Water gushed from the mouth of a black marble fountain, throwing clouds of mist into the air. Vibrant colors shimmered upon the fine spray, glittering in the afternoon sun like a scene from an old fairytale—complete with a magnificent castle backdrop.
While Alana Carmen would have liked to look around and bask in the beauty of this place, she could not allow her attention to wander. Not that she would have been able to stop thinking about the meeting at hand even if she’d tried.
A cocktail of emotions had been churning within her since Levian ‘Nher announced that she and Admiral Anderson had been granted an audience with the King to discuss a peace treaty. A great deal of weight rested on this meeting, and they had no idea what to expect or how to prepare for it.
Alana caught a flash of white out the corner of her eye and ceased her incessant pacing to snap a sharp salute. The Admiral had arrived, accompanied by a party of Leh’kin guards whose crimson armor stood out boldly against their bright blue skin. Anderson’s dress whites practically glowed in this light, making him easy to spot—even amongst the nine-foot-tall aliens.
“At ease, Corporal,” he said, lifting his cap to wipe sweat from his forehead. Unlike the combat suits now worn by most of the UNPD’s ground forces, his dress uniform lacked any form of cooling system. Alana could only imagine how awful that must have felt in Thei’legh’s scorching climate.
She lowered her arm. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, sir. To be honest, I didn’t think you were going to accept the invitation.” It had taken a lot of persuasion to get him down to the planet’s surface without his own bodyguards.
“Frankly, it would’ve been foolish to decline. An opportunity like this . . .” He shook his head. “An alliance with the Leh’kin could mean the difference between victory and defeat. If this meeting goes well, we might actually win this war.”
Alana checked the clock on her heads-up display and realized they were running short on time. “Well, let’s not keep them waiting,” she said. “Don’t want to be late to our own show, do we?”
Without further ado, they hurried up the pathway to the castle and entered the foyer.
Calephus Pyren, commander of Thei’legh’s Fleet of Defense and a loyal knight of Oe’Nhervon, was waiting for them inside. “Admiral. Corporal.” He nodded to each of the humans in turn. “Right this way.” Skipping the pleasantries, he motioned for them to follow and headed back down the hall.
Alana and Anderson broke into a brisk walk to keep up with the knight’s long strides. Their boots thundered down the arched corridors of Caenlegh Castle, magnified tenfold by the sheer size of the place. The noise rebounded and doubled until it sounded like an army of giants was marching toward the throne room.
Alana tried to shake the nervousness from her bones. Keep it together. You don’t want your first impression to be your last, she told herself, wishing her teammates were by her side. Their presence was always comforting, even in the hardest of times.
Beside her, Admiral Anderson was mouthing the words to whatever speech he had managed to whip up in the few hours they’d been given. He’d been rehearsing almost nonstop from the moment they found out about the meeting. Hopefully, that meant he had it down pat because there was no time left to practice.
A pair of guards awaiting them at the end of the hall heaved open a massive set of doors as they approached and waved them through.
Golden pilasters flanked the cavernous throne room, curving upward to the ceiling thirty meters above. Each one carried a vertical banner that bore the kingdom’s crest: a segmented wing with feathers sharp as knives—a symbol of hope and valor.
Assembled between the pilasters were the Knights of Oe’Nhervon. These were the kingdom’s best and brightest, warriors whose prowess was unrivaled. Among their ranks were Levian’s children, Cyra and Lenque.
Cyra was an overachiever—very ambitious like her father, though perhaps a little headstrong in her goal to outshine her peers. Her pale complexion combined with her angular features made her look more like a statue carved from ice than a living being. But no one stood out quite like her brother.
Lenque—the quieter of the two, and by far the most polite—appeared to have been born with a reversed color pattern. His markings practically glowed in contrast to the midnight blue that covered most of his body, whereas every other Leh’kin warrior Alana had seen bore markings darker than their primary skin tone.
