The Parallels E-Book

Keyla Damaer

• Herausgeber: Keyla Damaer
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

A militia officer on the hunt for a murderer.
A scientist with the key to humanity’s future.
A girl locked in a glass tank.

One seeking justice. One seeking fame. One seeking answers. With the galaxy on the brink of war, time is not on their side.

Join them in their battle for survival.

Leseprobe

Contents

Title Page

Prologue

1 - Halazar

2 - Morak

3 - Eleanor

4 - Halazar

5 - Salin

6 - Lanees

7 - Halazar

8 - Lanees

9 - Eleanor

10 - Salin

11 - Morak

12 - Halazar

13 - Eleanor

14 - Salin

15 - Lanees

16 - Halazar

17 - Morak

18 - Salin

19 - Halazar

20 - Lanees

21 - Eleanor

22 - Halazar

23 - Eleanor

24 - Halazar

25 - Morak

26 - Eleanor

27 - Salin

28 - Lanees

29 - Morak

Epilogue

Appendix A

Appendix B

Halazar

Notes

Guide

Cover

Contents

THE PARALLELS

BOOK ONE OF

by Keyla Damaer

https://keyladamaer.com

***

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or a used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. I really mean this. Totally not you.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorised use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express permission of the author.

I write in British English. Colour and leant aren’t typos. It’s the funny way Brits spell the words.

That said, even if several set of eyes looked for errors (aka horrors), and despite the great professional editing by Eanna, you may still find typos. Some kind souls have reached out to me to warn me about them, and I promptly corrected them. You can do the same here: https://keyladamaer.com/report-an-error

Other kind souls who had an opinion about the story have left reviews. I thank them all and you for snatching a copy of this story. Feel free to leave a short, honest review.

Cover art by Jeffrey Kosh

Copyright © 2020 Keyla Damaer

Second edition

All rights reserved.

***

To Shuren, for his infinite patience and unwavering support.

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”

Lao Tzu

Prologue

Air. It saturated her lungs, choking her.

Breathe!

It hurt at first, but the longer she tried, the better she could inhale and exhale.

Her slow awakening made it hard to focus on her blurry surroundings: a curved glass-wall confined her, and something kept her suspended in mid-air inside a massive, cylindrical jar. She tried to move her arms, but a wave of horror overcame her when she found electrodes attached to her naked body. They pierced her skin. How deep did they go and what was their purpose?

At least breathing caused no additional pain after a while.

A moving shadow.

What is that?

And then another one.

The electrodes limited the movements of her head while shadows kept moving within her peripheral view. One of them fell on her. It belonged to a woman in a white coat wearing round spectacles, her soft blonde curls framing her face. The woman examined something to the left of the tank, took notes on a tablet, and left, never resting her eyes on her, as if she weren’t even there. Perhaps, she was a doctor. She did behave like one.

Only when she tried to speak did she pay attention to the oxygen mask over her mouth.

Of course, that’s how they’re supplying oxygen to me. But I have no memory of breathing before.

If she had to be honest to herself, she had no memories at all before now. She was conscious of being a female and could name everything she had experienced: she could feel, see, and hear. But that was it; she didn’t even remember her name.

More confusion hit her when she gazed down at her naked body. Her breasts were those of a teenager; two peaches ready to drag attention to them.

How can I remember all this but not my own name?

She placed her palms on the glass of the tank. The surface felt smooth and cold to the touch, as expected. She knocked, hoping to get the doctor’s attention. Or someone else’s. No one showed up, though. She tried over and over again, but nothing happened. No one came to check on her.

Maybe they’re in another room. She would wait. Sooner or later, someone would tell her something.

Somehow, she knew she had time. She could wait.

And so she did.

Time went by. She fell asleep and woke up again, but no one wandered about anymore. No more shadows moved around, no white coats, no blonde scientist.

Where’s everyone gone?Have they abandoned me here?

Panic gripped her.

What if they’re all dead and I’m alone? What if someone attacked me and I’m surrounded by enemies?

She screamed inside the mask. Her fists pummelled the glass cage. Her heartbeat accelerated; it looked like her organ would explode inside her chest at any moment.

A weird taste assaulted her mouth. When she tried to spit it out, she couldn’t. Fear rose as a wave of dizziness overcame her. Her struggle increased until her muscles refused to work and the need for sleep intensified.

***

She flinched when she came around. The bulbs—the only source of illumination inside her tube—disturbed her vision, causing great discomfort to her eyes.

What happened?

Oh yes. She remembered now. She panicked when the thought of being left alone—or worse, imprisoned by enemies—occurred to her. And the machine responsible for the oxygen inside the tube had reacted to her erratic heart-rate with an automated safety procedure, sedating her. This was a self-sustaining lab.

But how do I know all these things?Am I alone? She had so many questions, but no one there to answer them.

‘You’re mistaken.’

Her heart missed a beat.

A woman’s voice. Where is it coming from?

Someone spoke to her. Maybe the blonde doctor she saw before? There could be a hidden communication device inside the tank. She wanted to talk back, but she couldn’t speak with the respirator over her mouth.

‘Don’t be stupid, Eleanor! You remember how to talk to me,’ the voice said.

No, I don’t. She couldn’t talk. How could she with a mask over her mouth?

Who’s Eleanor?

Whose voice was that? And how could she hear it in the first place?

‘Yes, you do. You’re talking to me right now. I can hear you the same way you do with me,’ the woman’s voice said. ‘You don’t remember my name … or yours. You are such a disappointment, Eleanor! TALK TO ME!’

The pain inside her head became excruciating. Soon, darkness and silence engulfed her once more.

