“Productive” meaning wiping as many humans off the face of this planet before the day was up. It seemed that, to Suro, this was all some kind of game.
Kenon had no problem taking out soldiers, but civilians? They had done nothing wrong, they were innocent—caught in the midst of a war between the UNPD and the Drocain Royal Empire.
“If you would put your juvenile behavior to rest for the remainder of the mission I would greatly appreciate it,” Phero snarled in response as he climbed down from his jagged hill.
“What is that suppose to mean?” Suro demanded.
“Explaining that to you would be a waste of my time. Now, focus,” the larger warrior muttered dismissively.
Kenon shook his head at them and folded his arms as he tried to think of a way they could reach their goal without calling in an excavation team.
“Seven meters, you said?” he asked, drawing the Captain’s attention away from the Digred. “That would suggest the device is somewhere on the same level as the underground railway system.”
“Precisely.” Phero led his squad over the waves of melted tarmac to a stairwell leading into the tunnels. The three followed the navigation points on their displays across the platform to a set of heavy doors.
Suro pulled on the tiny handle. The doors rattled but refused to open. Phero moved forward and told the Major to step aside, then kicked the doors open, breaking the lock.
The trio headed down another set of human-sized stairs and warily entered a dark room with gloomy yellow lights. Kenon was the last one in, and he froze for a moment when he saw a pair of soldiers.
They were sitting opposite each other on steel chairs at a table by the back wall. Both of them had been killed, shot in the head. One of them had a pistol in his hand, and the other held a rusty metal box in his lap. The box looked like an older version of the radios humans used currently.
Kenon walked to the table and took the box from the soldier’s dead hands to examine it more closely. It certainly was some sort of communications device, no mistake there, but when he turned the dial on its front, nothing happened.
Is it broken? he wondered, then asked Phero, “Is this it?”
The squad leader took the device from the young warrior. “Signal confirmed. This is it,” he said, raising his hand to the side of his helmet and tapping into the communications channel. “Commander, we have retrieved the source of the anomaly.”
“You have my praise,” the Ship Commander said after a short delay. “I will send a dropship to pick you up. I will warn you now, the return flight may be a little rough. Human reinforcements have arrived and are holding out remarkably well . . . even managing to withstand hits from a Royalty-Class Supercruiser.”
“Bastards,” Phero spat. “How is that possible?”
“Luck and a strong will to survive. They have civilians aboard.”
The Khael’hin warrior growled and then, turning to his squadmates, ordered them outside to await the arrival of the dropship.
Kenon followed him to the station and back across the platform. Along the way he realized something was nagging at him, clawing at his heels. It was a feeling of foreboding, but he couldn’t figure out where it had come from. Other than the fact Alceta Squad had lost a few good warriors in the recent conflict, everything had gone according to plan. The mission was a success.
. . . But what about the two human soldiers in that room with gunshot wounds in their skulls?
What happened to them?
As he recalled the scene, he remembered that one of the men had had his fingers wrapped around the grip of a gun. Could he have shot his friend and then himself?
Kenon couldn’t fathom why a human would take the life of a comrade, let alone his own. What in the world could have motivated him to do such a thing? Greed or envy? Fear, maybe? Was it possible that he’d had no other choice, that someone had forced him to pull the trigger?
Whatever the reason, it was unsettling.
Alceta Squad had been called to the bridge of the Legacy of Night immediately after their dropship settled in the docking bay. Now the three stood in the company of the Ship Commander alongside the display table.
Levian was sitting in his command seat at the far end of the table, turning the communications device over in his hands as he studied it closely, intrigued by the simplicity of the old rusty box. He beckoned to one of the bridge crewmen and passed the device to him. “Take this and have it examined. Report back to me with the results as soon as possible.”
The crewman bowed his head in compliance with the orders, then exited through the bridge doors. Once they had closed, Levian straightened in his seat and started on a new topic.
