The Andromeda Project (The Cluster Chronicles Book 1)

by Jason Michael Primrose

  Bridget frowned insensitively at his anxious shivering. “Get a grip, mate.” She left to get a closer look.

  “Now it makes sense. Gems 2. Beast. Found. Two gems found in the middle beast.” Russell radioed into the communicator on the ship for the tenth time, the static persisted but it worked.

  It took him the entire night to establish a connection with the fallen ship and couldn’t help but wonder as he worked, why they hadn’t taken one of the fully configured aircraft. Thankfully, due to the self-repair module, its Global Positioning Satellite changed from offline to online. It wasn’t far from where they believed the C20 compound to be but stealth mode avoided having the technology compromised and failed to produce an exact coordinates location. Allister’s ship remained offline.

  Visuals were much clearer with the storm gone but important things weren’t showing up. Instead of pursuing the futile action of retrieving terrain imagery, Russell commanded the technicians to pinpoint everyone’s locations within the region using their power signatures. None registered in the vicinity.

  “Dr. Belladonna’s offline,” Russell said, worriedly. “How can they all be? There’s no way Brandt restricted their powers.”

  Bridget watched him with her forefinger in her mouth, intrigued by his newfound poise. “Who cares where they went? Let’s torch the place,” she muttered, snapping her fingers. Electricity danced above an open palm.

  Rabia invited the superhuman recruits into a huddle. He talked about the project, addressing how important it was they were ready to handle whatever came at them. Three of their greatest assets were in danger. “If sent on a rescue mission, would you be successful?”

  Dorian rubbed his arm and looked down. Bridget flipped her hair and said for both of them, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “Good,” Rabia said. “Time may come sooner than you think.”

  Russell snatched Rabia’s arm and led him away from the conversation. “I have very disturbing news.” In the few minutes he’d determined the source of the energy output they registered eight hours before. The news meant nothing to Russell personally; Uragonian technology integration always interested him more than (nearly impossible to find) mystical cosmic power. “Leesa or Allister activated the transporter gems.”

  “Then one of them will die for treachery,” Rabia replied. “Where are they now?”

  “That’s the news. I can’t get a read on this energy in the same concentration levels, anywhere on the planet.”

  DRAGOZIUM

  Dragozium

  “What’s the point in having a dragon if you can’t fly on it?”

  They’d been walking for miles toward the distant volcano. Allister suspected it was five times larger than Mauna Lao in Hawaii. The lush rainforest thinned into beautiful flat plains. Herbivorous creatures grazed on indigo and lavender grass along their path. They resembled a mix between a hairless bison and an African elephant. A set of horns and a set of tusks, but small ears, thick legs and wide feet with hooves. Pyx ate one along the way.

  Dragozium’s plains gave way to solidified volcanic rock; the warmth rising from underneath created a wall of searing heat. It marked the entrance to an area known as the Phyre Kingdom. Nothing ventured there without permission or a death wish.

  Allister gave up wiping sweat from his forehead. Lava flows moved slowly around them but after a certain point the ground was liquid in unpredictable places, forcing them to climb onto Pyx. The dragon used its powerful hind legs to get a running start, rapidly dodging the increasing pools of molten rock, then launched into the air at a decent speed but stayed low. Scouts would be on their second round soon.

  Allister’s curiosity gradually brought small talk into the equation and Amora revealed her knowledge of the planet and the solar system. Sulfuric clouds dominated the atmosphere, projecting a purple hue over the kingdom. The solar system’s blue giant star Taldykin, named after the explorer who discovered it, shone beneath them on the horizon. Taldykin was one of the ancient kings of Uragon. Zellatris, the other star of almost equal size, disappeared hours before. She was his deranged wife.

  “What do you know about the gems?” He asked her.

  “Transporter gems descend from an ancient race o’ creatures that move through space, time and dimensions wit ease. I heard some say they used temporal energy.”

