by N. W. Harris
The Last Orphans, Book III
By N.W. Harris
The Last Orphans Series
Book 1: The Last Orphans
Book 2: The Harvest
Book 3: Enslaved
Book 4: Darkest Days
THIS book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
NO part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Enslaved
Copyright ©2015 Neil Harris
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by: Christian Bentulan
Typography by: Courtney Nuckels
Editing by: Cynthia Shepp
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To my friends and family in Jasper for a childhood that continues to inspire me today.
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Prologue
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
Acknowledgements
About the Author
“We just lost the entire fleet,” the young admiral squealed. “You’re asking me not to contact command?”
He paced the width of the control center, his polished white shoes clacking a rhythm that emphasized his hysteria. Sweat soaked through the armpits of his uniform, his frantic demeanor disgracing his rank and the entire officer corps. Athos resisted the urge to snatch him by his collar and give him a hard smack across his face to knock some sense into him.
“Those were not my words,” General Athos coolly replied, struggling to hide his disgust. “I’m simply asking you to take a moment. Evaluate the situation.”
He despised the corruption that made this child his equal in rank. Needing his support before approaching the Royals was insulting. Even worse, as long as the ship was in flight, the admiral was technically his superior.
While finding out what happened on the other ships was high on his list, Athos had formed a bigger plan the moment the Pegasus was hatches-locked and airborne. Contacting command didn’t need to happen just yet. The breach of protocol would be overlooked in light of his revolutionizing the way they harvested slaves. However, because the ship was off planet, he couldn’t make a move without the Pegasus’ commanding officer on his side.
The general had served the majority of his life and fought in more battles than he could remember. With every breath, he’d served Anu. He protected the home world from two invasion attempts and was instrumental in increasing the size of the empire, a rapid expansion paved with the blood of patriots and slave soldiers he’d recruited and trained. He even faced his brother in the rebellion and had helped destroy him and the entire rebel army. All before anyone had thought of cloning this whimpering creature pacing before him.
Athos glanced at the other officers, those seated at the curved control panel and stationed around the perimeter of the room. He noted the ones who appeared repulsed by their commander’s display. It was the steely eyed sailors, who’d likely come from lower rungs in society and endured the Orbital Academy, who would side with Athos if the admiral’s elimination were required. He personally knew the three at the helm—hardened sailors who’d delivered his warriors to battle in past campaigns.
Some of the other, weaker officers, whose cushy positions were bought by the overflow of a corrupt politician’s coffers, would do whatever it took to save their skins. He guessed only a few would actually defend the ship’s commander if the general tried to take over, especially with the wealth to be gained by supporting the general’s plan.
Sadly, there were a few of the types who’d blindly follow their chain of command, who only saw rank and obeyed the laws of military conduct to a fault. As much as he respected them, they’d have to be detained.
Returning his attention to the spoiled aristocrat, he indulged a fantasy of snapping his puny neck. He’d rise from his seat, take two steps toward the pathetic fool, and disarm him with a smile. A strike to his abdomen would make him lean forward. Then he’d reach over his shoulder and around the back of his head. With his hand cupping the coward’s chin, a little jerk would end his driveling. Athos and his soldiers could easily take control of the recruit ship. Then he could find out what went wrong with the harvest and implement his plan.
The admiral had been commissioned for only a decade, and he already had a command. It was a clear abuse of power. However, the general, unlike his long-dead brother, understood this sort of corruption was natural, even healthy, for the growth of the empire. There was no peaceful utopia to be had—a strong and free Anu would not exist without power-hungry politicians putting their clones before the rest of the citizens who worked for everything they achieved. Prior deviations from those ancient traditions had almost destroyed his people.
Athos glanced at the Shock Troop emblem on his breastplate. He didn’t scold himself for the aggressive thoughts—they’d kept him alive and were invaluable in battle. Pushing aside the violent fantasy, he reflected on the game at hand. He’d played by the rules for a long time, and he knew he could never go home if he broke them. He wasn’t a rebel like his brother—he was a soldier and, as much as he hated to admit it, a politician as his rank demanded. The situation could be manipulated without compromising his honor, though it would be far less satisfying.
The fleet had been decimated, a tragedy that needed acknowledgement. Many good soldiers perished, including the prime general and the fleet admiral. The prime general had been like a father to him. He’d served under him in battle when he was a field commander and Athos was a captain. Athos didn’t intend any disrespect toward the deceased, and he would avenge them if he found those responsible for the attacks. But the young admiral had yet to realize what the mishap could mean for the surviving ship.
