Levian flashed his fangs. “The grounds upon which we formed this alliance have not been made public for good reason,” he said. “The only detail you need be aware of is that we were betrayed.”
The man scowled. “So you are hiding something.”
“Quiet, Hanson.” Roxburgh gave him a nudge. “If President Talbot has signed off on this, there’s no reason to worry. We’re in good hands.”
The truck soon rolled to a stop and the doors slid open. Alana stepped out of the overcrowded vehicle and looked up at the structure standing before her.
The Banks & Rhys Centre—home of the UCG Security Council. It was located in a restricted area jointly owned by the United Colonial Government and the Bureau of Scientific Investigations. BSI’s headquarters, Sector 0’s main office, and the Charab’dul Metamorphosis Research Division were also situated in the district.
Tinted windows made up much of the building’s façade, making it difficult to see inside. Streamers of light coiled around the granite pillars that supported the building’s crescent-shaped overhang, and the UCG’s insignia glowed brightly on the sign positioned beside the entrance.
Sergeant Roxburgh moved to the front of the group, looking down at the PDA strapped to her forearm. “Alright,” she said, swiping her finger across the small screen. “Kurt Jenkinson, Alana Carmen, Levian ‘Nher, and Kenon Valinquint—head on inside with Anderson. Everyone else is staying out here.”
The four of them broke away from the group and followed Anderson inside. On the way to gather their visitor badges from the receptionist, Alana spotted a familiar figure out the corner of her vision and paused.
At the far end of the foyer, a woman in a lab coat was grilling some hapless UCG employee on the whereabouts of Echo Team. The poor kid was white as a sheet, his forehead glistening with sweat. There were only a handful of scientists Alana knew who could instill that kind of fear in a person.
“Doctor Chambers!” she exclaimed.
Chambers twisted at the sound of her name. “Oh, thank god!” she breathed. Without another word to the young man, she hurried over to Echo Team. “You have no idea how relieved I am to see you. I was beginning to think the protestors got to you.”
Jenkinson furrowed his brow. “You knew we were coming?”
“Orion told me,” she said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days. I couldn’t get in touch by radio, so when I heard you had a meeting with the Security Council, I came here as fast as I could.”
“Yeah, sorry. We were off the grid for a while.” Alana tucked her hair behind her ear, a lump forming in her throat as the battle on Thei’legh slithered to the front of her thoughts. She forced it back again. This wasn’t the time to dwell on losses. “Did something happen?”
“Orion made a friend. An AI. The two of them have been chatting for about a week now, though she only appeared to me a couple of days ago. Apparently, she is the overseer of an old starship that was marooned on Dyre.”
“What was it called?” Kenon asked.
“Barlow.”
Alana’s jaw dropped. “That’s the ship we found in the Deadlands,” she said. “Sevadi and I agreed to keep that information within our own teams after the portal incident. Anderson was the only person outside the group who had any knowledge of it.”
“Which is why I think she’s telling the truth. Plus, there’s this.” Chambers retrieved a data storage device from her coat pocket and handed it to Alana. “This chip contains coordinates to every major location inside Calypsis—including the entrance to the activation chambers. That’s where you have to take Kenon. From there, he can destroy the planet.”
Alana shook her head. “Wait, where did you get this?”
“Serenity. It appears she harvested it from a Nepheran data cluster, but the codes predate anything I’ve seen. Even Orion had difficulty translating it into a language we could understand.”
Jenkinson took the chip from Alana and turned it over in his gloves. “How would a Drahkori AI get a hold of this information? I thought they didn’t have that kind of tech.”
“We never did, as far as I am aware,” Kenon said. “She was not a Drahkori construct, though. Was she, Doctor?”
Chambers shrugged, just as dumbfounded as the rest of them. “I’m not sure what to tell you. She looked almost human. And you said so yourself, Valinquint: that ship in the desert doesn’t belong to your kind.”
“You’re positive this isn’t some BSI trick?” Jenkinson asked. “Sector Zero probably have a backdoor pass to all of the UNPD’s filing systems. I doubt they would have any trouble getting their hands on the Deadlands footage.”
“Sector Zero were the ones who tried to shut her down. Make of that what you will, but I think the facts speak fairly clear for themselves. They didn’t want her talking.”
Admiral Anderson returned with the visitor badges in hand and distributed them amongst the team. Each badge carried a unique code that would grant them one-time access to the building’s lower levels. “We should hurry along,” he said. “We don’t want to keep the councilors waiting.”
Alana nodded sharply, then turned to Chambers and gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, Doctor. And give my thanks to Orion and his friend as well. If this data is accurate, it’s going to be one hell of an advantage.”
“Thank me later—after you’ve won.”
Dr. Chambers patted her on the back and sent her off with a wave. Alana ran to catch up with her teammates, and squeezed into the elevator beside them. At the swipe of Anderson’s UCG council badge, they began their descent.
Alana noticed Kenon clenching and unclenching his fists next to her, the rest of his body stiff as a board. “Nervous?” she asked.
“Should I be?”
“We are about to state our case to some of the highest ranking officials in the military—not to mention the president of the UCG. They’re bound to have questions, and you can’t decline to answer if they ask about your status as the key.”
