The Calypsis Project

by Brittany M. Willows

  “No matter,” the monarch said, displeased. Focusing her intense ruby-colored eyes on the young Drahkori warrior, a smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She requested his name.

  Kenon swallowed hard, his nervousness causing him to hesitate. He disliked the direct attention and assumed the monarch would judge him by every word that slipped from his jaws, which made him even more ill at ease.

  “Kenon Valinquint,” he said with as much composure as he could muster up. “A Drahkori of Dyre and a graduate of Ceida State’s battle training academy.”

  “So you are the one they speak of.” The Queen leaned forward and crossed her lanky legs, resting her chin in her hand. “I was led to believe that your kind refused to take part in battle following the Purge. Was I wrong, or are you an oddity?”

  “You are correct. I was shamed before the state by the High Council of Ceida, sentenced to death in compliance with the laws put forth by the goddess Athenna, and so I came here in search of redemption.”

  “I see,” the Queen murmured thoughtfully, regarding him with great interest. She studied him for a minute, then said, “I can see that you are nervous in my presence . . . and so you should be. Allow me to make something clear to you before I send you on your way: I am your leader, your queen. You will obey my every command without question or you shall suffer the consequences. There is one thing that I will not tolerate in my empire, Drahkori, and that is pandoracy—the act of betrayal. Consequently, secrecy is not welcome either. In conclusion: if you are hiding anything from me, I demand that you reveal it at once.”

  The monarch’s words dripped with suspicion and the strangely disturbing tone she’d used made Kenon feel as though his feet had been melded to the floor. For her to see right through them so easily was worrying. Oddly enough, it sounded almost like she already knew what they had planned to reveal to her.

  As far as the young warrior was aware, neither he nor Levian had done anything to indicate that they were withholding information.

  Kenon wasn’t at all comfortable about sharing the news of the Calypsis Project anymore, and it seemed his comrade was feeling the same way. They exchanged an uneasy glance, not quite sure where to go from here.

  “Right, then.” The monarch, although still obviously suspicious, seemed willing to drop the subject for the time being. “Kenon Valinquint, you will return to Calypsis and meet with Eskir Squad—a team of specially selected warriors, each carefully chosen from the Royalty caste to guarantee the success of a rather delicate assignment. This mission will be further explained to you once you have boarded the supercarrier Triumphant Chime, which is currently awaiting your arrival on deck thirteen. I expect nothing less than a victory from you. Now, make haste,” she ordered with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  The young Drahkori gave the Queen one last bow, dipping his head respectfully, and then headed for the lift with the Ship Commander at his side.

  “Not you, Levian.”

  At Her Majesty’s stern order, the two warriors froze and looked at each other with anxious eyes. Levian turned back to the monarch as she stepped down from her throne.

  “Accompany me to my chambers. I wish to speak to you of a private matter,” she hissed, throwing a disdainful glare in Kenon’s direction.

  Levian nodded in compliance, then put his hand to the young warrior’s shoulder, wished him luck, and departed.

  Kenon watched him disappear through the entrance to the Queen’s chambers, then walked to the hall and boarded the lift alone. Once it reached its destination on the thirteenth deck, the Drahkori was joined by a trio of warriors in crimson armor, who escorted him to the docking tubes that connected to Triumphant Chime.

  Chapter

  ———TEN———

  1620 Hours, December 02, 2438 (Earth Calendar) / Drocain High City Oreva Alkastoran

  The renowned Drocain ship commander Levian ‘Nher limped slowly behind his queen, making sure to keep his distance. His ankle was weak and sore, in need of rest, but he still had much to do. The time for relaxation would have to wait.

  It wasn’t often that he felt uncomfortable in the Queen’s company. In fact, he usually felt quite welcome. However, on this occasion, she was behaving wildly out of character.

  Her eyes told him that she was fraught with sorrow, the tone of her voice displayed anger, and the way she moved suggested she was cheerful.

  Levian concluded that something must have happened to her since the last time they’d met for a mind as clear and resolute as hers to become so disorganized. If only he’d known what, then perhaps he could have worked around her accusation, convinced her that he and the Drahkori were not hiding anything, and been able to relay the news of the Calypsis Project. But after what had happened in the throne room, he was reluctant to reveal even the smallest detail.

  Entering the monarch’s chambers, he found the circular room to be warm and inviting. It was well decorated, comfort at its finest—fit for a ruler. He had never set foot in this room before, nor had any other warrior outside of the guard caste.

  There was a sweet scent hanging in the air, one Levian had come to know well during the months he’d spent on Si-Gheila. It belonged to a potion created by the Khael’hin, used as a pain reliever or light sedative. It was meant to be inhaled—boiled and left to sit in a dish, the steam would fill the chosen area.

  But why would the Queen have such a substance in her chambers?

  The Queen turned around to face the warrior and he could see that she was beginning to fall under the effects of the potion already. Her expression was dull, her movements slow and languid. She took a step forward, her feet dragged on the floor and she nearly tripped.

  Levian was managing to resist it well enough, however his eyelids were growing heavy. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the brief waves of fatigue washing over him. “You wanted to speak to me privately. Whatever for?”

