Kastori Revelations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 1)

by Stephen Allan

  “I know,” Crystil said.

  “He seemed so sure about it. I just… I don’t know.”

  “We’ll never know, Celeste. Don’t waste your time thinking about things you can’t get the answer to. You’ll spend energy that you could use for doing things you can actually control.”

  “But don’t you ever think about… what could’ve been?”

  Crystil sighed as a stalling mechanism.

  “I could. But I don’t. I focus on what matters.”

  Sensing she was losing Celeste, she walked closer to her, refusing to turn her eyes to the text on the screen.

  “And listen, the good news is we have a lot of great things that matter right now. We have a new home to discover. We have new adventures to go on on Anatolus. We can do anything out there. So don’t look at what I’m saying as ignoring the past, but as working toward the future.”

  Celeste weakly smiled. Crystil couldn’t say if it was in agreement or submission.

  “I know what you’ve said, Crystil, and I’ll do my best to look forward. I’ll do everything I can to act. But it’s hard. You know? We both lost people we loved. And for no good reason.”

  Instead of anger, Crystil felt sympathy. She could see Celeste shaking and motioned for her to come. When she did, she embraced her tightly, a hug needed as much for herself as for Celeste.

  “You’ll be fine, Celeste. We honor those in our past by our actions ahead.”

  Celeste nodded, her voice quivering with thanks. She said nothing more and sat down. Crystil took her leave, heading once to the training room, where she chuckled at the sight of Cyrus still in simulated fights with multiple enemies. She strolled into the cockpit, put her legs up, and looked out.

  Maybe I should give more time to the past. Think about it.

  But she shook the thought off, remembering what had happened when she saw the recording.

  7

  Upon waking up from the previous night’s sleep, Crystil quickly sat up from her black bed and slipped into her uniform—a commander’s gray vest, black pants and heavy black boots. She liked having people know of her arrival before they could see her. It added to the aura of the even-keeled commander. Without the need for any caffeine, she made her way to the cockpit, head high and lips taut.

  “What’s the schedule for today, Cortanus?” she said as she took her seat in an authoritative position, legs at a ninety-degree angle on the ground.

  “Today, you will train on escaping predators.”

  Crystil, who had reached over to a computer to pull up some documents, froze and gulped.

  “Is there a reason we are doing this?”

  “It is better to be prepared for the possible than ignore the improbable.”

  Wouldn’t be here if we didn’t follow that statement.

  “Afterward, you will have your usual review. However, at approximately seventeen hundred hours and forty-six minutes, we are scheduled to enter into Anatolus’ gravitational pull, and will then begin the landing procedure.”

  The words brought a much-needed relieved smile to Crystil, who still couldn’t believe the day had come.

  “Any questions, Crystil?”

  “No, Cortanus, not at the moment,” she said, propping her feet on the dashboard.

  But this time, she rested not to escape her duties as a leader, but to forget the simulation she would have to face.

  When the time came, she banged on the door of each Orthran, announcing, “Simulation in five minutes.” It was one simulation she wouldn’t mind skipping, and if Cyrus and Celeste arrived just a moment or two late, she would demonstratively cancel the session with a great deal of relief.

  “What’s the simulation?” Cyrus yelled from his room.

  “You’ll see,” Crystil said, half to deflect the question and half because she hadn’t bothered to examine the details of their simulation.

  “Crystil?”

  The commander ignored Celeste as she stomped through the hallway, her eyes set on every task in front of her so she could wrap up the simulation quickly. She pressed her hand upon the panel and became unusually anxious when the verification process took the fifteen seconds it usually did.

  “Wel—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it, Crystil Bradford,” she said as she hurried to the back of the training room. She had everything on, including the helmet, albeit not attached to the suit, when she heard Cyrus and Celeste enter the room.

  “Just hurry up and equip yourselves,” she said, the helmet muffling her voice.