***

When she woke up again, nothing had changed inside the room. With all the lights out but for the ones inside her tube, she couldn’t see anything but herself, the electrodes, the bulbs, and the tank. Without the pain inside her head, she rejoiced at being alone.

The voice has gone. Did I imagine it?

She must have because the doctor never spoke out loud. Despite her conclusion, her mind kept wondering and wondering.

Who’s Eleanor?Where’s everyone? Am I crazy?

She concluded that she must leave the tank and find out who she was and what was going on before going bonkers, especially if enemies surrounded her. When she moved her hands to remove the electrodes hindering her head’s movements, however, more doubts beset her.

Where does the feeling of being surrounded by enemies come from?

‘A good question, Eleanor. Why do you think you are surrounded by enemies?’

That voice again.

Wait a moment!

All this time, she had been thinking. How could the voice know what she was thinking?

‘Are you reading my mind?’ That truth struck her as something familiar. Were they telepaths?

‘No, I am sending smoke signals,’ the woman replied with sarcasm. ‘I refuse to work with you. You’re not worth my time,’ the voice concluded.

‘Who are you? Who am I? I have so many questions. I thought I was alone. Where are you? I want to—’

‘Will you stop it? This is not an interrogation. I have been trying to talk to you for hours. Your mind is useless!’ Eleanor could see the woman’s face inside her own head now as a projection from her own mind.

‘Jorelle. That’s your name’

And they were telepaths.

Eleanor’s lips curved up. She remembered something.

‘Yes, I’m Jorelle and you’re Eleanor. Now, stop prying inside my head or I’ll hurt you,’ she spat. ‘A little bit of pain can’t be too bad for you, can it?’

The discomfort at the back of Eleanor’s head exploded once again. Her smile died on her lips, turning into a grimace.

The pain increased, and visions of a burning city flashed into her mind, then faded into blackness. Darkness moulded into shapes. A face looking like Jorelle, but somehow different—perhaps a sibling—familiar visages, places, and unknown faces appeared and disappeared in her dreamlike visions. Then nothing.

1 - Halazar

MUTYA 10, 2493

The news of the explosion that caused the death of Plinn Corbol and his squad of twelve soldiers woke Halazar from an already restless sleep. According to the report she received, the commanding officer of Hydra Station, a tal of the Manderian militia, had gone down in a blaze of glory.

Halazar had served with him for only a few months, but she considered him a friend, even though he was her superior officer.

She threw away the bedsheets in a gesture of anger and frustration, but the mess of her room only added to her temper as her forty-five years of training forced her to leave her area clean and tidy. She gathered the blankets, made the bed, and took a quick hydrosonic shower.

Ten minutes later, she sat at the tactical console in operations—Ops—receiving a more detailed report from young Goa Norfit and thinking about what messages to send to the families of the victims.

Halazar glimpsed the curvy, grey-haired junior officer and couldn’t help comparing herself with the lower-ranked officer every time she saw her. She always coiffed her long hair in dainty braided styles, and her Manderian scales resembled alabaster. The cranial eyeridge above her red eyes highlighted her oval-shaped face. Goa represented everything Halazar had never been: in her standard dark-charcoal uniform—a straight-cut jacket with stand-up collar embroidered with gold buttons, tight blue trousers, grey metal toe cap hobnail boots, and her ripper gun—she was stunning.

The three silver pins designating her military rank1 of centur shone bright on her collar.

Halazar shook her head to focus on the woman’s report.

‘When Tal Corbol’s vehicle exploded, he was on his way to the space-port to return here after the conclusion of his planet-bound mission. The first report from the surface mentions a quick inspection of the wreckage and doesn’t exclude any possibilities. According to this,’ Goa sneered, ‘anything might have happened, a mechanical malfunction, sabotage, or a full-blown terrorist attack. The list of suspects is long, but merely circumstantial, in my opinion.’ The younger woman handed her a tablet containing the whole report.

Halazar gazed around her. There weren’t a lot of personnel on duty during the night shift, and they both spoke openly to the late tal. However, respecting the chain of command from tal to pal, from pal to centur, from centur to tesser, and all the way down to decur was part of their job as soldiers. Goa should keep opinions to herself, at least in public.

‘Let’s move to Tal Corbol’s office, shall we?’ Halazar led the way to the CO’s room with Goa following her. Once behind closed doors, she stared at her friend’s chair with longing, then turned again towards the Centur.

‘Goa, both Plinn and I agreed on certain ideas. Still, speaking like that in front of everyone is not safe. Before the Occupation, the Halden forbade concepts like individuals’ opinions. They imprisoned me for thinking.’

Goa shrugged. ‘I was born during the Five Years’ War, and the Halden was falling by then. I’m not afraid to speak my mind. And neither should you.’

That was not the point. Halazar wasn’t afraid either. That wasn’t a good time to speak her mind. She strode to the desk and took a seat, pointing at the chair across the table.

The junior officer sat down and crossed her legs.

Halazar told herself she shouldn’t forget that younger recruits had no idea what living in the times of the Halden meant.

‘I understand your position, but from now on, I’m asking you to think before you speak. Until someone else arrives to take Tal Corbol’s place, I have to assume command. It’s a responsibility I didn’t ask for but that comes with the job.’ Halazar leant forwards, resting her arms on the desk and crossing her hands. ‘Now, I applaud your honesty, but I want you to keep your personal opinions to yourself when you’re on duty. Unless we’re alone, you’re not supposed to express them. Your professional one will do.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Goa said, uncrossing her legs.

‘We’re alone now. No need to call me ma’am. I want to find out the truth about Plinn’s death. He was … my superior officer, but also—’

‘A friend,’ Goa said, cutting her off. ‘Yes, I miss him too. I served under him longer than you did. He was a kind person. With everyone, even the locals.’ The other woman shifted position again, this time placing her arms on the armrests.

