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

by Ben Hale

  “We might have to sell a few augments,” he said.

  “I thought you told Telik that was foolish.”

  The corner of Skorn’s lips lifted in a faint smile. “It’s foolish for him, not for us.”

  Ero grinned and settled into his seat. It might be a long flight, but it would be far from boring. Brand was probably a powerful augment, the dakorians had secrets, and Skorn had a plan. Ero loved the potential for mischief almost as much as the mischief itself. House Bright’Lor had never been so exciting.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The ship lurched as it dropped from hyperlight, and their destination came into view. Ero leaned forward, relieved and excited that their long flight was over. He’d occupied himself by training with Brand and other amusements, but nine days in the confines of a ship was an eternity.

  “Sixty-eight percent water, thirty-two percent land mass,” Skorn said, activating the scans. “The air is oxygen-rich, and plant life is abundant.”

  The world was bright, the blue water visible through patches of cloud cover, the continents a mixture of browns and greens. Perfect balance of mountains and forests. Storms billowed over the seas, suggesting a functioning rainfall.

  Light from the yellow star reflected off the curvature of the planet, making it glow in the darkness of space. Ero had visited many worlds, but few compared in beauty. Most occupied worlds had been towed by gravships into the habitable zone and then terraformed. But this world was a rarity, having already been properly positioned. An organic world.

  “Metals?” Ero asked.

  “Also abundant. The rotation of the spin makes a day-night cycle twenty-four hours. One moon.”

  “Is it inhabitable?”

  He touched a rune crystal and shook his head. “No atmosphere.”

  “And the supposed sentient indigenous life?” Ero leaned forward, pleased by the sight of the blue globe.

  “The Nova doesn’t have scans powerful enough to locate a sample. We’ll have to find them on our own.”

  “Didn’t the original survey say that most of the krey were eaten?” Ero raised an eyebrow.

  Skorn glanced his direction. “Inform the others I’m bringing us down to the surface.”

  Ero watched the planet that would be his home for the foreseeable future, and a smile played across his features. Prior to their House’s downfall, he’d grown bored and listless, but the prospect of controlling a harvest world, one filled with augments and dangerous indigenous life, brought a measure of purpose.

  He left the bridge and made his way to the cargo bay and slave quarters. Both were empty, and he found the two slaves and four dakorians standing in the hall outside the airlock. The bulbous room protruded from the ship, its glass walls, ceiling, and floor providing the best view of the approaching world.

  “I see you’ve discovered our arrival,” Ero drawled.

  “It’s beautiful,” Brand breathed.

  She and the boy were plastered on the glass, their excited postures a reminder of their youth. Were they really just sixteen? Brand always behaved much older.

  “Where are we landing?” Reklin asked.

  “On the largest continent,” Ero said. “There’s a mountain range in the south that should provide a good view of the countryside.”

  “You had spoken of indigenous creatures,” Worg said. “Are they really sentient?”

  “That is what we suspect,” Ero replied.

  The ship began to tremble as it passed into the atmosphere, and waves of heat curled across the airlock, the shields shimmering outside the glass. Sparks burst and fizzled.

  “Supposedly they might even breathe fire,” Ero said.

  “A dangerous beast,” Alina remarked.

  “That’s why we brought you.” Ero swept a hand to the dakorians.

  Teridon flicked the hilt of his long lance, which extended above his shoulder. “We’re ready.”

  The ship dropped through the clouds, briefly obscuring the view. Then they burst into the open, a landscape filled with endless blue skies dotted with fluffy patches of white. A storm swirled in the distance over the sea, a forbidding churning of black and gray that pummeled the ocean. The wind was kicking the sea into giant waves. Ero decided they would need a stormdial, if they could afford the mech.

  They dropped lower and headed for a giant mountain range that stretched across the southern expanse of the continent. The peaks were scattered and pointed like teeth, some so high they pierced the clouds.

  “I’ve never seen anything so wondrous,” Brand said.

  Ero joined her in the airlock. “Beneath great beauty lurks great danger.”

