Galaxy of Titans: An Epic Space Opera Series (The Augmented Book 3)

by Ben Hale

  The light faded from Siena’s hands, and she rocked back. A wave of fatigue washed over her, and when her vision cleared, she found all the dakorians standing around her, their expressions inscrutable. Only Inary had known she was an augment, but it didn’t matter now.

  “Bring me water,” she said.

  Grevin brought a container. “It’s been purified,” he said.

  Siena accepted the container and poured its contents on the wound. Blue light came from her fingers as she used her augment to tug and push the water, gently cleaning the sides of the ugly wound. The broken bones appeared, and then the flesh beneath. Finally, the water flowed out to show the sealed heart, and the piece of shrapnel embedded behind it.

  “Can you get it out?” Siena asked.

  Grevin retrieved a pair of metal tongs and, with steady hands, pulled out the piece of metal. He then picked up a packet of herbs and a poultice and packed the wound. Finally, he replaced the bandage. When they were done, the girl seemed to sigh, her body relaxing.

  “How did you do that?” Grevin asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

  Siena knew she should lie, and claim some sort of mech. Instead, she raised her chin. “I’m an augment.”

  Her words drew scowls and muttered curses. Several drew back in anger and revulsion, as if she were a vile insect filled with disease. A few drew weapons and powered them up.

  She clenched her fists as they began to shout.

  “She is an abomination!”

  “She should be destroyed!”

  Inary rounded on the speakers. “The Empire has told us that augmented humans are forbidden, that they cannot be created. This is the same Empire that betrayed our entire family, and killed us in a vain hope to destroy a criminal. They slaughtered our village and did not even bother to send someone to offer assistance. They don’t care about us, yet this human girl has healed one of our own.”

  “She’s still just a human,” a voice called.

  “The krey killed our family,” Inary snarled. “And a human is willing to save our lives. Think what you will, but I’m going to trust the one that shows a measure of honor.”

  She spun a slow circle, her unflinching gaze daring anyone to oppose her words. They lowered their eyes or turned away. But Siena noticed that most were nodding in agreement, especially the younger dakorians.

  Siena stood and caught Inary’s eye, thanking her with a look. “Is there anyone else as bad as Eldeza?”

  “A few,” Grevin said, rising to his feet.

  “Stop!”

  A gray-horned elder burst into the cave and grabbed Siena by the arm, yanking her out of the chamber. Weary from using her augments, Siena fell into the dirt. She fought to rise, but the dakorian kicked her in the chest. She cried out as her ribs cracked.

  “Worrek.” Inary grabbed the elder and yanked him back before he could strike again. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “This slave is an insect,” the dakorian bellowed. “Every calamity we have faced is because of her. She is a curse!”

  Siena lay on her back, groaning as he pushed her healing augment into her cracked ribs. The pain gradually lessoned, but her vision swirled. Inary stepped between her and the elder, who straightened to his full stature.

  “I am the sole surviving elder of family Duveq,” he shouted at Inary. “You have no right to stand between me and the slave.”

  “She just saved Eldeza,” Inary shot back. “You would kill her for that?”

  “I would kill her for what she is,” Worrek snarled. “Now move.”

  “No.”

  “Move, or I will have you moved,” Worrek snapped.

  “No.”

  “Grevin, get this traitor out of my way.”

  Grevin didn’t move. Neither did anyone else. Siena held her chest as she came to her feet. Worrek whirled to face Grevin, who just shook his head. Others around him did the same, and although there was some hesitation, not one dakorian stepped forward to join him.

  “Have you forgotten your duty?” he shrieked. “We are dakorians, soldiers and warriors. We do not ask help from a slave.”

  “You’d rather us die?” a dakorian Siena knew as Yeven demanded.

  “Better to die with honor than be healed by an abomination—”

  Inary’s knuckles struck Worrek in the face. The elder’s head rocked backward from the brutal impact, and he fell in a heap. When he recovered, he found Inary standing over him, her hands balled into fists and her chest heaving.

