“If you say master, I may actually break something,” I warned him, 100 percent serious.
“Maker,” Eaton answered. “The Trojans see Dasher as their maker. Their god.”
What in the screwed-up-ness in all screwed-up-nesses? I raised a brow at Luc and repeated, “Their god?”
A ripple of heat warmed the air when Luc growled, “He is no god.”
“To the Trojans, he is. If he commands them to eat, they do. If he orders them to obey another, they will do so without question. He tells them to kill, they will slaughter without hesitation. He demands that they end themselves, they’d slit their own throats in a heartbeat if provided the blade.”
Well, I wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than that.
“I learned of the Poseidon Project shortly after the war ended. Dasher introduced it as the answer to any future hostile invasion and a way to keep existing Luxen in check so that those weaker would have protectors.” Eaton’s eyes went unfocused. “I think in the beginning, that was their purpose.”
I frowned. “I thought the Poseidon Project’s goal was to run the entire universe, like all cliché villains.”
“Dasher—like most in the Daedalus—is complicated like Sylvia,” he said, and I flinched. “There are threads of goodness in them, an initial goal of attempting to do the right thing. Dasher believes that the Poseidon Project is the way mankind survives.”
“Because mankind won’t survive another invasion,” Luc mused, and then he nodded as if he were agreeing on what movie to watch and not the annihilation of the human race. “Not another sizable one. The invading Luxen were barely beat back last time, and that was only with the help of the Arum, which took a huge hit in the battle. There are still more Luxen who haven’t come.” He paused. “Yet.”
That little factoid was something that had dominated the news in the wake of the war. Experts had estimated that there were still millions of Luxen who hadn’t arrived during the invasion, but when the days turned to weeks, to months, and then finally to years, those statistics were chalked up to nothing more than fearmongering.
“But there are Luxen here who would fight back.” I thought of Daemon and Dawson, Emery and maybe even Grayson—well, depending on what kind of mood Grayson was in. “Those who’d want to protect their homes and the humans they’ve befriended. Not to mention all the hybrids and Origins.”
“The moment the Daedalus learned all they could from the Luxen, they stopped trusting them, especially when they discovered that many were aware that more were coming with plans to take over.” Eaton shifted on the flat cushion, seeking comfort that couch had long since given up on. “It’s why they are seeking to neutralize the Luxen through technology and fear. They don’t want any aliens here, and if you ask me, I think they only want certain humans here, ones they deem worthy or necessary. Their thread of goodness has long since rotted.”
My brows knitted. “You know, after what we’ve been doing to the innocent Luxen who just want to live their best lives, I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t help fight back and just let us all go to hell in a handbasket.”
“And there’s that,” Eaton agreed softly.
“Do you think other Luxen will eventually invade?” I asked.
Luc shrugged. “Possible, but let’s not borrow trouble.”
I wouldn’t classify millions of human-hating Luxen as mere trouble, but that wasn’t happening. Yet. The Poseidon Project was.
“My brain is starting to hurt.” I sighed, and truthfully it was. There was a faint throbbing behind my eyes. Knowing my luck, I was probably coming down with a cold.
Wait.
Could I even get a cold now? I wasn’t even sure. All I knew was what I could remember as Evie, and other than minor sniffles, I hadn’t been sick. According to Luc, the Luxen DNA in the Andromeda serum would prevent any future severe illnesses.
Too bad it couldn’t prevent a headache.
Luc’s features softened. “I’ve got a cure for that.”
Warmth invaded my cheeks when my gaze connected with his heated one. I had a feeling I knew what kind of cure he was talking about. Him. Me. Kissing. Lots of skin-on-skin activities.
Biting down on his full lower lip, he nodded.
The heat increased, spreading down my throat. “You’re the worst,” I muttered.
“I’m the best,” Luc replied, sitting down on the computer chair. It didn’t make a sound under his weight, whereas it had sounded close to dying when I’d plopped down on it earlier. “Tell me what you saw when you learned of this project.”
“At first, I thought they were Origins, but I saw the way they moved, what they could do.” One side of Eaton’s lips quirked in a humorless grin. “He was so proud of them, like they were his children and he was showing them off. They moved like … God, like there was no humanity to them. Even you … there’s a touch of humanity in the way you move.” Eaton stared at Luc. “More so when she’s involved, but whatever part of them that had started off human had been erased.”
Unnerved, I swallowed hard. “They were like robots?”
“No.” His eyes half closed. “They were primitive, like a pack of wolves, and Dasher was their alpha.”
I think I preferred the robot comparison.
“As proud as he was of them, he didn’t see them as people—not how you and I see each other,” Eaton continued. “I learned that pretty quickly when one of them lagged behind the others. I think it was someone who had just been mutated. He wasn’t failing at the tasks. He was just behind, and he was only a boy. Couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but Dasher was disappointed.” The older man’s face paled as his eyes closed. “Dasher leaned in, whispered in the boy’s ear, and that kid just turned around and ran into the cement wall opposite of us, slamming his head into it until—God, until there was nothing but a mess left behind.”
My lips parted as nausea rose swiftly. “Jesus.”
“Where was this facility?” Luc asked as he reached over, curling his hand around my bent elbow. He tugged, pulling me over, and I went. He settled me so I sat on his right thigh.
Eaton opened his eyes. They seemed even duller. “Dalton, Ohio. At Wright-Patterson Air Force Base—”
“Hangar 18? I know of the place.” Luc folded his arm around my waist, his hand splaying out over my hip. “They were keeping Origins there.”
“The Trojans were moved out before you razed the hangar to the ground,” Eaton said, and I looked back at Luc, but he was staring at the general. “To where, I have no idea.”
Luc’s thumb moved over the curve of my stomach. “How many Trojans did you see that day?”
“Thirty.” A pause while my foot began to tap. “And then twenty-nine.”
Then twenty-nine. Sorrow swelled for a boy whose name I didn’t even know but with whom I felt an odd kinship nonetheless. I remembered hearing his voice in the woods, right before what existed inside me took hold. Prove to me you’re worth this gift of life. Show them! That voice had been full of unrelenting demand, and I now knew that voice belonged to Dasher.