Kastori Revelations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 1) (5 page)

She gently knocked on Celeste’s door. Celeste turned with a cheerful smile on her face, one which did not fade upon seeing Crystil—a fact which the commander gratefully noted.

“Hey, Crystil, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, Celeste, just checking in and seeing how everyone was doing,” Crystil said, trying to speak as a friend.

“I’m doing good, just, well, reminiscing a bit. I look through these photos a lot.”

She waved Crystil over, who politely declined. Looking at photos from Monda would only trigger the flashbacks she desperately wanted to avoid.
Dyson. Eve. Emperor Orthran. The ships…

“You sure? It’s good to look back and see where you came from.”

“I’ll do that when I’m about to die,” Crystil said, much more coldly than she meant. “Or, perhaps, when we settle in on Anatolus,” she added when she saw Celeste’s reaction.

“Are you—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Crystil said. “What else are you doing?”

Celeste sighed, trying to do so quietly. She left the photos and Crystil permitted herself a few steps forward. She began reading the text on the screen and wished she could’ve reversed her feet when she saw the discussion of magicologists.

“Reading about the magicologists,” Celeste said, with a hint of excitement toward Crystil.

“It’s best we’re done with them,” Crystil said.

“Did you ever meet one?”

Celeste looked as if she had just challenged Crystil’s credibility, and though the question from anyone else would’ve infuriated Crystil—she needed no reminders of what brought about the end of everything around her—she reminded herself of who Celeste was and where she was.

“Yes,” Crystil said, biting her lip. “I have.”

Celeste pushed no further. At least, that’s what Crystil thought when Celeste turned and Crystil began walking out of the room.

“I just don’t get it.”

Crystil paused at the doorway.

“Don’t get what?” Crystil said.

A long pause came as Crystil knew Celeste needed to build up the courage to talk.
If I could just put some fortitude into that girl…

“My father. He said… he said we could reach peace with them. He said he’d go and meet their leader, grant them enough land to live comfortably, and we would stop fighting. Dad always came through. Always. Crystil, he always lived up to his word. I can’t say it enough.”

“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.

“Listen 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.