  “Say it again and I’ll kill you.” she said with deathly calm.

  “You would choose her over an elder of your own family?” Worrek looked up at Inary with hate-filled eyes.

  “That girl is my family,” she said. “Grevin, get him out of here before I kill him. And don’t let him speak again.”

  Grevin approached and grabbed Worrek by the horn. “My apologies,” he said as he guided the elder to the edge of the landing. Grevin shoved him against the wall, and when he went to speak, Grevin struck him in the jaw. Not as hard as Inary had, but hard enough to stop him from speaking.

  “We’ve heard enough of your vile words,” Grevin said.

  Still defiant, the elder straightened. “We should take their ship and go,” Worrek shouted. “They’re just slaves.”

  “Still your tongue, Worrek,” Inary said. “Siena and the others are friends. We’re not going to steal their ship.”

  “Dakorians are not friends with humans,” the grayhorn growled. “Do you defy every tradition—”

  “What traditions?” Inary exploded, rising to face him. “Our village is in ruins. There’s nothing left but graves and ash. I say we go with Siena and join House Bright’Lor. There’s nothing left for us here.”

  “Abandon Rebor?” Worrek’s eyes bulged. “Are you mad? This is our home.”

  “Anyone that wants to stay with our elder is welcome to stay,” Inary said. “The rest of you, start carrying the wounded to the ship. It’s time to leave.”

  Grevin turned away from Worrek with a grunt of disgust. He entered the cave and exited with a dakorian that could not stand. One by one, the others followed his example, gathering the wounded and carrying them up the trail. Siena stood next to Inary as the dakorians silently filed away.

  “This is madness!” Worrek bellowed. “You would leave our home? Our family has been on this island for a hundred generations! Our traditions must be kept alive!”

  “No tradition is worth a life,” Siena said.

  “You are just like Reklin,” Worrek snarled.

  “I could only hope to have his caliber,” Siena replied.

  Inary grunted in agreement. “Goodbye, Worrek.”

  Inary turned and walked away, leaving Worrek screaming at her back. His face turned red as he bellowed, his rage a helpless sputter. But not a single dakorian looked back as they departed.

  Siena shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

  “You.” Worrek rotated to face her, his eyes brimming with hatred and fury. “You have corrupted my entire family, but when you die, they will see the truth.”

  He lunged for Siena. Her ribs partially healed, Siena jumped back, narrowly escaping his clutches. He pursued with murderous intent, reaching for her throat. Siena scrambled backward to gain space and summoned her energy blade. The weapon poured into her grip, and she came to a halt, putting the blade to the dakorian’s chest to fix him in place.

  “Like it or not, I’m going to help your family,” she said.

  “I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” he shrieked. “You are an abomination!”

  He slapped the blade away and charged. Not wanting to kill him, she again retreated, but a hammer swung over her head and struck Worrek in the chest. The old dakorian fell back with a shout, mortally wounded.

  Inary lowered her hammer and looked down on the gasping dakorian. “I warned you not to call her that,” she said coldly.

  “You didn’t have to kill him for
me,” Siena said.

  “A dakorian without honor is no dakorian at all,” Inary replied.

  The dakorian stared up at her as his life faded. “This will be your undoing, Inary. You and your brother have doomed us all . . .”

  Worrek relaxed in death, his body going limp. Inary released a sigh and turned to Siena, who looked up at the towering soldier. The woman put her hammer on the ground and slowly lowered herself to one knee, bringing them to eye level.

  “Siena,” she said, “will you help me get my daughter back?”

  “You know I will.”

  “Then I give you my heart oath that I will never betray you.”

  Siena had never had a family, at least not the one she’d been born with. But as she looked into the eyes of Inary, she felt a sudden surge in her chest, like a portion of her heart had suddenly ballooned outward. It filled with a warm emotion that she’d only caught glimpses of with Kensen, Ero, and the other augments. But now it suffused her frame with such power that tears glistened on her cheeks.

