Humankind: Book 1 in the Invasion Day series

by LC Morgans

  She showered and changed into fresh combats, being sure to position her new rank badge perfectly over her chest. Kyra stood staring at her reflection in the mirror incredulously, until a knock on her door pulled her from her reverie. She took a deep breath, opened it and followed her usher through the maze of corridors to an elevator. Once inside, she could finally figure out where they were within The Tower. She could see the ruins of the old castle all around her as she took in the sights of the once iconic city, but now an intimidating Thrakorian stronghold was nestled within its walls. There were numerous underground bunkers, like where she’d just been in her guest room, but now she was heading into the clouds on a fast-moving course to the thirtieth floor.

  The view was astounding, and Kyra took it all in as much as she could in the short time she had before they’d stopped and were walking down a lavishly decorated corridor, and into an even more decadent office. A Thrakorian man stood waiting for her, and in a surprise move he hugged Kyra tightly after she saluted. The Besieger was shorter than most of the Thraks she’d met previously, but he also had a much kinder smile and it reached his eyes, which was something she’d rarely seen in others of his kind.

  “Colonel Millan, how wonderful to meet you,” he said, and indicated that she was to take a seat next to him at an intimate dining table in the opposite corner of the room. Sitting down to chat so informally felt strange, and Kyra knew she must look uncomfortable, because he smirked. “I’d like to get to know you a little before work commences on the information we procured from those rebels. Would you care to join me for some lunch?” the Besieger asked with a smile, and Kyra finally took the offered seat.

  “It’d be my honor, sir,” she answered, and watched in awe as servants started filing in with a meal that’d clearly been ready prepared. There were meats, fruits and vegetables the likes she’d never even seen before, and wine so clearly expensive they were each only given a mouthfuls worth to match the course. Kyra had never eaten anything like it, and savored every mouthful. “This looks amazing, I don’t think I’ve eaten this well in my entire life,” she added, and he smiled, as if he had hoped she’d react that way. The Besieger himself, it seemed, was taking great pleasure in treating the simple girl from the slums to a decadent meal, as though she might be more than just a guest in The Tower. The realization that she’d almost made it to the top, albeit as a guest, both delighted and scared her, and she ate her tiny portions of mouthwatering food in silence.

  “I’m sure you’ll get used to living this way in no time. After all, the human Gentry are privileged, pompous elitists with a strong sense of entitlement, and a desire for all the finer things this planet has to offer. You’ll have to learn to fit in—or lie through your teeth,” he answered with a gentle smile, and pushed a plate of sweet buns towards her. “Try one of these.” She did as he told her to, and groaned appreciatively, while he gave her that sly look again. “You fascinate me, Kyra. I want to know what on Earth created a mind as valuable as yours in this dreadful world I’ve come to call home. Will you let me figure you out? Will you give me the opportunity to see you in action, and tell me how you do it?”

  She felt hot under his intense gaze, and wondered for a moment if she needed to consider whether or not he was hitting on her. Kyra hadn’t done too well in the romance department, and sure hoped she wasn’t about to have to fend off the advances of an older and clearly very clever Thrakorian. He seemed intent on discovering how her mind worked though, rather than anything else.

  “Of course, sir. But I won’t be here long, surely?” she asked, and all he did was hum in reply. His response made Kyra suspect that her visit might not be for the few days she’d expected, and hoped she might get some information in the form of an official order, rather than the cryptic requests she’d had so far.

  “Please, call me Thrayke,” the Besieger told her when the next course had been delivered, and she shook her head no. It wasn’t protocol to converse so informally, let alone dare to call him by anything other than his title. “At least in privacy? It’s my given name after all, and only the few men above or of equal rank to me in the Thrakorian army ever call me by it. I will admit I’ve missed the sound of my name on a feminine tongue.”