Inherited to the SRS Pegasus, her officers, and her compliment of lower royalty and aristocrats who funded the ship’s operations and profited from her acquisitions was the entire crop of the planet passing beneath them. Athos had been working on a technology that would simplify the harvesting process, but
he hadn’t dreamed he might get a chance to field test it so soon.
Hoping his calm demeanor would infect the panicking admiral, Athos stood and nodded toward the image of Earth passing beneath the Pegasus. He walked toward the view screen, and the young man joined him.
“What do you see, Admiral?” General Athos spoke in a quiet voice, his back to the rest of the control room.
“I see chaos,” the admiral replied, his voice quieter though still anxious. “I see devastation and failure. No harvest has ever gone so wrong.”
On an equatorial orbit, the ship passed around the dark side of the planet into the sunlight once again. A column of smoke rose from the narrow strip of land connecting two large continents, flattening out in the atmosphere before being dissipated by the winds. Another recruit ship lay in ruins down there, her crew overrun and slaughtered.
It was an area the humans called Central America, not far from a blast crater caused by his ancestors in the distant past. Athos could make out the shape of the crater’s rim on the land, but most of it was underwater. The explosion had wiped the mega-fauna from the planet to pave the way for hominid production.
“This crop is the finest we’ve ever produced,” Athos continued in a quiet voice.
He clasped his hands behind his back and gazed at the screen with a distant expression, hoping to lead the admiral to realize his plan and at the same time make the young man believe the idea originated in his pathetic and inexperienced mind.
“All seven slave recruit ships were going to make more money and gain more glory off this one species than the last ten harvests combined.”
“Yes, but unless the rebellion is rising again and the rebels somehow got to this planet first, we underestimated the humans.” The admiral glanced over his shoulder at the control room with color rising in his cheeks. He was starting to realize how reprehensible his initial reaction had been.
“Some of the rebels may have survived. If so, they weren’t on all the ships. I’ve fought alongside the soldiers on this vessel and personally selected them to serve with me on this mission. I assure you, there are none more honorable.” Athos raised his brow. “And the humans are the most powerful weapon we’ve ever created.”
“Is it possible humans did this?” the admiral whispered, staring at the view screen.
“Anything is possible, but that’s what makes this species so promising. With proper programing, they have the capacity to crush our enemies. They could secure a stabilized growth Anu has not experienced since the early days of the empire.” Athos paused. “If only they can be controlled.”
“Clearly, they cannot,” the admiral replied, his eyes widening as if panic might overtake him once more.
“Perhaps they can,” Athos countered.
“We need to contact command and have them send assistance. We can’t do anything by ourselves.”
“Are you so certain?” The general rubbed his chin. “By the grace of the gods, whatever happened down there didn’t happen to us. This vessel has ten thousand slave recruits in her hold, most of them already programmed. They seem fully under our control.”
“Do not ask me to land this ship on that forsaken planet again, General.” The admiral pointed at the view screen, his expression growing firm. He knew he was in command as long as they weren’t on the ground. “I won’t jeopardize the Pegasus or her passengers.”
“I’m not suggesting you should,” Athos said calmly, gazing at the planet once more. “A commander must do what he feels is right.”
He knew the coward would take some coercion, but his weak personality promised he could be swayed.
“For argument’s sake,” he mused with a distant tone. “Imagine if we could get this harvest under control. You would be promoted to fleet admiral. Everyone on this ship would become the richest people on Anu. Your fame and fortune would be that which is reserved for the gods and heroes of legend.”
“More likely, we would all die with the effort,” the admiral replied. “We’d go down in history as the universe’s biggest idiots.”
“I’ve been at this a long time,” the general said, careful not to sound condescending. “I’ve seen a lot of young admirals grow frustrated and gray, never able to rise higher than the command of a single vessel.” He paused, letting each word soak in before proceeding.
“You have an older sister in line for your father’s position on the Council,” Athos pointed out. “Do you think you’ll ever see a higher rank than you currently hold?”
It was a rhetorical question. The aristocrat’s father had paid a rich man’s fortune for his son’s post, but money couldn’t raise him beyond this command. As etiquette required him to dine with the senior officers during the voyage from Anu to Earth, General Athos had learned a bit more about the admiral than he cared to. Now, however, he could see the payoff of this relative and sometimes nauseating intimacy.
