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

by Brittany M. Willows

  Levian uttered a curse under his breath. He opened a channel to Anderson and Lagransky’s ships. “The Nephera have activated the weapon’s defense systems. We have only a few minutes before the barrier forms. If we are not inside when it closes, we will be shut out indefinitely.”

  Admiral Lagransky’s reply crackled over the bridge speakers. “Understood, Commander. We’ll do our best to hold them off. You just focus on getting Echo Team down there, or else we’re all screwed.”

  The gravity throne swiveled around. Levian met Kenon’s gaze and held it for a moment. “It is time we part ways, warrior. Go to your ship; I will not be far behind.”

  “Already? We have only just arrived!”

  “I will keep the Nephera off your back and drop Echo Team when I am in range. But if I am unable to do so, then you must make it past that barrier—even if it means proceeding on your own.”

  Kenon opened his mouth to protest again, then snapped his jaws shut. Much as he feared the possibility of facing the mission alone, he could not deny the fact that Levian was right. If they stayed together and the Legacy of Night were to go up in flames before any of them could make landfall, all of this would have been for nothing.

  He bid farewell to Levian and Echo Team and headed for the tramway outside the bridge. The tramcar shuddered and swayed as the enemy fleet pelted the carrier’s hulls. When it reached the hangar, Kenon hopped out and hurried across the vacant deck.

  Aphelion’s angular prow loomed outside the rippling shield doors at the far end of the bay. Levian must have informed the crew of Kenon’s departure, because the bay operator expanded the field to encompass the ship’s bow unasked.

  With a nod of thanks to the operator, Kenon ventured onto the exterior walkway and searched Aphelion’s port side for a point of ingress. The ship was suspended under the Legacy’s midsection, held aloft by rows of robust magnetic strips. He ran his hands across the smooth metal until his claws skittered over a near-invisible seam, then swept the surrounding area for a control panel.

  As soon as his palm touched the holographic panel, the hatch recessed a few inches into the hull and slid aside. No access key, no vocal command—nothing.

  How peculiar.

  There was a staleness in the air that wafted from the opening, likely a result of the centuries the ship had spent buried beneath the sands of Dyre. As Kenon crossed the threshold, a light with no visible source illuminated the bridge.

  The interior was spacious, well lit, and largely made up of the same alloy used to construct the outer hull. There were no wires or cords to be seen, nor any windows or doors aside from the entry hatch. It appeared the bridge was entirely isolated from the rest of the ship.

  Kenon continued further inside and ascended a ramp to his right. On the landing, where one would normally expect a command console, lay a sunken disc-shaped platform flanked by two half walls. They were remarkably smooth. Featureless.

  The foremost walls were blank as well, and divided into three wide sections—perhaps surfaces upon which multiple displays could be projected.

  Panicked shouts echoed from the hangar, escalating to shrill screams when another particle beam pummeled the Legacy of Night’s flank. Aphelion groaned as the carrier lurched sideways, and Kenon grabbed one of the short walls to steady himself.

  The Nepheran fleet was fast approaching. He had to hurry.

  Move to the platform, Doramire instructed.

  Kenon stepped into the shallow indentation and heard the entry hatch slide shut. A set of waist-high pillars then rose from the floor, each one topped with a crystalline ball. Both spheres were encased in a fine wire mesh.

  Place your hands on the contacts.

  Kenon laid his palms atop the mesh. The crystals began to glow, and a rush of electricity flooded his body as Aphelion’s engines roared to life. The pulse of raw energy in his veins was overwhelming, exhilarating. He curled his fingers around the spheres.

  The blast shields that had covered the fore walls lifted, revealing a large bay window, which allowed him to see straight into the Legacy’s hangar. Holographic displays spread out across the glass, streaming with data.

  “Doramire, why Aphelion?” Kenon asked. He had assumed they would rally all of the old machines in the assault against the Nephera. However, since most of the crafts had been left behind on Dyre, it became apparent that Aphelion was the goal all along.