“The Rain of Fire has escaped—the cowards entered slipstream space. There were over six thousand evacuees aboard that ship and at least two thousand military personnel. Among those soldiers was the human lieutenant called ‘Knoble.” Levian leaned on the arm of his throne and stared with frustration at the image of Anahk projected over the holo-table’s surface. “I was hoping he would have been killed when Tora Squad’s bomb detonated, but it seems he fled just minutes before the blast.”
“Knoble . . .” Kenon recalled the first time he’d heard that name.
When he was traveling through the ventilation shafts above the underground railroad, a soldier had addressed a man by the same name, and Kenon had been forced to fight that man when he’d dropped down into the tunnel with no other way to go.
“You have crossed paths with this human?” Levian asked.
“Yes.” Kenon raised his hand to the plate on his neck where the three long tubes were connected. They were scarred now, covered in scratches and cracks where a few well-placed bullets had torn through them. Thankfully the regenerative material had renewed the casings within seconds.
“He is among some of the strongest and most determined humans the Empire has seen in this war. There have been many to fall by his hands, and even a fair number of my own warriors have ill-fatedly experienced his unusual . . .” the Ship Commander paused, looking over Phero as he searched for the appropriate word. “. . . techniques.”
Kenon turned his head to the Khael’hin warrior, whose expression hadn’t changed, and he noticed for the first time the gruesome injuries he’d received at some point during the war.
Although well concealed beneath his bulky armor, Kenon could see that much of Phero’s left arm had been replaced with a functional prosthetic, and the left-hand side of his face was deeply scarred. Bone was visible underneath the rim of his helmet where the flesh had been stripped off.
Kenon couldn’t imagine the pain he’d had to endure.
Levian reached out and tapped a marker on the holo-table. The image of Anahk shrunk to nonexistence and in its place a new world appeared; one of considerable size with a much smaller number of tags. Drocain forces, both on the ground and in the planet’s orbit, were spread far and thin. Levian tapped another marker and zoomed in on the image to show a structure tucked away in the swampy alcove of a jagged mountain.
“The human ship has been tracked to this facility.” He pointed to the dull green building hidden beneath a thick, leafy covering. “They call it the Hornet’s Nest. It is a repair station built to house a single ship. However, closer observations show that it also serves as a military base. Not the largest on the planet, but it is the most vulnerable.”
“You suggest we attack?” Phero inquired.
“I am aware of the protocols pertaining to the wellbeing of the planet’s ecosystem, but I wish to remove this facility alone. The captain of the Rain of Fire was investigating the royalty caste’s activity on Ske’vir and I cannot allow this to continue. I personally know nothing of the happenings there, but I was told to keep enemy forces well away from that area, and I intend to carry out those orders without error.”
“What is the name of the planet in question, if you do not mind my asking?” Kenon hadn’t yet been educated about this world, nor had he seen any pictures
of it prior to this occasion.
“Calypsis. It is not too far from our current location, less than an hour by way of slipspace. It was claimed by humans approximately four decades ago, long after my kind first gazed upon its surface. My only concern now is breaching their defenses.”
“They are heavily fortified?”
“Much like the Empire’s High City, Calypsis is guarded by a defense fleet consisting of several hundred ships. There are twenty-five orbital defense platforms and each of these is equipped with an electromagnetic railgun.”
“The deadliest form of weaponry in their arsenal,” Kenon said. “But Calypsis is not their homeworld . . . Why reinforce it to such a degree?”
“The planet of their origin is in terrible condition, so much so that the Empire sees no point in attacking it. The human population there will die off regardless of what we do.”
“When do we leave?” Phero asked.
“Soon as we are able. Make ready for the jump and notify me when all are prepared.”
Phero nodded and left the table, Suro trailed along after him.
“Remain here, Kenon,” Levian said as the young Drahkori was about to leave. “Calypsis is not a sight you will see often, and for one such as yourself who has never had the chance to travel outside his homeworld before, I can promise you it will be one to remember.”