  She gave him a couple of long blinks, the tip of her tail curled as she reached out to him and traced the scars in his combat harness with slender fingers.

  “You are a fine warrior, Levian,” she said softly, hand coming to rest in the dip in the middle of the harness’ collar. “Intelligent, strong . . . and brave. You have protected this Empire for so very long and you would lay down your life to save it. I have always been able to rely on you. Always. But you were born to lead, not to serve.”

  “My Queen?” Levian was not sure where she was going with this, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to find out.

  “Our forces are thinning, Levian. With each day that passes, thousands of noble warriors die in battle, and if we are to maintain our place of dominance in this galaxy—if we are to reign victorious over the humans—then we must reinforce our armies, build them up stronger than ever before, and we must expand. I believe that the only way to do this effectively is to raise young Drocain in a militaristic environment.”

  “What exactly are you suggesting we do?”

  “I have spent these last few years in search of a partner, one who possesses your refined qualities, to father the first generation of Empire-born warriors. My time is running short and the search has been unsuccessful . . . until now.”

  It took a minute for that to sink in, and when it did Levian shook his head and narrowed his stare at the Queen. She tilted her head back and gazed up at him with great affection—possibly the most intense love he had witnessed since he’d last visited his own family.

  But he didn’t want this.

  The Ship Commander was silent, caught in a very awkward situation to which he did not know how to react. What would she do if he denied her request? This was his queen, the ruler of the Drocain Royal Empire. With a wave of her hand she could have him executed, and with hardly more than a glance she could force her subjects into submission. All of them; every servant and warrior—except for him. She seemed to admire that.

  “My Queen—”

  “You may call me Ahlaie.”

  “Thirty-eight years
ago, I took the hand of the female who would become my wife. She was without the complexities that many others had, though was nothing out of the ordinary. She had no binds to a royal family—she was a fieldworker. I have entrusted her with my life and my soul. When we were wed I vowed never to leave her for another, and I do not intend to break that vow for any reason. I have children, Your Majesty—a family to fight for.” Levian kept his tone gentle to try to avoid upsetting the Queen. “Regardless, the risks that come with interspecies reproduction are far too high, and the differences in our physiology would only add to that risk. For instance: I have two hearts, and you have one.”

  A look of distress flashed across the monarch’s face, but Levian continued, trying to convince her to let go of this insane idea.

  “The children, if they survived birth, would be burdened with terminal illnesses and severe deformities. That is if you even managed to make it through to the end of the pregnancy alive,” he said. “I can only offer you my apologies, Your Majesty. And I must ask: was it also your intention to send these children into battle?”

  The Queen tore her gaze away from him, her hands slipped from his harness and hung at her sides as if she no longer had the strength to hold them up. She drew in a shaky breath and reminded him icily, “I am your queen, Levian.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “Then why do you refuse?” Tears of desperation welled in her eyes, her jaw muscles bulged as she clenched her teeth. She reached up to the side of his face and stroked the cold metal of his helmet with her thumb. “You have always been loyal to me. When you became a part of this Empire you swore to obey my every command.”

  “I never expected to receive such an absurd request from you.”

  “You need to take the time to think about your decision. I know we can make this work. I am sure of it!”

  “Your Majesty, you could die! Your suggestion is one of complete and utter lunacy!”

  “And?” Hope sparked in her voice. She seemed to be under the impression that if she was willing to put her own life in danger to see this through, he would be as well. “Levian, this war could carry on for another decade—a century even! I may die soon regardless of what we do now—you know this as well as I, and I also know that we can be happy together.” She grasped his hands and cupped them around her breasts.

  “Are you trying to seduce me?” Levian spat irately as he pulled away from her. He had never lost his temper with the Queen before, never snapped at her—but the way she touched him so tenderly angered him. She knew that he had a family, a wife whom he loved dearly, and still she dared to cross the line he’d drawn.

  She had gone too far.

  “You feel the same for me as I do for you—I can see it!” Ahlaie insisted.

  “Then you have become blind to the obvious,” the Ship Commander growled. “I have business to attend to. So if you will excuse me, I must be leaving.” He turned around and headed for the door.

  “If you walk away from me now, Levian, I assure you, you will regret it,” she warned, but he ignored her and kept going. She then said softly, “. . . Are you not worried about the Drahkori?”

  Levian stopped dead in his tracks as the words of his Queen sank deep into him like a thousand tiny daggers. The sadistic tone in her voice chilled him and he turned back to face her.

  “I hear the two of you have become rather close,” she whispered emotionlessly. “My warriors tell me that even in his first couple of days on Si-Gheila, you allowed him to address you by your birth name. Could this perhaps be because he reminds you of the son you have not seen in nine years?”

  “What concern is it of yours?” Levian hissed.

  “In this place of royalty, we treat those higher in the chain of command properly—with the respect they deserve, the respect that they have earned through bloodshed and through loss. Those who stand lower in the ranks are to be treated as such, and to do any differently is to encourage disobedience. But you have done just that, and this has led me to question your loyalty.”