  “It’s just a world,” the boy slave said. “How can it be dangerous?”

  Reklin overheard the comment and pointed to the planet. “You know the hazards of the krey, but the worlds you have visited have all seen their wilds tamed. This”—he swept a hand to the harvest world—“has never been leashed. Creatures, storms, poisons, even the very water may hide dangers more lethal than a lance.”

  “You speak from experience?” Ero asked.

  Reklin nodded. “In my first decade with the Empire, I helped another House prepare a harvest world. There were creatures that had four mouths. Whatever they managed to grab, they devoured. I saw a human swallowed whole and a dakorian bit in half. I can still hear their quad roar as they hunted, the sound so menacing it made the slaves tremble. That’s why we called them the Unhallowed.”

  The boy shuddered, but Siena seemed enthralled by the prospect. Ero smiled as well. Such tales were common throughout the Empire, and harvest worlds inevitably posed dangerous, yet exciting, new threats. Some species were eradicated, but most had samples taken for study by Empire scientists, or they ended up on one of the Ruath’Is moons.

  The ship dropped lower, curving above a valley and twisting to settle on a shelf of rock extending from a mountain. Dust billowed outward, the gravity drive whining as it repulsed the natural pull of the world. When the dust had cleared, Ero opened the airlock and dropped onto the stone. Breathing deep of the cool breeze, he strode to the cliff’s edge and surveyed the valley.

  A forest blanketed the slope below the cliff, the limbs white, the leaves spinning in the wind. Another type of tree bordered the numerous streams, their limbs strong and holding aloft great canopies. Streams fed a lake that shimmered in the afternoon light.

  Great mountains dotted the landscape, some alone, others in a line of peaks. The stones appeared to be gray and brown, their rocky skirts filled with more trees. The sun warmed the stone at Ero’s feet, and he sniffed the air, enjoying the scent of flowers and rainfall.

  Reklin walked to join him. “What did the survey team call the creatures?”

  “Drakes,” Ero said. “Seems they had wings, hardened scales, and powerful claws. They also were very large. Let me know if you spot one.”

  He squinted into the distance. “I believe I already have.”

  Ero frowned, irritated he’d seen one first. “Inform me if it comes closer.”

  Reklin nodded and left, and Ero noticed the slave girl. She stood at the edge of the cliff, her expression sober. Was she afraid? Ero crossed the ledge and joined her at the top of the cliff. He swept his hand to the new world.

  “It’s beautiful,” the girl said.

  Ero pointed east. “Reklin spotted one of the indigenous life-forms, a sentient flying creature with thick, armorlike scales. This world appears beautiful, but its occupants are hostile. We should be cautious.”

  “Are you concerned about my life now?” Siena asked, the timbre of her voice strange, almost afraid.

  “Are you sick already?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I’ve just . . . imagined such a place before.”

  “I didn’t know slaves had such dreams.”

  “I’m rather unique,” she said quietly.

  Ero cast her a sidelong look. “You are a slave, very replaceable.”

  “You don’t even know my nam
e,” she said with a strange smile. “That does make me easier to replace.”

  He chuckled, the sound conveying a touch of regret. “I suppose I cannot keep calling you Brand.”

  “My name is Siena.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  She gave a wry smile. “Maybe.”

  Ero had thought before to avoid her name, to keep a distance, but standing on the harvest world of House Bright’Lor, he knew that distance was gone. Siena was more than a slave. His eyes settled on the boy slave, and he groaned.

  “Do I have to know his name as well?”

  “It’s Kensen,” she said. “I’ve told you many times.”

  Ero rolled his eyes. “You sure it’s not Kendel?”

  “I’m sure.”

  For several minutes, they were quiet, and Ero noticed Skorn exiting the ship and speaking in low tones to the dakorians. Kensen drifted away and stooped to touch the flowers. They could have been poisonous, but he didn’t seem to consider death by flower.

  “You know my name, but what’s hers?” She gestured broadly to the world.