Sadness washed over Halazar, and a bittersweet smile enlightened her face.

She should talk with Marin, the waitress at the Nanhat, and the mate of the late commanding officer. The news would devastate the woman.

Halazar took the tablet from Goa’s hands and read the list of suspects. Marin’s name showed up, of course, like all the people that Corbol had met in the last six months. Goa’s reaction at the report explained itself now.

‘Okay, this list isn’t useless. Let’s make the best of it. We start from here and remove the names that make no sense once we have a report with more details,’ she said.

‘Starting with your name?’

‘I suppose not. It will be the decision of whoever is in charge of the investigation to keep it there or remove it. For the time being, I’m the most suitable person to move on as I studied Crime Law and Deviance back in the day. Not a mandatory subject, but for a time I considered the military police as an option. And my professor was very thorough with his teaching.’ Halazar sighed. ‘Besides, I’m the highest-ranking officer present on the station at the moment.’

Goa nodded, then a chirp of the communication panel interrupted their conversation. A guard warned her that Tal Zamal Dortal from the militia HQ waited on comms to talk to her.

‘I’ll take it from here. Thank you,’ Halazar said on comms.

Goa stood and walked over to the door to leave, but Halazar stopped her. ‘Stay!’ She activated the screen on Plinn’s desk without waiting for the Centur to retake her seat.

An auburn-haired woman who looked older than her appeared on the screen, staring at Halazar with inquisitive eyes.

‘This is Tal Dortal speaking. We’ve received the report about the loss of Tal Plinn Corbol. We’re not sending anyone to take his place for the time being. You will do so. You’re also in charge of the investigation, but someone is coming to help with that,’ the woman said.

Someone to help her?

‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll arrange everything. Who’s coming?’

Dortal hesitated. ‘Agent Salin Makbar. He’ll be there in five hours.’

With that news, the weight of the world dropped on Halazar’s shoulders. Why were they sending an agent of the Draconian Order? What had the Secret Service got to do with the investigation into the death of a tal of the militia?

‘Understood. I’ll be waiting for him. I’m sure we can cooperate to find out the truth about this unfortunate event.’

Did she actually believe cooperation with the Draconians was possible?

‘Dortal out.’

‘What’s going on? Why are the Draconians getting involved?’ Goa blurted out.

Halazar had forgotten about her for a moment.

‘I don’t know, but you’d better keep your mouth shut while Makbar is here. Whatever the reason, he’ll observe everything.’

‘This doesn’t seem very different from what you said about the Halden.’ Goa crossed her arms. ‘Are they listening to us here now?’ Her eyes explored around.

‘That is a possibility. Now, let’s get back to business. We won’t find the truth by staying here arguing about the Draconian Order. Arrange an investigation team. I’ll see you all in meeting room one at 0700 hours,’ she said.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Goa replied, turning her back to her and leaving the office.

Plinn’s chair seemed bigger than ever now that she sat on it. It was only a sensation, but that didn’t change the dreadful response inside her chest.

***

‘So, based on what we have so far, what are our hypotheses?’ Halazar asked her investigation team. She sat uncomfortably in her chair, arms on the armrests, showing a calm she didn’t feel at all in her new commanding position.

Goa sat to her right. The other three members of the team sat across the oval, metallic table: Rhune Olpren, with the rank of tesser sat at her left. Milfo and Lurin, the two lower-ranking officers, took a seat respectively near Olpren and Goa.

‘The Federal Coalition could have sabotaged Corbol’s transport,’ Lurin speculated, his clenched fists seemingly glued to the table.

Lurin, the youngest member of the team, ranked decur, glared around with his flaming-red eyes. His square jaw and furrowed brow gave him the appearance of a seasoned warrior, but he was far from being one. Still, they needed young and strong recruits to grow up and gain experience.

He was a good addition to the team and Halazar appreciated Goa’s choices.

‘Yes, this could be the first of many attacks from the Federal Coalition, but it seems insignificant if you look at the big picture. If the Coalition wanted to create chaos, they wouldn’t kill just one of our tals and a bunch of soldiers going about Tau. They would aim at something bigger, like the station itself. Our war machine won’t stop because of the loss of a single team of soldiers. That’s not nice to hear, nor to say, but it’s a fact.’ Halazar paused to gaze around her, hiding her pain behind a mask of professionalism. ‘What else?’

‘Taurian terrorists,’ Milfo said, the oldest of the decurs, a twenty-year-old man with an obsession with terrorism. His graduation thesis at the Warfare Institute dealt with its history in the Manderian Directorate.

‘That’s a possibility we can’t exclude, but we haven’t seen a Taurian terrorist attack since the time Tal Kosset was commander of the station. Why would they start again now? Tal Corbol didn’t change Tal Kosset’s politics towards the locals. These people have been living in peace for several years. The newest generation, like our new generations, was born after the end of the chaos that reigned after our invasion. Tau is a peaceful member of the Manderian Directorate. We guarantee peace,’ Halazar responded.

‘But they wanted to be independent,’ Milfo insisted.

‘I’m not saying we can exclude the terrorists from the investigation. I’m just saying it seems improbable that these people would start trouble out of the blue. Maybe the Coalition wants us to believe terrorists are back on track against us. I’m not excluding that possibility either. What else?’ Her eyes turned towards Olpren, a slender twenty-one-year-old male that Corbol had promoted to the rank of tesser just before leaving the station for the last time. They had been teasing him all along for the way he sported his new rank pipes with pride.

‘A system failure on his transport.’ He lowered his eyes from her to the tablet. The fact he had mentioned that option didn’t surprise Halazar. He had lost his mother the same way in an accident.