The tip of Levian’s tail twitched. “I have found most humans to be remarkably skeptical creatures. If the warrior were to reveal what he is, I doubt they would believe it,” he said, exposing some skepticism of his own.
“If they don’t, he can prove it. Can’t you, Valinquint?” Jenkinson waggled his fingers to mimic a magician casting a spell. “Put on a light show like you did at the temple. Just don’t vaporize anyone this time.”
Kenon lowered his head. “I cannot control it.”
“What?”
“What happened at the Silver Forge was an automatic response. To be honest, I recall very little of the battle. I lost awareness shortly after the crytal bolts struck me.”
“Just tell the council what’s necessary to get you on Calypsis.” Anderson tucked his cap under his arm. “If it comes to revealing the key, I will take over. For now, all you need to do is convince them that you can end this.”
The glowing numbers above the door fell to zero, then changed to letters as they descended into the Banks & Rhys Centre’s subterranean complex. The elevator stopped at the bottom of the shaft on sub level D—four stories underground, buried beneath several kilotons of concrete and steel.
The team exited the shaft and marched down a nondescript hallway. There were no other rooms, no windows or interior decorations. It was just them and a narrow stretch of gray carpet that ultimately led them to the council chamber.
Admiral Anderson swiped his badge through a scanner on the wall. Its blinking light switched to blue, and the heavy doors parted.
The sheer size of the room on the other side caught Alana off guard. Twice the width of a regular conference room with walls stretching nine meters high. Unsurprisingly, however, it didn’t provide much of a visual feast. Typical of most government buildings, the only things they had to liven up the place were a few of ferns tucked into the far corners on either side of a C-shaped mahogany table.
At the head of the table was Deja Talbot—the president of the United Colonial
Government, revered for her generosity and gregarious nature. Admiral Edwin Jarvis, Vice Admiral Joan Deschamps, and Major General Danika Nikolov were seated to her right.
Opposite them, Fleet Admiral Petra Lagransky sat next to an empty chair reserved for Anderson. And then there was the man whose presence set off every alarm bell in Alana’s head: Director Darren DuFrayne of the Bureau of Scientific Investigations.
The crafty son of a bitch could hide behind as many smiles and good deeds as he liked, but as head honcho of one of the galaxy’s shadiest organizations, everyone knew he was trouble.
I should’ve known he’d be here.
Although DuFrayne wasn’t an official member of the council, he had earned his place on the panel by being the second most powerful person in the colonies—right next to Talbot. In fact, he probably had even more influence behind the curtains, what with all his sneaky dealings and likely connections to the Calypsis Project.
President Talbot folded her hands upon the tabletop, her lips curving slightly. “Levian ‘Nher,” she said. “I wasn’t aware you were joining us this evening. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I thought it would be rude to simply deliver the intended party and leave without so much as a greeting,” he replied in jest. “In all seriousness, I am here to oversee the meeting.”
“No matter the capacity in which you are here, I ask that you speak freely. As representatives of our respective species, we are equals within this room.” Talbot shifted her focus to Anderson and gestured to the empty chair beside Lagransky. “Phillip, why don’t you take a seat and we’ll get started.”
Anderson broke away from the group and went to join his fellow councilors at the table.
“Before we get to the crux of the matter,” Admiral Jarvis said, twirling a stylus between his nimble fingers. He pointed the utensil at the young Drahkori warrior and asked, “What’s your story?”
Kenon blinked. “My . . . story?”
“You’re a rookie. You’ve got less than a year of service under your belt, and until yesterday, no one had ever heard of you. Obviously Anderson thinks you’re important enough to attend this meeting. What I want to know is why.”
“I was involved in the unveiling of the Calypsis Project. Alana Carmen and I were the ones who brought it to light in the first place, and it was also we who united our two sides against the Nephera and the Royal Empire.”
“Have you lost anyone in the war?”
“No one I was particularly close to.”
Jarvis jotted something down on his PDA. “And did you kill any humans during your time in the Empire?”
“A few.” Kenon’s voice lowered to a murmur, his words laden with guilt. “However, I soon realized I was fighting for the wrong side and those whose lives I took early on will haunt me to the end of my days.”
“So . . . what? A hundred? One fifty?”
“Fewer than thirty!” the warrior snapped defensively.
This was starting to sound like an interrogation.
“Might I ask how this is relevant?” Levian interjected.
“Evaluating the potential threat level of our allies determines whether we need to monitor their activity and helps us decide how to present them to the public—if at all. You, for instance.” Jarvis straightened in his chair. “You might have had a change of heart, but you’re still responsible for over a hundred million casualties. This means we have to highlight your redeeming qualities, paint you as the victim. Others are . . . harder to pass off. Your king is a prime example. I pegged him at threat level C, because he’s unpredictable. He may be on our side now, but by tomorrow, who knows?”
Talbot fixed Jarvis with a half-lidded stare. “Are you done?”
“I have what I need.” He laid his stylus on the table.
“Good, then let’s continue,” she said. “Lieutenant Jenkinson, Admiral Anderson tells me you wish to pay a visit to Calypsis. What for?”
