The Calypsis Project
By Brittany M. Willows
The Calypsis Project © 2013 Brittany M. Willows
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover Illustration © 2013 Brittany M. Willows
Edited by Lynn Keyworth-Willows
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
LICENSE NOTES
This ebook is licensed for personal use only and may not be redistributed. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you.
ISBN 978-0-9936472-1-5 (electronic book)
This book is dedicated to my wonderful friends and family whose undying support helped me to craft this story into what it is today. Without them, this project likely never would have seen the light of day.
Special thanks to my lovely Beta Readers and especially to my mom, who played a massive role in editing this book and did an absolutely fantastic job of it.
You people are amazing.
Thank you! <3
Table of Contents
——PROLOGUE——
——— PART I———
———ONE———
———TWO———
———THREE———
———FOUR———
———FIVE———
———SIX———
———SEVEN———
———EIGHT———
———PART II———
———NINE———
———TEN———
———ELEVEN———
———TWELVE———
———THIRTEEN———
——FOURTEEN——
———FIFTEEN———
———SIXTEEN———
——SEVENTEEN——
———EIGHTEEN———
———NINETEEN———
———TWENTY———
———PART III———
—TWENTY-ONE—
—TWENTY-TWO—
—TWENTY-THREE—
—TWENTY-FOUR—
—TWENTY-FIVE—
——TWENTY-SIX——
—TWENTY-SEVEN—
———PART IV———
—TWENTY-EIGHT—
—TWENTY-NINE—
——EPILOGUE——
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
——PROLOGUE——
TEN YEARS
0110 Hours, December 01, 2438 (Earth Calendar) / UNPD Houston, in orbit over planet Anahk, Sol System
“Bogie on your six, Whiskey-zero-three-niner.”
“Copy that, zero-two-four.”
“. . . Damn it! I’ve got enemy contacts inbound at ten o’clock! I repeat: enemy contact on my ten! Give me some cover!”
“Bravo Squad, get your asses outta there!”
Transmissions crackled through the bridge speakers periodically, accompanied by the drumming of gunfire and the steady hum of active computing systems.
Standing on the lower deck of the bridge was the commanding officer of the UNPD Home Fleet, Admiral Phillip Anderson. He was dressed in a pristine white uniform, his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders erect, and tenacious stare focused on the planet Anahk through the viewport window.
Claimed by humanity roughly seventy years ago, it was one of the newer colony worlds. Prior to the conflict, Anahk’s population had been estimated at five and a half billion—now, however, that number decreased so frequently it was hard to get a reliable count.
During the past decade the planet had served as a battlefield for multiple large-scale engagements, similar to the one currently ripping apart the city of Masahi below. The place was beginning to crumble under the unyielding assault of humanity’s ruthless alien foe. It didn’t seem to matter how many men the UNPD put on the ground, the casualty count just continued to rise higher and higher.
They were losing.
Everything had been so different ten years ago. Anahk had been something of a paradise, a world to gaze at in wonder. Its environment used to be vibrant and fresh, untouched by scientific experimentation and chemical pollution. It had been a popular vacation resort. Expensive, but popular.
Then the alien bastards parked themselves in her skies and declared war on all of mankind. Known to humanity as the Drocain Royal Empire, they were an extraterrestrial society made up of numerous saurian species. They possessed technology far superior to even the most advanced machinery developed by the United Nations Planetary Defense, and, with that technology, they decimated entire colonies.
It’s been ten years . . . Ten, bloody years.
If only things hadn’t changed.
“Sir?” The inquiring voice of a woman drew the Admiral from his thoughts.
Anderson turned around to see the slender avatar of the ship’s AI hovering an inch above her pedestal at the end of a holo-table. Digital patterns streamed down her dark hair and flowed like water across the white dress clinging to her shapely figure.
Her name was Alice.
“I have received word of unauthorized communications currently channeling from Anahk,” she alerted.
Admiral Anderson climbed the steps and strode across the deck to the table where the holographic image of Anahk slowly rotated, surrounded by yellow and red indicators that marked the locations of UNPD and Drocain starships, respectively. The red greatly outnumbered the yellow.
“Location?” he requested.
“Retrieving data . . .” Alice nodded. She remained silent for a moment, then swept her hand out over the table and brought up a picture of Masahi City. The AI zoomed in on the image, rotated it with a few smooth motions of her hand, and then tapped it to freeze it in place. Pulsating far beneath the paved grounds of the city center was a red marker.
“Masahi City, Kadhimiya. Approximately sixty meters below the surface,” she reported, and then with her brow furrowed in frustration, added, “Regrettably, I am unable to gain access to the transmissions. They are encrypted. I believe they are stemming from a private communications unit, an older model. My apologies for the inconvenience.”
