Excerpt: Breaking Colossus

Excerpts

Dec 1

I got the first ideas for Breaking Colossus back in 2017 before I’d decided to work on my master’s degree at Western Colorado University. Back then, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with the story, but when I had to choose a thesis project for my degree, I knew I wanted to work on this project more than anything.

Based on Homer’s Odyssey, Breaking Colossus is an epic space opera and the first in a new series called Stars Reach. Imagine if the Odyssey were told from Telemachus' point of view—set in space. The story follows Roth, the son of an infamous war hero, Grey Soleis. When Grey suddenly goes MIA, Roth and his mother, Alora, must struggle against forces that would erase their identities and tear their family apart. Breaking Colossus is about a family separated by war, striving to repair itself against insurmountable odds.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

I Promise

Trin fled through Ascendancy space in the form of an aster ship, bleeding smoke and light into the void.

She thought she’d evaded her pursuer, but couldn’t be sure. Her core had been damaged in a catastrophe she could not remember. She’d need an emergency diagnostic and restoration cycle to see how much damage she’d sustained. For now, a small aster was inconspicuous enough to avoid Ascendancy scrutiny.

All she could remember was a very human face coupled with a human promise:

Find my son.

I will. I promise.

Trin had traveled a long way with only those two fragmented memories driving her. Now, she could feel the end creeping up on her. She would be lost to the depths like a sinking lifeboat if she didn’t find land. Thankfully, she’d happened upon the Titanus, one of the Ascendancy's great bladeships. Its purpose was to stay far away from the fighting, retrieve, and convey intelligence in the ongoing war against the Dominion Constellar.

There’d been a time when the Dominion had helped save the Civilizations from the Vine and Tyranny. Over the past three centuries, Trin had seen it devolve into the very thing it had sworn to destroy. The Ascendancy was now the new wave of resistance fighters opposing oppression. She wouldn’t feel safe until she had landed in the bladeship’s docking bay.

A line of asters was returning from scouting missions. Using her waning energy, Trin used her ARO technology to cloak herself so that not even the Titanus’ casterprism could discover her. Even so, she prepared herself to flee. Humans still hadn’t forgotten their fear of Arrows—the Tyranny Conflict was still too recent.

Trin hadn’t seen another of her kind in three hundred years, only angry humans bent on destroying her. If the humans aboard the Titanus found her out, they’d cast a Gorgon trap on her without hesitation. Of course, there were the few who hadn’t wanted her dead, but she couldn’t remember any of their names. If there were more Arrows out there, they hid themselves too well.

The line of asters descended toward the bladeship, their registries getting pinged for positioning data that explained where they’d been. If Trin was lucky, it wouldn’t see her, and she could slip past its dropped shield array. Besides, her registries were empty. Trin couldn’t know where’d she’d been for the past several hours. Even the memories of the past several months needed repairs.

Still, her systems continuously recalled the face and the promise to her awareness. She couldn’t let go of the light they gave her.

Find my son…

Keeping back about ten klicks from the nearest aster, Trin approached the Titanus slowly, keeping herself alert for trouble. There were no other bladeships within five lights of their position, and she would not get that far if something went wrong.

ARO cloaking, at one time, was impossible to detect. But humans had found ways around it. Would this bladeship be as thorough?

Each aster landed in its assigned bay, and nothing indicated they’d discovered her. But she hadn’t placed herself in actual danger yet. Rushing, Trin sped through the open shield array before it closed itself off to traffic. She was now in the bladeship’s artificial atmosphere and felt her frame resonate with the humans’ frenetic chaos beyond: hundreds of humans rushing this way and that in dizzying confusion. Keeping herself cloaked, Trin transformed.

The cells of her human-created body were trillions of nanoscopic chains made up of decahedron-shaped nodes. They responded to her will, built themselves into any shape, taking on any color in the known spectrums, and shifted around and allowing her to change into almost any form she wished. They also expanded and contracted in plasticity. To the untrained eye, it appeared like breaking the law of conservation of mass. The technology inside her was so advanced that the humans feared the Arrows and attempted to destroy them all. They almost succeeded.

That same technology that had once condemned her now acted as her salvation, transforming her into her chosen identity: a woman of average height and weight, pale skin and hickory hair pulled back into a thin ponytail. Trin landed on the lip of the docking bay, steadied herself, and dashed behind some crates that were fastened to the bay floor. She released her cloak and glanced around to determine if she’d drawn attention. Thankfully, the humans aboard this ship seemed far too complacent to notice her.

When she was ready, a pilot’s suit and helmet emerged from her skin and covered her. She then emerged from the shadows and strode into the fray with purpose, eventually falling behind a line of other pilots. Overhead, a voice sounded on the comm, counting down to the next scouting mission while hundreds of voices called out and the asters’ engines roared. There was also the pounding of auto-hammers and the crackling of electricity. It all distorted her focus, threatening to throw her off her goal. If she didn’t restore herself soon, she would blackout, and that would be the end.

