Origins

By Cy St. Clair

When York's Special Defense Squad team was selected to participate in a top secret project aimed at ending the conflict on Lysa he hadn't hesitated to agree.
When he learned that said project would merge his DNA with that of one of the three known shifter species he'd given it some thought and still agreed.

But now, after spending thee years as part of Project Paradigm only to learn that peace between the Alliance and the people of Lysa was imminent he and his team were forced to use the new abilities they'd gained for an entirely new reason...their survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cy St. Clair
• Release date: Jan 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463459294

Cy St. Clair

Cy has a soft spot for all books and wrote her first one at seven. In the years since, she attempted works in several genres before finally deciding to marry her favorites of paranormal, sci-fi, and romance in the world of Project Paradigm. When not hiding behind her keyboard, Cy enjoys hiking, snow skiing, scuba diving and travel. Accepting that traveling the galaxy isn’t possible (at least not yet), she spends her time exploring this world and is always open to a new adventure!

Book preview

Origins

A Project Paradigm Novel

By

Cy St.Clair

Copyright © 2020 Cy St. Clair

All rights reserved.

All Characters are age 18 and over

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents

are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

February, 18, 2492

16:42 Terran Mean Time

Targets confirmed, Captain. Six Lysasti moving in feline form ten klicks out heading south by southeast.

York nodded sharply, his eyes locked on the holo-map before him. Or, more specifically, the fifteen pixilated figures in varying shades of purple and blue scattered among the dozens of others displayed on the map. His squad hidden deep within enemy territory. Fifteen men against forty, he thought. He trusted his men could handle the situation but hated he hadn’t been able to give them better odds than that.

Eying the clusters of white figures that represented villagers, York wondered what idiot had classified Lysasti villagers as non-combatants. That kind of thinking might work if the enemy they fought was Terran, but out here you learned quickly that once the battle started there were no innocents. You either had shifter blood, or you were the enemy. Forget that and it would be your blood leeching into the rich black Lysan soil.

Reaching out, York tapped on the three figures with triangles over their heads, the live feed from each of his team leads’ optical implants expanding into view over the table. A subtle jaw shift activated York’s comm unit. Status report.

Congo locked and ready.

Dusk locked and ready.

Wraith locked and ready.

Copy that, York confirmed, his eyes darting from the figures representing his men to the six rapidly moving red ones and back again. Operation is a go, repeat operation is a go. Targets expected to reach location alpha in five minutes. Dusk has lead from this point out.

Copy that, Dusk has lead, Quinn, Dusk’s team lead, confirmed, each word as crisp and formal as the man who uttered them.

York walked around the table, tracking every figure’s movement on the map as Reese and Jackson, his other two team leads, responded to Quinn’s questions and statements. By now the six red figures representing the current clan leader for this section of Lysasti territory, his second in command and several bodyguards had moved within seven klicks of location alpha. York hadn’t decided yet whether letting a regional leader travel with only four guards was stupid or just cocky. But he sure as hell wasn’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

Excuse me, Commander?

York turned to find a private he’d never seen before looking up at him as though the man expected him to tear his head off. His hands shook as he offered York a vidscreen. From… from… Command, Sir, the private stuttered, the hand holding the vidscreen shaking worse as York reached towards him.

Thank you, Private, York snorted, a tilt of his head sending the man into a flurry of motion as he saluted so stiffly York feared he’d hurt himself.

Looking at the screen, York frowned when he noted it had been bio-locked. Before he could press his thumb to the sensor Reese, Congo team’s lead, was drawling in his ear, Eyes on five Kybri leaving camp, headed north by northwest.

Copy, Congo, five hostiles, north by northwest, Quinn confirmed. York reached out and with a flick of his hand enlarged the video feed from Reese’s cam to see the wolf shifters in question disappear around a bend in the trail.

Scowling, York minimized Reese’s feed, watching as five orange figures broke out of the grouping of white and orange and headed towards location alpha. He tapped on the closest blue dot, bringing up the video feed just in time to see five Kybri come into view.

Unlike the sleek feline lines of the Lysasti, the five Kybri canines reminded York of prehistoric wolves. Standing over five feet tall at the shoulder and almost three feet wide, the Kybri padded single file down the narrow trail towards location alpha as if they owned the rain forest.

