Kenon climbed down from his tyliven companion’s back and watched the female soldier release a lock on one of the unopened crates. She slid the lid off and reached inside, pulled out a thick camouflage print blanket and unfurled it beside the fire pit, then grabbing a small white-and-red case, she kneeled on the ground.
“Bring him over here,” Alana said, slipping her backpack off her shoulders and tossing it aside.
Kenon turned to the tyliven and carefully lifted the Ship Commander’s body from her shoulders. The warrior was far from consciousness now, his breathing irregular and the shimmer on his skin fading. Kenon set his limp body down on the cover and realized he felt heat radiating from the fabric. Confused, he ran his hand over the blanket and was surprised to find that there were wires inside it.
A clever device . . . he thought, wishing he had something warm to wrap around himself as he settled on the cold stone floor and leaned against Lithe’s flank. The tyliven had already made herself comfortable, her forepaws tucked under her chest.
Alana popped the white medical case open and pulled out several items, setting them down on the ground to her right. Once she had gathered the necessary equipment and supplies, she pushed the case aside and grabbed a clear, plastic packet. Tearing it open, she pulled out a small white cloth, then curled her fingers around a brownish bottle and flipped the cap up. She poured a bubbly liquid substance onto the cloth, drew it over the Ship Commander’s hip; the hardened foam dissolved almost instantaneously, returning to a clear fluid form.
Kenon regarded the human with cautious interest as she worked—ready to jump in and help if necessary, and prepared to take her out if she brought harm to Levian. But it seemed he didn’t have to worry—about Levian, or about what she might do.
After fiddling with a small silver needle, she had quickly crisscrossed a metallic thread through the Ship Commander’s skin, closing the wound, then taped a compress down on top of the stitches and wrapped more of the soft, white cloth around his waist and hips to hold everything tightly in place.
Kenon had to admit, he was impressed. She had worked swiftly and without flaw, using a method that looked far more complex than that which the Drocain were taught. It certainly required much more concentration and care, and especially steady hands.
Now all they—all he—had to do was wait and see if his comrade would regain consciousness, to see if the warrior would even survive the night. It was a wonder he’d been alive when the young Drahkori had found him. Thankfully he was showing signs of improvement—breaths slow but steady, shimmer returning to his skin.
Alana looked exhausted. After packing up the medical equipment, she sat down and leaned back against her backpack, letting out a long sigh. She lifted her hands up in front of her face and stared at them with fascination. Her fingers and palms were stained blue with the Ship Commander’s blood.
Kenon couldn’t begin to understand why she seemed to be so entranced by the sight.
“Despite what you might think, Kenon, not all humans are bloodthirsty killing machines,” Alana said softly. “You and I . . . we aren’t so different. We’re fighting for the same reasons—to protect our homes and the people we care about, and to ensure our existence in the galaxy.” She paused, looked at the Ship Commander and said quietly, “I think both sides have made their fair share of mistakes over the years, too.”
At first Kenon thought she was being ridiculous, but as he pondered that a moment and considered what she’d said, he was able to find truth in her words. However, with no desire to continue on that topic, he changed the subject.
“You spoke earlier of information that could change the war,” he said. “Tell me, what exactly was that about?”
Alana lowered her hands and stared at her boots, reluctant to speak. “. . . You must have heard about the private communications unit that was transmitting from Anahk, right? It was a pretty big deal.”
Kenon nodded.
“Well, my team was sent out to investigate the Legacy of Night after it crashed. We found the device onboard, and I wanted to know why the stupid thing was so damn special, so I turned it on and listened to the most recent recording on it. Most of what was on there was a mess, white noise and such, but what I did hear was . . . worrying,” she explained. “There were two speakers on the channel. One was a Digred, and the other, as it turns out, was the former leader of my team—Lieutenant Brandt, who we thought had been killed.
“They spoke of this thing called the ‘Calypsis Project’, rambled on about how it was coming together just as the ‘seekers’ had planned. They said if all goes well, they might finally have their way with the war. Then Brandt asked when the next shipment of weapons was coming in from the Empire . . .
“And you know, I’ve heard rumors about the comms unit in the past, but I thought they were stories made up to scare curious people like me away from all the classified Bureau stuff. I’ve heard my teammates talk about soldiers who managed to decode some of the encrypted transmissions, but before anyone could get anything out of any of them . . . bang, dead. They committed suicide.
“I don’t know what it was that frightened them all so badly—damaged them to the point where the only way out was to take their own lives. I know I only listened to one recording, but it’s been bothering me because if the little bit I heard was enough to make me worry, then what the hell did they hear?” the soldier rested her chin on the back of her wrist and blinked tiredly. “. . . If any of that was confusing, I’m sorry. I can’t remember everything. All I know right now is that humanity and the Drocain have got some super-secret alliance and they’re working on a top-secret project someplace, god knows where.”
An alliance between the Drocain and the humans? How many were involved? A few hundred, several thousand? Was all of this going on behind the back of each faction’s leader? And a Digred conversing with a human? A top secret project?