The assault carrier soon emerged from slipstream space inside the orbit of a colossal world that took up the entire viewscreen and spread far beyond its frame. Snow-capped mountains, wrapped in fog, rose from the surface and stretched between boundless valleys, forests, and lakes.
Unscathed, untouched by war, it was enchanting and beautiful—vastly different from Anahk.
“So this is Calypsis . . .” Kenon whispered in awe. He snapped out of his mesmerized state when he spotted the clusters of Drocain and human vessels engaged in a heated battle. Levian avoided them, skimmed by the outer lines and accelerated toward the planet’s surface.
It seemed like they were about to clear the zone unnoticed when a violent shudder ran through the deck.
The Legacy of Night lurched forward, swiping the young Drahkori’s feet out from under him. He slid toward the command console, arms flailing as he clawed for purchase, and caught the edge of the holo-table.
Bridge lights dimmed, collision alarms rang. The carrier’s engines sputtered and died, and Levian slapped his hands onto the console—gripping it firmly to keep from being thrown out of his seat. He clicked the intercom. “Report!”
“Significant damage,” one of the crewmen responded. “Hull breaches detected in all of the lower decks. Primary crytal cannon destroyed. Direct hit to the engine core, repulsors are offline. The ship is on a collision course with the planet!”
“Prepare the escape pods and ready the crew for launch. We are abandoning the ship,” Levian commanded, then turned his throne around and faced Kenon, who was back on his feet. He held the Drahkori’s gaze for a moment, then said, “Get to the pods.”
“What do you plan to do?” Kenon asked.
“I will evacuate only when I am certain that the rest of the pods have successfully launched.”
“And if they do not?”
There was a long pause before he replied, and when he did, he spoke quietly, solemnly. “Then I shall fall with my ship as I always predicted I would when I accepted this position,” he said. “Now make haste, young warrior. Do not concern yourself with my fate.”
Kenon saw there was no changing Levian’s mind and he knew better than to argue with a superior. He hesitated for a second longer and then he took his leave, sprinting down the corridors until he found the launch bay. He stepped inside one of the single-occupant escape pods, allowing himself to sink back into the gel padding as the door lowered and locked tightly.
The pod launched, shuddering as it entered the planet’s upper atmosphere. A long, thin strip of white light wrapped around the inside of the pod—a viewscreen that darkened after a moment to show the blackness of space outside and the curved edge of the human world below. He saw more pods falling around him, hundreds of them.
Wisps of heat curled, and bright sapphire ribbons, gleaming with sparks of energy, appeared on-screen. The pod’s shields were holding strong and steady for now. Kenon hoped they would stay that way—he had no desire to go through another rough entry.
Three minutes passed. A stream of text began to scroll across the top of the holographic screen, notifying him of how much time was left before impact: sixty seconds. The pod jerked back and a vibration ran through the framework as the air brakes shot out and caught the wind, slowed the fall considerably, and then broke off.
Fifteen seconds.
Ten . . . five . . .
With a loud thunk, the pod came to a halt. The hatch lifted slightly to allow the air to escape, depressurizing the cabin. Once it had opened fully, the Drahkori warrior emerged.
Pale rays of sunlight washed over Kenon. Dark trees surrounded him, their twisting limbs branched off in every direction. The ground was spongy, and murky water pooled around his feet.
He had landed in a swamp—a musty marshland with biting, swarming insects. It was unfamiliar territory, very likely occupied by dangerous wildlife, or patrolled by soldiers . . . or both. This was a human colony world, after all.
Kenon tapped into a communications channel and attempted to make contact with his squadmates. To his disappointment, not one of them answered his call. He was about to try again when he heard a deafening bang from above.