  Aphelion is a Shield Piercer, the vykord said. The ship is equipped with an energy siphon, enabling it to drain power from anything within a thirty-kilometer radius. Utilizing this device, you should be able to hold Calypsis’ shield open just long enough for you and your comrades to get inside.

  “Should be able to?” Kenon didn’t like the sound of that.

  It’s twin, Perihelion, succeeded in doing so. However, Avhelliss was at the helm. Doramire changed the subject. In any case, we must proceed. I have activated a communications array between you and the fleets. Should you wish to speak to your commander directly, simply tap the fourth node.

  A quiet hum emanated from the left-hand pillar when Kenon’s hand glided over its crystal. He thumbed the nodule on the mesh and spoke loud and clear, unsure as to where his voice would be received. “Levian, I am aboard. Standing by for release.”

  “Understood,” Levian replied. “Disengaging docking strand.”

  Aphelion shivered as the magnets released. Free from the strand’s firm hold, it drifted away from the hangar. When it was clear of the carrier, Kenon swept his hand across the crystalline sphere to bring the vessel to port.

  As he did, the bridge shifted.

  Startled by the sudden whoosh of movement, he clutched the pillars—half expecting to be thrown across the room. But his feet remained rooted, and as he watched the walls revolve around him, he realized why the bridge was isolated from the rest of the ship: The command platform was suspended in the center, allowing it to maintain its orientation independent of the ship.

  Once Kenon had regained his bearings, he pushed forward to keep pace with the Legacy of Night and watched the battle unfold as the fleets converged on Calypsis.

  Lagransky’s ships peeled out of formation to draw fire while Home Fleet bore down on the enemy’s front line. Railguns flared. A torrent of white-hot bolts soared over the quickly-shrinking gap between the opposing fleets and hammered the Nepheran vanguard.

  The high-velocity slugs eviscerated their destroyers. Armor plating exploded outward in all directions. Three went down, creating a small dent in the enemy’s forces. It would take a lot more than that to break their defenses.

  Something tore past Aphelion at lightning speed—the blur of a UNPD starfighter unit. They swooped in beside a Nepheran carrier and pelted its broad prow. Their cannons lacked the strength even to slow its advance.

  Before they could withdraw, the carrier unleashed its main cannon. The beam streaked across the blackness, vaporized the tiny crafts in an instant, and gutted one of Levian’s corvettes. Superheated crytal spurted from the wreck, forcing neighboring vessels to retreat.

  An enemy cruiser broke rank and took off towards Houston, but the human frigate had not seen it yet. Anderson was focused on another vessel.

  I have to do something. Kenon scanned the screens in front of him for any indication that Aphelion was armed, but this language was pure gibberish to him. He could not make sense of it. What he did recognize, however, was a bulbous shape in the corner of his secondary display—a silhouette almost identical to that of the insect-like crafts in the holds on Dyre.

  He promptly tapped the release node. Seconds later, a flurry of copper-colored drones spilled from Aphelion’s belly.

  The machines hovered idly for a moment, translucent wings fluttering at their sides, then sped away at the young warrior’s command. They came together over Houston’s starboard side, and just as the enemy cruiser unleashed its cannon, they threw up a force field that bounced the beam back at the Nepheran fleet.

  The stray beam wiped out
two of their ships, including another cruiser, while Houston escaped unscathed.

  Admiral Anderson’s voice came over the fleetwide comm: “What in God’s name are these things? Did anyone see where they come from?”

  Kenon thumbed the fifth nodule and connected to the channel. “Do not fear them. They are automated drones, Admiral. Cannon fodder. They mean you no harm.”

  “They’re yours?”

  “Machines left by my ancestors, yes. Stay behind them. Let them take the hits.” Kenon disconnected from the line and instructed the drones to protect the humans, for their ships were far more frail than the Separatist’s. As they fluttered away, he found himself staring down at Calypsis once more.

  The barrier was almost fully formed. Only a handful of entry points remained, and they were becoming fewer with each passing second. Although Aphelion had the means to hold it open, Kenon could not rely on a device that may not work. What if he didn’t have the strength to harness the siphon? Even Doramire seemed doubtful of his ability to control it.