Glancing up at the right corner of the video feed, York noted that it was Mercer’s feed he was watching. Minimizing it, he dragged the feed until it overlapped with Quinn’s then keyed his comm to Quinn’s private channel. Mercer’s got eyes on the ‘bri.

Copy that, Command. Feed is five by five, Quinn shot back, his own video feed dipping in a way that told York the man was nodding as he spoke. Wraith, I need two on the move to alpha, repeat two to alpha.

Copy that Dusk, Jackson’s easy drawl confirmed. You heard him boys… Raff, King, time to earn your pay.

Shit, all this lovely scenery and we’re getting paid, too?

Not if you don’t get your ass in gear, Raff, Jackson grumbled.

Copy that Wraith leader. What do you think King? My ass moving fast enough?

Never as fast as your mouth, Raff, Kingsley’s cool, cultured voice intoned. Estimated time to intercept?

His attention on moving violet and orange figures on his map, York tapped on the nearest of each color then on the distance icon before keying his comm. Two clicks and closing, King.

Copy that, Command, Kingsley responded at the same time as Quinn barked out, Target’s in sight. Dusk is live.

Comm chatter exploded in his ear, the team leaders confirming their members’ locations, identifying targets and coordinating attacks. York stepped forward, his thighs pressing into the table as the first of the red figures blink out of existence. A second later one of the orange Kybri forces also disappeared. His fingers flew over the holo-terminal, bringing up the video feeds for everyone fighting, part of his attention remaining on the supposedly neutral forces gathered in the village. He hoped the communications blanket Wraith team had thrown over the village worked and kept the bulk of the fighting to the north.

Attention shifting from video feed to video feed, York watched Congo team split up. Three of them headed towards the Kybri forces halted by Raff and Kingsley and the other two going to join Dusk. Two more red figures disappeared then one more of the orange, Jackson reporting that Wraith was seeing no sign of movement within the village.

Every person in Command had their eyes glued to the holo-map, the room silent aside from the voices of the team members echoing a half second behind York hearing them in his ear. That half second notice told him Raff had taken a bite to the hip that would have taken out his femoral artery if he hadn’t twisted away in time. That Logan, one of Dusk team, was down but still breathing after one of the Lysasti got behind him and pounced, tooth and claw tearing through his armor like butter.

York brought up Beckett’s bio-readings, the heavy thump of Beck’s heartbeat joining the comm chatter. The teams brought down three more of the shifters before the remaining Lysasti surrendered, shifting to human form and kneeling before their captors. York bit down a growl of satisfaction, focusing on Quinn’s video feed long enough to see the clan leader’s hands cuffed behind his back before turning his attention to where the Kybri still fought.

One more of the Kybri fell to Kingsley’s plasma rifle. The body twitched once before King put another shot through his head, shifting his attention to the two wolves still moving. In a flash both wolves disappeared into the dense undergrowth. Raff, Kingsley and the three members of Congo team moved together, back to back as they scanned the now silent forest. York glared at the two orange figures circling the blue and purple that indicated his men, their movements too quick for him to do more than mutter, I have eyes on target.

Copy that, Command, Kingsley whispered back, his video feed tilting sideways before going black the way York knew it always did when the man was listening rather than looking. York saw Kingsley’s pulse rate drop, the man’s entire focus on finding where the two wolves still circled.

What’s he… York heard from behind him, his harsh glare shutting up the private in question just before King’s video feed popped back up. King threw himself forward and to the right, firing at into the underbrush. They heard a sharp yip through the comms and the forest exploded into action. The remaining wolf surging back into sight and leaping over the clustered men. Its shoulder plowed into Kingsley, knocking his rifle free. Through other feeds York watched Kingsley curl up in a ball to avoid the razor sharp snapping teeth, the wolf’s claws raking down his arm making him cry out.

Unable to shoot without hitting their teammate, Lincoln, one of Congo team, leapt forward with a knife, burying it between the wolf’s shoulder blades and twisting. A howl of pain echoed through the command center as the creature abandoned Kingsley and spun to snap at Lincoln only to drop to the ground a moment later, a plasma round blasting through its skull.

York watched Lincoln help Kingsley to his feet, King cradling his abused arm but otherwise mobile. Breathing out a quiet thanks that his squad was, mostly, intact, York keyed his comm. Bring ‘em home, boys.

