Have ceased with the fever
That maddened my brain.
/END/
RECEIVED: 2442.09.05.11:00
SRN >> ARE YOU STILL THERE?
RECEIVED: 2442.09.05.20:30
SRN >> PLEASE . . . COME BACK
RECEIVED: 2442.09.06.13:00
SRN>> Three blind mice, three blind mice. See how they run, see how they run.
CHAT ENABLED
CONNECTING . . .
>>CONNECTION ESTABLISHED
DATE / / 13:43 PM, 09/06/2442
STALLION >> A little birdie told me that unbridled AI of yours is transmitting again. I thought you had that situation under control?
LIBERTY ANN YELLOW >> Good morning to you too, Leonard. I’m fine, thanks for asking.
STALLION >> Bad day?
LIBERTY ANN YELLOW >> Like you wouldn’t believe.
STALLION >> You can tell me about it later. Did you manage to isolate the construct’s signal?
LIBERTY ANN YELLOW >> Not yet. However, we did find something interesting. There was a second signal embedded in the first transmission, meaning the construct has been in contact with another AI. We just can’t see the other’s responses.
STALLION >> So now we have two.
LIBERTY ANN YELLOW >> And we can’t track either one.
STALLION >> Great.
LIBERTY ANN YELLOW >> According to Lincoln, the second AI doesn’t exist in this timeline. If you can make sense of that, then maybe we can start making some real progress here.
STALLION >> . . . Slipspace bubble?
LIBERTY ANN YELLOW >> Is that even a thing?
STALLION >> I don’t see why not. As the theory goes, all you would need to do is enter the stream without preloaded exit coordinates. Once you’re in . . . you would essentially be frozen in time . . .
LIBERTY ANN YELLOW >> What are you thinking?
STALLION >> The High Lord picked up an energy spike in Theta Verra, near Alt. It wiped out the drones we had watching the planet. Scanners haven’t detected any other anomalies since.
LIBERTY ANN YELLOW >> You think whatever caused the spike is still in slipstream?
STALLION >> It may very well be, and I might just have a theory as to what it is. Get a team on it and meet me at Queensway Station at four o’clock. Charab’dul, Chelwood Gate.
Don’t be late.
/CHAT OFFLINE/
Chapter
———FOUR———
1400 Hours, September 07, 2442 (Earth Calendar) / Leh’kin Assault Carrier Legacy of Night, Phoenix System, near planet Thei’legh
A wave of nostalgia washed over Alana as she emerged from the dropship’s dim cabin and into the bright lights of the Legacy of Night’s docking bay. She lifted her helmet off and tucked it under her arm, inhaling the metallic scent of freshly polished hulls that lingered in the air.
Feels good to be back, she thought. A good couple of years had passed since she set last foot inside this vessel. Although the memories she held of this place may not have been many, nor all that pleasant, they had certainly played a pivotal role in her life.
Jenkinson, Carter, and a recently promoted Sergeant Parker descended the ramp behind her, followed by the team’s newest addition: Jhiral Alume. Some strings had to be pulled in order for the Drahkori warrior to join their ranks, but everything had turned out fine in the end and she’d since proven herself to be a valuable member of the team.
“Looks like they’ve done some renovating,” Carter remarked.
The changes were subtle, but he was right.
Every mark of the Royal Empire had been removed from the carrier, replaced by the insignia of Oe’Nhervon to signify its commander’s royal blood. While much of the ship’s interior remained untouched, many of the old appliances had been swapped out for more advanced versions crafted by the Leh’kin.
The whoosh of a door opening announced the arrival of the separatist fleet’s newly appointed leader, Levian ‘Nher, and his second-in-command, Lenque. The father-son duo worked well together, and the arrangement allowed Levian to join his forces on the ground without depriving his fleet of a commander.
“It’s good to see you again, Levian.” Alana extended her hand and he took it firmly in his grasp. His new role had kept him busy. This was the first time in months they’d been able to speak face-to-face.
“So, what’s going on?” Jenkinson asked. “Your message sounded urgent.”
“Indeed it was.” With a wave, Levian led them back across the deck and tapped a holo-switch on the wall beside an elliptical passageway—a tram system that ran parallel to the ship’s main corridor. When the glass-domed car arrived, Echo Team quickly climbed aboard, eager to hear what the Fleet Commander had to share with them.
The tramcar soon stopped outside the entrance to the bridge, and the team filed out. As soon as they crossed the threshold, their attention was drawn to an image of a jellyfish-shaped structure hovering above the display table.
Jhiral gaped at the hologram. “Is that what I think it is?”
The Drocain High City. Hundreds of blue indicators drifted around the massive space station, representing the ships that made up the city’s defense fleet.
Levian took his place at the head of the table while Echo Team gathered along one side and studied the image intently. Having only caught glimpses of the city in videos documenting Admiral Stanforth’s valiant attempt to destroy it, none of them had seen the alien structure in such detail before.
It was even more stunning than Alana had imagined.