‘Sure, and in that case, we want to find out what piece malfunctioned and where it came from, who managed maintenance, and so on. We don’t have the luxury to lose good soldiers this way.’

‘What about the Righteous?’ Olpren’s opal eyes shifted back to Halazar’s face. The gentle grey scales covering his visage hardened at the mention of the illegal political movement.

Halazar forced herself to smile at the suggestion. The Rightful Movement—and its followers, called the Righteous—was a hot subject, mostly a taboo.

‘Come on, Olpren! Director Cressel disbanded the Rightful Movement soon after taking power and ordered the execution of all its known members. They’re a figment of your imagination,’ said Milfo, saving her from replying.

‘Milfo, the Director disbanded the Rightful Movement indeed. That doesn’t mean there aren’t sympathisers. But what reasons would the Righteous have to kill Corbol? Besides, we still don’t know if it was an act of sabotage, but putting all these ideas on the table is a good start. They might be handy later on,’ Halazar intervened.

‘Or it could be something completely different we’re not yet aware of. Let’s not forget an agent of the Draconian Order is on his way here for an official mission. If they have another agent here, they didn’t want to blow his cover for a simple murder,’ Goa said, touching her chin with her left hand.

Halazar sighed, asking herself if putting Goa in charge of this investigation had been a good idea after all. The woman had a rebel nature, and putting her in direct contact with an agent of the Draconian Order might be a mistake. But she had a point there.

‘Okay, of course, there could be something the Draconians didn’t tell us. Still, let’s not waste time with conjectures. I want facts.’

‘What about a personal vendetta?’ Olpren leant on the table, hands crossed in front of him.

‘I’m not aware of any specific enemy Tal Corbol might have had, but we can’t exclude that possibility either.’ Halazar thought again about Marin, and then forced herself to focus on the meeting. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Would his wife have had any reason to kill him?’ Goa said.

Halazar stiffened. ‘I’ll take care of his family and friends. We can’t exclude anyone, of course. Is there anything else?’ she replied, ignoring her mother’s voice telling her she was making a mistake.

No one answered.

‘Goa, you’re going to Tau with Milfo and Lurin. Take with you all the engineers and the personnel you need. Examine the wreckage and talk with the locals, the people who saw Corbol during his last mission, then send me a detailed report.

‘Olpren, you’ll stay here with me and make enquiries with the residents of the station and the personnel. I want to find out the truth. We owe it to Tal Corbol and his family. You’re dismissed.’

Everyone left, but Halazar stayed a little longer in the room, pondering about Marin’s secret. Something that could not be filed into an official report, not with a Draconian agent on his way here. Not until she talked to Marin. But first, she had to send messages to the families of the victims, including Corbol’s widow.

***

Mutya 11, 2493

‘Greetings, acting Tal Meviz.’ Agent Salin Makbar arrived in the middle of the night without being announced. The olive scales of his face exposed to the artificial lights of her office highlighted his cocky expression. Aside from his head, his body was clad in black. He also wore the usual black gloves of the Draconians’ uniform. Even his eyes and hair were black.

He examined the office as if he could scan beyond the average capacity of Manderian vision.

Only then did he take a seat across from her desk; again, without asking permission.

He arrived sooner than expected and behaves as if he owns this station already. Technically, he outranks me if he plays the security card.

‘Greetings to you, Agent Makbar. I hope your trip to Hydra was pleasant enough, despite the grim reasons that bring you here,’ she greeted him back, smiling.

Makbar would be like a korilis’s2 thorn during the investigation: he was there to spy, not to help. However, she kept hoping for his collaboration. Innocent Manderians had died, and it was their duty to find out why and to punish the people responsible for their deaths.

‘Not quite. I get space-sick when travelling at warp speed,’ Makbar confessed, grinning.

‘I am sorry. If there is anything I can do to make you feel better, just let me know.’

She didn’t believe a word of what Makbar had said but kept smiling nonetheless. An agent of the Draconian Order never told the truth; had he actually been space-sick, he would never have admitted it. Not with her.

Never trust a spy!

‘Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to get back to business. I read the first report about the explosion, and the body of evidence is insufficient at the moment. A squad of engineers, scientists, and technicians is recovering the wreckage and what remains of the corpses. I’m eager to do anything in my power to guarantee the punishment of the people involved in this tragedy, whether they are Coalition collaborators or just distracted workers who did not do their job. I believe cooperation would guarantee the success of our mission,’ she said.

The Agent never took his eyes off her while she spoke, as if he were evaluating her. In all probability, he had read a copy of her personal file and was now comparing the information found there with what he saw.

‘Cooperation. Of course! So you have already restricted the possibilities to treason or technical mistake,’ Makbar said matter-of-factly.

She leant forwards. ‘Well, no. We’re also considering a terrorist attack. And there’s the possibility of a personal vendetta, but I’m not aware of any enemies Tal Corbol could have had. I’m not excluding any possibilities until I have something solid in my hands. If you would like to share whatever data you might have so far, I would appreciate it,’ she added while Makbar kept studying her.

‘Oh, I’m prepared to share with you all the data I have, acting Tal Meviz.’ The Agent paused and leaned forwards, placing his elbows on the desk. ‘And I expect you to do the same.’

She observed his black gloves, betting with herself his moves were intended to make her feel uncomfortable. Some people said spies wore gloves to not leave fingerprints anywhere, others said the agents did not want to touch anyone without protecting their scales. Halazar suspected that most of them would be supporters of the Rightful Movement if the Director hadn’t disbanded it.

‘By all means. Unless it’s classified data, I will share everything I have with you,’ she said while the Agent leant back on his chair, his gloved hands on the armrests.

‘I am not sure that would be enough, acting Tal.’