  “I don’t care what it takes,” she said. “I’m not letting anyone have Mora.”

  Inary caught the back of her head and pulled her forward to kiss her on the forehead. “I know you will.”

  Inary stood and left. Siena’s gaze lingered on the body of Worrek, the elder that had tried to cling to tradition, even as his family moved forward. She’d felt guilt watching the two argue, but now she saw that the Duveq family leaving Rebor had started long before her arrival. She’d just been a catalyst for simmering tensions to break the surface. But as she turned away and followed the dakorians to the Crescent, she felt a gradual weight settle on her shoulders. Just like her team, the dakorians were putting their lives in her hands.

  She refused to fail them.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ero eyed the crate being unloaded by a group of slaves. Most crates used for cargo were flat and rectangular, the ubiquitous containers so common that they were cheaper than slave horg. But this container was unique, and was shaped like a dakorian.

  “What is it?” a slave asked.

  “Never seen anything like it,” another said.

  The slaves of Ilumidora crowded around the container, craning their necks to see. With their effort to identify Dragorn’s ally coming up empty, Ero was annoyed that they were performing the test in Ilumidora rather than at the City of Dawn, but Skorn had insisted on the human city. Under the watchful eye of several dakorians, four gravity-augmented humans floated the crate out of the city’s Gate and set it in the center of the square.

  “Get them back,” Ero said to the dakorians.

  The soldiers ordered the slaves to move away from the crate, ushering them back. Many had already taken to the roofs of nearby structures for a better vantage point, and curiosity swelled from the open windows and rooftops. Ero bent at the side of the crate and tapped the crystal. A small holo appeared above the crate, displaying a title and a description.

  External Synaptic All-Combat Construct.

  “Open it,” Ero said.

  Erlanex, who’d supervised the unloading, ordered the four gravity augments to lift the heavy crate so it rested on one end. He then entered the access code. A hiss of air came from the crate’s seals, and then the exterior of the crate began to fold. Tiny panels shifted and dropped, gradually revealing a statue of stone so black it seemed to absorb the light. A swell of awe came from the onlooking augments.

  Erlanex gave a low whistle of appreciation. “Do you have any idea how expensive this is?”

  “I prefer not to ask the cost of things I want,” Ero said.

  Erlanex snorted. “This is a prototype built by House Mor’Val. Most constructs are remotely operated, like the spider constructs used by krey in combat, or the hulks designed by House Jek’Orus. But this one makes a full copy of the operator’s synaptic nervous system and imprints it onto the construct.”

  “If I wanted to talk like that, I would have become an engineer,” Ero said. “Which I’m not.”

  Ero had never seen the engineer so excited, not even when they’d perfected the experimental chambers where they put the arriving slaves through the augmentation procedure. He was practically giddy.

  “Don’t you understand?” Erlanex stabbed a finger at the statue. “You will not operate the construct, you will become the construct.”

  “What’s the duration?”

  “When your mind is copied, it will put your body into a temporary stasis. If you don’t return within an hour, there will be cognitive defects.”

  “So I could be stuck as a tremendously powerful construct for the rest of my life?” Ero shrugged. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  Erlanex pointed to the statue’s footstool. “The construct is powered by a series of self-regenerating gravity spheres embedded in the base. They’re powerful, but within a few hours you would deteriorate. Death would follow.”

  Ero walked around the statue. “And it can be operated by a krey or a dakorian?”

  “Yes,” Erlanex said. “And since I know you’re going to ask, they are specifically built to not interface with a human consciousness.” He tapped his chin. “It’s too bad, really, because some of the humans have augments that draw power from exterior sources.”

  “So?” Ero asked.

  “So theoretically, they could become a construct and stay that way forever.”

  “How interesting.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is terrifying,” Erlanex said. “Who would want to give a slave such power?”