  She clicked the helmet on, waited, and found herself in a thicket of tall trees, with branches too high to reach. She was in bare feet, shorts, and a ragged tank top. The simulation had offered her no protection. She didn’t even get a knife, let alone a gun, to defend herself. Cyrus and Celeste appeared a few seconds later.

  “Don’t get fancy today, not even a little bit,” she said.

  She looked them up and down, measuring them. They each had similar clothes to her—tanktops, shorts, and no shoes. What surprised her, though, was how ready and girded they look. All of the attitude which Cyrus usually brought had vanished, and even Celeste didn’t look her nervous self. She had her eyes steeled on Crystil, ready to do anything. Now we’re talking.

  “Go ahead, Cortanus,” she said.

  Just don’t put the nakar in there.

  “Your objective in this simulation is to reach the safety of your ship, about a hundred yards away. However, in the process, you will have to avoid panteras, balicae and, should you venture near the swamp, nakar.”

  Crystil’s mind immediately flashed back. That scream. I had her hand, and then… I had only her hand.

  “Early in this simulation, you are safe, but be aware, the balicae are hunting for you, and they may pick up on your scent. Inertia will prove just as deadly as recklessness. You have no weapons, though you may use whatever you may find. Good luck.”

  Crystil took a deep breath, sighed, and looked at the plains. She saw three balicae roaming, their noses to the ground, strolling with steady, careful steps. The four-legged creatures in black fur and red stripes inspired fear just by looking at them—one didn’t have to see their sharp claws and their pointed incisors to tremble. Further out, two white-colored panteras, also four-legged creatures, smaller than the balicae but still dangerous, rested on the plains. She could see the ship, a replica of Omega One, but everything deadly waited in between. To their left, about fifty feet from where they stood, was the swamp.

  She would’ve rather attacked the balicae alone than go into the swamp with Cyrus and Celeste. Just seeing the swamp made her sweat.

  She turned to Cyrus and Celeste and motioned for them to huddle, but with a finger on her lips. They crept over, looking down at their feet at every step. When they got close enough, Crystil put her arms around them and brought them down low.

  “Listen, we can’t fight our way through, that’s not going to happen.”

  “Even I know that,” Cyrus said, but without any of the smiles or ensuing laughs.

  Crystil nodded, but something about him didn’t feel right. Even without the laughs, he still looked way too confident for the mission. Am I projecting on him? Or is he gonna revert to being stupid and go outside the rules again?

  “We need to either create a distraction or—”

  A loud, deep bellow ripped through the air, making Crystil, who had her back to the plains, sure they would die before they even finished discussing strategy. She froze and closed her eyes, waiting for the moment of truth.

  “They’re fighting!” Celeste said in a loud whisper.

  Crystil stood up, pressed herself against a tree and peeked over to see two balicae fighting one pantera. The three large beasts, each easily over five times Crystil’s weight, wrestled with a bloody fury that would end only when one species died. Crystil motioned for the siblings to tip-toe along the right side of the battle, a decision influenced as much by her fears as by her gut.

  “List
en to me carefully. Walk confidently, as if you are the apex predator of this land. If they approach, stand your ground.”

  “Did you just hear what Cortanus told us, lady??” Cyrus said.

  Crystil balled up her right first, but slowly unleashed it as she continued creeping ahead, refusing to turn around.

  “Don’t ever call me lady,” she said. “Or I’ll get you before the balicae do.”

  “Guys!” Celeste said, but in a tone much too loud. She put her hand to her mouth, but it wouldn’t bring the sound waves back. The one balicae not fighting turned to them and approached with its head low, eyes locked, and feet moving slowly, waiting to launch.

  “Stand tall,” she said. “You run, it chases you, you die.”

  No one said a word. Crystil stood with her arms spread wide. When it came closer, she yelled.

  “NO! No! Back off!”

  She had no idea if screaming would work. It sure hadn’t worked on the nakar.

  She turned to Cyrus.

  “If it lunges, you have to punch it in the face.”

  “What?!?”

  “These things want a leisurely lunch, not prey that’ll fight. We’re not invading their territory.”