“Oreva Alkastoran: the heart and soul of the Royal Empire,” Levian began. “Not only does it house some of the largest weapons production facilities in their military, it is also home to more than thirty million Drocain—many of whom belong to the royalty caste. Should the city fall, the Empire would spiral into a grievous state of disrepair.”
He extended both arms over the table’s surface and swept his hands inward. The display shifted to a wider view of the system, revealing that the High City was stationed just outside the orbital path of a human world known as New Heathfield.
Residing on the rim of the Theta Verra System, it was a stone’s throw away from the rebel-controlled colony of Cap d’Ail. However, unlike its neighbor, New Heathfield had been reduced to glass during the third year of the war.
No one knew how the rebels managed to escape the same fate. Alana assumed it was due to how little a threat they posed with their small population and lack of warships. Regardless of their disadvantage, she often wondered how they could just stand by while the colonies around them turned to slag.
“Two days ago we managed to track Oreva Alkastoran to this location,” Levian continued. “My ships have not reentered the system since, but we have seen nothing to indicate that the city has moved on.”
Lieutenant Carter leaned closer to the hologram, waggling a finger between Oreva Alkastoran and New Heathfield. “What’s it doing there?”
“Harvesting—stripping the planet of its resources and collecting the hardened crytal that remains on the surface following orbital bombardment. However, this leaves the station vulnerable.” Levian rotated the image and zoomed in on a lower segment of the station’s stalk where the protective barrier of ships was spread thin. “For mining vessels to maneuver safely within city limits, the defense fleet must leave a rather large opening.”
“You’re suggesting we attack?” Jenkinson inquired, arms folded. “The last time someone tried to pull that stunt, ninety ships got shredded like tissue paper and thousands of people lost their lives without even making a dent in the enemy’s forces.”
“I am well aware, which is why I propose a more tactical approach.” With a few swift movements, Levian brought the projection to focus on an inverted dome connecting the stalk to the station’s bulbous head. Light radiated from beneath the rim, casting a warm glow over the vessels docked below. “The city is powered by a fusion core, which resides here in the upper sector. Sabotaging this
core would trigger a chain reaction throughout the rest of the station’s systems . . .”
“Effectively gutting the whole damn thing,” Alana finished, nodding her head thoughtfully. “This could work. But how do you plan on getting inside? They’ll see you coming from a mile away.”
Levian summoned another projection to the table. This one depicted a sleek black vessel that vaguely resembled a giant manta ray. “I will enter the city alone using the Shadow—a specialized stealth vessel which has proven notoriously difficult to detect on radar.”
“Are there more?” Parker asked.
“Currently, no. Only recently were we able to develop a cloaking device capable of masking the craft’s signature from Oreva Alkastoran’s sensors. Until we can mass-produce that technology, I am afraid this is all we have.”
Jenkinson seemed impressed regardless. “You’re certainly prepared, I’ll give you that,” he said, then gestured to his teammates. “So where do we come in?”
“In the event that I cannot get back to the Shadow before the core detonates, I will commandeer an escape pod. You and your team will be waiting in the asteroid belt nearby to retrieve it, as your Falcon dropship is small enough to go unnoticed at that distance.”
“What are the odds of that happening?”
“Unknown.”
“Alright, when are we doing this thing?” Carter cracked his knuckles, raring to go. Alana could practically feel the excitement rolling off him.
It had been a while since any of them had taken on a stealth mission—even longer since an opportunity this big had presented itself. And while destroying Oreva Alkastoran wouldn’t win the war, it would certainly give the UNPD and their alien allies an edge over their enemies.
“We must seize this opportunity immediately.” Levian closed a fist above the display table to shut down all of the images at once, then took a seat in his throne. He swiveled to face the command console and called out to the bridge crew, “Prepare to jump.”
As soon as they exited slipstream space, Echo Team returned to the docking bay to prepare the Bandwagon for the mission ahead. Alana knelt in the shade of the Leh’kin stealth corvette, fumbling with a rusty screw in the base of the Falcon’s portside turret. Her hands shook—not from apprehension, but from excitement. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such a rush, nor the last time she’d actually felt hopeful for the future.
We probably wouldn’t even be here right now if it weren’t for the Leh’kin, she thought.
Though many people were still skeptical, Alana was confident that forming an alliance with the Leh’kin was the best decision the UNPD could have made. Mankind might have been able to defeat the Drocain eventually, but without help, they didn’t stand a chance against the Nephera.
At the sound of movement to her right, Alana looked up from the turret’s base and frowned when she saw Levian sitting next to the corvette’s gravity lift. He was bent over, fiddling with some kind of metal brace on his ankle.
For as long as they’d known each other, he’d always had a limp. Alana had come to learn it was caused by an injury he received the fateful night his assault carrier crash-landed in the swamps of Calypsis. She hadn’t thought it was serious enough to warrant a support, though.