Further on, the steps to the throne where King Amalan ‘Nher sat were flanked by members of the royal court. Queen Orlyn and Levian’s wife, Vahn Ejon, were seated quietly beside the King, their curious eyes locked on the much smaller humans. And to the right of the throne stood Levian himself.
Alana almost didn’t recognize him out of his armor. Instead of the deeply scarred combat suit the Drocain Empire had supplied him with long ago, robes of scarlet silk adorned his slender form. And in place of his helmet sat a golden crown, its many points fashioned into a sleek set of antlers upon his head.
The trio halted at the bottom of the steps. Calephus took a knee, crossed an arm over his chest, then motioned for Alana and Anderson to do the same. While Alana copied the bow a little clumsily, Anderson somehow managed to make it appear as though he had done it a thousand times. Despite his success, the look on his face was one of utter humiliation.
Alana suppressed a smile. Never expected to bow down to anyone, did you, Admiral?
At the Queen’s command, the three of them rose.
“Before we begin, there are a few conditions . . .” Levian stepped forward and looked over the court. “Firstly, human laws have no place within these walls. That same rule applies to the Admiral’s authority. While he is a dignitary among his own kind, his rank means nothing here and he shall be treated accordingly.” His cool gaze came to rest on Anderson. “Additionally, interruptions will not be tolerated under any circumstances, and your privilege to express uncensored opinions has been revoked.”
Revoked? Alana thought. Levian had said they would be treated as equals within the castle grounds. What does that mean for the treaty?
Hopefully this was merely the King’s way of testing his guests’ obedience, rather than a sign that their efforts to establish an alliance were in vain.
Levian continued, pacing across the dais. “By now, word of the Calypsis Project has traveled throughout our kingdom and even to the far reaches of Oe’Cantradon. You all understand the threat: the Nephera have returned and intend to eliminate all sentient life in the galaxy. Though their motive remains unclear, the only thing you need to know is that they will not stop until they have succeeded, and we must do everything in our power to halt their progress.” Gesturing to the humans with a sweep of his arm, he shifted his focus to the King. “So, in light of these recent events, I propose a truce—an agreement to cease fire and join forces with the UNPD so that we may quell this enemy before it destroys us.”
That was Anderson’s cue.
Taking a bold stride toward the steps, he met the King’s cold stare with determination and stood at attention. “Had your kind and mine met on different terms, I think we could have agreed to a peaceful coexistence . . .” he began, the wheels visibly turning as he mulled over the speech in his head. “For years, we believed we were fighting to protect our worlds and our people when, in reality, we were only shedding blood in the name of a false cause.
“The very ember that sparked this war was a lie—an elaborate charade meant to pit us against each other before we even knew you existed. Now the truth has been unveiled, and the floodgates stand wide open. This is our chance to set things right—to set aside our differences and face our foes as a united force. Alone, our defeat is certain. But if we stand together, we might just have a chance.”
A few contemplative murmurs arose from the court.
Amalan rose from his throne and regarded the humans with calm consideration, giving no indication as to which way he was leaning. His expression was blank, emotionless. “I never thought a day would
come when humans would walk these halls, and never again shall I allow it. Only now do I make such an exception at the behest of my son. However, if this matter truly is as serious as you claim, then I would like to discuss it further—in private,” he hissed, shooting a disdainful look in Alana’s direction. “Phillip Anderson, we shall continue this conversation in my study. The rest of you are dismissed.”
With that, the members of the court dispersed, disappearing into one of the side rooms. The knights broke away from the wall, and Calephus ushered Alana out of the throne room. She cast one last glance at Anderson as the heavy doors closed behind her.
She prayed he would return with good news.
Once back outside, Alana parked herself on the fountain’s stone wall. Long shadows had stretched across the courtyard whilst they were inside, and the bands of color that played on the mist had long since faded.
“You can relax,” Calephus said. Alana’s nervousness must have been more outwardly apparent than she’d thought. “As far as you are concerned, the meeting is over. All you can do now is wait and hope for the best.”