  “What do you call that?!?”

  She looked back at the battle. The one pantera valiantly fought, but didn’t have more than a minute left.

  “Our impetus to move tall, quietly, slowly.”

  “You sure?”

  Not at all.

  “Yes.”

  She led Cyrus and Celeste with her arms spread wide. Deep, disturbing, but not particularly loud growls came from the balicae, which kept its gaze on Crystil. Crystil’s stomach flipped, and she gulped as she swore under her breath. By her estimation, they had gotten within thirty yards of the ship. Once on board, the creature could lunge all it wanted. But to get there…

  Then it roared loudly, revealing its sharp teeth which looked like Crystil’s swords.

  “Don’t—”

  Before she could finish, Celeste sprinted toward the ship.

  “Celeste!” she screamed.

  She watched in horror as the balicae, previously maybe forty yards from Celeste, gained ten yards for every three that Celeste gained running to the ship. Crystil didn’t have to do any calculations to realize how this would end.

  “END THIS NOW!” she screamed, no longer in control of her controlled side.

  Everything went blank, and a second later, they were back on Omega One. Crystil took several seconds to catch her breath. She tossed off her helmet, taking a knee to fight off the panic attack. Behind her, Cyrus slowly backed away. She saw Celeste with her helmet off and her head bowed. Vowing not to lose her cool as she did with Cyrus, Crystil did not get up until she felt sure she could talk to Celeste calmly.

  She let out a loud gasp which sounded like a cry, recoiling at the memory of her first mission in the swamps of Monda. Her teammate and best friend since childhood, Eve, had suggested they wade through the marsh to get to the magicologists’ base faster. Crystil had a terrible gut feeling about it but went along with it.

  They had gotten about twenty yards from the base when Eve screamed in pain. Crystil turned and saw Eve being dragged. She grabbed Eve and pulled, and for about three seconds, Crystil dragged her away from danger, but a horrifyingly large nakar lunged out of the swamp and swallowed Eve nearly whole, leaving only her hand. Crystil dropped the hand and ran to shore in terror, shaking, feeling entirely out of her league as a young teenage girl on her first mission. She broke down at the bank, crying for hours. Only the evening refocused her, reminding her to finish her mission if she didn’t want to join Eve.

  She eventually made it home, but she could never go back to her family’s house, which stood next to Eve’s house.

  When Crystil finished recounting the memory, she stood and walked over to Celeste. She put both of her hands on Celeste’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. Both women looked frightened.

  “You can’t do that, Celeste.”

  A long silence came as Crystil sought the strength for more words.

  “You just… can’t, Celeste. OK? Just don’t.”

  “I know, I panicked, I shouldn’t have, I—”

  Crystil’s grip on Celeste tightened, not to dominate, but to calm.

  “You made a mistake. You won’t make it again. I believe in you.”

  Celeste swallowed, and what happened next shocked Crystil.

  “I know. I won’t.”

  Such a firm statement should have come from Cyrus. Not from the timid girl who reminded Crystil of herself from a decade ago. She loosened her grip, and she nodded in gratitude.

  “Nine years ago, I lost someone close to me in a situation like this because we skirted orders. I don’t have many fears, but losing someone to a predator like this is one. Even in simulations, I feel like I’ll go into shock if I see it. So… I’m sorry if I overreacted.”

  “You didn’t,” Celeste said, her voice sympathetic. “I understand now why you did that. I promise if there’s a way to do things, I won’t deviate, even if I’m afraid.”

  Crystil finally smiled, as those words were words she’d yearned to hear since their first training simulation together.

  “You’ll always feel fear. We all do. Even your brother. Even if he won’t admit it. But go past it. You will.”

  “I will.”

  With that, the two embraced. Crystilwalked toward Cyrus and gave the nod for him to line up next to his sister. She cleared her throat, paused to enter back into commander mode, and stood tall with her shoulders round and back straight.

