The Calypsis Project Boxed Set (Books 1-2 - The Echo-Alpha Duology)

by Brittany M. Willows

  She stared at him in dismay. “Lance . . . It’s twenty-four-forty-two. You’ve been gone for three years.”

  Chapter

  ———NINE———

  1410 Hours, September 08, 2442 (Earth Calendar) / UNPD Dropship Bandwagon, Theta Verra, near planet Alt

  Three years . . . Kenon couldn’t wrap his head around it. How could so much time have passed? Surely the shuttle hadn’t been drifting unnoticed for so long. But then, where could it have gone? And what made it reappear when it did—on the day Echo Team happened to be in the system?

  It was too perfect, too precise . . .

  Alas, I will not find my answers here. For now, it would be best to focus on the present.

  As he followed Lieutenant Knoble back into Pioneer with Echo Team on his heels, he was relieved to find that the frost had melted. Condensation trickled down the forward viewscreen, leaving trails on the foggy glass, and water pooled near the aft doors.

  Sergeant Parker went to work straight away. He pulled a metal toolbox from beneath the command chair and retrieved a small instrument from inside, then ducked under the console and wedged the tool’s flat head under the edge of a panel. Once he’d pried the panel open, he began rewiring the colorful strands inside.

  While he tinkered with the shuttle’s systems, Lieutenant Jenkinson beckoned Kenon and Knoble to the center of the cabin, where the rest of the team had gathered.

  “A lot has happened since you’ve been gone,” he said. “Admiral Anderson will give you a proper briefing when we arrive at Delta Station, but Carmen and I have agreed to address your more urgent concerns ourselves.” He slipped his helmet off and tucked it under his arm. “Before we begin, I noticed a couple of you are missing. Where are Orion and Doctor Chambers?”

  At the mention of his name, the AI’s avatar sprang from the console—inadvertently startling Parker and causing him to bang his head on the dash. “I’m here,” he said, ignoring the soldier’s pained mutterings. “The Doctor is a little preoccupied at the moment. However, I can bring the shuttle’s comm systems online if you would like to speak to her.”

  “Do it, please,” Jenkinson said.

  With a nod, Orion disappeared. When he returned and Dr. Chambers’ subdued voice came over the shuttle’s speakers, it became apparent that he had already relayed the recent events to her.

  “Three whole years, huh? That explains a lot.”

  Alana looked to the speakers on the ceiling. “It’s good to hear your voice, Doc.” She shifted her focus to Kenon and her stepfather. “Now, while it may not be the most professional way, we’ve decided to take a Q-and-A approach to this briefing to get some the more important things out of the way first. So, fire away.”

  Dr. Chambers went first. “What is Calypsis’ status?”

  Jenkinson replied. “Stable. Shields went down about six months after the portal incident. The UCG initiated evacuation procedures immediately, and the only people who have been down since are BSI operatives.”

  “Do I even want to know what happened to my lab?”

  “The building was abandoned. Anything of value would have been hauled off to the new facility on Chelwood Gate.”

  Kenon spoke next, his voice laden with dread. “What of Dyre and the rest of my kind?” he asked. Last he saw his homeworld, its cities were crumbling under the Nephera’s assault. If that destruction had continued uninterrupted, the planet would be nothing but a wasteland now.

  “I have good news and bad news.” Alana rubbed her neck. “Well, mostly bad. While Dyre isn’t in any immediate danger, the Drahkori have been fighting off Drocain ever since the Nephera’s first assault. Despite the Leh’kin’s assistance, most of the capital cities have fallen. As a precaution, other highly populated areas have been evacuated to refugee camps on Thei’legh.”

  “And the Nephera?”

  “I don’t think they realized you were on Pioneer when they sent it into that portal. Their military was in disarray, and they went quiet . . . until a couple of days ago, when they started scrambling. I guess we know the reason for that now, though.”

  A twinge of guilt gripped Kenon’s chest. The realization that his return would only bring about more death and destruction was like a swift punch to the gut.