It didn’t take long for the Fleet Commander to realize he was being watched. He cast a glance at the soldier out the corner of his eye, then heaved a heavy sigh. “These past few years have not treated me kindly.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Alana murmured, massaging the sore muscles in her shoulders. “It’s just . . . Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to lead this mission on your own? I mean, if there’s someone else on board who could—”
“While I appreciate your concern, Corporal, I can assure you that no one else aboard this ship is qualified.” Levian made a few more adjustments to the brace and gave it a tug to make sure it was secure before rising to his feet. “The Leh’kin you see around you are knights, not warriors of the Royal Empire. Many have never seen Oreva Alkastoran, let alone set foot within its walls.”
“Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
Levian gave her a sympathetic look, then clenched a fist to his chest and bowed his head. “You have my word.”
With that, he gathered his equipment and stepped into the gravity lift, ascending into the belly of the Shadow. As the hatch spun to a close behind him, the sleek vessel rotated to face the shield doors. Its hulls gleamed purple under the bay’s bright lights, shimmering like the wet skin of an eel.
“I think we’re just about ready to go,” Sergeant Parker said as he strolled onto the ramp to join Alana. Wiping sweat from his neck with an oily rag, he gestured to the turret and asked, “How’s this coming along?”
“Almost done.” Alana blew a loose strand of hair off her face and continued tightening the screws around the turret’s base where the paint was beginning to peel off. “I’m no engineer, but even I know this ship needs a lot more work than we’re able to offer.”
Parker rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “This whole wagon could really use a makeover. She’s due for maintenance anyway. We could all chip in on a fancy paint job next time we swing by the station, too. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”
Alana laughed. “Let’s just hope she can get us through this mission and back there in one piece.”
————
The clack of armored footfalls echoed throughout Oreva Alkastoran’s empty halls. Alarms raised in the living quarters had beckoned most of the guards to the station’s lower decks, leaving only a handful to patrol the upper sector. And although what had triggered the alarms remained unknown, the distraction could not have come at a more convenient time.
It was almost as if someone were watching over him, guiding and protecting him on his way. What are the odds? Even if he had allies within the city, they could not have known he was here—for if they had seen him, surely the sentries would have as well.
Levian peered out from a darkened corridor as a couple of bronze-skinned guards sauntered into view, heads hung low in conversation, oblivious to the warrior watching them from the shadows. They were Khael’hin, the giants of Si-Gheila—often called walking tanks among humans. Most of them had remained loyal to the Empire after the schism, despite many other species leaving.
As soon as they passed the corridor, Levian slipped out from his hiding place and flicked his wrists. Twin energy lances sprang from his gauntlets like chained lightning. Their tips raked across the ground, leaving deep, molten gashes in the floor panels.
The bright blades punctured the guards’ helmets with ease, piercing the skulls beneath before the lumbering giants could turn to face their attacker. They collapsed to the ground, limbs twitching madly as they choked on their own tongues.
Wasting no time to hide their unwieldy corpses, Levian hurried onward to the central lift that would take him to the throne room.
Once a loyal subject of the Empire, it felt strange to return to Oreva Alkastoran as an enemy of the crown. Never did he imagine he would walk these halls again, and certainly not with the intent to set them ablaze. Yet here he was, headed for the monarch’s chamber in search of the codes to the city’s fusion core.
To ensure they never fell into the wrong hands, the Drocain queen, Ahlaie Yhehiel, was the only one who had access to the key codes. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to pry them out of her—even if it meant the betrayal of his own principles.
The lift halted at the top of the shaft and Levian marched down the narrow corridor. As he passed through the drapes to the throne room, the two guards standing outside the monarch’s chamber snapped to the alert.
“Halt,” one said. “State your name, warrior, or else—” She paused, flashing her fangs when she noticed the energy blades sparking at his sides. Her partner spotted them as well. The pair of them burst into action.
Darting towards the guards, Levian drop
ped into a crouch to slip beneath their staves. He lashed out with his blades as he slid between them, cutting clean through one Khael’hin’s torso, while the other managed to slip by unscathed.
Levian skidded to a halt and whipped around just in time to dodge a strike from the remaining guard. Metal screeched against metal as the stave skimmed over his shoulder, narrowly missing his throat and leaving a deep groove in his harness.
Before she could withdraw and make another attempt, he seized the stave’s shaft and wrenched it from her grasp. Unbalanced, the larger warrior stumbled over her own feet. With one swift blow, Levian removed her head.
Armor clattered to the floor, announcing the battle’s end.
It was over in less than a minute.
What has become of the Queen’s Guard?
For as long as he had been in the Empire, only the most experienced fighters from the royalty caste were selected for the position. Yet these warriors were novices whose ignorance had besmirched the ceremonial battledress they wore. Why employ these untried fools when there were so many other worthy souls to choose from?
Tossing the guard’s bloodied stave aside, Levian pressed on to the monarch’s chamber. To his surprise, the automatic doors parted upon his approach. With the alarms wailing several decks below, he had assumed this sector would be locked down to ensure the Queen’s safety.
The Calypsis Project Boxed Set (Books 1-2 - The Echo-Alpha Duology) Page 32