  “And your behavior has made me wonder whether or not I should question your ability to lead.”

  “Did he tell you about the human?” Ahlaie asked.

  How does she know about that? he wondered. “Yes, he did. Under normal circumstances, his sparing of her life would have been met with cruel repercussions. But . . . in this case, she held extremely valuable information—and had it not been for her assistance, I would have died.”

  “She was a soldier, Levian. She has forced many a warrior to his grave, and the Drahkori that you were responsible for did not so much as bruise her! He should have killed her once she had revealed her secrets to him.”

  “Senseless killing has never been—”

  “Humans are what plague this galaxy. For centuries they have spread throughout the stars, paying no mind to those whose homes they invade. You should be thankful, for now we have a way to be rid of them forever.”

  By what means could the Empire erase humanity from the galaxy?

  The Queen picked up a small controller from the table at the end of her bed and gave the button in the center a tap with her index finger, then motioned to the domed ceiling with a gentle sweep of her arm.

  The dome shimmered and faded to transparency, revealing the hundreds of Royalty-Class ships that guarded the High City. Amongst them were vessels that belonged to a different fleet, one Levian knew as Marvelous Redemption—the largest attack fleet in the Drocain Empire, and by far the strongest.

  “Preparations for the invasion of Calypsis have begun, and I will see to it that this mission succeeds,” the monarch said. “It is a shame . . . If the Drahkori had killed that girl when he found her, then we would not have to deal with this problem. Now he must be taught that there are consequences when one goes poking around in search of evidence; seeking to expose a plan thousands of years in the making.”

  She already knows about the project, Levian realized. “Where is Kenon?”

  “On his way to the human city, Viro. Recently, my warriors have discovered a series of roads leading underground—directly to the lower sector of this metropolis. Once they have arrived at the entrance, Valinquint and Major Katspara will travel to the heart of the network where they will plant an explosive. The blast will take down the mountains, crushing the humans inside . . . There is only one warrior who will return from this mission, and his loyalty to me is everlasting.”

  Without a second thought, the Ship Commander advanced on the Queen, drew back his armored hand and struck her down. She hit the floor, then shakily propped herself up on her elbows, wiping blood from her lips.

  She glared over her shoulder and shouted furiously. “I will have your head, Levian!”

  “Not before I have yours,” he hissed through clenched jaws as he reached down and grabbed the Queen forcefully by the throat. He lifted her off the ground and she struggled weakly in his grasp.

  The monarch was frightened now, but she should have known better than to provoke him. She knew what he was capable of.

  A long blade of energy shot from his gauntlet, and as he was about to make a clean cut through the Queen’s chest, the doors burst open behind him and two royal guards entered the room, staves pointing threateningly toward him.

  “Theral, Ume’aht!” the Queen coughed and gasped for air as she addressed the pair. “Remove this traitor from the city immediately!”

  She managed to spit the order out before Levian dropped her and unsheathed his second blade, turning to face the guards. He held his ground as the two charged at him, and when there was little more than a foot between his body and the tip of the guards’ staves, he leaped into the air.

  The guards passed right under the Ship Commander and he landed behind them, spinning on his toes as they skidded to a stop.

  These Khael’hin warriors were slow in their heavy armor, but their physical strength was unsurpassed. A single blow from one of their staves could easily snap Levian’s spine.

  Luckily, the
re was one thing he had that they could not match: agility.

  Theral, the larger of the two, didn’t turn to face his aggressor. Instead, he bent over backward with his stave pointed up and raised above his head.

  It was a clever move but Levian was all too familiar with it. It was a Leh’kin tactic—one that required far more swiftness than Theral could hope to achieve, making it easy for the blue warrior to avoid the attack. However, the tip of the stave still managed to scratch the side of his helmet, barely missing his eye.

  Theral jumped back on his feet and whipped around, aiming another blow—this time at Levian’s head.

  Levian evaded the attack and grabbed the weapon’s stem, pushed it down to the ground with his foot, and forced the guard to drop it.

  Before Theral could retreat, the Leh’kin Ship Commander thrust his energy blade through the guard’s open mouth and out the back of his skull.

  Theral stood there for a moment, staring at the Ship Commander while blood bubbled in his throat, then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed. Levian withdrew his blade just in time to dodge an attack from the remaining guard, Ume’aht, who finally had a clear line of sight.

  Too slow.

  The stave crashed into the Ship Commander’s shoulder and the blow knocked him to the ground. He landed hard on his back and lay winded momentarily, then inhaled sharply and rolled out of the way as Ume’aht drove his weapon downward—again and again, leaving holes in the floor.

  Levian kicked out, connected with Ume’aht’s abdomen, and hopped back on his feet while the guard was doubled over.

  Ume’aht kept his distance, holding a defensive position.

  Levian rushed at his opponent, grabbed the guard’s harness, and clumsily performed a forward flip over the top of the Khael’hin warrior. When his feet touched the ground, he crouched low and, with all the strength he could gather, threw the guard right over his head.

  Ume’aht hit the wall, armor clattering as he crumpled to the floor. He recovered quickly, drawing in a deep breath as he lunged forth.