It was madness! Kenon didn’t know if he could believe it. The news had come from a human soldier after all . . .
A soldier who might have saved Levian’s life.
The memory of a small dim room hidden down in the underground railway tunnels on Anahk returned to him. He remembered the two soldiers sitting cold and lifeless in their seats. One had been holding the communications unit in his lap; his comrade, a firearm.
They chose to end their lives, he realized. They must have been listening to the transmissions—ongoing at the time. That would explain why the device’s signal had been picked up by the Empire . . . but where had the rusty old box come from in the first place?
“Do you still have the device?” Kenon asked quickly.
Alana was surprised by the urgency in his tone. “I-I do, but it isn’t functional anymore. It got thrown around a lot when we were attacked in the woods.”
“That is not my concern. Let me see it.” He needed to know if it was in fact the same communications unit. The Royal Empire had been searching for it, and clearly the humans had as well. Perhaps it could still be repaired, or, at the very least, have its secrets extracted.
Alana grabbed her backpack and unzipped it, sliding the communications device out carefully. She then handed it to the young warrior and he examined it closely.
One side of the box was cracked open, and it looked like some animal had ripped the top off. The rest of the metal casing was in terrible shape as well, dented and scratched, and a tangle of shredded, colorful wires hung out uselessly.
It was, without a doubt, the same device that he and his squad had retrieved from that dark room. And the human female was right, it was not in working condition and it was far beyond repair. There would be no hope of collecting the recorded transmissions stored inside now.
“I will try to gather more information on the matter of this ‘Calypsis Project’,” Kenon told her, though that was easier said than done when it could not be known that he’d conversed with a human. The Empire would have his head. “As for now, I suggest you be on your way. The sun will rise
in a couple of hours and your friend will come looking for you.”
Alana gave a swift nod and then stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “When I get back to the Hornet’s Nest I’ll talk to my stepfather and see if he can help me out with this. If either of us hears anything new, how do we contact each other?”
“We do not. It is far too dangerous. If we happen to meet again, then that is when we will share.”
“And what if one of us gets killed before then? Or what if we just never see each other again? Then what do we do?”
“We keep searching for clues and information. If we do not make contact, then we will not speak. It is simple,” Kenon said.
“Ugh. Fine.”
“And you are to speak to no one of this . . . this encounter. No one can know we met without exchanging gunfire.”
“You can’t order me around,” the soldier smirked. “Anyway, who knows what could happen in the next few days. There could be another alliance well underway.” She took the broken communications device from the warrior and tucked it under her arm, then turned on her flashlight and made her way out of the cavern, leaving Kenon to sit in silence, tail flicking with irritation as her final words echoed in his mind.
Was she seriously suggesting the possibility of a secondary alliance coming together between the Drocain Empire and the United Nations Planetary Defense? What foolishness. Did she honestly think that could happen?
. . . Is it really such an absurd idea?
There were many warriors who viewed humanity as a race of filthy, disgusting pests that could be removed from the galaxy with no repercussions, and then there were those whose opinions were seen as improper and offensive. They were the ones who were fascinated by humans, who admired them for a number of their clever tactics.
Kenon liked to think he was one of those warriors. However, unlike them, he refrained from voicing his opinion because he had witnessed quite a number of spats over the subject—mainly between the Digred and the Jahoran. None of those debates had ended well.
0640 Hours, December 02, 2438 (Earth Calendar) / Marshlands, near Terrak Mountain Range, planet Calypsis
The sporadic pops of human gunfire jolted Kenon from his slumber. He sat up promptly, turned his head to the entrance of the cave and peered over Lithe’s shoulder; blinked to ensure his vision wasn’t tricking him.
Silhouetted against the morning light were not the tiny human figures he’d been expecting to see, but rather the shapes of two very familiar Drocain warriors—Captain Phero Jherkin and Major Suro Katspara. They had taken cover inside the cave’s open maw and were firing into the trees with UNPD weapons.
They were under attack.
The Drahkori scrambled to his feet and snapped out his repeater, dashed up the slope and skidded into place between the two warriors. Counting at least eleven human soldiers moving in on their position, he took aim on one who’d ducked behind a fallen tree and opened fire.
The bursts caught the man’s legs and he toppled over, screaming wildly as the flesh peeled away from his skeleton.
“Valinquint? What are you doing here?” Suro hissed as he leaned sideways to dodge a shot from a sniper rifle.
Phero took out the shooter in the tree with a pulse round from his own marksman rifle. The soldier dropped from his perch and hit the ground hard. If the bullet piercing his body hadn’t killed him, then the fall most definitely had.
“I could ask you the same.” Kenon took cover behind the crest of the slope when his shields broke. “I’ve been tending to Levian’s injuries.” Covering the end of the repeater’s barrel with his palm, he held down the trigger.
This was a technique Phero had taught him when he was still in training. If he held like this for sixty seconds, the crytal would build up and boil inside, and when he finally removed his hand, the shot fired would act as an explosive—detonating on impact. It would be fatal to anyone standing within three feet of the blast.
