Korac's Verse: The Vast Collective Series, #8

By Nicole Hayes

How does one become a war criminal?

Was it the abandonment by my father? The subduing of my mother? Could the tyrannical aliens with their boot on Cinder's neck have contributed to my misery and my own impressive kill skill for inflicting pain? All those millennia of fighting for our place in the Vast Collective only to be branded monsters by the very people who made us into assassins.

The real monsters reside in Enki.

Consider my position, King Rayne. The survival of my race hung in the balance. The well-being of my brother and my best friend. What would you do differently?

For the sake of Cinder, the Vast Collective, and the universe — learn from my mistakes.

Don't become like me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Iona Print
• Release date: Dec 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798230946717

Nicole Hayes

Sole owner of Iona Print. With 17 books published, Nicole Hayes pursues the endeavor in her spare time. When she isn't writing for fun, she's writing for work. A technical writer in her full-time corporate life, she expanded her passion into a successful career. She also enjoys working out, walking in the sunshine, and going to rock shows. Education accolades include a Bachelors and Masters in Professional and Technical Writing. She'll complete her Doctorate of Philosophy December 2024.

Book preview

ONE

LIES IN KINDNESS

I am not the monster you once thought me to be. But I’m not sure I qualify as a man. I have always been lesser, and my gravest fear is that the ones I love most will one day see me for what I am.

A slave without a people. A slave without a home.

Rayne, your majesty, wherever you are, if you can hear this—I hope you recognize the unmistakable charm and magnificence in my voice. This is my Verse.

[Sagan Sterling]: It’s me, babe. I’m laughing, and Korac is glaring at me with that quirked brow and a smirk.

At this rate, we’ll find ourselves in Eternity before finishing.

[SS]: I wish you were here to see it. To see… everything.

Sagan is kindly taking my dictation with a surprising air of professionalism. I intend to test the limits of her focus while we work. Don’t be jealous. I don’t stand between you two. But you’re already aware of that, sprite, are you not?

You impress me, and you earned my respect some time ago. Not for killing Nox. It was before that. When you visited the desert fortress for the dance. You sent my garrison to its knees with a glance at your back.

I’ll never forget the mixture of vulnerability and confidence in your eyes. Yes, I knew it then. We were in for a fight.

Now you and I fight on the same side. In the name of righteousness and all that huggy shit the Shadow stands for. I’m mostly here to rid the Vast Collective of legitimate monsters. Men like Razor and Abresson.

The Shadow wait, you see? And as we wait, a certain blond Seamswalker asked me to fulfill my commitment to the past. In doing so, we might catch you up to our present. This will broadcast across the entire Vast Collective. Redacted—possibly. But let my voice reach you, sprite, as I tell you my story.

Of one titanic warrior, lover, and leader. Of a lost boy. And of a man only now finding his identity and purpose, nearly three million years after his auspicious making.

As I wasn’t present for said event, I’ll call on my father to tell the story. And I pray to Elden this controlled environment affords me some experience with this new ability. Sagan?

[SS]: Korac sits on the bed, hands resting on his knees, and meditates. I’m quiet so as not to disturb him. After a few minutes, he opens not his eyes, but another’s. Zero’s eyes are colorless with a hollow black ring for a pupil.

I’m staring into them now. I can’t express what this feels like. Looking at the man I love, but at someone else smiling with his lips.

Seamswalker. Lovely to see you again. I understand my son wants my account of his conception. An unusual request, but I am happy to acquiesce. Under one condition.

[SS]: He holds up Korac’s finger, and I fight not to shiver. I blink a few times at him, pondering potential requests. What’s that?

May I have something to eat?

[SS]: Of course, I fed him and ate something, myself. As is proper. Afterward, Zero is ready.

The siege of our catacombs on Thailea—our last bastion of refuge—reduced us to strategize our end. How best to end, I should say. As a last resort, the Aegis court unanimously agreed to enact the Atheneum stratagem. A terrifying, desperate risk. And with our women dissolved by Inanis, we improvised. To our good fortune, the solution fell from the sky.

Three Two Four, Razor—whichever moniker you choose—heralded an army of figures from the Probability Matrix to fight alongside the Icarean forces. They outnumbered our dwindling race three hundred thousand-to-one. Not impossible odds, but we were committed to prevent further loss of life than necessary. Ours and the Icari. Tritan puppets. Many Icari were unhappy with the arrangement. Two such women plummeted from the atmosphere and crashed into a cave system adjacent to the tombs.

I risked everything to meet them, and what fortune awaited me.

Para, please open your eyes. The Icarean female with spiked hair kissed the knuckles of the smaller, blue-haired woman.