  We need to get down there now, he decided. But the Nephera were blocking the way. A whole battle group still stood between him and Calypsis, and from what he could tell, Aphelion wasn’t armed. How were they going to break through the enemy’s defenses in time?

  Doramire piped up in response to his mental anguish. You have a tremendous amount of energy at your disposal, child. Use it.

  “How?” Kenon asked.

  Look around you. Every one of these allied ships is equipped with an energy shield generator, and you have the unique ability to direct this energy as you please. Focus that power. I shall prime the siphon.

  ————

  A crewman’s hasty report stuttered over the Legacy of Night’s bridge speakers: “Decks eight through thirteen are venting atmosphere. Damned particle beam punctured the boiling chamber . . . we are losing crytal!”

  Levian pounded his fist on the console. If the battle carried on like this, the carrier would not last much longer. “Evacuate aft compartments,” he ordered over the intercom. “Freeze the chamber and seal the valve to the main cannon. We will have to make do without it.”

  Alana stumbled over to the gravity throne. She gestured to the viewscreen, to Calypsis’ rippling shield. “Levian, our window is closing. How close are we?”

  He cast a glance at his son’s terminal. “Lenque?”

  “We are still ninety kilometers from the drop point,” Lenque replied, fingers tapping away madly on the keypad. His lips twitched. “And if the Nephera keep throwing ships at us, we will never reach it in time.”

  “I have a way,” Kenon chimed in over the bridge speakers. He’d been listening in on their conversation. “If you get me a direct line of sight, I can take out the innermost cluster. That will give us a straight shot at Calypsis.”

  Though certainty rang strong in the young warrior’s tone, that alone could not quiet the murmurings in Levian’s head. Many would deem it unwise to put one’s faith in a warrior with such little experience at the helm of a starship, much less a Drahkori.

  Then again, this Drahkori was not like the rest.

  “Do it,” Levian said, then added over the fleetwide comm: “Clear us a path!”

  A couple of Leh’kin battlecruisers accelerated ahead. Auxiliary turrets discharged in volleys, gradually weakening the Nephera’s defenses whilst primary weapons charged. When their cannons had reached full charge, both cruisers let loose their fury.

  Crytal sprayed the enemy ships. The superheated matter burned through their armor plating with ease, and ignited the engine core of one carrier. The resultant explosion set off a chain reaction. One by one, Nepheran vessels burst into flame until only half the battle group remained.

  Particle beams flashed, completely missed one battlecruiser but bored into the other’s midsection. The damaged cruiser listed to port and limped to safety. Its partner followed close behind, starboard turrets blazing.

  Aphelion advanced. The armor plating on its sides lifted to reveal glossy black panels, each one gleaming with a lattice of blue light. As the vessel overtook the Legacy of Night, something dropped beneath its prow—a cylindrical contraption one could only assume was a cannon.

  Levian jumped at the unexpected shriek of impact alarms. Crewmen’s heads snapped up and around in confusion as the bridge lights dimmed, and Echo Team braced themselves for an impact that never came.

  Alerts blinked across the board. Weapons and communications systems had gone dark, and the carrier was gradually losing speed.

  “What is this?” Levian scanned the stars, but saw no enemy ships in the immediate area. He twisted in his throne. “Lenque, who is attacking us?”

  “No one.”

  “What?”

  “We are not under attack.” Lenque squinted at his terminal. “Something is draining our power.”

  “Holy shit,” Alana whispered, pointing at the viewscreen. “Look.”

  The alarms grew quiet, and the baffled mutterings of the bridge crew died away as all eyes converged on the wavering display. In the midst of the chaos, there was silence—for in this moment, they could do nothing but stare.

  Lights danced across the Separatist fleet like a brilliant aurora in the depths of space. Sapphire ribbons peeled off the Legacy’s bow and spiraled towards the ancient Drahkori vessel, seeping into the panels beneath its armor.

  Aphelion was draining the fleet’s power, lifting the shields from their hulls to fuel its weapon. Levian could see coils rotating inside the glass cylinder beneath its prow—spinning faster and faster as light particles accumulated at the end of the barrel.