  Knoble folded his arms. “You probably saw this one coming: How are my guys doing?”

  “Alpha is under new management,” Alana said. “They may not be quite up to par, but they’re alive, and that’s gotta count for something, right?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Lieutenant Jenkinson, there is one more thing I would like to know . . . When did Alt fall?” Dr. Chambers asked quietly, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  “A year ago, ma’am. Drocain assault.”

  “Casualties?”

  Jenkinson clenched his teeth. “Approximately four hundred thousand from Veronika Lagransky’s fleet, and another sixteen thousand from Home. We were deployed alongside Alpha, Delta, Kilo, Lima, and Foxtrot. Most of our ground forces were wiped out within the first few days . . .” His tone grew somber. “We lost a lot of good people.”

  “I guess some things never change.”

  Alana piped up in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Actually, Doctor, things have taken a turn for the better. Not only have we secured an alliance with the Leh’kin, but yesterday we managed to take down Oreva Alkastoran.”

  “What?” Knoble gasped.

  “The High City?” Kenon recalled his brief visit to the magnificent space station. It was hard to picture it lying in ruins when not so long ago he had thought it to be nigh indestructible. “How is that possible?”

  “It wouldn’t have been if not for Levian,” Alana said. “He infiltrated the city’s defenses and sabotaged its fusion core from the inside. The blast wiped out every ship within a forty kilometer radius. I don’t know about you, but that seems like a pretty huge dent to me.”

  Knoble rubbed his forehead, speechless.

  A flurry of sparks exploded from the command console with a loud pop, interrupting the briefing. Parker pushed away from the dashboard, shaking his hands limply. He must have gotten a shock from one of the wires he’d stripped.

  Obviously more shaken by the noise than he was willing to admit, Jenkinson flapped his arms out and shouted at his teammate. “What the hell are you doing over there? You’re supposed to be repairing this bucket, not tearing it apart!”

  “Apparently it doesn’t want to be fixed.” Parker capped a few more wires, then slammed the panel closed and joined everyone by the hatch. “Anyway, I’ve got a diagnosis for you, Doc: it looks like you suffered a power surge—possibly, but unlikely, related to the portal.”

  “It passed inspection,” Chambers said, “and you know how strict the Bureau is with their safety standards. What would make you think the problem isn’t related to the portal?”

  “Because the surge came from inside the shuttle. Though, from what I can see, none of the onboard systems were responsible. Whatever the cause, this thing won’t fly without a pricey trip to the repair station.”

  “Great. I’ll put it on the Bureau’s tab.”

  “In that case, we’re going to need a tug,” Jenkinson said. “We’re not returning the freighter with a leech hanging off it. Let’s get the Bandwagon over here and yank it off. Parker can take over when she arrives.”

  Alana tapped her earpiece and hailed the dropship. “Echo Four to Echo Five. Put your party hat on, ‘cause we’ve got a surprise.” She threw a glance at Kenon as she listened to whomever was speaking on the other end of the line. “Wrangler is secure, but we’ve got a vessel that needs towing. Parker’s going to open the airlock so you two can switch places.”

  While Alana and Jenkinson headed aft to speak with Dr. Chambers, Kenon accompanied Knoble to the cargo bay to reclaim their stolen weapons. Though most of the human firearms were intact, it appeared the rebels’ ignorance had rendered all of his equipment inoperable.

  Se
veral crytal capsules had burst open inside his repeater and turned its internal mechanisms to slag, and his dart rifle had been forcibly disassembled—leaving a number of parts warped beyond repair. Both weapons would have to be replaced.

  With a full duffel bag in hand, they returned to Pioneer and stowed their battered equipment in the storage compartment near the console. Just as he shoved the last twisted piece of dart rifle inside, Kenon felt a gentle tap on his arm and turned to see Alana.

  She jerked her chin toward the hatch. “Come with me,” she said. There was an underlying hint of excitement in her tone, an almost mischievous gleam in her eyes.

  “Why? What is it?” he asked.

  “You’ll see. Come on, trust me.”