I lingered outside the ice cavern she secured with traps in the short time since falling. Blue blood pooled in the scrapes on her exposed back. The unconscious one bled from her eyes and ears.

As I watched the taller one examine her companion, the warrior abruptly and coldly asked, Will you not attack me from behind? Or are you honorable and waiting for me to turn? You waste your time. Nothing will make me turn from her.

Her voice was deep and husky. Despite the ice in her tone, the words warmed me through. And saddened me.

I lingered in the opening, unwilling to agitate her further with increased proximity. I wish no harm on the Icari.

She chuffed at the unlikeliness of my reassurance, but went about tending the unconscious woman as if no longer threatened.

I leaned back in the archway and looked at the hole made from their landing. If I could only convince you. This battle is not what it seems. The Tritans use you as pawns. You fight and die for them, but we have no quarrel with you. I know you understand we face extinction.

Yes. Direct and terse, but also a little sad.

The hint of softness in her voice gave me hope. Have you any reason to wish this on us?

No. I know nothing of the Ancients or any motivations for our participation in this theater. Only that our King forces us. Well, I care nothing for him. Or his General. I care for my soldiers. And for Para. Please. Leave us without harm.

She faced me. Eyes half black and half green. Unusual, even for her kind. Her feminine cheeks and lips and expressive brows softened sharp features. Her gear exposed much of her deep gray skin and the corded muscle beneath.

I found her beautiful.

Far more strong and fierce than any Aegis woman. The Icari breed warriors capable of mighty destruction. We breed scientists and explorers. For the first time since our arrival in this universe, I found myself curious of destruction.

Leaving my arms loose, I bargained, I can help her, if you will spare me enough of your time to explain this siege. To explain what I understand of Tritan motivation. And well… to ask for your aid.

Her eyebrows shot up, and her exotic eyes widened. The intelligence behind them moved quickly, and she agreed.

I told her the briefest version of the events that led to this campaign. Then I told her of our only means for salvation.

A library of bones? Karter offered me some rations.

By this point, we relaxed onto the cold cave floor. It seeped through my coat that I laid out for our conversation. Para slept soundly, digesting Aegis blood through her nacre. Eventually, it would sicken her and require siphoning, but only after it treated her terrible concussions. Her skull was cracked so thoroughly that her hard tissue repair system malfunctioned. My blood would revive it in time.

Until then, Karter kindly listened with that underutilized intellect and a tendency to smile freely. Often. She seemed almost excited to learn this information without yet understanding the extent of its burden.

I laid on my side with my back to the fire, staring intently into her eyes. I wanted her to understand. Yes. The Atheneum. But we cannot manifest it into our existing skeletal structures. It begins at conception.

Karter sat with her legs crossed, facing the flames. She looked down, gave an incredulous shake of her head and gazed at me once more. My help? The brave woman already guessed.

Brilliant and amenable. She impressed me greatly, so I said as much. I must say, I am so fortunate you were the Icarus to crash into our tombs.

Ask.

The moment felt monumental. Significant. I sat up to meet her on equal footing and searched her face for the answer before I even asked the question. Will you honor us with such an appointment? The savior of our people. The Icarean saint.

I want to raise the child. Karter glanced over at Para. We obviously cannot reproduce together, but I know Para. She would rear the baby as her own.

Since I knew not my future for the next few months, I saw no harm in this. This front was no place to raise a child. But… You understand you may not survive the delivery?

She shook her head at my lack of faith. Pfft. You never before this day met a Valkyrie. I am warrior enough to move worlds. I can manage birthing.

For the first time in a hundred thousand years, I smiled, but the thought of another condition wiped the expression away. One day, I must claim him or her for their intended purpose, but I will never take them from you. Yes. Your terms are agreeable.

Once Karter beamed that beautiful smile at me, I at least knew my future for the next few days. We both enjoyed it thoroughly.

[SS]: My future father-in-law just winked at me. Actually winked at me.

Three days I spent with her while we tended to her unconscious partner. The experience enticed a curiosity for races outside the Aegis that I never fathomed before Karter. I liked her. I hoped she would survive to raise our baby to be like her.

By the end, we held one another while we watched Para slowly recover. It was during one of these quiet moments that I sensed the change in her. And another Aegis breathing nearby. You conceived a boy, and there is no more time. I must return to my people. I regret I cannot stay.

Karter showed no signs of distress, only mild apprehension. Our son, what do you want me to call him?

Three Two Five hardly seemed viable in Icarean society, and the Tritans might recognize the Atheneum. For the first time in three hundred and twenty-five healthy conceptions, I gifted a son with a name. Possibly for less kind reasons. I knew the naming would upset Three Two Four, who I suspected lurked within the caves. Because of this, I also wanted to separate this new child from our lost existence. We could never go back. My youngest son was a symbol of that.