  Ero thought of Siena and grinned. Would the supreme augment be capable of defeating the construct? Probably not. The construct had as much power as a ship’s engine, all packed into the mind and body of an operator. He couldn’t wait to perform the test.

  Erlanex lovingly caressed the top of the crate. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Do you need a minute alone together?” Ero asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Erlanex flushed. “Let’s just get this set up.”

  “You sure?”

  Erlanex turned away and connected his holoview to the one built into the base of the dark statue. Holographic symbols, designs, and diagrams flowed upward around the statue as Erlanex set up the construct and prepared it for an operator. He’d argued, quite persuasively, that he should run the first test. But Ero had countered with a surprisingly articulate answer.

  “No.”

  Ero didn’t really care that Erlanex was the most qualified. The chance to operate a construct was just too much fun to pass up, and with the simmering tension with his brother, he wasn’t going to pass on the opportunity for a distraction.

  “We should be doing this at the City of Dawn,” Erlanex said, checking the power levels. “I don’t like so many people around.”

  “Skorn insisted,” Ero said.

  The crowd had swollen over the last few minutes, and Ero guessed there were now thousands gathered to watch the test. Most of the structures around the square were homes, but some were food stores and other shops. Skorn had decided to cut costs by having the slaves grow their own food, rather than purchase so many protein synthesizers, so the city would be fully self-sustaining when it was completed.

  “Could the test be dangerous to them?” Ero motioned to the humans.

  “Maybe.” Erlanex wasn’t paying attention. “There’s a three percent chance it detonates when it powers up.”

  “It can explode?” Ero frowned. “How big?”

  Erlanex shrugged. “It’s got enough power to level half this city.”

  “You mean it could kill half our augments?” Ero hissed.

  “Like I said, it’s only a three percent chance.”

  Ero turned to one of the dakorians—Rax, if Ero was not mistaken. “Get the augments back to work, and quietly clear the square.”

  “As you order,” the dakorian said.

  Rax barked orders to the other dakorians nearby, who then began to push the slaves out of the square. Ot
her soldiers helped, but none used weapons to force the slaves, a kindness that Ero appreciated.

  “If you want, you can leave the blast area and I’ll do the test,” Erlanex said.

  Ero grinned. “Nice try.”

  The engineer scowled. “I told you, this should be me. You don’t have the understanding or experience to operate such a—”

  “Calling me stupid is not going to convince me,” Ero said.

  “Would anything convince you to let me go first?”

  “No.”

  Erlanex grunted and went back to work.

  Ero watched the pure black of the statue gradually brighten and turn translucent. Light flowed like water, suffusing the material, increasing in intensity until it became blinding. Ero shielded his eyes. “Is this supposed to happen?”

  “I’m doing the power test,” Erlanex replied in an irritated tone. “I have to push it to full power here to make sure it doesn’t burn up when you decide to push it up there.”

  “What do you mean, up there?”

  Erlanex pointed skyward. “It’s a synaptic light construct, meaning it turns to pure light. You’ll be able to fly.”

  Ero looked to the clouds. “And you wonder why I want to go first.”

  Erlanex turned back to the holo, muttering under his breath, “He doesn’t know the first thing about engineering, and he wonders why I think he’s stupid . . .”

  Ero ignored the engineer. Erlanex was a surly krey, and would have probably been killed long ago if not for his brilliance. House Bright’Lor was fortunate to have such a gifted krey in the House.

  The statue became so bright that Ero had to shut his eyes and raise his hands. The few humans in the square did the same. Most were gone, but Ero spotted a few of the younger humans peeking out from windows and down side streets.

  The light abruptly faded, returning the statue to its disturbingly dark form. The only thing distinguishing it from a real statue were the eyes. Visceral and penetrating, the features of the statue were neither krey nor dakorian, but they conveyed a slumbering power that made Ero shiver in delight.