He stood at attention. “Madam President, I assume you have been informed of the Calypsis Project and the Nephera’s plans to exterminate us. We’re here today because we might have a way to prevent them from ever activating it.”
An exasperated laugh burst from General Nikolov’s mouth, as if she thought the notion was ridiculous. “And how exactly do you hope to achieve such a feat? By blowing the planet to smithereens?”
Jenkinson met the General’s sarcastic response with a deadpan expression. “Well . . . yes, actually—if that’s what it takes to keep the Nephera from using it against us.”
The council gaped at him.
“You can’t do that,” Admiral Deschamps said. “We’re not talking about any old colony here, Lieutenant. We’re talking about one of humanity’s most prized possessions! Not only does it hold a wealth of history, it is home to the survivors of Earth. They’re going to want to return to it some day.”
“. . . You’re aware it’s a superweapon, right?”
“That’s besides the point. Don’t you see how much we stand to lose?”
“Don’t you see how much more we stand to lose if we don’t act now? If there are still valuable assets on the surface, you should have collected them when you had the chance.”
“Can you not simply shut it down?” Lagransky asked.
Jenkinson shook his head. “Not to my knowledge, no.”
The Director, who had been sitting quietly for the better part of the meeting, finally decided to join the discussion. “What led you to believe that total destruction is your only option?”
“It’s the only smart option,” Jenkinson retorted. “As long as the Nephera have Calypsis, we are in danger. Sparing the planet is like jumping into a lake full of piranhas and hoping they don’t strip your bones clean.”
“What’s stopping them from using it now?”
“They need a power source. And the second they find one, we’re screwed.”
“Then answer me this: How exactly are you going to destroy it? The weapon’s shell is impenetrable. There’s no way to break through. What you’re suggesting is preposterous!” DuFrayne’s relentless opposition to Echo Team’s proposal was beginning to rouse the council’s suspicions.
For every answer, he had an excuse—and Alana could see them putting the pieces together.
Admiral Lagransky leaned on the table and looked past Anderson. She whispered something to DuFrayne, which sparked an inaudible dispute between them. He shot back at her through gritted teeth, his face turning beet red as the argument went on. Deschamps and Nikolov joined in after a few minutes.
“If I might interrupt, councilors—“ Jenkinson started to say.
The Director cut him off. “No, Lieutenant, you may not!”
This was getting out of hand. If no one else was going to put an end to this childish squabbling, Alana was going to have to do it herself.
Forgive me, Kurt.
She stepped forward, knees quaking. “We don’t have time for this,” she said. “There is a war going on out there, and if we don’t do something about it soon, we are all going to die!”
The councilors fell silent.
Alana’s eyes locked with Talbot’s and she continued, her words slow and precise. “We came to you for help because we might have a viable solution. It may not be perfect, but this is our last stand against the Nephera. If we fail . . . we could lose everything.”
DuFrayne turned on her, nostrils flaring. He moved away from the table and stabbed his finger in her direction. “You, young lady, are way out of—”
“That’s enough,” Talbot said firmly. She held Alana’s pleading gaze for a moment, then stood and looked over each of the councilors. “We’ve lost nine colonies to the Drocain. That’s more than seven billion lives, and I am not prepared to lose any more. If sacrificing one world means saving the rest, that is what we’re going to have to do.”
As the rest of them murmured in concurrence, DuFrayne plopped down in his seat and hung his head in defeat. The reminder of how much humanity had lost
seemed to weigh heavily on him.
Perhaps he was starting to see the error of his ways.
General Nikolov tapped her nails on the table. “I assume you have a plan of attack?”
“More or less,” Levian replied. “Once we have located an entry point, Echo Team will make a hard drop to Calypsis’ surface and infiltrate its internal network. Based on my estimates, it should take no more than two days to reach the core. My ships shall remain in orbit during that time to keep the Nephera occupied.”
“You think they’re going to be waiting with a welcome party?”
“It is likely they have already predicted our next move and are mobilizing their ships as we speak. After witnessing their destructive power firsthand . . .” Levian cleared his throat to banish the tension in his voice. “Our current forces alone are not sufficient. If we hope to hold them off, we require an armada of considerable size.”
“How big are we talking?” Jarvis asked, reaching for a drink.
Jenkinson answered this time. “We already have two hundred and thirty ships with Home Fleet and the Drocain Separatist Fleet combined. At this point, we’ll take anything the UNPD can offer. Another two hundred vessels would be ideal, though.”
Jarvis nearly choked on his water. “Two hundred? It’ll take days to rally that many ships!”
“As I said, sir, we will gladly accept whatever you have to offer. Any ships you have on hand can accompany us to Calypsis tomorrow, and the rest can join the fight when they become available. So long as we know we’ll have reinforcements.”
“What about infantry?” Nikolov whipped out her PDA, ready to take numbers. “How many troops do you need on the ground?”
“None.”
“None?”
“There’s no telling what’ll happen after we enter those tunnels, and last I checked, the whole planet was highly unstable. The less people I have to worry about, the better.”
The Calypsis Project Boxed Set (Books 1-2 - The Echo-Alpha Duology) Page 52