“Aside from possibly getting some ships, this is a dangerous mission,” Durstin said. “We have our own upcoming war to fight, and by my count, around four hundred warriors here who could die if this goes bad. Why should we do this?”
There were several gasps at the question, and a low murmur rippled through the crowd.
Tristin knew he had to tell them his history, what he knew. He held up a hand for silence. “It’s a fair question. My name is Tristin, of the Royal House of Tuorin. My cousins and I rule the four planets in our system, and my royal house stretches back over a hundred thousand years. Before the Ardak invasion, we traded with hundreds of planets, and had intermarried with many other royal houses.
“I tell you this not to brag, but to let you know how many friends we thought we had. But after the Ardaks attacked our system, we asked for help, called on our alliances,” his voice cracked. “Some came immediately, only to retreat when they actually saw the might and ferocity of the Ardaks. None were willing to help us until their own systems were attacked. And as you all know, by that time, it’s too late.”
He fell silent, but didn’t turn away. He allowed them to witness the sorrow in his eyes, the shame that no one had come to their aid.
This time there was a respectful silence—no one even moved.
Finally, he continued. “After a long and arduous war, we were successful in kicking the Ardaks out of our system. Our technology matched theirs, and was even superior in some ways. We caused enough trouble that they left us alone and turned to easier systems to conquer.
“But then they stole some of our ships and reverse engineered them. After that, they managed to steal our wormhole technology. It was then that my cousin Juordin started the resistance, the ARF.
“At first I didn’t want to join. I was more concerned about rebuilding my planet. But he convinced me that if the Ardaks aren’t stopped, eventually they’ll be back. And with every planet they conquer, every technology they steal, every cyborg they make, they only get stronger.
“This attack will give us some of their ships, allow us to learn some of their most advanced technology. It will give us more fighting power, and if used properly, just might turn the tide of the war on your planet.” He narrowed his eyes. “We have all lost people to the Ardaks. They are brutal, unforgiving, and they don’t negotiate. They must be stopped. There is no one to do it but us—and no other time to do it but now.”
When he finished, there was deadly silence.
Then Mordjan slowly started clapping. One by one, the others joined, until everyone—cyborg, elf, and River person alike—was cheering.
Tristin witnessed it—feeling both a part of it and separate. As on his planet after the invasion, the cheers were not cheers of joy, but cheers of agreement. And as he surveyed their faces, there was an undertone of sadness.
He met the gazes of the other commanders. He could see in their expressions that they also knew the awful truth.
The warriors weren’t cheering because they thought they would win.
They were cheering because they had nothing left to lose.
And somehow, Tristin had inspired them to hope that they might at least go out with a bang.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kirelle
Tristin stood at the front, giving commands. “Simban, pick a team to deploy the white powder. Tordan, pick a team to open the doors. The rest of you, divide yourselves into teams of twenty to steal the ships. A portaler, a shielder, three cyborgs, and fifteen other warriors, a few more as can fit. Your first mission is to portal your team onto Aria’s ship. If you can’t do that in less than a minute, you won’t be able to do it on the moon. Go!”
Kirelle stood there next to him, watching the room in amazement as it cleared.
Finally, one portaler stood before him. “You’re the last two, sir, lady. And you’re on our team.”
Tristin raised a brow. “Less than a minute. After you, my lady.”
The portal took them straight into the control room on Aria’s spaceship. Kirelle stayed with their team while Tristin headed for the highest platform above the control center and dove deep into discussion with Aria and Mordjan.
A few minutes later, Aria came down from the platform and headed straight for her. “Would you mind coming to my lab? I’m going to let them fly so Roihan and I can ask you some questions about your work with the cyborgs. That is, if you’re willing to answer them.”
Kirelle glanced up at Tristin. She hesitated, not wanting to leave him, but they had a job to do.
Aria was silent for a moment, and Kirelle realized she was speaking over the frequency. A moment later, he broke off his discussion and nodded down at them.
“I’ll tell you what I know, but since arriving on Aurora, I’ve realized I know a lot less than I thought I did.” Kirelle warned her.
“I’m sure you know more than you think, and you never know what could help us.”
As Aria led her toward the lab, she felt a small wave of jealousy toward Aria. Confident, beautiful, she was the only female cyborg Kirelle had ever seen or heard of. And she could talk to all the male cyborgs through their chips. If she hadn’t looked at Roihan as if the sun rose by his face and the moon set in his eyes, Kirelle would have been a lot more uncomfortable about it.
Once they reached the lab, Aria took her to a small bank of computers where Roihan waited.
“What we’re trying to do,” she explained, “is to prevent the Ardaks from gaining control over the cyborgs when they invade us again.”
Kirelle thought about that for a moment. “In that case, you want to be able to block their incoming signal.”
“Right,” Aria agreed. “But the problem is that the minute we block one frequency, they will try another, then another. Eventually, they will end up on the frequencies we need to use to communicate.”
“Would it be possible to block all frequencies from a single source?” Roihan asked.