  Curious, Kenon followed her out of the shuttle. She led him across the hangar at a brisk pace, past the entrance to the cargo bay, and slowed when they neared the portside airlock.

  Sergeant Parker was seated at the airlock control panel, fingers pressed to the side of his helmet—probably communicating with the Bandwagon’s stand-in pilot. He lifted his head as they approached and offered a quick wave before turning back to the luminous screen in front of him.

  A clanging sound reverberated throughout the freighter’s hull as the docking clamps latched onto the dropship. Parker typed in a command, then palmed the panel to repressurize the airlock. When the heavy door spun open, he hopped up from his chair and disappeared into the docking tube.

  A few minutes passed in awkward silence. Just as Kenon was about to ask Alana why she’d brought him here, a voice emanated from inside the Bandwagon’s cabin—an impossibly familiar and distinctly female tone.

  She appeared in the doorway.

  Jhiral Alume, his childhood companion. He hadn’t expected to see her again for at least a few years, if ever, and certainly not so far from home! Yet here she was, staring at him from the airlock in a full suit of armor.

  Alana was beaming. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said. With that, she pivoted on her heel and left the hangar.

  Jhiral exited the docking tube and made her way over to Kenon. Her expression changed from shock to relief as she looked over him. She took him in her embrace.

  Unsure whether he should to return the gesture, he stood stiffly in her arms. Though he was pleased to see her, he could not forget their last conversation.

  The night before his departure, Jhiral had tracked him to the training grounds at the academy and tried to persuade him to stay on Dyre—to flee from Ceida and start a new life in another state. It did not matter what she said, she could not convince him. In the end, their final exchange had turned sour.

  However, while those ill feelings were still fresh in his mind, she’d had three whole years to reflect on it, and she wasn’t one to dwell on the past. She had probably moved past the incident long ago.

  Kenon pulled away. “Jhiral, what are you doing here?”

  Her mouth hung ajar as if she wasn’t sure where to start. “It is a long story,” she said.

  “We have time.”

  She hesitated a moment longer, then guided him over to a bench running the length of the wall that divided the hangar. “I suppose it began when Alamir informed us of your death.” She parked herself in the middle of the bench and motioned for him to sit beside her. “I was devastated . . . at first. But the more I thought about the way you died, the more absurd it became.”

  “How so?” Kenon asked, pushing a stack of tarps aside to make room for himself.

  “He said you were struck by a land vehicle—not vaporized, shot, nor ripped apart. I could not accept that. I have seen you fight many times, and I knew there was no way you could have been killed in such a disgraceful manner. Then your mother reached out after the Nephera attacked. She said you were traveling with a group of humans. I thought she might have been delusional . . . but if there was a chance you were alive, I could not simply ignore it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I went looking for you. My search eventually led me to Shindar, where I learned of a human called Alana Carmen. She matched the description your mother had given me, and that was when I knew: You were still out there somewhere.” A few loose braids fell over Jhiral’s shoulder as she rested on her knees. “I wandered the country for months. Then the Royal Empire invaded. I was trapped in Torsal for three weeks before the Leh’kin freed us. As we were queuing up for the shuttles, I overheard the knights talking . . . They said the UNPD was assisting in the next state over, and I thought, Who better to ask about this girl than others humans? So I went to Rodan, and by some stroke of luck, Alana Carmen was there.” Her tone grew soft. “Then I approached her, inquired of your whereabouts . . . and once again I was told you had died.”

  Kenon hung his head. “When did you join their team?”

  “That very same day. You inspired me. You inspired a lot of us, actually. Others have sought to join the fight since hearing of your story, though none have been accepted yet. I think I was lucky to find Echo.” Jhiral paused, the tip of her tail bending into a tight curl. “They told me what you are, Kenon—what you claimed to be.”

  “I did not claim to be anything,” he retorted, rather more sharply than intended. “The first we heard of the key was from the Doctor’s AI. We had no idea what it was until we met with the council and Alamir revealed it was me.”

