Kastori Revelations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 1) (16 page)

Just as casually as he had sat down, he launched himself up.

“OK, change of pace here. Forget the mystery skull. Remind me. When did my sister and Crystil leave?”

“They left two days ago.”

“How many days of supplies did they have?”

“Five.”

Cyrus’ immediate gut reaction was to find weapons, supplies, and a fresh body suit and go find them. His second gut thought was to stay put, continue doing research with Cortanus, and explore only after five days had passed. As usual, one thought soon became the dominant thought.

“Cortanus, you’re going to call me crazy, and when I see them, Celeste might slap me and Crystil might destroy me, but I don’t care. I’m gonna go find them. I have to go help them.”

Cyrus sat up and headed to the armory while carrying on conversation.

“Cyrus, the odds of successfully navigating this planet and finding Crystil and Celeste are approximately 3,720 to one.”

“Oh, I guess those are pretty bad odds,” Cyrus said, pausing for a moment in front of the armory. “But, then again, when have I ever paid attention to odds?”

He put his hand up to the armory identification system and patiently waited for the door to open. After what felt like a minute, though, not even the hum of the system analyzing his hand sounded. Cyrus removed his hand and peered closely at the tablet. He couldn’t see anything wrong with it—no smears or cracks showed on the screen. He tried once more but, again, nothing happened.

“Cortanus, this ain’t working,” he said, but Cortanus gave no reply.

Just my luck. The system stops working the second I need it to. Well, I don’t need it. I’m Cyrus Orthran! I got this. Celeste, I’m coming!

He headed down the hall toward the airlock, but when he tried to open it, that door, too, would not open. Even manually pulling on the door did not work. He headed into the cockpit to reboot the system, but a strange sight awaited him inside. All of the systems inside still operated, and Cyrus could still flip through information and reports.

“Cortanus… what did you do?” he said, his suspicion rising.

“I was programmed to protect you three at all costs, especially when one of you is alone. The odds are too far out of your favor, Cyrus, for me to allow you to leave. If you go out, the odds are in favor of you dying, as you almost proved the first time you left.”

“Oh, so it’s OK if you let me out when I’m insane, but not when I want to rescue someone?” he said, though he made his way back to the lab room, figuring he should at least work while arguing.

“There is one person whom I must obey, no matter what my program says.”

Crystil.

“And why does… no, never mind, that doesn’t matter. What does matter, Cortanus, is you realizing—”

The ground violently shook as it sounded like a giant boulder had crashed into the ship. Cyrus waved his arms to catch his balance the equipment in the room shifted. Shortly after the tremors stopped, the sound of heavy breathing and a deep growl surrounded the ship.

I’m gonna die in the one place I thought I was safe
, Cyrus thought. On the wall, a visual came, showing the creature just to the right of the ship, peering down at it, like Celeste would at her lab subjects. He could only pray the beast showed the same mercy—or, really, lack of interest—to him that Celeste did.

On the projection, text appeared. “Do not make any noise. Don’t not move.”

Another deep rumble came as the creature shuffled its feet, positioning itself over
Omega One.
Cyrus braced himself for the moment when it would open its jaws and destroy everything. He silently wished that they’d left Monda on a battleship, not a transportation cruiser.

He did get one silver lining, though, a lining so thin that without straining he couldn’t see it. He could see more of the creature than he had before. Its talons and claws proved even sharper than originally thought, but also slightly unwieldy like the beast would have trouble gripping. Cyrus failed to see how that could possibly provide any benefit—especially when it had the two other arms to act as spears—but at least this proved that it wasn’t a perfect nightmare.

The monster leaned forward and sniffed the ship. Cyrus saw the condensation from its nostrils. Its eyes glowed a fierce yellow, and its pupils seemed unsettlingly large in the night sky. The creature placed one of its hands onto the ship, producing a loud thud, followed by the painful sound of metal crunching.

Make it quick, man. I don’t wanna die screaming. I wanna die not even knowing how you killed me.

The creature reared its head back, and Cyrus closed his eyes, convinced he would die.

Then he heard a half-second of a loud cry before he went deaf. He fell to his knees and saw the container holding the water and skull had shattered. He started to swear, but it transformed into a muffled grunt, still fearful of what stood above the vessel.

Cyrus turned back to the projection, his hands over his ears, and breathed a much-needed relieved sigh when the creature vanished into the blackness of the night sky. Slowly, his hearing returned.

“How much of the water and bones did you analyze, Cortanus?” he asked, barely caring about the answer given he still had his life.

“As much as I could. I do not need its physical presence anymore since I have its data. Should Celeste return, I can even run projections and create artificial replicas for her to analyze if she wishes.”

Should she return.

“You have an awfully cold way of speaking, Cortanus, just saying.”

“Odds are rarely warm in survival missions, Cyrus.”

Cyrus found himself wanting to argue the point, but even the cocksure Cyrus knew logically he couldn’t win such an argument. His ears still ringing and his body still in near-shock from adrenaline overload, he went to the cockpit in a daze. Only when he sat down in the pilot’s chair did he snort in amusement. How angry would Crystil be if she saw him in her chair?

“How’s the damage to the ship, Cortanus?” he asked.

“Minimal. It isn’t as aesthetically pleasing as it once was, but all operational systems are completely functional.”

“Well, I’ll just have to tell the ladies I had a painting accident,” he joked. “OK, but seriously, let me ask this. Did the monster leave any trace of itself? Anything we can analyze to figure out what this thing is?”

“It’s likely it left something behind. If you can move quietly, there’s a hatch to the top of the ship you can use to examine any remains.”