  Once it had reached full charge, it fired.

  A lance of energy burst forth, curving in an elegant arc, and slashed into the Nepheran ships like a blade to flesh. Great plumes of fire erupted from their hulls, spitting burnt fragments in all directions.

  The Legacy of Night plowed through the wreckage. Jagged chunks of metal grazing by the outer shell sent shivers down the carrier’s body. As it burst out the other side of the debris field, the crew cried out in triumph.

  “I’kran se Ventia!”

  Glory to the Divine.

  Levian brought the carrier to a cruising speed, diverting all additional power to the weapons systems in case they had to fight off any pursuers. “Echo Team, get to pods,” he said. “We will be passing over the drop zone shortly.”

  ————

  Emergency lights bathed the pod bay in deep purple. They winked off and on with every shudder that passed through the carrier. Steam spilled from the vents, bubbled up from the grates beneath Echo Team’s boots. Eighteen pods flanked the walkway, hatches open and ready to accept passengers.

  A small screen was positioned in front of each one.

  Alana went to investigate the screen outside her own pod. At the push of a button on her wristband, a translation of its alien text filled her heads-up display. She grimaced when she realized that, past the wall of instructions, there was a long list of warnings.

  Lieutenant Carter gave the gel-padded interior of his pod a tentative poke. It molded to his fingertip, and became flat again when he withdrew his hand. “Are these things safe?” he wondered aloud.

  “Safer than most aircraft,” Levian replied as he strode unexpectedly into the bay. “So long as you remain in the adhesive gel, you should be fine. Just try not to squirm.”

  “Oh, that’s reassuring.”

  The Fleet Commander moved to another open pod and started unloading his equipment. He stowed medical kits and ammunition packs in a floor compartment, then latched his weapons onto the magnetic clips flanking the entryway.

  “Are you coming with us?” Alana asked.

  Levian cast a look over his shoulder at her. A smile flashed beneath the rim of his helmet. “I would not miss this for the world.”

  “Approaching drop zone,” Lenque’s announcement reverberated over the intercom. “Calypsis’ shield has closed. Valinquint claims he can open it. Be
prepared to drop in five minutes.”

  Echo Team quickly stowed their gear and piled into the pods. With a reluctant groan, Alana yielded to the craft’s gelatinous embrace. A chill ran down her spine as it hugged her back, her calves, her boots—conforming to her every curve.

  Once she was secure, the hatch slid closed.

  Air hissed overhead. Display screens powered on.

  “Closing in on target . . .” Lenque said.

  Alana closed her eyes.

  “The shield is open! Releasing!”

  The pod kicked back, and Alana’s heart leapt into her throat.

  A Leh’kin AI piped up as the craft descended into Calypsis’ atmosphere, but its words of advise were lost on her, for she was too concerned with what was happening around her to pay it any attention.

  Heat radiated from the floor. Metal framework rattled in her ears, louder and louder as the tremors intensified—jostling her blood, her bones, and innards until she felt utterly numb. And her eyelids remained sealed through it all. Even when fiery bursts of light flashed over her, even when the pod’s system belted an alarming chorus, she did not dare open them.

  This was one sight she could stand to miss.

  Just as the heat peaked and the tremors became so violent Alana thought they would shake her to pieces, her freefall came to a jarring halt. The gel receded. She fumbled around for the release switch, flipped it, and the hatch popped off.

  Alana stumbled out on trembling legs, clawing feebly at her helmet. A blast of humid air rushed to greet her when she finally yanked it off, and she collapsed against her pod with a sharp intake of breath. The dusty scent of leaves withering in the intense summer heat invaded her nostrils.

  “You good?” Jenkinson called out to her, resting on his own pod a few meters away. Sweat poured down his forehead, off the tip of his nose.

  She gave him a thumbs-up to signal she was okay.

  Parker, however, was in a sorry state. He was doubled-over nearby, heaving. Carter and Jhiral hadn’t fared much better. The two of them were staggering about, panting like they had just run a marathon.