  Ero activated his holoview and showed the original report.

  “The discovering party called it Earth.”

  “A beautiful name,” Siena said.

  “I don’t like it,” Ero said, wrinkling his nose. “Pick another.”

  “You want me to name your world?”

  She shuddered, her expression haunted, even though it was warm. What was wrong with the girl? Ero hoped the augmentations were not having an adverse effect. He had no desire to see her die.

  “Why not?” he said. “You’re going to be living on it.”

  She stared at him and then spoke in a whisper. “Her name is Lumineia.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve heard it before.”

  She spoke slowly, as if marveling at her own words. Her features twisted, and she passed a hand over her face. Why was she sweating? Ero shrugged at the cryptic response.

  “It is fitting,” he said.

  Before he could question her further, Skorn and the others approached, and the group stood on the edge of the cliff, watching the sun set. Kensen advanced and stood next to Siena.

  “It’s certainly big enough,” Ero said. “But its location leaves much to be desired.”

  Worg snorted in amusement. “I don’t think I’ll find a wife on this barren rock.”

  “You couldn’t find a wife on a clan world,” Alina said. “Let alone here.”

  “Probably true,” Teridon murmured.

  “Say the two that wish they had my horns,” Worg said.

  “Did you decide on a name for the planet?” Reklin asked.

  “Earth,” Skorn said.

  “Lumineia,” Ero corrected.

  Skorn raised an eyebrow, so Ero motioned to Siena. Skorn rolled his eyes in irritation, a look that clearly said, you’re letting a slave name our world? Ero merely smiled.

  “What do we do first?” Kensen asked.

  “The Gate,” Skorn said at the same time Reklin spoke.

  “A shield.”

  Both were interrupted when a distant roar reverberated from a nearby ravine, the sound deep and menacing, the thunderous challenge of a predator. Even with the distance, one thing was clear: it was big.

  “What was that?” Kensen asked.

  “The krey who discovered the world called them drakes.” Skorn glared at Ero, daring him to change the name. Ero grinned and shook his head, liking the idea of a beast with a name that sounded like their father.

  At the edge of a mountain in the distance, a drake appeared, framed by the setting sun before it disappeared behind another mountain. Ten miles at least, yet it was evident the creature was large enough to threaten their ship. Ero and Skorn exchanged a look and spoke in unison.

  “Shields.”

  As the others retreated to the ship, Siena and Ero remained in place, watching the world that now belonged to his House. A slow smile spread on Ero’s lips, and he spoke in an undertone.

  “Let the fun begin . . .”

  Epilogue

  Voice Malikin picked his way through the bodies that littered the space station. Although much smaller than the larger repair docks at the heart of the Empire, Korgith Station had housed a thousand krey, a hundred dakorians, and an unknown number of slaves. All were now dead. All except one.

  He approached the dakorian bound in seracrete cords and on his knees. The former captain was bloodied, with some of his bones broken from the duel with Quel, who now loomed above him.

  “Former Captain Gellow,” Malikin said. “I am very pleased that you survived Ero’s blade.”

  Gellow snarled and strained at the bonds. “He’s not the first that thought me dead.”

  “But I will be the last,” Quel said.

  Fear darkened Gellow’s eyes, but the former soldier quickly recovered. “You slaughtered everyone on the station. The Emperor will see you gutted.”

  “You assume this was not at his command.”

  This time the fear lasted longer, and Malikin savored the scene. There was nothing he liked more than breaking a foe with terror and then killing him. Careful to keep his robes away from the blood of a dead human, he twisted to face Quel.

  “Were the vids salvageable?”

  “Gellow destroyed most of them,” Quel said. “We recovered two, one showing Captain Reklin, and another with a masked human girl battling a group of dakorians.”

  “You make it sound like the slave survived.” Malikin’s eyes fell on Gellow, the question hanging in the air until Quel placed his hammer on the back of the dakorian’s neck. Gellow winced when it began to warm, the lance heating against his skull.