“Hmmm.” Kirelle stared at the wall, pondering the problem. “It is difficult. If you use a blocker, jammer, or dampener in your helmets, you will also block each other. It’s a lot easier to block a location from external signals, for example, this spaceship. Or a palace.”
“But then when we left the palace, we would still be at risk.”
“Yes. If you’ll let me use the computer, I can show you where the Ardaks keep their specs on frequencies, as well as signals and blockers. It might buy you time during the invasion.” She went to the computer terminal and began to pull up the files they were looking for. “My advice would be to use the blockers for the frequencies they will try first, and when you actually know for certain that the Ardaks are trying to control you, activate signal jammers and don’t use any frequencies at all. It’s inconvenient, but then again, you won’t be controlled by the Ardaks, either.”
Aria’s shoulders sank. “That’s what I was afraid of. It’s disappointing because frequency communication is the biggest advantage we have in battle. It allows us to coordinate in ways we couldn’t otherwise.”
“Let me think more about it,” Kirelle offered. “I may come up with something. Was that all?”
Aria gave a throaty laugh. “Not hardly,” she said, pulling a device from her pocket and inserting it into the port.
Roihan’s eyes gleamed. “Now we can pull up cyborg specs and really get down to work.”
Kirelle grinned at his anticipation as he rubbed his hands together, and found she was also looking forward to finding out what they knew about cyborg physiology. As they pulled up the specs of their upgraded cyborgs on the monitor, she had a feeling this would be the best discussion she’d had in a long while.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tristin
Tristin flew the ship for a while, getting used to the controls. Then he set the autopilot for the moon and began to make the rounds with Mordjan. There were twenty teams of twenty to twenty-five warriors.
He gave Tordan and Simban control of their single
teams, and gave Mordjan, Aefin, and Durstin control of six teams each. They congregated in different labs, as well as camped out in the long corridors and other spaces of the ship.
Chihon was cycling cyborgs through Aria’s labs, connecting them to the computer and teaching them the flying program so each team of three could fly a ship.
They were operating like a well-oiled machine, so much so that Tristin couldn’t believe that many of them had never fought together before.
The elves were his greatest worry. Not only were they the shielders and the portalers, they were the least protected. Most of the cyborgs were protected by exoarmor and the rest had leather and metal armor. But he didn’t like the fact that most of them were relying on the elves’ wits and magic for protection. Those who had leather armor would find it was hardly worth putting on, especially against the Ardaks.
Mordjan set his team to work searching for weapons, and they found a nice cache of twenty-five red-bladed swords and sets of armor. They were too large for the elves, but fit the cyborgs without exoarmor quite well.
He finally found Kirelle discussing cyborg physiology with Roihan and Aria.
Her eyes glowed brighter when she saw him. “Are we almost there?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Are you almost finished here?”
She nodded, glancing at Roihan and Aria. They straightened and the monitors went blank, then they proceeded out into the corridor toward the control room.
He held her back as the others exited the room, catching her by the shoulders. “Stay by my side. Do exactly as I command. Don’t risk yourself for others, even me.” He didn’t give her time to reply, but covered her lips with his in a commanding, desperate kiss. He didn’t just want her to obey him, he needed her to.
When she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, he thought she just might do as he asked. He let his lips soften just toward the end, and after he broke the kiss off, he took her in for long moments. He didn’t want to think of her dying, didn’t want to think of losing her. But he’d lost so many others that he couldn’t rule it out.
He held her close for a moment, then stood up to his full height and brushed his hair back over his shoulder. “Let’s do this.”
“Agreed,” she said, and they exited the room together, striding side by side down the corridor to the docking bay where the cyborgs were congregating to put on their armor and check their weapons.
Donning his exoarmor was a great feat in the small space of the ship’s docking bay, especially with so many other cyborgs doing the same. But he made slow progress and when he finished adjusting his helmet, he stood surveying the others in the tight space around him.
They were as prepared as they were ever going to be, but with such a small number against such a large force, the only effective strategy would be to get in and out without being seen.
Aria’s voice came over the speakers. “We’re nearing the moon, perform final armor and weapons checks.”
“It’s time to commandeer some spaceships,” Mordjan growled. “Everyone ready?”
There were myriad grunts and assertions of approval, then Aria’s voice came on over the speakers again.
“We’re beginning the pass, slow and low for the portalers, and so they don’t pick us up on radar,” she informed them. “I’ll tell each team when to portal. Team one, Simban’s team. Get ready. Good luck deploying the white powder.”
A tense silence filled the air as they focused on the approaching base, which they could see out the small docking bay window. It was almost completely hidden, save for some rows of lights on the surface that must be for landing spaceships.
Aria’s voice came on. “Team one. Go in 3, 2, 1.”
There was a flash as Simban’s mate formed the portal, then Simban, Roihan, Valdjan, and Ithyll went through it and disappeared from view, followed in seconds by the rest of the team.
“Team two, go in 3, 2, 1.”
This time Aielle formed the portal, and Tordan and the rest of his team disappeared through it.
“All other teams, go in 3, 2, 1.”