Halazar didn’t like the way he stressed the word acting. It implied a hidden threat. She had hoped to work with him, but it was unlikely she’ll get any cooperation from the Draconians.

‘If you’re asking me to spy on the militia for you, I’m afraid that isn’t possible. If a file is classified and you don’t have clearance to access it, then there’s a reason for that. Same as there’re reasons I don’t have clearance to access certain files of yours. It’s called the chain of command.’ Halazar wanted to make a point of the reasons behind her behaviour. ‘All I want is to arrest the culprits of this massacre and prevent them from causing further damage to our people.’ She handed the data strip with the reports to the Agent.

‘Oh, but we will stop them and you might take all the credit for it … Or not. It all depends on you, acting Tal Meviz.’ Makbar took the data strip from her.

‘I do not care about getting credit, Agent. I want to save Manderian lives,’ she blurted back.

‘That is very thoughtful of you, but you must understand there are lives that are … expendable.’

Halazar couldn’t believe her ears. Had he come to Hydra to tell her the obvious?

She shook her head. Justice was all that mattered to her. She had fought for it all her life and didn’t intend to stop now. ‘So, you would let other Manderians die because I won’t spy for you?’

‘Halazar,’ he said in an uncharacteristic way to address a stranger, ‘let’s face it. We are effective with our methods, which is why you’re asking for our help. I’ll give it gladly, in exchange for simple information. It is not a big deal, Tal Meviz.’

Was he trying to bribe her by offering her a promotion?

‘It sounds good, doesn’t it? You can’t stay acting tal forever. A promotion—’ Makbar left the sentence unfinished.

No way she would accept that.

‘I don’t need a promotion. I’ll have one when and if I deserve it,’ she said, feeling outraged by the thought someone might believe such an offer could tempt her.

Makbar stood. ‘It is commendable how much you believe in the system, although you know very well why you have been denied a promotion until a certain family fell in disgrace. Have a good day, acting Tal Meviz!’ The Agent left the office, letting her taste the bitter flavour of her own bile.

She reminded herself that the Directorate was not the Halden. Things had changed. Still, she had no doubts now: Agent Makbar had read her file and about her ordeals with the rich Partaks.

2 - Morak

Time crawled between one meeting and the other. Transactions with the Toferite3 were always tricky. Morak didn’t even understand why anyone bothered to deal with them, the thieves. Some people admired them for their business noses, while others considered them mere scum of the galaxy. Morak fell into the second group.

‘Did you close the transaction?’ Admiral John Levits’s voice arrived at Morak Borton’s ears loud and clear through the comms.

Sitting in the bunk of his cramped quarters on the MakeItSo—a freighter belonging to an old acquaintance—Morak massaged his bald, uneven skull. The vehicle had been his residence for the past three weeks.

‘The Toferite representative asked for more money. I’m sure that bastard knows how much we need their cobaltium.’ Morak let go of the stress of endless days of talks with the alien. If only he could release his stress in other ways! But there was nothing entertaining to do while waiting for the next meeting on the mercenary vessel that hosted him. Anger and depression assaulted him at the same time.

‘We knew what we would be dealing with. The Toferites are excellent businessmen,’ Levits said.

‘I understand, but his requests are ridiculous,’ Morak said, standing up and pacing the cramped cabin assigned to him.

‘How ridiculous?’

Morak sighed. They needed to extract that cobaltium from the Mines of Deneb.

‘Three thousand tokens, besides what we already offered,’ he replied.

‘Accept the deal and give him ten entertainers to deliver at a location of his choice. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the present,’ Levits ordered.

Three thousand tokens and ten whores.

Lucky bastard!

Why did the Toferite get a reward he could only dream of? He was the one doing the hard work; he deserved a reward too.

‘As you wish, sir,’ Morak said, keeping his voice even.

‘Is there anything else?’

There was, but Morak didn’t want to talk about it over the comms. It could wait Levits’s arrival.

‘No, sir. What’s your ETA? That bitch Wang is growing impatient, and she doesn’t entertain me.’

‘I don’t care if you’re getting laid or not, Barton. Get me that deal done by tomorrow when I get to the rendezvous point. Levits out!’

***

Since the smugglers didn’t want guests on the bridge, the only way Morak could talk to Li Wang, the human-Maian woman who owned the ship, was stopping her in the kitchenette. Li consumed a great deal of a human beverage called coffee. If she wasn’t in the galley now, she would get there sooner or later.

Climbing up a ladder from the quarters’ level, Morak reached the main hallway. He peeked to the left, where the bridge was located, but the door was shut. Heading to his right, he entered the kitchenette.

Instead of the hybrid, he found Pérez, the human second-in-command, a broad-shouldered male with a dark pigmentation.

Rumour had it that Pérez and Wang were having an affair, but Morak wasn’t jealous. He was willing to share.

‘Did you talk with your boss?’ Pérez picked a bottle of a brownish liquid from the cabinet.

Rum. It smelled rancid.

‘I did. Once I meet with the Toferite representative for another round of talks, we’re free to go. I scheduled the next encounter in forty-five minutes time. Be ready for him.’

In that instant, Wang walked in and went over the synthesiser to get her usual mug of hot, black coffee.

That body cries out to be fucked! Morak’s eyes went from the curves of the hybrid’s cleavage to the plump thighs revealed by her tight outfit, then moved to her fleshy lips, imagining the wonders they could impart.

It had been a long time since he had humped a Maian female, and Li Wang was the closest thing to it. Her human traits didn’t fizzle out her Maian ones; the bald, see-through skull revealed the two hemispheres of her brain, the most obvious trait to identify one of his species. That and the absence of hair. Maians4 were completely bald. The presence of eyebrows on Wang’s face was off-putting, but Morak didn’t need to look at her face to fuck her.