  “She boarded the ship belonging to House Bright’Lor,” he said in a rush. “They left together.”

  “So she did survive.” Malikin tapped the emblem on his cloak, a subtle reminder of his rank. “I did not think it possible, but if she survived against several dakorians, there can be no mistake. House Bright’Lor has augmented slaves.”

  “She’s just a slave,” Quel said. “And the vid didn’t show any augmentations.”

  “She killed five dakorians,” Gellow said.

  “Tell me,” Malikin barked.

  Malikin’s voice was a command so forceful that Gellow flinched. “She moved faster than seemed possible, with enough strength to stop a dakorian hammer.”

  “Or perhaps your dakorians were garbage.” Quel nudged the hammer, rocking Gellow forward.

  “They may have been dismissed soldiers, but they were warriors, and Helt was even a Shard for a few years,” Gellow said. “That girl cut them down like she was a Bloodblade.”

  Quel’s expression was dubious, but Gellow was not exaggerating. Malikin could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. The disgraced former captain was still grappling with the shock of seeing a slave kill his fighters.

  “The members of House Bright’Lor resist their demise,” Malikin mused aloud.

  He wanted the House eradicated, a desire shared by the Emperor. Malikin did not know his reason or care. It didn’t matter. But what if they had acquired an augmented slave? From where? From whom? They didn’t have the resources for such a purchase. Nor could they have stolen such a valuable asset. Every few ages a House tried to secretly augment slaves, but all previous attempts had ended in failure. Humans were too broken, their genetic code too flawed to improve. And if someone had succeeded, Malikin would have heard. That left only one answer. House Bright’Lor had not acquired the augmented slave. They had created her.

  The mere whisper of an augment sent a tremble of anger and fear through Malikin’s body. Hundreds of trillions of slaves could not be permitted to hope. Such a concept needed to be erased before it could take root, and when Malikin had arrived on the station, everyone had been talking of the masked slave. Quel and his soldiers had done what was required to ensure silence.

  But what to do now? Killing House Bright’Lor would satisfy t
he Emperor but might push the creator of the augments deeper into hiding. Malikin could not afford that, not when bringing such a scientist to Condemnation would certainly elevate him to High Voice. He smiled and turned to Quel, who powered up his lance.

  “No,” Malikin said, raising his hand. “I prefer him to watch the station’s destruction.”

  “You’re going to destroy the station?” Gellow tried to rise, but Quel shoved him to the deck. “Why?”

  “Silence must be ensured,” Malikin said. His eyes flicked to a tattoo partially visible under Gellow’s torn tunic. He knelt and lifted the shirt, revealing a burning dakorian skull.

  Gellow scowled and twisted, covering the tattoo. “That’s not what you think.”

  “The Burning Ghosts,” Malikin chuckled. “You really should not mark your bodies with your affiliation. It makes you easy to identify.”

  “Should we keep him alive?” Quel asked. “We do not know much about the Ghosts.”

  Malikin eyed the kneeling dakorian. “I don’t think this one would ever divulge their secrets. He’s going to die here, unless he knows anything else about House Bright’Lor.”

  “I know Reklin wasn’t dismissed from the military,” Gellow snarled. “He has far too much integrity to ever earn such a dismissal.”

  “And I thought you hated him,” Malikin said.

  He motioned to Quel, and the Bloodwall grabbed Gellow’s shackles and placed them on the decking. Activating his hammer lance, he melted the seracrete bonds, fusing the shackles to the decking.

  Gellow shouted in pain. “I hate him for what he did, not what he is.”

  Malikin stooped and smiled. “You have my gratitude, Captain Gellow. Without you, I never would have known Bright’Lor has successfully augmented a slave.”

  The trapped dakorian squirmed and shouted curses, but Quel stepped over him and walked with Malikin toward their ship, a sleek vessel half the size of the entire space station. Silver seracrete glimmered in the lights of the station, revealing the large lances protruding from various points on the hull, and the giant plasma cannon threaded down the center. The cannon’s mouth resembled the open maw of a giant beast.