  They were both familiar with the origin story. Each civilization which forged a gem combined the entirety of their people’s supernatural ability, to amplify the powers of one. Allister had an entire planet’s power on the back of his hands. Amora sensed the two disturbances from energy she had never felt before. One was in the forest near her temporary home and the other was in a place inhabited by a ruthless unevolved dragon species on the other side of the planet.

  A few Phyre dragons screeched and lifted off of the volcano’s cliffs. Pyx responded to the noise by raising their altitude. On its four muscular limbs, much larger versions of Velociraptor style claws prepared for attack.

  “Uh, what’s happening?” Allister asked.

  “Hang on.” Amora leaned forward and their companion’s flight pattern intensified. Their attackers shot bursts of blue fire at Pyx’s passengers. The agile young creature dodged and returned flame of his own even though they were mostly immune to each other’s elemental gift.

  Amora’s focus was getting to the citadel. A stream of zosma energy left her hands and hit their first assailant on the neck. Despite the dragon’s tough hide it tumbled from the sky. Pyx twirled to avoid a clawed attack and Allister nearly fell off, his grip changed their trajectory.

  “I told ya, hang on,” she scolded at the top of her lungs, with both hands in the air. Amora blocked two separate fire attacks and three balls of fiery energy took out more of the Phyre kingdom’s troops. They circled the two-mile high Citadel.

  “It is the outcast,” one of the Phyre king’s patrols said telepathically. There was nothing Ders hated more than being awakened except the Uragonian filth inhabiting his territory. He got up, shaking his head like a newly awakened horse.

  “Take care of her,” Ders commanded, perched at the edge of the structure’s roof.

  “Tha Phyre King is awake…” Amora shouted, picking up his telepathic communication.

  Allister never imagined what dragon royalty looked like but the king was considerably larger than the dragon they rode on. Add spikey growths all over his body, hotter fire by thousands of degrees, and a wingspan capable of wrapping around himself twice. Going there didn’t feel like the best idea anymore.

  Ders watched them with disgust and blasted fire outwards. Pyx moved aside then maneuvered lower to miss the claws of another dragon. Amora clutched his neck and leaned to match the dive. Once Pyx got within reach of their destination, they leapt onto the rooftop, rolling over themselves upon landing.

  The Phyre king whipped to face the intruders with an inferno built behind his throat. A barrier generated by Amora stopped their incineration. Pyx defended them with a flaming stream of his own.

  Ders reeled in anger, blasting flames the color of their blue, giant star at the insubordinate teenage dragon. Amora commanded a wall of disruption between them, scattering their assaults. “Enough!” she yelled out.

  The king ended ceased. An army of dragons surrounded them snarling, snapping, and waiting for the command to “dig in.”

  Amora bowed respectfully. “I wouldn’t risk my life ta be here if it wasn’t important.” She stared off into the aftermath of a decade old volcanic eruption.

  Ders’ head swiveled with the speed of a striking snake. He smiled sinfully a few feet from her sightless eyes, showing a row of jagged, sharp teeth, then examined Allister. She hadn’t so much as flinched.

  Phyre Dragons, by far the most powerful species on the planet with the only close rivals dwelling in the Isthe kingdom. Despite their menace, all dragon’s telepathic voices were melodic and clear, every word pronounced with precision. “You, come forward.”

  The voice rattled
Allister’s skull. With an arm over his face, he edged toward the giant head. “Is—is this good?”

  Dragon’s eyesight was unbelievable, as if someone made the lens of a giant microscope that transformed into the lens of binoculars and back, based on desire. Ders circled Allister, judging his physique and cell structure. The creature smelled him then nudged his head along Allister’s skin to determine texture. Amora waited for Ders to stop, hoping he’d reconsider feeding them to the salivating Phyre dragons.

  His sharp tail shot forward but ricocheted off of Allister’s rock hard stomach. Invulnerability, an adaptation to the harsh conditions of the dragon planet, a necessary development considering his possession of the gems.

  “As I suspected,” Ders said pensively.

  “I need your help,” Allister said, stepping bravely forward. “I traveled here with a young woman. I have to find her.”

  “Another Earthling?” Ders asked.