  “Why you, though? What is it that makes you so special?”

  Kenon looked away. “I wish I knew . . .”

  ————

  It seemed Wrangler’s age was not only apparent on the surface, but on the inside as well. The pungent smell of mildew stung Alana’s nostrils, and condensation dripped off the pipes running the length of the corridor. At least the subtle creak of the deck shifting underfoot was able to lend a distraction from the unpleasant thought that plagued her.

  After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, some part of her couldn’t believe this day was anything more than a freakishly vivid dream. Oreva Alkastoran was in ruins. Its destruction had thrown the Drocain Empire into a downward spiral towards defeat. And against all odds, her stepfather had come home.

  It was almost too good to be true.

  But deep down, she knew this was real.

  It has to be.

  Lieutenant Jenkinson drew up beside her without warning and threw his arm over her shoulders. “Hey,” he said in a rather nonchalant manner, which meant he was about to get all touchy-feely. “You’ve been unusually quiet since the briefing. You okay?”

  Alana wanted to shrug away from him. While she appreciated the thought, his attempts to comfort her only made her feel claustrophobic. “I’m fine, Kurt,” she said. Then, realizing it would take a lot more than that to convince him, she corrected herself: “I’ll be fine. I just need some time to adjust.”

  “A bit surreal, isn’t it?”

  “That’s one way to describe it.”

  “Well, I’m always here if you want to talk.”

  Alana tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know.”

  “Good.” Jenkinson retrieved Captain Montoya’s access card from his pocket as they neared the end of the corridor. He swiped it across a scanner. The system emitted a cheerful beep, the heavy doors parted, and they strolled onto the bridge.

  “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten us,” Carter said. He and Parker were sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing some holographic board game on a projector they must have found on deck. The two rebel officers remained cuffed to the console.

  “Couldn’t forget you even if I tried, Carter.” Jenkinson strode past him and stopped in front of Montoya, who was slumped in the command chair. Her wrists were bound to the armrests, legs zip-tied together. He gave her cheek a few gentle slaps.

  She jerked awake with a grimace, still drowsy from the sedative. It took a moment for her to notice the restraints. When she did, her head snapped up. She glared at Jenkinson through her ginger fringe.

  “Enjoy your nap?” he aske
d.

  “You stupid son of a bitch . . .”

  “Says the rebel who stole a freighter full of nothing.” Jenkinson leaned in towards her. “We know you didn’t come here for the goods. The cargo hold is overflowing with empty crates. So, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here?”

  Montoya spat at him. “Why don’t you go screw yourself?”

  Jenkinson straightened and turned away slowly. Alana could see the anger bubbling inside him, could see him struggling to suppress it as he wiped the spittle from his face. He couldn’t hold it in. He spun on his toes and caught Montoya in the jaw with a nasty right hook.

  It was rare to get a glimpse of his nasty streak. But when it came to dealing with rebels, this whole other side welled to the surface, and Alana wasn’t fond of it. Bad Cop was usually Carter’s role to play.

  Jenkinson rounded on the officers. “Anyone else wanna go?”

  The navigation officer burst into tears. “I never wanted any part in this,” she whimpered. “I’m a flight navigator, for Christ’s sake—not a goddamn criminal! Please, just let me go. I’ll tell you everything!”

  The comms officer gaped at her. “You’re selling us out?”

  Montoya tugged at her restraints. “If you say one more word, Matthews, I swear to god—” She paused mid-sentence when Carter pointed his pistol at her, then obediently sank into her chair.

  “Matthews, right?” Jenkinson crouched in front of the blubbering woman. “If you didn’t want this, why are you here?”

  “I was promised a cut of the bounty if I cooperated, and Montoya threatened to take away my little girl if I didn’t . . .” Her words descended into sobs. “Please, she’s only six years old. She needs me!”

  Jenkinson chewed on that for a minute. “Alright, Matthews, here’s the deal: If you tell us about this job, we’ll vouch for you. We may not be able to keep you out of prison, but we can at least get you a shorter sentence.”