“Waiting is the worst part.” Alana dipped her hand in the water. A strange, alien fish swam over to see what had disturbed its pool, gave her a nudge, and darted away again. “Think he’ll bite?”
“King Amalan? You mean to ask if I believe he will approve the treaty?” Calephus tipped his head from side to side in uncertainty. “I cannot say. He is unpredictable, unreadable. Just when you think you have him all figured out, he does something totally unexpected. Whether that is a good quality or not has yet to be determined.”
Oh, that’s reassuring, Alana thought as her leg bounced up and down restlessly. She’d managed to force herself out of the hair-twisting habit she’d had since she was a kid, now she couldn’t sit still without tapping her feet or shaking her leg. That nervous energy had to go somewhere.
Her apprehension did not go unnoticed. “Have faith, Alana Carmen,” Calephus added. “Amalan may be king, but his reign is nearing its end. The people of this kingdom have already turned to his successor for guidance. If both the council and the court are aware of this, then they may be able to sway the King’s decision in our favor.”
“Well, I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Just in case.” Alana forced her leg to be still. She caught sight of Levian exiting the castle’s foyer and called out to him as he strode toward the fountain. “Your old man’s got one hell of a poker face. Any idea which way he’s leaning?”
“Even I cannot read him,” Levian said. “The court and the council are on my side, that I can say for certain. But ultimately, the decision is the King’s to make. Should he refuse, I shall divulge the truth of the Nephera’s plans in their entirety.”
Alana nodded slowly, then his words sunk in. “Wait, what didn’t you tell them?” She’d been under the impression that the royal family would be told everything from the most insignificant detail to the greatest atrocity.
“I withheld all information pertaining to the key. If they knew it existed, if they knew it had been lost, a ceasefire would be out of the question. No doubt my father would rally the other kingdoms, lead an assault against the Nephera in an attempt to destroy Calypsis . . . Cruel as it may be, they must remain under the impression that our galaxy is in imminent danger. The revelation of the key must only be used as a last resort.”
The key. No name, just an odd little title that carried the weight of the world.
Almost six months had passed since the portal incident, since the shuttle Pioneer perished in the depths of some faraway sun, and not a soul had uttered Kenon’s name in that time. In fact, it seemed no one wanted to speak of the event at all—or at least not while Alana was in earshot. Her teammates tiptoed around the subject, while Alpha spoke only of the good times with their former leader as if refusing to acknowledge the tragedy.
As much as she would’ve liked to do the same, she could not bring herself to pretend it had never happened. Though her throat still tightened at the very mention of it, it also fueled her drive towards victory. She could harness the pain, the anger, and wield it against her enemies in battle.
If she allowed herself to wallow in despair, she would drown.
“What if that doesn’t work?” she asked.
“Other kingdoms may be willing to align themselves with your faction. Oe’Cantradon, Oe’Iyvon . . . In any case, we can expect an answer later this evening. Until then, we must simply have patience.” Levian lashed his tail across the grass, obviously not all that patient himself.
“Is there anything useful we can do in the meantime?”
He started to say no, then paused and bowed his head in thought. “Perhaps there is,” he said. “The Royal Empire has seized control over a number of states across Dyre following the Nephera’s retreat. We have already deployed several teams to eliminate the Drocain presence and evacuate the cities. If your team were to join them, it could prove to my father that humans and Leh’kin can work together in harmony.”
“I’m in. When do we leave?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Alright. I’ll link up with the others and meet you at the docking station in an hour.” Alana hopped to her feet and left the courtyard. Once she had cleared the castle grounds, she gave her earpiece a tap and hailed her team. “Echo, I’m in need of a rendezvous point.”
Chapter
———TWO———
1200 Hours, May 24, 2439 (Earth Calendar) / Charab’dul Metamorphosis Research Division, planet Chelwood Gate, Schwarzschild System
Dr. Robert Larson shuffled into his new office, arms wrapped around a heavy plastic box. He set it on the carpeted floor with a grunt, hooked his fingers under the lid, and popped the seal. Porcelain ornaments clanked together as he rummaged through its contents, and he soon found the envelope he had slipped in at the last minute. Inside were photos from the old laboratory, dating all the way back to his first day there.