  “Yes.”

  A dragon hit the roof, distracting the group. Leesa landed next to Allister as all other dragons perched on the edges were dispersed by her power. Her victim recovered with a fierce roar and an outburst of fire straight ahead.

  They jumped opposite one another, then returned to fighting stances.

  “Allister can you tell me what’s going on?” Leesa asked.

  “No more,” Ders commanded. A grand display of flaming pillars shielded the foreign creatures from his army. “It is time to listen.”

  FLORENCE BELLADONNA

  Middle East, April 2026

  Florence trudged with unfriendly motivation down the hallway to the inside of the watchtower. A weakness she’d never experienced settled in from the past days of malnourishment. Blame the psychic disruptor. She stopped walking involuntarily. Two guns poked her back. Bound by a metal brace, and shackled by the hands, her escape didn’t look promising.

  “Keep moving,” the female agent said, pushing her forward.

  Brandt led Florence by the arm to a scary piece of machinery in the center of the watchtower. “This may hurt a lot.” He unlocked the shackles then the metal brace. Both clattered to the floor and she slumped forward without support. Brandt prevented her from falling over then positioned her in the chair like a baby. “Sit up,” the captain commanded removing the technology dampening her power.

  Florence scowled from beneath her hair and spit in his face.

  Brandt wiped the saliva from his eyes and gripped her wrists against the metal arms of the chair until anguish clouded her face. “Sit. Up.”

  “Fry the mother fucker,” the voice of revenge inside whispered. Fatigue made it impossible even without restriction. Another thought entered from the more strategic side of her brain, formulating a plan.

  Brandt mouthed “good girl” as she sat back.

  They began the machine’s calibration to her specific psychic cloaking ability as restraints clamped down on her wrists. An amplifier cap lowered to complete the modification process then re-enabled her powers in preparation. Florence lifted her head like a panther about to pounce.

  The machine hummed to life, and Florence used the last of her strength to slam her psiborg leg on the ground. Scarlet energy spread from the enhancement, through her body, until it reached her brain. The telepathic stun was amplified, as she hoped. Every soldier, scientist and civilian for a mile, including Brandt, dropped before her eyes. The humming noise ceased.

  “Calibration cancelled,” the computer spoke. The cap lifted off her head, smoking from the energy transfer, the restraints unhinged. Florence fell out of the chair and stayed on the refreshingly icy floor. She dragged herself to reach the weapon feet ahead of her and continued to Brandt’s unconscious body to search his pockets. The relief she felt when her hands gripped the Cynque watch was warranted, despite her disdain for technology, it was the only means of escape.

  Florence held the weapon menacingly, prepared to kill Brandt, but his phone rang. Slightly conscious, he moved about on the floor. She dashed behind the chair, back pressed against it while peeking from the side. He did, in fact, move. Nothing accurately described her surprise; no one should’ve recovered for hours.

  Brandt scrambled, picking it up on the fourth ring. His answers were short but vague and the caller pressed on. Florence returned to hiding, placing her hands on her head to listen to the information entering Brandt’s brain.

  The person asked about the psychiatrist’s whereabouts, if he was certain she’d escaped. The voice scolded him for being so careless, Florence was a superhuman far too powerful to be free and alive with the knowledge she’d been exposed to. The captain didn’t have much to say except he’d try to make it right. That was impossible with an entire base full of comatose soldiers. Whoever guided him knew information only someone on the inside of the Andromeda Project would have, someone high up.

  Florence delved deeper for the other calls logged in his memory, there was a familiarity about all of it, like a face she couldn’t put a name to or deja vu. Somehow her psi link redirected to the source on the other end; feeling the intrusion, the caller hung up. She lost the connection and gasped from behind the chair.

  It shattered in front of him. Smoke rose from the recharging weapon. Scraps of vanquished furniture but no leftover body parts. Florence stepped behind him with both hands concealed.

  Brandt held his weapon at eye level. “The second I can move my finger, I’ll kill you.” A victim of telepathic paralysis a second time. The field of disruption mostly worked against direct attacks.