Kirelle raised her hands and the portal was there instantly. Several other flashes went off and Tristin caught a glimpse of many portals before he ran through, weapons out, arms up in case he needed to fire his arm cannons, not knowing what to expect.
Once through, he found himself standing on a platform in the middle of the base, staring at spaceships in every direction. They’d been correct. There weren’t just ten ships. There were hundreds. His ocular implant magnified the distance, but they disappeared into darkness as they got farther away.
Teams were emerging from portals below him at irregular intervals. They were quiet, but there were too many of them to hide.
Tristin used the frequency. “Cyborgs, take your teams and board the ships. One team per ship. Quickly. Do not start the engines. Wait inside and stay out of view until further instructed.”
Some teams portaled into a ship, some went by foot. His team took the closest ship, but he remained outside with Mordjan and Kirelle.
“Team one, team two, come in,” Tristin said over the frequency.
“Team two here. Starting on the exit doors. What do you see?” Tordan asked.
“Ships. Hundreds of them. As far as the eye can see.”
“That’s good news,” Tordan replied.
“We still have to connect to them and fly out,” Tristin said. The scale of this operation was a lot larger than he’d anticipated. “Chihon, where are you?”
“Right behind you at the command station.” He looked back and Chihon waved from a command station at the far wall. “It looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”
“How the hell are we going to fly all these ships?” Tristin asked.
Chihon shrugged. “I can connect them all to the same network, giving half of them to you, half to Aria. The ships with our teams can disconnect from the autopilot and the cyborgs can fly themselves.”
“How long will it take you?”
“Give me five minutes—then I can tell you.”
“Simban—what’s your status?”
“We’re in the air distributor room, working. We’ve barricaded the door so hopefully we won’t be disturbed.”
Tristin let the silence grow for a few minutes, focusing on a noise he heard in the distance. He could barely make out the words. “Keep working. Keep moving. Never slow. Never stop.”
The same words repeated over and over, the voice almost robotic in nature. Tristin didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t like it.
“That, my foreign friend, is what they use to control the cyborgs.” The voice was Tordan’s. “If you’d been with us on Aurora, you would recognize it.”
He tried to quell the horror rising within him.
“That means there are cyborgs here.” The voice was Casin’s.
“Not just cyborgs,” Mordjan replied. “Lots of cyborgs. Enough to warrant a system of control.”
As Tristin’s eyes ghosted over the ships again, understanding filled him. “Hundreds of ships—and hundreds of pilots.”
“If we find them, we just might have our army,” Mordjan said.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kirelle
Kirelle’s heart sank as between one heartbeat and the next, Tristin’s expression changed from one of grim determination to one of horror.
“What’s wrong?”
He focused his eyes on her. “There are cyborgs here. Lots of them. And the Ardaks have a voice controlling them.”
She surveyed the enormous hanger. “Traako. Lots of cyborgs. And lots of ships.”
Tristin was silent for a moment. “They’re on level 13 below. How do we free them?” Tristin asked her. “We only have one cyborg device.”
“We do what we did on Aurora—shut down the voices.” Mordjan responded.
“What voices?” she asked.
“The ones that control large numbers of cyborgs.” Mordjan said grimly.
&n
bsp; “How do we know the cyborgs will help us if we do that?”
“Do you think they’re going to help the Ardaks?” Mordjan shot back.
“No, but they may leave us to the Ardaks in their haste to escape. And there are a lot more of them than us,” Tristin retorted.
“Actually, we have no idea what condition they’re in. Or how advanced they are.”
“If they’re receiving commands, at least some of them are working,” Mordjan replied. “Perhaps they’re the ones building the ships.”
“Portal us to level 13 below,” Tristin and Mordjan ordered Kirelle at the same time.
But she had already opened the portal by the time they said it.
Tristin stepped through, followed by Mordjan. She stepped through last, gasping when she arrived. There were rows of devices as far as she could see. But this time, instead of rows of ships, there were rows and rows of glass cylinders.
And inside each one of them was a cyborg.
A second portal opened, and Casin and Corin stepped out, followed by their portaler.
“What the hell is this?” Mordjan growled from behind him.
“It looks like a shitload of cyborgs to me,” Casin said cheerfully.
“Shut up, Casin,” Tristin reprimanded. “Look at all the fallen planets. Thousands of lives lost. Maybe millions. These men might never see home again. And you’re the pilots of your craft. You two need to get your asses back to it or your men might not see home again, either.”
A second portal appeared moments later, and Tordan stepped out, followed by his mate. His gray eyes took in the situation, his face impassive. Then he pointed to the far wall, where a large crystal glowed. “They’re controlling the devices from there. I’ll turn off the control crystal. Once I do, their minds will be free and you can tell them how to get to the ships.”
“What do you think?” Tristin asked Kirelle.
Kirelle was at a loss for words as she surveyed the hundreds of sleeping cyborgs. How could she have believed she was at the forefront of cyborg creation? She might have been making more advanced cyborgs, but the king obviously had cyborg creation well underway.
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