  Kyra stopped eating and looked at him. She took a moment to really see the man before her and attempted to figure him out. He didn’t seem interested in her sexually, but his expression of longing seemed genuine enough. Thrayke was smaller than others she’d met, but absolutely more commanding than Gron or Forst. They’d been intimidating and scary, and she’d had to fight to see the softness lurking beneath their armor, but Thrayke had shown her that gentleness right from the start. He’d earned her respect because he’d shown an interest in her mind and skill, and had respected her regardless of her race. He was slowly winning her over without a show of dominance or power, and she appreciated the difference in tact.

  “Are you lonely, Thrayke?” she asked before she could stop herself, and wanted to die of embarrassment the second the words left her mouth.

  “Tremendously,” he answered, and his honesty startled her. “Don’t you get lonely, Kyra?”

  “Sometimes, but then I remember the days I spent with those who didn’t deserve my time, or those that no longer have a tomorrow to wake up to. I hold my head high and remember how lucky I am. All I ever wanted was to have a purpose and a cause to serve.” She grabbed another bun before the servants could take the basket away, and watched him absorb her words in apparent awe.

  “How are you so young? It’s as if you’ve lived a thousand lives, not just one,” he finally asked. “What an enigma you are.”

  They whiled away the next hour talking about all sorts, from politics to the state of the human race, from both before and after Invasion Day. When their meal was over it was time to go down to the control room and start analyzing hers and the Inquisitors’ work. Thrayke peered down at her as he pulled back her chair in a gentlemanly way, and she watched him intently.

  “Thank you for a wonderful meal, Thrayke,” she told him, and basked in the smile he gave her at hearing his name on her lips.

  “You are most welcome, Kyra. It was an absolute pleasure,” he answered, and then together they travelled down the elevator to the bustling computer suites below. Silence had descended along with them, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable, and was surprised by how relaxed she was around him.

  The room that’d been designated for their use was cramped and hot thanks to the numerous bodies inside, and a huge table stood in the center. It was shaped like an octagon, and Kyra followed Thrayke’s lead to stand at one edge. He reached down and activated the touch-sensitive computer system within, and quickly started pulling up the data. The team watched the tapes back in full, including the footage from the terminal, and then started picking apart each and every aspect of the raid, and the resulting intel from the two rebels.

  Days later, and after very little time to eat or rest thanks to the heavy workload, Kyra was released and given permission to take a break. She went straight to the bedroom that’d been given to her when she’d arrived, and crashed out on the bed. For the first time in a long while, she dreamt of King Kronus. He was reaching out to her through the thorns with a gentle smile and the same tender gaze, and when she was through them, Kyra found a feast-covered table awaiting her. When she tried to eat anything though, it turned to dust as she bit down, and soon she was coughing on the dryness.

  “If you want this, you have to earn it,” he told her, taking a bite of an exotic-looking fruit. Kyra watched as the juice dripped down his chin and he chewed on the soft, moist flesh. She reached forward and gathered the juice on her fingertip, but as she raised it to her mouth he grabbed her wrist harshly to stop her. “You’ve heard the stories,” Kronus said. “If you want this you have to choose. Do you keep your wit, intellect and freedom, or do you become my mindless slave? You can have anything you want as long as you surrender entirely, and I mean it.” He licked the juice from
her finger with a sly smile. “If you’re my property you’re to have no opinion, no thought of your own. You’re to do exactly as you're told, and when you’re told to do it. Only then will you be worthy enough of a seat at my table.”

  “No, that can’t be the only way?” she begged, trying to wrench her hand free from his mighty grasp. “I’ve figured you out. You’re not the scary monsters you’d have us believe, and you don’t want us to worship at your feet. There are holes in your propaganda, lies that are slowly unraveling. You’re race appreciates intellect and talent, it doesn’t admonish those with it.”