The Admiral reassured her, then leaned forward with his hands resting on the table’s edge, pale eyes focused on the red marker. If Alice couldn’t gain access to the encrypted messages, then perhaps someone else on the ground could . . .
He had an idea.
“Who do we have stationed down there?” he asked.
“Alpha, Beta and Gamma teams are currently within the vicinity. Alpha Team is closest however—within fifteen kilometers of the signal. At present time, Beta and Gamma teams are defending the city’s borders.”
Anderson drummed his fingers thoughtfully and then straightened, folding his arms. He met Alice’s calm gaze and gave the order. “Get Lieutenant Knoble and his team on that signal right away, and send the mechs down there to hold his post.”
“Aye, sir,” Alice complied. Clasping her hands in front of her body, she closed her eyes and angled her head to the floor. The patterns on her body began to stream more rapidly as she accessed the communications channel.
Admiral Anderson returned to the viewport window and fixed his gaze on Anahk once again.
/> Much of the planet was shadowed by opaque clouds of black and orange smoke, but the land that remained visible was either deeply scarred or severely burned by the enemy’s cannons, leaving it with a glassy texture. Fiery lines traced the north pole, explosions flashed amongst mountain ranges, and a ring of wreckage was beginning to form in orbit.
It was hell down there.
——— PART I———
THE TRIGGER
Chapter
———ONE———
1800 Hours, November 02, 2438 (Earth Calendar) / Council Building, Ceida State, planet Dyre, Phoenix System
Pulled from the quiet of his home in the early hours of the morning, the young Drahkori graduate Kenon Valinquint had been blindfolded and hustled into a prison cell beneath the old Council Building. Now he walked through the arched stone halls with his hands cuffed behind his back—and under the escort of a pair of council guards, no less!
He could think of no reason for his arrest, and the more he agonized over it, the more it gnawed at him. Even his parents had failed to give him an answer when he’d demanded an explanation. Of course, he should have expected as much—more so from his father than his overly-timid mother.
All Kenon knew was that today was supposed to be the day of his Coming of Age ceremony, where he would have dropped his graduate title and become a full-fledged warrior of Ceida State.
But never in the history of my kind has one had to attend his own Coming of Age ceremony in cuffs, he thought bitterly.
The doors at the end of the hall swung open, allowing the sharp golden rays of sunlight to shine in. After sitting in the dark for hours, the sudden brightness nearly blinded Kenon, and he squinted to shut it out.
The council guards halted outside the doorway and urged Kenon forward to a small flight of stairs. He slowly stepped up onto the dais overlooking the courtyard, and when his eyes finally adjusted to the light, he gaped at the massive crowd below.
What was usually a vacant clearing was now crammed with what appeared to be the entire populace of Ceida State. The saurians filled the courtyard, spilling out into the sandstone streets and alleyways farther than Kenon could see.
The roar of the crowd fell to hushed conversation. Kenon turned to see what had grabbed their attention, and walking his way was an elderly Drahkori with a spiteful look in his slanted eyes.
This was Alamir—the eldest of the councilors and the longest-reigning councilman in the history of Ceida State. Many were expecting him to retire soon, but Kenon was convinced he would hold his seat until the day he died.
Alamir looked over the crowd that had gathered and Kenon could have sworn he’d seen a pleased smirk flash across the elder’s craggy face.
“Strength is honor. Without strength, you have no honor.” His voice reverberated loudly off the stone walls. “These are the words of Athenna—the words of our Goddess. It was her wise words, and hers alone, that had the ability to pull us from the brink of extinction, and to raise the veil that had hidden the truth of our failures for so very long.” The elder paced back and forth on the edge of the dais. “She taught us how to survive, and this is why we shall forever uphold her way.”
Kenon became paralyzed where he stood, frozen with shock and fear. He had heard this speech before, and it gave him a very good reason to worry.
Alamir raised a clenched fist into the air. “For one to defy the word of the Goddess is treason!” His statement was met with an uproar of agreement from the crowd. Sweeping his clawed hand toward the young Drahkori, he said, “And yet, here stands one of the weak—a broken soul in Her eyes.”
A growl began to rise in Kenon’s throat but he quickly silenced it. He was in enough trouble already, there was no need to make the situation any worse by baring his teeth to a councilor.
“Throughout this one’s brutal training, we have tried time and again to make him strong, and it brings me shame to announce that we have failed him due to his unusual disability.”
Kenon straightened and met the elder’s cold glare. “Tell me, what is this ‘disability’ that you speak of?”