He would miss that old place.
After Calypsis’ mysterious shields suddenly vanished a little under a week ago, the United Colonial Government, in coordination with the Bureau of Scientific Investigations, had called for an immediate planet-wide evacuation. Within seventy-two hours, over two and a half billion people had been extracted from the planet’s surface and moved to Chelwood Gate—a quiet world nestled between the colonies of Skálholt and Mordecai XIII in the Schwarzschild System.
Larson retrieved a packet of thumbtacks from his desk drawer and pinned one of the photographs to the corkboard on the wall. The photo was taken during a surprise party in Dr. Chambers’ home the Christmas following her arrival on Calypsis.
She’d never experienced the holiday before and he had wanted to make it special for her. So he gathered the team and snuck into her house while she was at a meeting. Together they strung lights, hung stockings over the fireplace, and set up a gorgeous white tree in the living room. One of the technicians had even pitched in by bringing a turkey for dinner.
When Chambers returned home later that night, she was furious—as he’d expected she would be. Unaccustomed to the kindness of strangers, she often assumed people were trying to manipulate her when they were merely trying to make her feel welcome. Fortunately, she warmed to the idea after a while and eventually thanked the team for their efforts.
And how could he forget? That was the first time he saw her smile.
A rap of knuckles on wood drew Larson’s focus from the photo and he turned to see his new lab assistant standing in the doorway.
Caitlin Donoghue—a quiet girl who’d transferred here from Chelwood Gate’s former Metamorphosis research division. He could always trust her to arrive on time, and she often stayed late to make sure all of her duties had been completed. Sadly, she wasn’t very talkative. And the few times she did speak, he could hardly understand a thing that came out of her mouth due to her heavy Scottish accent.
“Doctor Larson, have you seen my workbooks?” Caitlin asked, twiddling
her thumbs nervously. For whatever reason, the poor girl seemed intimidated by him and Larson didn’t have a clue why.
“Sorry, I haven’t,” he said. “You might have to wait until the other boxes are unpacked.”
Caitlin wasn’t the first to come by with such a query. When the lab was hit with the evacuation notice, they’d only had six hours to pack up and get out. As a result, most of their belongings had been stuffed into unmarked boxes and no one could find a damn thing.
“Alright. Thank you, sir.” With that, Caitlin took her leave.
Sir. Now that would take some getting used to.
It wasn’t going to be easy adjusting to the new laboratory, let alone his recent promotion to chief scientist. Only a single link below the manager of Sector 3, it was a demanding role that required perseverance and a strong sense of authority. Dr. Chambers had set a high bar for both qualities, and Larson wasn’t sure he could do the same.
He headed into the foyer, where the remainder of their baggage had been unceremoniously deposited, and riffled through the maze of boxes in search of one marked with the late scientist’s name. Despite his colleagues’ insistence that her belongings no longer held any value, he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away.
As he picked up one of the smaller boxes, the lights in the room dimmed and flickered unsteadily for a few seconds before cutting out entirely. The building fell into darkness around him.
One of the receptionists gasped and threw her hands in the air, then groaned in frustration as her computer screen faded to black. Whatever she’d been slaving away on for the past three hours was gone.
Larson sighed. “I’ll go check it out.” Setting the box on the floor again, he left the foyer and took the stairs down to the basement. The steel steps shifted under his weight—yet another thing to add to the growing list of repairs. At least the Bureau had already scheduled renovations for this place.
A frigid draft crept up Larson’s pant legs as he reached the bottom of the stairwell. This was where the majority of their samples were stored—everything from infected blood and flesh to human corpses that had undergone the plague’s brutal transformation process.
The Calypsis Project Boxed Set (Books 1-2 - The Echo-Alpha Duology) Page 30