“He is alive?” Phero was surprised to hear the news. He pulled a grenade from the clip on his thigh guard, tossed it high in the air, and watched it land four meters away. It exploded, reducing the humans closest to it to molten globs of flesh and bone.
“Barely, Ala—“ Kenon cut himself short, shaking his head. He had nearly spoken the name of the human female. “I treated him with the medical equipment left behind in this cave. Unfortunately, human supplies were all I could find.”
“You disgust me,” Suro spat.
“Levian would not have survived if I had left his wounds untended! Would you rather he were dead?” Kenon countered sharply, to which Suro muttered crossly.
The heat radiating from the repeater was beginning to sting the young warrior’s palm. As soon as his shields had recharged, he rose from cover and, withdrawing his hand from the barrel, he released the trigger. A white-hot ball of liquid burst out and hit the ground several meters into the trees, wiping out six soldiers.
Phero took out the last soldier in sight and the marshland fell quiet. No motion appeared on their sensors, and when Phero was certain all humans in the area had been eradicated, he slung his small rifle over his shoulder and turned to Kenon.
“Take us to the Ship Commander at once,” he ordered.
When they entered the cavern, Lithe was already standing overtop the unconscious Leh’kin warrior, guarding him as she growled at the intruders, warning them to keep their distance. At the command of the Drahkori, she moved away and sat down.
Suro halted and stared at Lithe, a look of repulsion on his face. “What is that?” he hissed.
“A tyliven,” Kenon said. “A creature of my homeworld, the offspring of the eihler and reighe, and an extremely loyal one at that. Her name is Lithe—not that you care.”
“You named the beast?”
“The connection between her and I is not one you would understand.” That was not entirely true. With some explanation, the Digred likely would have understood fully—but Kenon was in no mood to explain, and judging by his reaction when he first saw the hybrid, Suro probably wouldn’t have cared to listen.
“Where was he wounded?” Phero asked, crouching down by the Ship Commander’s side.
Kenon joined the Khael’hin and pulled back the blue warrior’s scarlet robes, revealing the bandages that held a compress securely to his hip.
“That is rather tidy work considering the use of human supplies, don’t you think?” Suro murmured with suspicion.
Phero grunted and recoiled, shaking his head from side to side. “This compress has the stench of humans all over it. I shall redress the wound immediately,” he said. Before he could touch the bandages, an armored hand reached up and gripped his arm.
“Leave it be,” Levian murmured, his voice hoarse. He slowly opened glassy, bloodshot eyes. It was good to see him awake at last.
“As you wish, Commander.”
“Now, help me up.”
Phero and Kenon together pulled the Ship Commander to his feet. Trying to keep his weight off his left leg, he stumbled when they let him stand on his own.
“Hail the carrier Glorious in Victory, tell them—” Levian grabbed at his wounded hip, coughing. Blood was starting to soak through the white fabric of the compress.
The Khael’hin held on to the Ship Commander’s harness to support him. “Before you continue,” he said. “We cannot communicate with any of our ships, not from here. Something has unsettled the signal and we are unable to send or receive transmissions. I suggest that, before anything else, we locate a form of transportation.”
“We could make use of this abomination.” Suro jerked his head in the tyliven’s direction.
“She can only carry so much weight. I would say no more than myself and Levian,” Kenon put in, thinking to himself: and a human girl. He flinched when the Digred snapped furiously at him without warning, like he’d crossed some unseen line.
“By the Lords, Drahkori! Can you not find it in yourself to show some respect for your ship commander?”
Was it really so disrespectful, or was the dark warrior just seeking out another reason to belittle him? It seemed that, in one way or another, everything Kenon did was wrong.
“It is fine, Major,” Levian assured. He must’ve known where the warrior was coming from, seen the reason behind his outburst, but he didn’t say a word to Kenon on the matter. And as Suro opened his jaws to speak again, the Ship Commander cut him off. “Say no more on the subject. We should leave this cave and head for the Legacy of Night. If the ship has not suffered too harshly, perhaps I can open a channel from there. Kenon and I shall ride with the tyliven. You two,” he addressed Phero and Suro. “Scout ahead; keep the path clear.”
Kenon felt much more at ease now that the survivors of Alceta Squad were back together. With his comrades here he did not feel quite as vulnerable, nor was he afraid of running into humans.
Once they were clear of the cave, Phero sprinted ahead with Suro, human weapons in arm. Lithe sauntered along leisurely behind with the Ship Commander and the young Drahkori on her back. It soon appeared that Levian had been waiting for the other two to disappear, as he began to speak the moment they were out of earshot.
“Alana . . .” he sighed, touching the compress. “That human did this, did she not?”
Kenon swallowed hard. He’d hoped that the Ship Commander had been too distant the previous night to notice the soldier, or at least too rattled to remember her presence.
The truth could not be hidden now.
“She did,” he replied quietly. “However, I can assure you I—”
The Calypsis Project Page 9