Alamir shook his head in disappointment and cast a glance to the youngster’s neck where three tubes protruded from his gray skin. The central tube led from his throat into his chest, and the other two into his back.
This was his disability? Surely not. These were what had kept him alive since the day he hatched. And regardless, how dare this elder label him weak—useless—in front of the entire state?
All the councilors knew that he had ranked high during his battle training and even graduated from the academy months ahead of his fellow students. He had also worked in the mines for the past ten years—that had to count for something!
It was rare for a Drahkori to take on both responsibilities at once. Mining was often left for those who shared no interest in combat training, but Kenon had gladly taken on the task and never had a complaint slipped from his lips.
“I, Kenon Valinquint, disagree,” he said, projecting his voice. “The High Council is well aware of the rank I currently hold, and they are also aware of the time I have spent working in the mines. I have dealt with this disability, as you call it, for the entirety of my life!”
Alamir narrowed his eyes and growled. “If you cannot see your weakness, then allow me to show it to you.” He stepped forward, gripped one of the tubes tightly, and ripped it from the graduate’s throat.
Kenon’s luminous blue blood showered the stone. As he fell to his knees, a sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through his body and made his heart race.
“He must pay for the humiliation he has brought on our state!” the councilman shouted.
The young Drahkori was barely aware of the medical team that rushed in and carefully reattached the tube to his throat. Just before he lost consciousness, he heard Alamir say one last thing.
“. . . In two week’s time, the coward shall be executed properly—by my hand.”
Kenon awoke after many hours, sprawled across the dais he’d collapsed upon earlier. Propping himself up on rough hands, he discovered that his wrists had been freed from the cuffs and wondered why he’d been released.
They know I will not try to escape the city, he surmised. That would be a foolish attempt considering the sheer number of guards patrolling the walls . . . He shook his head to clear it and looked around.
The sun was disappearing beyond the horizon, leaving only a few pink streaks in the darkening sky. The crowds had departed, returning the courtyard to its empty state once more. The only sounds that met his ears were the high-pitched warbles and deep, throaty howls of Dyre’s nocturnal wildlife.
Kenon stood, feeling faint. Pain throbbed in the back of his skull almost as if he had taken a hit to the head, and perhaps he had—but if that was true, then he could not remember it. Shrugging off the dull ache and the dizziness, he hopped down from the stone stage.
It was a long walk home. He figured he may as well start it now.
Nearly an hour had passed. Fog had settled over Ceida, dampening the sands and thickening the air as Kenon stood before the massive tree that served as his family’s house.
This was how the state’s lower class residents were housed—under the protection of huge trees whose twisting shapes stretched higher than even the tallest buildings found in the cities. Their thick roots held aloft the enormous trunks, twenty feet above the ground, providing domed ceilings for those living inside. Doors were sparse curtains crafted from leather strings and woven vines.
Kenon took a breath before entering, then brushed by the curtain. The room was dark and quiet. Perhaps his parents had already retired for the night.
As the thought crossed his mind, a figure stepped out from the shadows and into the faint light of the moon that shone through the doorway.
It was his mother, Khae. She wore her long hair draped over delicate shoulders in an attempt to hide dark and painful bruises—injuries inflicted by the youngster’s father earlier that day. She’d d
one a terrible job of concealing them.
Khae looked her son up and down to make sure he was okay before outstretching her arms toward him. But Kenon slapped them away, refusing the comforting hold she offered.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, gripping the amulet that hung around her neck. “You are strong, my son. You and I both know this.”
“I do not want your pity,” Kenon muttered callously, the tip of his tail twitching. “I am not the pathetic child I used to be! All I have ever wanted was to be treated as an equal within Ceida! But none of it matters anymore, does it?”
Khae turned her head away, heartbroken. There was some other emotion there, too. It was so strong Kenon could feel it, but whatever it was, he couldn’t read it.
The pair of them were silent. Kenon was deep in thought, wondering if his next words were right to speak. He had been considering the option for several weeks before his arrest and on his way home he had come to a conclusion.
“I have made a decision.” The announcement caught his mother’s attention. “I am going to enlist in the Drocain Royal Empire. I will contact one of their recruitment offices in the morning . . . I should be gone by the end of the week.”
Khae’s jaw dropped and she grabbed him by the wrists. “You cannot!” she protested, as Kenon had expected her to. “We hardly know anything of this war! We do not know how or where it began, we don’t even know who or what the enemy is!”
“You do not know—neither you nor anyone else on this damnable planet!” Kenon snapped back. “I have studied beyond the stars and I will not allow my years in the academy to go to waste. It is either this, or I must face my death here. And I am not ready to die.”
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