‘I must remember that making a deal with you is an inconvenience, Barton. We’ve been stuck with you for days. Even Sneak is becoming grumpy,’ Wang said.

Sneak, another Toferite bastard.

‘Enlighten me, was there ever a time when Sneak wasn’t grumpy?’ he asked, raising his hairless eyebrows.

Pérez smirked, but said nothing.

‘Probably not,’ she replied, grinning.

‘Tell him to stay put. I’m paying you a lot of tokens for this piece of junk, and I’m not even getting any entertainment.’ Once again, he eyed Wang’s curves. ‘Tell Sneak I’ll make him watch. I wouldn’t mind.’

Pérez swore under his breath.

‘As the old human saying goes, your hand is your friend.’ Wang sashayed away, pushing Pérez out—the woman with her coffee in her hands, the man with his bottle of rum.

‘You’re not getting laid, Barty.’

Jorelle’s voice. What was she doing there? She should be on Rigel Prime.

Surprised, he turned his gaze towards the door. She stood there, peeking in and giggling as if she were playing some sort of game. Too distracted by Wang’s body, he hadn’t heard the popping sound Augments made when orbing from one place to another.

Crazy Augments! They appeared and disappeared whenever they wanted, and uninvited too.

‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ he said exasperated.

I told her a thousand times not to call me Barty!

‘I’m masking my life signs, silly,’ she said, strutting in. ‘And if you don’t want me to read your thoughts, try not to think out loud. It’s like being forced to hear cats fart on the couch of my living room.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Besides, if I’m so fooking crazy, why don’t you fooking fix me?’ she said, wiggling her hips as she neared him.

Morak kept his expression straight, but he knew Jorelle could read how much the offer tempted him.

Levits had told him women would get him into trouble one day or another, but he was too addicted to sex to be hassled about his boss’s opinion. Shagging was the only way to chill out while doing Levits’s dirty job. But Jorelle was just playing with him.

‘I know you want it, Barty!’ Jorelle insisted, moving in fast and caressing his chest with her index finger.

‘Why are you here?’ He ignored his physical reaction to her touch, his long tunic hiding his arousal.

Jorelle shrugged. ‘I thought you wanted more data about the awakening of the Augment LEN0R. I bet you’ll find a report from Larson as soon as you get off this heap of metal.’ She batted her short eyelashes at him.

‘I bet I will, which makes your trip here useless. Get back to Rigel. Larson will need you.’

Jorelle rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t need to be at the lab to help Larson with that tiny thing. I’m telling you, she’s a waste of time. She didn’t even remember we’re telepaths.’ She brushed back her long, dark hair with a quick gesture.

‘No wonder, eggs aren’t aware of their abilities when they wake up. It’s your duty to test the clone with Larson and see if it’s defective like the others.’

‘I told you, she’s a waste of time,’ Jorelle said, drawing her finger across her throat as if slitting it.

‘Your place is not to judge its performance, but to test it. Now, get out of here before that Sneak finds out something is fishy here.’

‘You’re a disappointment, as usual, Barty.’

This time, the distinctive popping sound of her orbing out was loud and clear.

***

The short Toferite representative massaged the holes he had instead of ears. These aliens looked like wizened, disfigured humanoids, like someone in their eighties when they’re eight. Ugly to say the least, in Morak’s opinion. And their skin reminded him of rotten, wrinkled flesh. Just as disgusting as the real thing.

When standing in front of the businessman, he had no choice but to gaze down to meet his eyes.

They had another endless meeting—the Toferite pretended for a while his offer dissatisfied him—and all along Morak thought what a shame it was to lose that cargo of entertainers.

Only once they had signed the contract and the representative left the MakeItSo did Morak take a deep breath of relief.

They had the means to continue their experiments with the Augments. If only they could control the president of the Federal Council, their lives wouldn’t be so hard. Covering Bureau 42’s operations was difficult with Federal Coalition Security putting its nose where it shouldn’t be. Every time they did, the agency had to use an Augment to atomise them.

And the Augments were always trouble.

The MakeItSo left him at Astral Station, long before Levits arrived. As he boarded the mushroom-shaped vessel, Morak chuckled. He had time to finally get some required and deserved entertainment. He knew a girl who lived on Astral who would be happy to see his tokens again.

***

Levits caught up with Morak at the office arranged for them during their sojourn on the station.

‘Good to see you, Admiral Levits.’ He saluted, standing and bowing his head. Being a civilian, Morak didn’t have to use the military salute to greet his employer, but Levits liked to think of everyone working for him as military personnel.

‘Is the room clean?’ the Admiral asked.

‘Yes, sir. I scanned it for bugs when I arrived, but our standard scrambler is in place, just in case,’ Morak said.

‘Very well, then. Let’s start. What do we have?’ Levits sat at the head of the table.

Morak chose the seat to the Levits’s right.

His boss loved being in power. No wonder the idea to create the inhibitor came from him.

‘Doctor Lanees Leicester, thirty-three-year-old human female. Graduated in bioengineering, biology, and genetics at Nova Paris University on Kastra II at twenty-one. Married to Matthew Grafton, a successful antiquarian. Human as well. They have a child, a boy of eleven, named Robert Loris.

‘She has been working on a project called Regeneration for the past eighteen months. Doctor Mirna Bakula invited you to the conference they’ll hold on Kastra II in three days. Rumours have it that Leicester thinks the Internal Bioethics Board will oppose her project. She is looking for an investor.’

‘She is seeking fame. Scientists.’ Levits shrugged. ‘They all crave to be remembered for saving the day. I’ve read the invitation. Leicester claims her medical research project will be able to eradicate the Giacarta Syndrome,’ Levits said. The man enjoyed testing him. He did that with everyone though.