  “Appreciate it?” He laughed loudly, making clear fun of her foolishness. “It scares us, that’s why we keep those like you so close, so we can monitor you. Humans like you have been given your rewards not out of appreciation, but out of preservation. My people are so determined to rule your race entirely that we seek out those who have natural strengths and harness them for our own. What you think is your reward is simply another noose around your neck, and if you fail or abuse your gifts—that noose will be your undoing.” He laughed maniacally, and she began to cry.

  Kyra shot awake, and tried to stop herself from trembling. Her dreams were always fraught with her fears come to life inside her mind, but this time it seemed her subconscious had brought out more than just her doubts and fears, it’d completely opened her mind to truths she’d forced herself to ignore. She hadn’t ever seen the Thrakorian’s as puppeteers and oppressors before, but now her doubts were fully alive, and it scared the hell out of her to even consider they might be justified.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  The same human servant who’d escorted her to Thrayke’s office on the first day, woke Kyra early the next morning, and was clearly trying to hide her smirk when she answered the door looking disheveled and still half-asleep.

  “The Besieger would like you to join him for breakfast, Colonel,” she informed her, and Kyra nodded in acceptance. “I’ll wait here while you get ready.”

  After a shower, she felt much better, and soon her stomach was rumbling at the offering of another freshly prepared meal. She’d already started preferring the delicious home cooked dishes to the soldiers’ regular meals of rations. The meal substitutes in the shape of the power bars or smoothies she’d grown used to over the years in the army were off-putting in comparison. She followed the woman up in the elevator again, and straight into Thrayke’s office. As she crossed over the threshold, Kyra saw a table filled with wondrous treats and fresh fruit, and her dream quickly came back to her. She felt uneasy, and suddenly the idea of partaking in the meal before her seemed like a bad idea. Slavery was not on her agenda, not now, not ever. Although, Thrayke had never treated her as though he wanted that kind of relationship with her, so she felt torn.

  He welcomed her warmly, and began talking animatedly about all of the things they’d discovered, and new laws that had been implemented overnight following their success. His enthusiasm was infectious, and her mood had lifted before she’d even sat down. Kyra helped herself to sweet biscuits and fruit, and then had to try the fried eggs with bacon and cheese.

  “You’re first mission was by chance, but also a tremendous success. I bet you’re starting to wonder where you might possibly go from here?” he asked, and she suddenly found it hard to swallow the food in her dry mouth. Was this the moment he gave her the ultimatum like she’d dreamt of, or would he be stealthier in pursuing his target than the fictitious Kronus?

  “My guess is back to Alaska to complete my training?” she answered, and strangely found herself not wanting to go back. Kyra hated how mixed her feelings were towards her new life. It all seemed to be moving so fast. There were questions she had but daren’t ask—and they were haunting her so much it was sure to make her crazy.

  Kyra knew she was in too deep. Her mind wouldn’t stop questioning, or stop doubting, and she was sure it would get her into trouble sooner or later. There were parts of her that doubted the integrity of Kronus’ reign, as well as admired and served it. She worshipped and adored him like a good and loyal subject, while still questioning his motives and agenda in secret. Her friend had seemingly been left barren because of the Thrakorian regime, and yet she still couldn't bring herself to believe the worst in the beings that’d ruled them through kindness rather than oppression.

  “Surely you know by now you don’t still belong in training?” Thrayke asked, and Kyra stared down at her hands.

  “Perhaps, but I’m scared to ask what else might be available to me otherwise. I lost my chance to succeed before, and I don’t want to lose it again.”

  “You won’t,” he tried to assure her.

  “But what might I have to sacrifice first?” she had to ask the question, and still couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze.

