has a secondary ability and can manipulate the travel of light.”
“Some have multiple abilities?” Ero asked.
“Only two,” Telik said, even more excited. “One weaker, one stronger. My data suggests it’s possible they can have even more.”
He jumped from cell to cell, showing what each augment had been acquired by each slave. Ero stared at the augmented humans, his thoughts turning to Brand. Was she also an augment?
He recalled the conflict with the two dakorians in Olana’s office, when the girl’s face had been crushed. At the time, Ero had assumed the injury was just his imagination, but now he questioned if the girl had healed her bones.
“Do you see what I have wrought?” Telik stood proudly at the center of the corridor. “I have made humans greater. Before they were just beasts, and now they will be assets of tremendous value.”
He pointed to the ones controlling fire. “Slaves that can work in mines, heating resources with ease. Others can shape wood into expensive commodities, such as furniture or other decorations. They can clean water on starships without a mech, or carry tremendous weight.” He pointed to the timid boy.
“This discovery is dangerous,” Skorn said, but his eyes were tinged with greed.
Telik scoffed and withdrew his inflictor. He raised it and pointed to the gray-haired woman, the one with the figurine of water standing on her palm. He pressed a medium rune, and the woman gasped, the water splashing to the floor as she dropped to her knees, crying out in pain.
“Activating the pain receptors immediately disrupts their concentration, a crude but effective method of control,” Telik said. “It can be set to automatic, so if they use the ability outside a certain area, they are burned.”
He ended the inflictor, and the woman remained on her knees, the water seeping into her brown clothing. She did not attempt the water movement again until Telik’s voice barked into the cell.
“Again.”
With her fingers bearing a slight tremble, she began to craft the statue again, and Telik grinned, an expression Ero found distasteful. He tried to imagine what Skorn would do if Ero killed the scientist.
“And all have gained new augments?” Skorn asked.
“All except one.” He advanced down the corridor to the last subject on the end, another woman that sat huddled in the corner. Tears streaked her cheeks, and her hair was matted and dirty. She was the girl with krey blood.
“I keep trying to force a response, but none have come. I can only assume the krey markers in her genetics prevented the augments from taking effect.” Telik suddenly rotated to Ero. “And your branded slave? Has she not shown any alterations?”
Ero had a flash of the girl’s broken face, where she had lain after a dakorian struck her with a bony fist. So much blood and damage, yet she’d regained her feet in seconds, her bones unbroken, her skin whole and unblemished. He’d doubted before, but now he was certain. The girl was an augment.
“She appears to have no new abilities,” he lied, feigning disappointm
ent.
“She was probably too flawed to be changed,” Telik said with a nod. “Keep me apprised of her progress.”
Skorn watched the one manipulating the air, his eyes narrowed in thought. Ero had seen that look before, when they’d been at a House trade agreement negotiation, right before Skorn had used certain embarrassing information to crush the other House’s offer and demanded a new, much more favorable exchange.
“This discovery will threaten the Empire,” Ero mused. “We must be cautious.”
“This is my crowning achievement.” Telik’s eyes glowed as he watched the laboring slaves. “The Emperor will acknowledge his mistake and I will be reinstated, and the value of my work will shape the next era of the Empire.”
“You intend to make this experiment public.” Skorn turned to face Telik, fixing him with a hard look.
“Of course,” he replied. “I’m already on course for Valana.”
“Then you’re the stupidest krey I’ve ever met.”
Telik blinked several times, as if trying to absorb the insult. Skorn stepped in and stabbed a finger at the nearest slave, the one manipulating fire with his thoughts and fingers.
“You really think the Empire will embrace such a change? The Emperor will take these slaves and lock them inside mountains.”
“Not if I release holos to the media,” Telik said.
“The Emperor controls House Jek’Orus—and the vid channels. He will disavow anything you release, obliterate the vids, and still lock these subjects into oblivion. You’ll be dead in a week.”
Telik’s jaw clenched. “I’m not going to hide what I’ve done.”
“You’re not going to hide.” Skorn’s smile was as dark as Telik. “You’re going to wait.”
“Why?” Telik asked.
“Imagine what will happen if we bring an entire harvested world to market—all filled with augments. Millions of slaves, all with these abilities.”
“We’d make a fortune,” Ero mused.
“And the Empire could not suppress so many.” Telik was nodding. “It would be impossible.”