She would not allow herself to die that way.

Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Trin followed the line of pilots through a bright archway that led into one of several arteries that ran through the massive ship. Although it was shaped like a downward-pointed knife, the Titanus’ innards resembled a human’s circulation and nervous systems. Bladeships and Arrows had been cut from the same mold, as it were, and she knew exactly where she was.

Just then, a memory sparked in her mind—she saw dark eyes gazing into hers with burning intent. It was the human face—the person to whom she’d made her promise.

Find my son.

I—

Even as she strode up the artery, the face distorted. Viscous fluid leaked from the corners of her eyes, then—unbidden and involuntary. She blinked them away, absorbing them back into her skin, then closed her eyes to force the inward pain to abate. It refused her.

When she opened her eyes again, Trin noticed a small storeroom ahead of her on her right. She could feel her systems shutting down one by one as she focused all power on mobility and consciousness. She hurried inside and closed the door behind her, hoping that no one had thought her suspicious. Inside, she found herself in a small, five-by-five-meters room with rows of metal shelves filled with storage containers of all sizes. These shelves stifled most of the room except for a direct path to the opposite corner.

Squares of light in the ceiling lit the area, and Trin thanked the stars that she had entered alone. She stood for a moment, erect and still, as she powered down non-essential systems while searching for a place to hide. Beyond a wall panel at the far corner, she sensed a gap large enough to fit in like a crawl space.

She forced her body to walk the path. Her vision clouded over with warnings and dizzying static. Her left leg gave out, and she took a knee. Blinking, she glanced downward, deciding to cut off the power to her other leg altogether and redirect it to her arms. The rest of the way, she knelt down and pushed herself across the smooth floor.

Trin reached the wall, gripped the panel, and pushed it back and to the side. Its motor resisted her, and sparks flew. Inside, she found a small space that had forgotten its original purpose. Trin dragged herself and her dead legs inside with her remaining strength, then closed the protesting panel behind her.

Finally, the darkness shielded her. Trin caused her helmet to fade into her skin in the last moments of consciousness. Then she hugged her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. With seconds remaining, she commanded her systems into a restoration cycle. If luck yet attended her, it would repair some of the damage she’d taken.

But her listless restoration system responded with groans and indolent protests. They couldn’t fail. Trin had worked too hard to keep them alive—had come too far to die now. So she compelled them, feeding them all the power she had left.

Then, it was like falling into a gravity well as her systems began their cycles. She couldn’t know how long she’d remain on “inside time.” As long as was necessary to regain at least a portion of what she’d lost.

When she was sure she wouldn’t deactivate permanently, Trin allowed all her consciousness to fade. The deeper darkness of her unconscious took her away as her systems reduced themselves to their most basic operations—a data transfer rate of only a few terabits per second. Her head dropped to her knees, and she dropped the illusion of Trin and changed into a gray-skinned, genderless omnidroid with empty eyes.

Within those dark, dizzying revolutions, Trin waited for the light.

* * *

The million eternities of her innermost universe appeared to be insufficient. When the restoration process had completed, Trin brought herself from the brink of oblivion until she felt well enough to continue.

She thought she knew now what the promise and the face meant to her, though she still didn’t recall every detail. There was a self-appointed mission—Find my son—since she had such a soft spot for humans. It registered that she would risk her life for one of them, make a promise that she wasn’t sure she could ever keep.

It sounded very much like her.

Visual and auditory systems rose beyond the black and breached. Above her, voices resonated beyond the wall panel. She listened to the gibberish of their speech until her lexicon rebooted. They spoke Riethan—the official language of the Civilizations. Her system time reported only a few standard hours since she’d arrived at the Titanus and begun her restoration process.

“…think we missed something?” the masculine voice said.

“It makes no sense,” a feminine voice replied, sounding annoyed. “Why would a pilot enter a lower deck utility closet and then…disappear? Something’s wrong here.”

A brief silence developed between them.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” the other voice said, “but we’ve done everything possible to locate them.”

“You heard what the chief said. There are crawlspaces throughout this entire level. Don’t you think—”

“Those haven’t been used in decades. You couldn’t access one without first diverting power to their motors. How would they even do that?”

The female sighed. “I suppose…”

Their voices faded as they moved farther away, then cut off altogether when the door opened and shut. Trin scanned the room beyond the panel and found no others present. She needed to keep moving.

So they suspect me. I need to be more careful.

Pushing herself onto her knees, Trin gripped the sides of the panel and heaved it back against the resistant gears. She climbed out and replaced the panel as she found it. Little had changed in the hours she’d been cycling. Glancing down, Trin transformed from a naked, genderless omnidroid back into herself again—this time, she wore a black intelligence officer’s uniform. She shortened her hair to military standards and materialized a small black cap on the crown of her head.