Call him Korac.

I understand Three Two Four manipulated Karter’s recollection of our time together and of the delivery she survived. I mourn for her. I am grateful for this opportunity to reach her with the truth. For three days, I knew her and felt for her ever since.

When I told Three Two Four of Korac’s name, I knew he would ensure the baby kept it. As a reminder of Three Two Four’s spite for a brother with such an important future. To feed the seething resentment and feelings of ineptitude. So symbolic of his own self-perceived failures, I regret the anguish Korac suffered because of it. But I don’t regret naming my son—one born to a universe without his kind.

My leave comes. Korac wishes to return. Thank you again, Seamswalker. Thank you for looking after him.

[SS]: I smile for Zero even after his eyes close. For when they open, my love returns to me. Shaken. He heard every word and admits to feeling something close to his father’s emotions. We took a recess and return with snacks. He’s eating an apple. Sexily, of course. I’m drinking from a juice box. We continue.

I searched my entire life for a people. For a home. Because from where my recollection of the story begins, I am damned from the start.

Ornamental break

My earliest memory is waking on a cold black floor, naked and sore. Soaking wet and freezing. I’ll equate my age to three or four on Earth. Voices nearby argued vehemently and echoed down the metal hallway. A woman with red feathers scolded a yellow-feathered subordinate. I feigned sleeping a while longer to listen. To hide.

But Executive Warden, the nacre resistant barriers cannot contain the boy. How should we⁠—

Find a way! Suppose we lose one of Gait’s most lucrative assets? What do you think would happen to our privileges? The Executive Warden gestured at me. Not even old enough for the engagements, and still all of Infernus block reserved him for the next seven years.

The subordinate winced before attempting a second defense. The snow. He responds strongly to it. Perhaps we let him out a little each day. It might temper his night walks.

As a child, I craved the snow.

Snow. Without knowing my home, the smell of snow reminded me of it. Heh. If I sound bitter, it’s only because of how much recent events have made sense of my past. Thailea is buried in perpetual winter. Spring comes but one day each year. Never the same day.

A puddle formed around me as my muscles contracted for warmth. The chill dripped from my long hair to my aching feet. I made the mistake of sniffling. Loudly.

The red-feathered woman knelt and put her face in mine. Eavesdropping is rude, child. Gently, she pressed the back of her hand to my brow. Oleen, fetch a blanket. The softest one. And something warm to drink. Maybe some meat. Would you like that, Korac?

My stomach growled an answer for me, twisting and hurting from my constant starvation. I wasn’t permitted to meet the Executive Warden’s eyes. I nodded and coughed through a parched throat. Please.

After Oleen left us alone, the remaining Lyrik tucked me against her side. Freezing, I clung to the warmth. Combing her fingers through my hair, she chided, You went outside again. You know better than to wander out there without an adult to watch you.

I nodded without answering. It was always safer that way. When Oleen returned, the Executive Warden wrapped me in a blanket and gave me a dish of hot liquid. It warmed my freezing fingers. I remembered it smelled of flowers. Dismissed, Oleen left.

Time passed with me in the Executive Warden’s arms. A moment of merciful peace. But I knew it was temporary.

All too soon, she stood and snatched the warm dish from me. You risk my position with administration. Slaves escaping regularly? Does that recommend me as an effective warden?

Nothing from me. She preferred it that way.

As our highest awaited debut, I grant you certain amenities.

I was naked and sore. Cold and tired. I couldn’t fathom what privileges she claimed I entertained.

Still, the Executive Warden continued while stripping me of the blanket and its subsequent warmth. We will allow you one walk in the yard each day, if you agree to sign the bypass consenting to starting your engagements earlier in your life than legally allowed.

I knew I heard of these engagements in whispers and mutters around me. I dimly recalled her parading me to every cell in the prison where the inmates offered so many favors for said appointments. But this was my earliest cognitive recollection. I needed to know.

Breaking etiquette, I dared ask, Executive Warden, what am I consenting to? I kept my eyes low as not to upset her.

She glared at me for a moment before offering an honest answer. Whatever they want from you, you give them. Your destiny as a slave is to serve. And we take care of our prisoners here. Less harshly, she assured, The earlier you consent, the sooner you can walk outside in the yard. I’ll even escort you myself and supervise your beginning engagements.

Outside.

With the snow. I loved the crisp smell of it as it crunched in my fists. How the sun reflected off of it. I hardly saw it in the daytime. So I snuck out at night to see it under a moonless sky. With this accord, I would see it daily. Play in forgiving drifts of its shocking and wonderful purity.