A flock of brightly colored birds fled from the treetops in a panic, squawking in alarm as they nearly flew into one another. A haunting screech then rang out, causing the leaves to shiver, and a shadow fell over the marshland as the Legacy of Night soared overhead. Black smoke washed over the carrier’s hull as its energy shields rippled like disturbed water.
Kenon crouched low, scanning the Legacy’s port side for any escape pods that hadn’t yet launched. The assault carrier was still several hundred feet in the air, but he felt as though it were about to crush him—as if, were he to reach his hand up, his fingers would brush by the ship’s hull.
There was a pup-pup-pup sound that announced the release of more pods. The silver capsules plummeted toward the surface; tiny sparkles of light from where the Drahkori was standing—but was that the last of them?
The Legacy of Night slid out of sight and not a minute passed before a bone-rattling quake raced through the marshland floor and shook leaves from the trees. The tremor was so strong that Kenon almost expected the ground to crack open beneath him. The vibrations gradually died, giving way to silence.
Kenon knew he couldn’t simply ignore the crash and move on under the assumption that his commander had died. If Levian had survived the impact, chances were he was severely injured and possibly even trapped within the carrier.
With the rising tower of smoke as his guide, he set out in the direction of the crash site, hoping he wouldn’t meet any humans on his way there.
The trek through the marshland was proving to be far more difficult than Kenon had predicted. When he wasn’t wading through deep murky waters, he was getting his feet trapped in pools of thick, sticky mud hidden under blankets of creeping plants. And with night now falling upon him, it was becoming a challenge even to pick out the details of the area surrounding him.
A nighttime stroll through the forests of Dyre was an easy task with luminous plant growth lighting his path, but here he couldn’t see much of anything clearly. The darkness played with his vision, making him think there was some creature lurking in the shadows beside him. It was unnerving.
He kept reminding himself that he was armed, wearing a protective suit of armor, and that he was fully capable of defending himself—but he had been forced out of his comfort zone, and there was no erasing this feeling defenselessness.
A white dot winked on the Drahkori’s motion sensor and he halted. It was a neutral tag, probably an animal of some sort.
&nbs
p; Something really had been stalking him . . . and it was trying to communicate with him.
From the bushes came a series of chirps and shrill warbles. It was a tongue he was familiar with. He’d learned how to speak it when he was very young, but couldn’t quite remember what species it belonged to. If he recalled it correctly, then this thing was asking him who he was and where he’d come from.
Kenon responded, forming the words to the best of his ability. It was certainly a challenge—he couldn’t begin to imagine how ridiculous he must sound. He finished by telling the animal he meant no harm.
The white dot reappeared on the warrior’s motion sensor and inched its way toward him; the bushes rustled and the creature left its hiding place. Moving with fluid-like grace, it approached Kenon with caution and trained a pair of wide pink eyes on his face.
The quadruped’s skin was a grayish purple, and sitting atop its wide head were three horn-like appendages that sloped toward the back of its skull. Spanning the gap between these horns was a thin expanse of skin. Similar webbing stretched between its toes.
It was a tyliven, a hybrid of the eihler and reighe—female, by the looks of it. They were creatures of the Drahkori’s home planet. But how did this creature come to be here on Calypsis when Dyre was a whole star system away?
Kenon took a cautious step in the hybrid’s direction. She lowered her head threateningly and growled, warning him to keep his distance—and he did. He retreated, got down on one knee and bowed his head submissively.
The tyliven relaxed, now regarding the newcomer with fascination. She craned her neck when the warrior held out his hand and pressed her muzzle against his palm, a low purr beginning to rumble deep in her chest.
That was easier than expected, Kenon thought, pleased. He walked around to the hybrid’s side, climbed onto her back, and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder after telling her which way she needed to go.
A vast sea of stars danced in the dark sky, twinkling brightly with no moonbeams to dull their glow. But it wasn’t the lights in the night that had drawn Kenon’s eyes so high above the treetops. No, what he saw made his jaw drop.
The Calypsis Project Page 6