‘Yes, they want fame, but from the intel I got, someone says her solution for that syndrome can also heal wounds. Any kind of wound. Imagine soldiers recovering instantly from wounds during a battle … and I bet she’d sell us her research without a second thought about moral implications. Besides, we don’t have to tell her how we would use it.’ Morak smirked.

‘Well, I hope we aren’t wasting our time there. We need to settle our new lab on Deneb. The experiments on the last Augments were a failure. We lost the whole lab, with all the DNA samples and one of our best scientists. Get this Leicester on your side. If she wants a job, give her one!’

Straight to the point as usual.

‘Her husband is off-world for a week; that leaves me a few days to work on her,’ Morak explained as he considered ways to seduce the human female to their side and into his bed.

The Admiral leant back, grinning. ‘I know that look. You have something in mind. I’m not sure I like it.’

Morak leant forwards, staring straight into his boss’s eyes. ‘We have a rather young and ambitious woman. Smart, attractive, and alone. Her husband is never home and is older than her. During the last year, Mr Grafton spent ten days on Kastra II. Of course I have a plan, sir,’ he went on with his reasoning.

‘Good. You always have a plan. Make sure it works and that you don’t screw up at the last minute just to have fun. Your job comes first. Now, let’s get back to business. Tell me more of the Toferite deal.’

Morak studied his boss for a moment.

Did he have doubts about him and his abilities to get what he wanted? Morak had never failed him so far.

‘It took me a lot of time to get the deal signed,’ Morak said, crossing his legs under the table. ‘Those Toferites are greedy. Despite the cargo I offered them as a sign of our friendship, they’ll rob us of a substantial amount of money for the next ten years. After that, if we don’t deplete the mine, the colony becomes our property,’ said Morak.

He thought of that cargo filled with slaves and all that money.

‘Money is not an issue, Morak. The President signed the Patriot Bill: there is plenty of money to use for defence. She doesn’t have to know we’re using most of that money for war,’ Levits said, smiling.

Morak widened his eyes. ‘You were in London, sir?’

Levits grinned. ‘I needed to push the Council to vote. The Lyrans5 got in the way, but the ballot was favourable and we have the money now. I’ll divert most to Bureau 42, as usual, and you’ll make sure our augmented army is strong again. If we let the Council take over, the Federal Coalition is doomed to fall in the hands of the Manderian Directorate.’ Levits rubbed his chin.

He still can’t forget when Cressel and Rogar sacked us and kicked his ass off Mander Prime.

‘Nevertheless, I think we should use one of those Augments with special mental abilities. They can influence people,’ Morak said.

‘I’m afraid that was never an option. First, all the eggs of that batch are dead. We only have one subject capable of mind-controlling someone, but—and here we go with the second issue—I’ve been reluctant to try again with this kind of experiment. You can’t control someone who can influence your will with just a thought. That kind of manipulation is too dangerous. What would happen if one of them became like Ryma Waters?’ Admiral Levits wrinkled his nose.

He’s disgusted. Is he aware of how much Ryma likes me? Unlike Jorelle, she used to play for real fun, not just to tease.

‘Ryma Waters is defective,’ he replied.

‘That’s the excuse of the scientist who created her. All Augments are defective, one way or another. Their DNA is messed up; what would you expect?’ Levits shook his head.

His boss had a point, but they needed the Augments to win against the Manderians. With their superior strength and their various powers, they were the perfect weapon to win a war. Sure, Ryma was messed up badly—DNA manipulation played with people’s brains on more than one level—but not everyone was as uncontrollable as her.

‘Using them will always be a risk, sir.’

Levits leaned forwards, his elbows on the desk. ‘It’s a risk we have to take if we want to destroy the Manderian Directorate. We were helping them recover from the war—a war they had caused—and become members of the FC; to live in peace together. They cheated.’

And you didn’t see it coming. Yeah, the way you lost burns, Morak thought.

‘It’s pointless to talk about this now,’ Levits said. He continued changing the subject. ‘So, the deal with the Toferite is closed. Is there anything else to report?’

‘Actually, yes. I had a visitor when I was on the MakeItSo. Jorelle came by.’

Levits’s eyebrows rose.

‘She popped out of nowhere and with no warning, as usual. She reported the awakening of the Augment LEN0R. Larson had already sent a report about it, but Jorelle felt the need to pay me a visit anyway.’

‘Did she say anything relevant to us, or just her usual babble?’ The Admiral rubbed his eyes. Dark circles lay under them.

‘She complained about her own mission. Training a failed experiment is a waste of her time, time she could spend doing something better,’ Morak explained.

Levits shrugged. ‘Like I said, her usual nonsense. She would spend her time making trouble. We must eliminate her. She is a liability. Tell Larson to off her, once the clone is ready to fly on its own.’

‘As you wish, sir.’

3 - Eleanor

The electrodes went deep inside Eleanor’s skin, causing her pain. Only after a while did she get used to them and the discomfort turned into a minor itching. Many times the blonde doctor approached the tank, took notes on a tablet, and left. She never looked down at her—Eleanor might just as well not even have been there. In a way, that lifted her spirits because at least they hadn’t abandoned her. Still, the woman’s behaviour hurt her feelings.

‘If only I knew how long I’ve been here!’

But she couldn’t count the minutes between her naps. She had no idea for how long she remained inside the tank until, one day, the doctor released her from the restraints by pushing some buttons on the glass container.

Eleanor anticipated to be in pain when the electrodes retracted. Unexpectedly, she was relieved. She turned her head and moved all her limbs. Those simple actions produced a grin on her face, giving her a sense of freedom, albeit limited by the space of the tank.

‘I can move.’

A few seconds spent twisting and turning her body exhausted her. It was like her muscles couldn’t handle the strain of a few movements.