Yes, Executive Warden.

Her wicked grin frightened me. Delightful, Korac. Your keeper will appreciate this immensely. We begin tomorrow.

I thought she meant a caseworker or a slave driver. I never imagined she reported to a relative. Let alone…

[SS]: Korac drifts off a bit. It’s been a lot to process over the last few months. After a moment, he finally blinks away whatever he saw in his head. I offer him a juice box. He trades it for a kiss. We return to the long night ahead of us. Maybe a few days, even.

Sprite, you know by now blood isn’t what makes a family. It’s the blood and tears you shed together. In my early years on Gait, I’d yet to find my people.

After a brief glimpse, Kyle once told Sagan my memory was a wasteland of trauma the size of Enki. I laughed when she told me. Kyle witnessed firsthand the fog blanketing my memory scape. It’s my doing. I don’t want to remember, but try as I might, I can’t completely forget. I’ll spare you most of the details.

Gait indulged pedophiles, and I was a victim to their whims.

Ornamental break

Let your mind imagine the worst. Every atrocity. I endured it. Daily.

Triss accompanied me for my first engagements, but after that I could slip through the cell barriers on my own. It reduced the wait time.

In Gait’s thirty-two hour day, I spent sixteen of them with sixteen separate prisoners. Five hours sleeping. One hour mending myself before the hour of sleep. And one glorious hour outside in the snow.

Only it thawed soon after winter. Having spent my entire life inside the prison, with no education to speak of, I wasn’t aware of this natural occurrence. It broke my heart.

I sold myself for a sight I laid eyes on only two months out of Gait’s year. Triss withheld this from me. It was an important lesson. Now that I better understand her motivations, I hate her even more for it. I hate that she was the closest individual I had for a mother.

Many loathsome memories spring to mind that encapsulate a given day for me, including her unusual maternal treatment. For your sakes, I’ll narrow it down to one. When I was equivalent to age seven in humans.

Korac?! Korac?

I often woke this way. Disoriented and unaware of my surroundings after crawling away from an assault. Uncertain who called to me.

Shit. Korac. A girl from the slave cells. They left you bleeding from everywhere again. Lie still. I can find a warden for you.

I let sleep take me again only to wake some time later to a rasp, Korac?! Dusky is how I’d describe Triss’ voice.

My eyes ached and burned. They refused to peel open. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. My lips sealed with mortar. A foul taste tinged my tongue. Something was very wrong with my stomach. And every muscle begged for stillness.

With surprising tenderness, Triss checked my vitals and palpated me all over. Fucking drones. Brutes. Because of him, you missed three engagements, Korac. Can you speak? Move? Whatever you do, leave your eyes closed.

The little girl hissed when the Lyrik exposed me. Executive Warden, how do we remove it without⁠—

Sh. No sense in frightening the boy. The knife will come out the same way it went in. Inmate thirty-two will never see another of you children. At least until he proves he can behave himself. Barbarian. Korac, can you feel⁠—

Sharp and immediate, I groaned around my swollen tongue. The lightest touch of the blade inside me hurt, gutted me.

I want to say where inside me the Monarch 3 drone plunged the knife. But I don’t want to make Sagan cry, and she’s already tearing up. I’ll leave it vague with one passing remark: it wasn’t the worst thing used on me. I remember my incompatible smallness frustrated him. So he meant to cut a better fit⁠—

[SS]: I had to stop. I had to get up and hug Korac. He let me. I knew his childhood as slave labor in a prison was in no way a positive experience. But I never imagined… I can do this. I sit back down, and he returns to pacing behind me like a caged animal biding his time.

They spent time removing it and tending to my wounds, which healed slowly. On the second day, I felt excited and curious. Because I knew that because of my injuries, the man with the nice shoes would visit.

This man visited once per month to take reports from Triss and to take stock of the prisoners’ needs. In exchange for services such as my company, the inmates provided intelligence, performed duties for him, and often left on missions under his charge. It was an honor and a privilege to serve the well-dressed man.

I liked my reflection in the shine of his black shoes. I rarely saw a mirror, you see? And his nice pants were always so pristine and pressed. I wanted to dress with such command and elegance. I wanted to be like him.

[SS]: Korac is laughing bitterly while raking a hand down his face. I feel it with him. The cruel joke that Razor was the nice-dressed man—Korac’s brother. It ruined the few saving graces afforded to him while at the prison.

Now I only see a well-dressed phantom. A monster who knelt at my bedside and ruffled my hair. I heard inmate thirty-two was harsh. I remember the way he talked soothed and unnerved me all at once. "But when I spoke to him, he claimed you squirmed and struggled too