Haven of glass the augme.., p.1
Haven of Glass (The Augment War Book 3), page 1
HAVEN OF GLASS
©2024 BEN HALE
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CONTENTS
ALSO IN SERIES
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Thank you for reading Haven of Glass
ABOUT BEN HALE
ALSO IN SERIES
Books by Ben Hale in the Timeline of The Augmented
Listed in relative chronological order
—The Augmented—
Empire of Ashes
Rise of Renegades
Galaxy of Titans
—The Augment War—
Alliance of Outlaws
Beacon of War
Haven of Glass
Fleet of Fire
—The Age of Oracles—
The Rogue Mage
The Lost Mage
The Battle Mage
—The Shattered Soul—
The Fragment of Water
The Fragment of Shadow
The Fragment of Light
The Fragment of Fire
The Fragment of Mind
The Fragment of Power
—The Master Thief—
Jack of Thieves
Thief in the Myst
The God Thief
—The Second Draeken War—
Elseerian
The Gathering
Seven Days
The List Unseen
—The Warsworn—
The Flesh of War
The Age of War
The Heart of War
—The White Mage Saga—
Assassin's Blade (Short story prequel)
The Last Oracle
The Sword of Elseerian
Descent Unto Dark
Impact of the Fallen
The Forge of Light
To my family and friends,
Who believed
And to my wife,
Who is perfect
CHAPTER ONE
The council room crackled with tension as the gathered Alliance members watched live vids. It had been four days since Siena had recorded Imperial forces slaughtering young dakorians headed for basic training, and the fallout was still spreading. Dakorians across the galaxy were in an uproar, demanding answers. The Emperor had flatly denied the allegations and blamed a cabal of outlaws for fabricating the vid, but many believed it was real. One of the vids showed a riot where dakorians separatists were clashing with Imperial soldiers. Even on mute, the vid was brutal.
Around the table were most of the members of their makeshift alliance. All were arguing, but Siena was just grateful they could share the room without trying to kill each other. They were heads of the most powerful outlaw clans in the Empire, and until recently, they had been hated rivals. But that was before Ero had brought them together and before Siena had proven that the Emperor was killing new military recruits and replacing them with splicers. Siena still shuddered at the idea of genetically modified dakorians. She’d augmented dakorians, but this was different. Splicers were more like drones than soldiers, and they had no soul.
They were on the Hope, Visika’s new flagship for the Burning Ghosts, in a long council room with a view overlooking the streaking stars. The ship was still under construction, and the council room smelled of seracrete and oil. Holo projectors lined the two ends of the room, with a much larger projector in the center of the round table. For the flagship of the most feared criminal operation in the Empire, it felt remarkably like a military vessel. Officers darted in and out, bringing hushed updates to Visika or to the Alliance members watching the vid.
To Siena’s surprise, Visika had permitted council members to bring aides and advisors. They might be under heavy guard and restricted to one section of the ship, but it showed a measure of trust. In the past, members of rival criminal organizations would have been viewed as a threat. Against all odds, the disparate group of enemies were displaying signs of unity.
“No response from Imperial military command,” Ravel said, glancing to Siena. “You think they will side with the Emperor?”
Gray eyed and from a destroyed House, Ravel Aly’Ara was a member of the Titans, the small and secretive group that recorded and published corruption within the Empire. It was a highly dangerous occupation, but one made easier by Ravel’s shapeshifting ability. Siena had helped her escape an enemy once and believed she could be trusted.
“The military probably doesn’t know what to think,” Siena said.
“We’ve got a new beamcast.” Visika caught the signal from her personal cortex and tossed it into the cluttered series of holos in the middle of the room. “Looks like the Ossinarium has convened on Rebor.”
The dakorians in the room recoiled in shock. Visika ignored the others, her attention fixed on the streaming vids, her expression tense. Visika was just eight feet tall, short by dakorian standards, but her five curving horns resembled a crown, giving her the nickname “the Ghost Queen.” Like the rest of her race, she had a bone exoskeleton that extended into spikes at her elbows and shoulders. She was a bloodwall, so her genome had been perfected, meaning she never aged and her healing factor was high. But she had risen among the elite of the elite to become a Bloodblade, one of just a handful of Imperial assassins. Then she’d betrayed the Empire and established the Burning Ghosts, the most feared criminal organization in the galaxy. Black twisting tattoos marked her flesh in slicing curves and ugly splotches, each showing wounds she’d survived. Her very flesh was a reminder that attempts to kill her would lead to failure.