  “You may think that because we’ve left Monda, we will see no balicae, no pantera, and no nakar. And that may be the case. But it’s also just as likely the case that when we get to Anatolus, we’ll encounter creatures as dangerous, or maybe even more so, than the ones on Monda. You always have to assume the worst in these spots and assume you don’t know what the worst will be, because when you encounter a new land, you face new rules, new paradigms, and new dynamics. This is why I constantly harp on you both to follow the rules. The rules are designed to carry over to a variety of situations, even ones in which we don’t know anything. Maybe the rules will be wrong, but in the majority of tested cases, they are not. You also need to be mentally prepared for when you’re not physically prepared, such as when you don’t have weapons. This was a difficult simulation, created so that when we arrive, we can handle the worst. Though we did not complete it, I am confident that both of you have processed the necessary lessons.”

  Both of them nodded without hesitation. Exactly what I want to see.

  “We will have a review after lunch, and we are scheduled to land shortly after. The planet will be entering its nocturnal phase soon after we land, so we will spend the night on board this ship. Come see me if you have any questions.”

  With that, she left the room, listening as Cyrus whispered something inaudible to Celeste, who laughed. It made Crystil feel sad and envious that she did not have that level of connection with either Orthran.

  The sadness vanished with a shake of the head, a smile, and a pretend offended thought when she heard Cyrus’ last words.

  “… said that to you! She is human!”

  I’ve always been human, Cyrus.

  8

  Cyrus walked into the dining hall with his sister by his side, starving for eggs and vegetables. He looked at the digital clock on the wall as his eggs cooked in the humming microwave.

  It was 16:58. If what he had read was true, they had less than an hour until they entered into Anatolus’ gravitational pull. The young man felt like a great captain, exploring beyond the ventured skies and into lands that humans had not yet seen. He knew he could never—nor would ever—overthrow Crystil and become the true commander of Omega One. But I should ask about a promotion. A raise to bacon and eggs instead of veggies and eggs.

  The microwave dinged twice to signal it had finished. Cyrus pulled out the eg
gs and veggies, looked carefully, and yelled, “Ahah!” He turned to Celeste, who had the expectant grin of someone about to laugh.

  “They made these eggs extra crispy! They’re finally upgrading our experience here!”

  Cyrus sat down and shrugged as he shoved the first batch of eggs in his mouth.

  “Real shame, too,” he said in between bites. “We’re landing in less—”

  “Than an hour! I completely forgot!” Celeste said, putting her hands on the table.

  She stood up without even excusing herself and walked away.

  “Celeste! I gotta finish my food, I don’t want egg yolk hitting my face as we go down!” Cyrus yelled, chasing her to the cockpit as she took her seat to Crystil’s left.

  The commander, as usual, sat in her seat confidently, looking at the black sea of space. He turned, and the view now had a beautiful blue pearl with a green diamond on the northern side taking up a decent portion of the glass.

  “Anatolus,” Celeste said, nearly breathlessly. “Beautiful.”

  “Our new home,” Crystil said. “Welcome, guys, we made it.”

  Both women turned to Cyrus, but he hadn’t even touched his food since he had taken a seat. He just gawked at the planet and couldn’t stop thinking how much it looked like Monda. Roughly the same distance from its sun. By all accounts, relatively similar wildlife. He knew it wasn’t the case but indulged in the fantasy that civilization on Monda had just boomeranged them into space, and they had now returned. Their father would be waiting for him and Celeste, and Crystil could go back to bodyguarding instead of supervising.

  But even from that distance, he could see what dissolved that illusion—the massive mountain at the tip of the land mass, jutting out like a monument. Cortanus had confirmed the mountain jutted nearly a hundred thousand feet into the sky, with the oxygen at the peak essentially the minimum to survive. Such a thing didn’t exist on Monda. Half of a thing didn’t even exist.

  “We finally found the thing that shut my brother up,” Celeste said, which brought Crystil’s guard down and made her laugh. “How does time relate to what time we have on this ship?”