  “To become an elite officer you must first prove yourself worthy, but to become Gentry? That’s a status afforded only to those so loyal to the crown that they are no longer one being, but part of a whole. If you accept it, you must willingly forgo friends, family, time for yourself and your basic needs,” he said, leaning closer. “But in doing so, you’ll open up a world of knowledge, rewards, limitless possibilities—the list goes on. If that’s something you can do, then accept. I can guarantee the day of reckoning will come, and you’d do best to ensure you’re on the winning side of the divide when it does.” The sinister promise came as a shock, but Kyra hoped he simply meant it as forewarning of potential changes ahead. Those humans in higher standings would surely fare better than those further down the pecking order in the event of further chaos to their current rule. Just like on Invasion Day when Silas’ family had been cared for, while she was left to die in the slums with her slovenly parents. She wondered if perhaps another cull might come, and knew she’d rather be where she was now than where she’d been last time.

  “But what price must I pay? Do I have to become a mindless soldier, or a forced subservient in order to attain my place among you and your Gentry? I cannot hide behind pretense or lies, I need you to tell me honestly,” Kyra said, and she could feel herself caving. “What do you want from me?”

  Thrayke seemed to respect that she was no longer interested in word games or politics. Playing nice had brought them here, but she needed answers or else she might just be tempted to walk away. His expression turned from that of a man looking upon a gift he admired, to one he craved.

  “Isn’t it obvious? I want you, Kyra.” He reached forward and took her hand in his. “I want you to be mine, but not at the cost of your freedom or your integrity. I want you to come to me willingly, and know that the rewards you are given are for your service, rather than my personal interests. I want you to accept this, and know there are no caveats.” Thrayke took the final badge she could ever wear from his pocket and handed it to her. “Your companionship is my reward, but I want it voluntarily, and I’m willing to wait. Until then, I’ll settle for us being friends. How does that sound?”

  Kyra stared down at the unthinkable rank in her hand. At only twenty-two she’d just been offered the rank of General, and knew she would likely be one of the youngest humans to ever have been awarded it. Thrayke clearly wanted her to stay, but seemed intent on there being no direct asking price for her promotion. She was happy to continue being his friend, but guessed his generosity and friendliness would be short-lived if she kept him waiting too long for more.

  “Have you been with human women before?” she asked, and flushed when he had to stifle his laughter. Thrayke quickly exercised control over his features, and grew serious again.

  “Yes, but not many, and not for a long time. I don’t have the same aversion to your race as some others of my kind do, and I’m willing to show you how much I care if you give me the opportunity. Don’t hide your naivety, Kyra. It’s part of the reason I find you so endearing,” he told her, and she tried her best to shake the unease in her gut. Her dream was still in her mind’s eye, haunting her and affecting her ability to make
a decision.

  “Very well, but I need time to get used to this, and to settle in if I’m to stay. Can you give me that?” she asked, and was relieved when he nodded.

  “I can give you anything you want, don’t you realize that by now?”

  “Of course I do, but what I need won’t come from your pocket, or be a gift thanks to your standing in the army. It’ll come from the kindness you’ve shown me, and the promises you’ve made. I need to trust in them,” she answered, and he suddenly sat up a little straighter. “I will never become your slave, or your mistress. I will be your friend and comrade, and we’ll see how things go from there. Is that acceptable?”

  “Absolutely, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way,” he replied with a satisfied smile.

  “I should’ve known the moment I climbed aboard that hovercraft to England that I wouldn’t leave again,” Kyra teased, and she swapped her old rank badge with the new one.

  “Even the most astute of minds miss the obvious at times,” he replied. “But what’s most important is that you embrace your destiny here and strive for greatness. It’s all yours for the taking, so do it.”

  ***

  Months of long days and short nights kept Kyra both busy and exhausted in the aftermath of her initial investigation into the rebel activity in L.A, but she’d already begun to love living and working in The Tower. After a short settling-in period and lots of adjustments to the formal and methodical working patterns, she was finally asked to work on cases of her own. There were both open and unsolved incidents for her to take a look at, and plenty of chances to decode data or hack into rebel computer systems, so she soon learned to thrive on the chaos rather than fear it. Hard work was good. It helped focus her mind and keep her thoughts from overwhelming her, and all the while she had her friendship with Thrayke that was blossoming in the background of her day-to-day workload.