Despite the woman’s fearsome appearance and lethal reputation, Siena had come to know her as a friend. In the last few days, Siena had noticed a marked change in the Ghost Queen. Previously, she’d been a savage outcast desperate to survive. Now she was head of a new government.
“I don’t understand.” Tanor, the second human in the room, looked around in confusion. “What’s the Ossinarium?”
Tanor was head of the human rebellion and was by far the least popular member of the group. Older and balding, he was tall and fit, his blue eyes showing the wariness gained from enduring a lifetime of being hunted. He wore a clean uniform of simple gray, with a white stripe down the side. Perhaps now that the Emperor was killing dakorians, the human would not be viewed as a roak.
“A council of thirty-seven members culled from the nine dakorian clan worlds.” Visika never took her eyes from the vid. “Four representatives from each clan and a single elected head to lead the council.”
Reklin leaned over to Siena and added, “Only convened in times of calamity or war.”
“What will they do if they decide the vid is real?” Siena asked.
Siena read the worry in the big dakorian’s features. Was Reklin angry at what Siena had done in publishing the massacre vid? It felt strange to be at odds with the former soldier.
Reklin was over ten feet tall, with a broad frame and powerful build. A litany of scars dotted his flesh, while his horns were severed. Traditionally, horns marked the status of the warlike race, and to be hornless should have been devastating, if he wasn’t an outlaw. His exoskeleton was turning gray, marking his age. He had the hilt of an energy sunderblade extending above his back and a stocky flak-launcher on his hip.
From across the table, Ero Bright’Lor poured himself a new glass of drey and put his boots on the table. “Witnessing an Empire’s collapse is beautiful, don’t you think?”
Captain Hauntor, his boots also on the table, raised his own glass and clinked it with Ero, both chuckling as they drank. The two were an odd pair. Ero was a blue-eyed krey exiled from his own House and wore a clean-cut outfit of blue and white with a vibrant blue cloak. Ero was the one who had bought Siena when she was a slave and turned her into the supreme augment. He was Siena’s closest—if strangest—friend at the table.
Dressed in crimson and black, Captain Hauntor had a shifting holo obscuring his head and identity. The krey was the leader of the Hooks, second largest outlaw group in the Empire and known for brutal piracy. No one knew his real identity, and the holo now showed a smirking demon, complete with vibrant purple horns. The noble and the pirate. Siena wondered why they were friends.
“A thousand glint says the Emperor is assassinated by his own soldiers,” Mora crowed.
“Do you even have glint?” Ero asked.
“Not a shard,” Mora replied happily.
Seventeen-year-old Mora grinned and struck Ero in the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. Ero rubbed his shoulder and glared at Mora, but the girl was too excited to notice. Siena hid her smile. Of anyone in the room, Mora was the one Siena loved. They had been trapped for twelve years on a derelict ship, forcing Siena to raise the girl. Over time, Mora had become her sister. Now she was a young woman just beginning to control her genetic augmentation, a master with her heavy hullblade and a graduate of Iron Hill. Siena couldn’t be prouder.
“I’ve got something.” Luna got to her feet and tossed a new vid into the mix. “Looks like Emperor Dralik is sending an envoy of peace to the Ossinarium.”
“With military support?” Reklin asked.
“Just three ships—the Imperial ambassador and two security escorts. Ravel, can you confirm what I’m seeing?”
“On it,” Ravel said.
Others launched questions at the young human, but Luna didn’t seem to notice the attention as she manipulated invisible coding signals with her augmentation. Siena was pleased at the girl’s courage. She was just seventeen years old and wore a violet dress, a far cry from the slave grays she’d been raised in. She was a coding augment, capable of manipulating cortex codes with her mind. She’d been sent to assassinate Siena—and had nearly succeeded—but now she was solidly on their side.
Around the room it went. Jent Sent’Ith, the white-eyed krey who’d rescued Siena from the derelict ship where she’d spent twelve years. He’d hated her at first, but after Siena’s help, he’d gone from scrounging wrecks to leading the Scavengers.
Blackhorn, the legendary gladiator from the Bone Crucible. Siena had promised to help him find his kidnapped daughter.
Shatteron, former head of the Spinebreakers, recently freed from the prison planet of Exile.