“What,” Cyrus said. He’d thought for certain the only way in or out of the ship was through the belly. “There’s an entry point at the top of the ship?”

“Yes. It is camouflaged, but yes.”

How did I not know about that?
He thought about saying something, but decided against it. Of all the things he wanted to fight, not knowing the presence of an entry point that he would almost certainly never use again wasn’t one of them.

Instead, he girded himself for a flight up to the beast’s level
.
He vowed to move as quickly as one could with the lightest of steps possible.

26

The airlock which Cyrus typically took to the bottom instead took him to the top. Cyrus wondered how the ship could suddenly override the normal descent.

The hatch above him opened and lifted him completely into the air. Cyrus had plenty of space to walk, and took a quick glance at the sky. He saw nothing. It didn’t reassure him.

With a lack of certainty, Cyrus walked as quietly as he could. Finding the spot where the beast had grabbed the ship was not difficult—its claws left clear indentations, even in the darkness of the night. Cyrus bent down and looked in the first divot. The metal had significant damage, and the entire imprint reeked of smoke, but he saw nothing. He moved to the second one and again saw the same thing.

On the third one, the one closest to the body of the beast, he saw what looked like a giant scale. He touched it, and it felt warm and oily.
It’s what I’m looking for.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the scale and rapidly walked back to the hatch. He had trouble locating the hatch, but Cortanus dropped the platform slightly, making it visible.

Inside, no longer nervous about making too much noise, he quickly took the scale to the lab. It wasn’t going to easily fit into one of the research boxes.

“This will be the same if we cut it, right?” Cyrus asked cautiously.

“Yes, provided we are not cutting any vital organs, which would not seem to be the case.”

Cyrus gently laid the scale on a platform, adjusting it several times before taking a step back. A laser quickly burned through the scale and sliced off a piece small enough for Cortanus to analyze. Cyrus presented the piece and sat waiting.

“Interesting,” Cortanus said.

“I never like it when my artificial intelligence says things like that,” Cyrus said, his eyes growing wider. “What’s going on?”

“Well, much like your skull, it is clearly an artificial creation, albeit much older. But there’s something else that is peculiar, and I’ve never seen before. Based on its structure which I can pull…”

Cyrus waited as Cortanus seemed to calculate something that he wished wouldn’t come true.

“Yes, I can say with confidence of the 96th percentile that this is a creature that will not decay biologically without malicious organisms.”

Oh, lovely.

“Immortal.”

27

Crystil had deep fears beyond what she’d shown to Celeste.

As her commander, she didn’t want to express how concerned she was for the young girl’s injury. Too many battles in too many exotic, uncivilized locations with too many deadly creatures had shown Crystil in gory fashion what poison could do. She figured if Celeste knew the truth, she might panic and fail to return to the ship.

If that panic did come, however, they still had a couple of hours before the poison would overwhelm Celeste. Crystil also took comfort in how Celeste moved without complaints. This from the girl who seemed too soft on
Omega One
to shoot a precora in training, let alone a true predator.

As the forest came into view, Crystil stole a glance at Celeste’s ankle. It had not swelled as much from the tourniquet, but the discoloring had become worse. Crystil feared Celeste had lost feeling in the foot and, in the worst of scenarios, would have to get it amputated. She had to know for planning purposes Celeste’s state of mind.

“Tell me how you feel, Celeste,” Crystil said.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Foot’s going numb, but it’s OK, I’m fine. Really. Once we get through the forest I’ll have Cortanus look at it, and we’ll be good.”

“If you need to stop, we—”

“I won’t,” Celeste said quickly. “I promise I won’t.”

That a girl.

Their progress had slowed because of Celeste’s limping, yet they moved at a pace that would leave them outside at night for the shortest of times. They would get to
Omega One
just as darkness came, and they’d hopefully get to dodge the beast.

When they got to the bottom of the mountain, Crystil’s mind raced to figure out an easy way past the poisonous flora. The opening they’d carved earlier remained, but such an opening hadn’t prevented Celeste from getting cut. They didn’t have time to cut a wider swath, either.
Should’ve brought my flamethrower. Next time.

They paused in front of the opening, and Crystil went first. Carefully, contorting her body to avoid touching so much as a single petal, she managed her way through the thicket. She breathed a sigh of relief when got to the other side, and motioned for Celeste to follow.

Celeste took her first step with her good foot and slid her way through. Crystil saw the pain in Celeste’s face, and how her body shook. Crystil knew there was a good chance she’d have to carry Celeste for some portion of the trip, a task she had done many times before with heavier men. Such a challenge was not really a challenge, but she could not be unprepared, no matter how trivial the task ahead.

Then Celeste took her second step, and Crystil saw it happening before Celeste had even shifted her weight to her toes. The weak leg gave out, and Celeste fell forward. She suffered innumerable scratches. Whether it was one additional cut or one hundred, the damage remained the same—whatever time they had was significantly reduced, and now nothing short of sprinting would get them back in time.

“Celeste!” she cried out as Celeste tried dragging herself forward with her arms, crying out in pain.

Crystil bent down and grabbed her, pulling her away from the thicket. Crystil got nicked on the arm but did not stop. If it took over a day for the first wound to hurt Celeste, it would take much longer for it to affect Crystil. She lifted Celeste up.

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” Celeste said, the terror in her voice noticeable.

“Can you run?”

“I can try.”

“You need to do what you can. At this point, we have to outrun whatever poison is coursing through your body. I don’t care if you collapse from being out of breath, you can recover from that quickly, but you can’t recover from poison.”