  “I have a library of well-practiced, Intel-gathering tactics. I can turn you into a vegetable, erase your memories, make you think you’re a rooster, shall I continue?” Florence spoke with confidence walking in front of his outstretched arm, it wasn’t her first rodeo.

  Brandt’s hand moved against free will. He swallowed as his eyes glanced to the mouth of the gun, pointed down his throat. “I don’t know who the savior is.”

  “It’s definitely not Neight,” she said annoyed, things would’ve been easier if it were the alien. “What’s your purpose in all this?”

  His lips tightened. “It don’t matter, I’ve failed.” The safety released.

  “I can end this war right now,” Florence threatened. “With you.”

  Rocket boosters invaded the room as a foreign aircraft came into view outside of the watchtower window. The intercom blared in their ears, “Dr. Belladonna, I’m special ops pilot Ivan Steele. I’ve come to take you home.”

  “I’m in the middle of something,” she projected.

  “Your orders are to return with me and leave the enemy alive.”

  Considering the limited potential of actually getting off the C20 base and back to the United States, she gave up her vengeance. More research had to be done on the subject of C20’s origins and with more transparency from the US director, getting to the bottom of it wouldn’t be difficult.

  “You’ll pay for what you did to me,” she sneered, before ascending the ladder onto the roof. Brandt was left frozen in the other direction. Ivan maneuvered the craft and lowered the hatch at the base.

  “Thanks for the unplanned rescue,” she said smugly, fastening her seatbelt. “How’d you find me?”

  “Your power signature.” Ivan checked the controls then looked down, amazed to see Brandt in the same position. “You’ve got quite a noggin on you.”

  “Do I want to know who sent you?” Florence opened a cold bottle of water and chugged it.

  “Someone who cares about your safety. You’ll be returning to Chicago, not Washington. There’s been a new development and President Alibris wants to meet with you.”

  DRAGOZIUM

  Dragozium

  “Thank ya fer understanding, considering my father is the reason ya have this land in tha first place—” Amora started.

  A single flap of a one-hundred foot wingspan extinguished the blazing barrier. Ders folded them out of sight. “Neight Caster was a great warrior but he also brought unfathomable
destruction to this solar system.”

  Leesa gripped Allister around his shoulders and pulled her face close to his neck in an almost heartfelt hug.

  “I’m so happy you’re okay,” he said, caressing her dirty hair.

  Tears brimmed her lids; she gave up resisting the outburst and relaxed into him all the way. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” Leesa clutched the fabric of his uniform.

  “We’re together again, everything’s going to be fine.”

  Ders ignored their comments, examining the new arrival’s DNA helix. The moment somewhat ruined by his intrusion, Leesa positioned herself defensively. Ders hardly flinched and raised his neck into the sky. “I should have known it when you two arrived…he is who Neight spoke of in the prophecy, the Earthling hybrid must return to his planet,” the king said.

  “Neight’s trapped on our planet by humans,” Allister started.

  “Neight is alive?” Leesa asked. “His file says a nuclear explosion killed him fifty years ago!”

  “If war between tha greatest sorcerers in tha universe couldn’t kill ‘im no class 1 civilization would.” Amora hated Neight all those years, thinking he left her to solitude. She relived the fall of their civilization. Being orphaned at a young age, transported to a strange planet with ferocious beasts. A terrifying experience alone, then news of her father’s survival on top of it all.

  The glimmer of the transporter gems reminded Ders of his original train of thought, “You cannot stay here with the gems.” His claw pointed. “Their activation is forbidden according to Infinity Cluster Law, an offense punishable by death. Regardless of your invulnerability…death delivered by Judge Xor is absolute. Inescapable.”

  Chills gripped Allister as they prepared to leave the Phyre kingdom although the warning didn’t sink as deep as should have. Ders carried Leesa down the volcano, during which they shared a private conversation and Pyx took Allister and Amora. Outside of the forest, the four began their journey to the edge of the Lan Kingdom where Allister fell from.