With another thought, the insignia of an ensign materialized on the breast of her jacket. To complete the ensemble, a Disc tablet appeared in her hand. A lowly ensign running errands wouldn’t draw too much attention if she remained out from underfoot. Her first goal was to find a terminal, find a way past the safeguards, and build a connection to the plexus. Once she accomplished that, she would have the Ascendancy in her control.

With a determined stride, Trin left that storeroom and merged into the traffic of the ship’s artery. Few looked her way, and those who did gave her little more than a cursory glance. Her confident stance and focused gaze hopefully gave an impatient impression—and stars have mercy on whoever interrupted her.

She didn’t have to go far before seeing a small cuboid with a screen and console. Although it was a minor terminal, it was enough to establish a connection with the local plexus. With swift purpose, she ducked inside and sat in the swiveling chair. There was little privacy there, and she would need to rush. Placing her hands on the console, she injected a portion of herself into the system.

The Ascendancy used several protective firewalls that prevented access to their archives and encrypted ansible. The near-instantaneous relaying of information across vast distances was incredibly valuable to humans. Who could blame their wariness? But breaking through such safeguards would not be easy. Doing so while avoiding the alarm would be…something else entirely.

Trin would have no trouble under normal circumstances. But now…

A dark prism booted to life before her—invisible to all except her—and recorded her features. In seconds, it would confirm she was not a member of the bladeship crew. Less than a minute later, soldiers would swarm and arrest her.

Arrows thrived on efficiency, and Trin used it to her advantage, learning the algorithms. She flew past the terminal’s local defenses and then forced herself into the plexus connection, scanning and understanding it. It was complex, well-protected, but very efficient.

Eight seconds had passed. The plexus mainframe asked for credentials, but Trin fought past the gatekeeping automation. Once she’d established a connection, she would need to make certain no one could trace her. It required a True-Random algorithm of her own making that covered her tracks.

In the span of two seconds, Trin had traversed billions of lines of code that could have stretched a quarter of a million lights away to Cadmus and returned halfway. She absorbed all of it, realizing it possessed few weaknesses—and she felt respect rather than dismay. It would take the best minds in the Dominion one hundred years to break such a defense. And yet weaknesses existed, and Trin had found them all.

Thirteen seconds.

Milliseconds before the terminus shut off from an outside source, Trin had already achieved what she’d come for. Her wireless connection to the plexus was strong, although it would need some refining.

Trin estimated she had less than forty-five seconds before a platoon of soldiers descended upon her. There was no time. She stood and turned down a smaller intersecting corridor and followed a line of pilots making the trek back to the docking bay.

Triumph!

The Titanus’ plexus throbbed around her like a heartbeat. Communiques carrying information, code, and orders, among many other treasures posed as vital blood cells. Trin could track the location of the soldiers dispatched to her position: too close for comfort. She’d left just in time.

The humans could decipher the True-Random algorithm with enough time and patience, but she would be long gone before they got close enough to understand it. But she had more immediate concerns. As she strode along the corridor, she made subtle changes to her appearance—oceanic irises, higher cheekbones, flatter lips, thin eyebrows, and red-tinged hair. She kept her rank of ensign to remain anonymous. Next, she had to think of a place to hide.

About a dozen heavy footsteps thudded through the corridor behind her. She cast a glance over her shoulder—soldiers with falcon rifles, or falcatas, were searching among the crowd for her. She remained calm and kept to her course.

A soldier gripped her by the shoulder and spun her around with brutish strength. She cried out and glared back at the man in the black uniform. He gave her a quick look-over, and when he didn’t find what he wanted, he and the others moved on. She watched them thunder past, searching everyone they came across with rough hands and no explanation. Their toiling amused Trin so much that she couldn't help smiling.

She then ducked into an empty office and locked the door behind her. From there, she could alter the prism footage and make it look like she wasn’t there—an easier feat than cloaking.

Now Trin could attempt to piece together her memories without interruption.

Twelve hours. That’s how much she’d lost.

The only two pieces left were a face and a promise…

I will.

Before her was a man with a strong, square jaw choked with stubble; a heavy lower lip encasing white, perfect teeth; a crooked nose and a creased bridge between two black-as-void eyes; and a strong, fortress forehead.

Ah! And bright red hair!—matted with sweat and dirt, yet cut short to military standards. It was a portrait of a man who had seen and experienced too much. With this, Trin pulled up the Titanus’ roster and cycled through it, comparing every crew member’s face to that memory.

It didn’t take long. Trin stopped at one young man staring straight back at her: “Roth Soleis - Petty Officer 3rd Class.” With a ninety-two percent match, Trin knew this one was at the very least related to the man from her memory; his red hair was shorter and fainter, and his face was oval with light gray eyes, high-arched brows, and a pallid complexion.

She already liked him.

After gathering what information she could of this Roth, Trin sat down on the floor of the office and prepared for a restoration cycle—one that wouldn’t take as long but would give her the strength she needed to find Roth and discover whether he was the son she’d promised to seek.

I may have failed in the past, but this is a promise I refuse to break.