Treggor, owner of Iron Hill and trainer of generations of young dakorians.
First Acolyte Aneroq, head of the Demonics outlaw clan.
Zeek, leader of the Red Rangers.
Not one cast Siena scornful looks or called her a slave. They were friends, family, and allies forged through desperation and combat, but bonded just the same. Most had first viewed her as little more than a beast, an animal of service, and now she’d earned their respect. As Siena watched the vid, she found a surge of pride swelling in her chest. It would make it that much harder to leave.
She, a former slave branded a rebel—still with the scar on her throat—had become leader of the Alliance. It seemed impossible, and yet as she looked back on the events that had built to this moment, she saw the tiny steps and decisions that had prepared her to lead. It was a fine legacy she could leave behind.
Even now, Siena could feel the sliver of pain in her bones, the ache that reminded her of the price of being the supreme augment. Every time she channeled power through her cells, it took its toll. It was only a matter of time until her body simply failed.
“It’s time for me to go.”
Her words were soft, hardly loud enough to pierce the tumult, and yet it stilled the room. All the side conversations came to a halt as the Alliance members looked to her in surprise and confusion.
“Go where?” Ero took his feet down from the table.
“Lumineia,” Siena said.
They stared at her, then Reklin shook his head. “Right now, Lumineia is the least of our problems.”
“I know,” Siena said. “But it will be soon. And if I don’t go now, we stand to lose everything.”
“What do you know?” Jent demanded, his white eyes narrowing.
Siena wrestled with how to explain her time augmentation, which allowed her to see moments of the future, but decided against it. They already considered her powerful—there was no need to share the full breadth of her abilities. Besides, it would be hard to explain something she didn’t completely understand herself.
“This conflict has been brewing since before I was born,” Siena began. “Or did you really think one vid would spark civil war?” She pointed to the vid of Imperial soldiers killing new recruits. “That vid didn’t start this unrest, it’s just the catalyst.”
Now she had their attention, and Visika straightened and folded her arms. An aid rushed through the door, “My queen,” he said. “I have a strange report from Harmony, and all signals have been severed—”
Visika went rigid. “How far are we from the Branek system?”
“Just over an hour,” the officer said. “It’s on our way to—”
“Set a course for Branek and get out.” The aid nodded, then retreated. Visika straightened and folded her arms. “What’s your point, Siena? Why is a hidden planet of augmented slaves important?”
Siena faced Visika. What she was about to do put everything in jeopardy, and success would hinge entirely on the Ghost Queen. Siena wished she’d had the courage to warn the woman, but their friendship was still new and tentative, and Siena didn’t know how such an overture would be received.
“We’ve been so busy talking about what the Emperor is doing, we haven’t stopped to ask why.” She let that sink in, her gaze sweeping the gathering. “So why does an Emperor secretly begin replacing his own soldiers?”
“Because he doesn’t trust them,” Reklin spoke like he’d just realized it.
“Exactly,” Siena said. “And then we have to ask, did he really think he could slaughter hundreds of thousands of young soldiers without getting noticed?” Now she had them thinking, and their smiles of the last hour—amusement at the Emperor’s clear rage—gradually turned to scowls. “Of course not,” Siena continued. “At some point his deception would become public, which means this fallout was expected. Perhaps earlier than he’d hoped, but still expected.”
“Why do we care?” Captain Hauntor rolled his hand cannon out and up before spinning it back into his thigh holster. “We’ve got him backed into a corner.”
Visika rounded on him. “If I see that cannon again, I’m going to toss it, and you, into a sun.”
Captain Hauntor raised his hands in mock surrender. “What’s gotten under your horns?”
Visika drew the plasma pistol from her side. “Right now? You.”
Other weapons appeared, with Jent putting his back to a wall and glaring at Siena like it was her fault. Reklin had activated his energy blade, and others were charging weapons. Ero was the only one who remained in his seat, his expression amused. Ignoring the rising tension, Siena used her personal cortex to activate the holo of the galaxy hovering in the center of the room and replaced it with an image of a dakorian sitting in a pilot’s chair, following by a statistic.
“Ravel and the Titans have been tracking dakorian movements for centuries, and in the last hundred years there’s been a marked uptick in soldiers learning engineering, metallurgy, even piloting. Although it’s still technically illegal for a dakorian to learn these trades, Ravel estimates that almost a quarter of soldiers now acquire such skills in their lifetime.”