The doctor tapped something on the tank itself and helped her sit when the glass slid to the side.

Eleanor tried to talk, but only hoarse, scary sounds came out of her mouth.

‘Why can’t I talk?’

The woman grabbed her chin and inspected her face. While the doctor nodded and added more notes to the tablet, Eleanor detected her reflection on the gloss cabinet on the other side of the room. Her short, dark-brown hair surrounded a little oval face from where brown eyes sparkled, shading her prominent nose and tiny mouth. Despite her initial surprise at seeing herself for the first time, that was her own face. How she knew that remained a mystery.

Only then did Eleanor glimpse her naked body. Her face grew hot, but the woman didn’t show any sign of seeing her embarrassment. Instead, she showed her the tablet, where a human silhouette exercised.

Eleanor asked herself why the doctor didn’t simply talk to her.

At that point, she tried to talk again, clearing her voice. ‘Can I have something to wear, please?’ she asked, relieved she could mutter decent sounds. The doctor walked to a cabinet and chose a green tracksuit in Eleanor’s size. While putting it on with the woman’s help, she eyed stains of various colours on the clothing—from red to black—as if someone had used it already, but it smelled of lavender as if they had washed it recently.

Eleanor sighed, but rejoiced at not being naked anymore, still marvelling at how odd it was the woman owned a used garment her exact size.

‘Maybe I wore it before, but I don’t recall it yet.’

Her days of intense physical training with the help of the woman began that day, and, after a while, she walked on her own without falling like a stringless puppet. But the doctor never spoke to her, much to Eleanor’s bewilderment.

The only person she talked to, Jorelle, despised her for unknown reasons.

Because of her solitude and of Jorelle’s attitude towards her, Eleanor moped often. Every time that happened she thought, ‘I’m relieved to be free from feeding tubes. Even though I can’t leave the lab, I’m not trapped in a tank anymore. I can eat, drink, talk, move around without help. My whole life is within these walls, but I’m alive, despite Jorelle’s attempts to humiliate me, make me feel miserable, useless, hopeless, and inept.’

***

‘You’re too slow, too stupid, too weak, and too human to be an Augment. The last of a long list of failed experiments,’ Jorelle repeated to her over and over again during their telepathic encounters.

‘Yet here I am: a defective Augment, but an Augment nonetheless.’

Jorelle’s words didn’t put her down. Knowing she was the last one, even of a list of failures, gave Eleanor strength and motivation to move on, to work harder, despite how much Jorelle tried to exasperate her.

Since she couldn’t hide her thoughts from the other Augment, Eleanor’s attitude caused violent reactions from Jorelle, and painful sessions for her.

That day, the augmented woman insisted on trying to activate the inhibitor—a mechanical device implanted at the back of Eleanor’s skull—to disable her abilities.

‘Why should we do that?’ Eleanor mentally asked while lying on her training bed. She always hoped to learn something useful about herself and her peers.

‘Why, why, why. Is that all you can say? You’re so boring. Do what I say and stop trying to undermine my job with your stupid questions!’

A sound clicked inside Eleanor’s head, an unexpected silence that made her gasp.

The humming sound of the lights and the machinery inside the lab echoed as the only audible sound.

‘I’m isolated.’

She sighed. In a way, not hearing Jorelle and knowing the Augment wouldn’t be able to hurt her made her smile, but there was something missing that resonated painfully.

‘I don’t understand what’s happening to me.’

Another click and the dreadful sensation of isolation disappeared.

‘How did it feel?’ Jorelle asked.

‘I’m not sure.’ Eleanor hesitated, trying to explain her experience. ‘I felt ... nothing,’ she said.

‘How so?’

Eleanor tried to hide her relief, despite the dreadful sensation of detachment and isolation from the abstract telepathic world she belonged to.

‘I see, you don’t like me, huh?’

‘I never said that, but you don’t treat me right. I’m trying to learn and—’

Eleanor screamed.

A sharp pain ran through her chest as a bolt of electricity spread to her limbs, contracting all her muscles. She collapsed convulsing.

When the spasm subsided, she lay face down on the floor, drooling.

A familiar scrawny face gazed back at her from the reflection of the shiny linoleum floor. She touched her lips, almost reacquainting herself with the stranger in the mirror-like surface and verifying it was really her.

Trying to catch her breath again, her eyes examined the room. Across from her, there was a charcoal-grey cabinet. Above the cabinet, used by the doctor to write whatever notes it recorded about her, medical screens showed symbols and figures Eleanor didn’t understand, but she thought the console monitored her vitals.

From her position, she glimpsed the only door to the room to the left of the screens.

‘Don’t even think about it, little bitch! You can’t escape from here!’ Jorelle’s voice boomed inside her head.

Eleanor caught her smirk with her mind’s eyes.

‘I don’t want to escape. I want to learn.’

Drifting out of her corporeal existence, she stood in an empty room with Jorelle and couldn’t hide her astonishment. Flabbergasted, Eleanor took a few steps, wandering around. A surreal fog muffled all sounds, even those of her footsteps. In a moment of unexpected, triumphant revelation, she understood everything she saw existed in an incorporeal world.

Jorelle’s dark hair hung in a tight ponytail wrapped from the top of her head. Tall and slender, she dominated the scene with her grey eyes that stood out like smoky quartz crystals. The powerful Augment narrowed her eyes then crossed her arms, sneering at her.

‘I could kill you right now.’

‘I’m sure you could, but something stops you,’ Eleanor replied with a confidence she didn’t feel.

‘Let’s talk about the inhibitor.’ Jorelle grunted, a reaction that confirmed Eleanor’s suspicions about Jorelle’s powers over her life, giving her some relief.