The boy was a coward—that was for certain. However, his redeeming quality was he didn’t want to be. He was jealous of his older sister, who would inherit the major share of his family’s wealth and political power. The admiral had admitted to Athos that he was given command of the Pegasus because his father wanted to send him away from Anu. After a few too many glasses of wine, he had expressed he wished he could be more like the general, a self-made man. Athos looked over at him, trying to adopt as paternal an expression as he could muster. If this were his clone, he would’ve done the universe a favor and drowned him as a child.
The admiral looked at the general, conflict painting his face. The panic and terror in the young man’s eyes subsided, another emotion taking over. The admiral was afraid, no doubt, but as Athos suspected and as was the norm for his class, greed and ambition trumped all. He could see the admiral imagining the return home, riding on a golden float into the capital with a billion eyes straining to catch a glimpse of him, everyone shouting his name and throwing millions of the precious victory roses in his path.
“I know you think me inexperienced,” the admiral said. “But I’m smart enough to know you haven’t lost a campaign yet. I will wait to contact command as you ask, but I’ll not wait long.”
“You won’t have to,” the general promptly replied. “Let us meet with the ship’s council. If you do not agree with me afterwards, then I shall personally assist you with the transmission of our dismal report.”
As long as the general could convince him his pathetic flesh would not be harmed and that he was going to be rich beyond his imagination, the undeserving admiral would go along with his plan. Next, he had to persuade the heads of the four families, the lower royalty who occupied the opulent outer portions of the vessel. Their greed was more evolved, even surpassing that of the admiral. Athos would show them the human recruits in the holding chambers of the Pegasus were fully enslaved, would show them the power of these perfectly evolved killing machines. First, they’d want blood, but then the business-minded families would see the potential. They wouldn’t be able to resist.
Kelly struggled to maintain a hypnotized appearance, her knotted stomach filling with acid. It took every bit of her willpower to stand still. Her muscles tensed, demanding she go on the offensive, and her mind raced to find a way to turn the dire situation to her advantage.
In the periphery of her vision, she saw an Anunnaki soldier. He stood less than four feet away, his plasma rifle leveled at her. Ahead were more. The abrupt way they shifted their guns and their heads revealed how nervous they were. They were spaced evenly, and she guessed they lined the walls of the entire chamber.
The third soldier down from where she stood had his red-armor-gloved finger on the trigger. She expected he’d accidentally start shooting at any moment. The mishap would likely cause the rest to open fire, resulting in the slaughter of every human in the chamber. She exhaled slowly, trying to remain calm. If they sensed her independence, she’d be the spark that would ignite bloody chaos.
Lily said the Anunnaki had a great
deal of respect for humans. They thought of them as the ultimate weapon—super soldiers. This admiration might work to her advantage in the future, but at the moment, it only increased the tension. Despite crimson helmets with intimidating V-shaped visors hiding their eyes, the alien soldiers’ volatile fear was obvious.
Reflecting on the circumstances landing her under the vaulted ceilings of the gray holding chamber amongst thousands of new slaves, she was determined to remain optimistic. Nat was still safe, and with any luck, the rest of her team was undiscovered. If she could reunite with them, they might be able to get out of this alive. There was reason enough for hope, and she had to get back to her sister.
She’d overheard the Anunnaki soldiers saying the other ships were disabled. Shane and the rest of her friends could be alive. After landing in Cairo, she’d been separated from Shane. It was apparent for quite some time that he’d stop at nothing to protect her and could’ve jeopardized the mission had they stayed together. She knew it was the right thing to do then, but the benefit of their being apart was doubled now.
He’d promised to take care of Nat, and she believed he’d keep his word. At the same time, it worried her that he’d be bent on making a rescue attempt. She’d rather he focus entirely on her sister’s safety, but she knew, with Jones and Lily helping, he’d figure out a plan and would risk everything to save her. She expected he’d make an attempt even if the ship left orbit and headed back to the aliens’ home world. If she could send a message to him, she’d tell him not to try, to just look after Nat, though he wouldn’t listen.
Thinking of her sister made her chest ache. She blinked the moisture from her eyes and noticed the initial shudder of takeoff diminish. A gentle vibration transmitting through her shoes told of the ship’s struggle against gravity. She remembered being speared by the deranged teenager who wore the rotting face of an adult as a mask. It was such a disgusting wound, created by a grimy, blood-caked kitchen knife tied to a mop handle. The thought of it made her nauseous, though at the time, the intensity of battle had caused her to ignore it. The more docile possessed teens who headed to the pyramids to be harvested had rescued her and her team, and she’d sent Jules and the Aussies ahead so they’d be on schedule to destroy the reactor. The delay must’ve been too much, or they never made it because of some more disturbing reason.