Ignoring the scattered calls of ‘copy, Command’ interspersed with a few more choice comments, York’s attention turned to the vidscreen he’d been handed earlier. Pressing his finger to the biosensor, York’s stomach twisted itself into a knot as his BLS lit up in the space above his forearm. The message was from the Commandant of Special Defense Squad, Terran Alliance, Earth. There was only one reason for the Commandant to be contacting York. With a twist of his wrist, York scrolled down past all the formal shit until he found the words he was looking for, a slow grin spreading across his lips.

#######################

Yeah, so then Linc here goes all caveman on his ass, leaping on its back and stabbing it with his tiny little pocket…

"It’s a combat knife," Linc interrupted, punching Raff on the arm.

Yeah, like who the fuck carries one of those anymore? Raff spit back, curling his arm around Linc’s head and pulling it down so he could rub his fist on the top of his head.

Shaking off the other man with a growl, Linc took a couple steps to the side, taunting, At least I wasn’t standing there staring like some damsel in distress.

Hey, Declan piped up from the back of the group, would that make King the prince?

We all know that’s true. Ain’t that right, Kingdom? Reese chuckled, ignoring the scowl aimed at him from two inches away, Kingsley’s arm currently thrown over Reese’s shoulder as he helped him into the base.

Yeah, well, if King’s the prince then Quinn here is the fucking Captain of the Guard, Beckett crowed. He leaned in to shoulder bump Dusk team’s leader before stepping in front of him and turning around to face Quinn as he walked backwards in front of him. Stared down his pistol sight at that Lysasti bastard until he sat pretty as you please and shifted right there in the dirt. It was fucking beautiful.

York could see Quinn’s slight wince from where he stood tucked next to a crate of supplies in the shadows of the hanger. He knew Quinn hated to be singled out but York thought it was good for his stoic team lead to get teased every once in a while. Quinn also knew the men needed to blow off steam because aside from shaking his head with a ruefully grin he kept his mouth shut.

York was hard-pressed to bite back a laugh when Beckett realized he would not be subjected to one of Quinn’s lectures, the energetic blond’s fist pumping into the air as he whooped loud enough to echo through the hanger. Grinning, York took a step forward out of the shadows and drawled, "And here I thought I was the Captain."

The men froze as one, every eye in the room turning towards him as Quinn snapped to attention and belted out, Captain on deck.

Shit, Quinn, at ease, York chuckled, moving towards the group of tired soldiers. Finn, DeAngelo, how are the wounded?

Raff and King took some nasty bites and scratches, sir. Logan’s was in worse shape but we shot him up with some Regen on the ride back, Finn answered from his own spot near the back of the group. Logan limping along between him and DeAngelo.

Excellent. I’ll take that to mean you’re all in good enough condition to meet me in my office in five.

The squad’s respect didn’t stretch far enough to prevent the groan that erupted from the group, though no one offered an excuse for not attending. That was almost in tune, gentlemen. Try a little harder next time, he grinned, turning and walking out of the room before someone rethought that whole excuse thing.

#######################

York waited in the meal tent until he was certain the whole squad would have had time to find some place to park themselves. His office wasn’t conducive to hosting sixteen soldiers, especially not ones in full body armor, but it was the only room on base he could guarantee wasn’t bugged. Once he activated the white noise machine Jax had built he would be certain that even any curious ears hanging around outside his door wouldn’t be overhearing anything. As much as he valued Jax’s combat skills, it was Jackson’s fascination with creating new tech that came in handy more often than not.

Checking the time on his BLS, York pushed up from the table. Dropping his empty cup into the refresher, he stepped out of the tent into the stifling Lysan afternoon, brushing absently at the beads of sweat that appeared on his brow. He strode towards the far side of camp where his office, little more than a glorified tent with clapboard sides slapped on as an afterthought, stood nestled between the squad’s tents.

Approaching the door, York felt the slight crawl on his skin and the pressure in his ears that told him Jax had already cranked up his machine. Which was one reason the man was one of his leads. York had been in the service long enough to know a subordinate who not only took initiative but did so when it was actually appropriate was worth his weight in gold. That Jax had an uncanny affinity for most machines, from computers to radios, was definitely a bonus.

Slipping into the room, York opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, the discomfort from the machine dissipating once he was within its limits. Looking around the room he found not even Quinn had bothered to stand this time. He and Jackson sat with the wounded in the chairs around the small round table in the corner, the rest of the squad