by Shay Zana
"See?" Nadine sighs irritably. "It just does this all the time. The virus has completely blocked us, so if that ikamanu wasn't carrying us, we would be stuck in space until we died of old age."
"Hold that thought," Zee replies quickly as he hurries as fast as his recovering body will allow him, making his way back to the bridge. Nadine watches him with a frown, craning her neck down the hall to try and see exactly what he is up to.
Once back, he activates the stargrid again with the green kinetic terminal, and this time, the map is accessible, immediately showing a birds-eye view of Scattered Planet.
"What did you do?" Nadine asks, surprise riddled in her voice.
Zee smirks. "I just accessed the grid through the helm terminal. I couldn't choose a destination or operate the quantum core, but we can see our destination on this. And you’re supposed to be super smart.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
They both watch as Zee selects their current destination, which has them both staring at the holographic display in shock, Nadine’s feelings of embarrassment for not thinking of using the helm terminal now vanishing.
Zee clicks at his earchip, contacting Rockland. "Sir? It's Zee. You need to get to the bridge, ASAP!"
ELIXIR
Her eyes mourn the loss of refreshing cyan.
The medical clinic aboard Altair is unique. Because good lighting is needed, the room was installed with overhead white light, as opposed to the cyan bioluminescent lighting throughout the rest of the vessel. Many automated medical facilities frame the walls, and throughout the room there are five gel-like medical cots, the same material as the insides of the SSP's.
She gazes at those cots a moment, the memory of resigning herself to death catching in her. The shocked discovery of Olympus, the bewildered delight on Olympus, the luscious beauty of Olympus, the violent destruction of Olympus.
Kitera quietly enters the medical room, sapped and even paler than usual. Her black hair is no longer shiny, but tangled and matted. Her white robes are no longer white, but dirty with blue grass stains. Dried blood paints her shoulder where she had been shot, and she is missing some of the jewellery she had been wearing. Her braided headpiece with the blue pendent is gone from her forehead, and the jewel at her naval has been ripped out. She cannot recall its disappearance, but luckily her pendent had survived.
Deo’s head snaps up to catch sight of her before falling back to the wound in his abdomen, tending to it awkwardly. His arms and torso are bare, his skin-moulding vitasuit peeled down about his hips and nikita removed in segments. His weapons have been placed across his cot, ammo packs and grenades spread lazily.
His suit is caked in dirt and dried blood of various types, and layers of mud plaster his boots, but she cannot help but glance at his bare chest. His richly tanned skin seems almost golden under the lighting, firm muscles contracting subtly with his movements, and raised are his powerful veins, veins that flow with the augmented blood of a Paragon. Kitera is unaware that she is staring.
Those tense muscles ripple under his skin with every movement, and it is not long before an anomaly on his skin draws her attention. A scar, indented across his protruding deltoid muscle. The mark of a blade, she recognises, one that has not been removed by modern medical procedures. Curiously, she feels an electric pulse run through her fingertips, the need to feel along the scar momentarily engulfing her. A hot rush enters her chest, and a stirring rises deep within her loins, rallying her awareness of herself.
She averts her eyes and silently heads to another cot on the far side of the room, accessing a medical facility. With her datakey, she activates the sphere-like facility in the wall, and watches as it responds by morphing itself out of its prison and gliding over to her, like a floating hexagon.
As she seats herself onto the squishy cot, the medical sphere moves with her, allowing her to access its contents manually. Inside are many medical tools, such as medicinal salves and elixir; a sticky substance that when applied to the skin, heats up and sets to promote healing, fight infections, and seal and numb the area. Many other electronic tools are inside the sphere also, but Kitera does not have a clue how to use them. Still, she would rather tend to the wound herself. She has never been comfortable with automated procedures.
All shards, excluding nikita shards, are energy fragments. There is no solid bullet in her shoulder. All that is necessary is an application of elixir and the wound should be fully healed within a few weeks, and if she is lucky, not even a scar will remain.
Grasping a small round object, Kitera opens it with a twisting action, revealing the blue liquid inside. She pours a portion into her palm, the sticky salve smelling of a strange chemical that is unique to it. Once she has the desired amount, she spreads the elixir evenly over her wounded shoulder, the blue goo seeping into the shard hole and instantly fighting the remnants of the toxic element. The elixir will draw any impurities out of the wound and release it through the surface.
She keeps herself from making any pained sounds, instead just gritting her teeth and baring it. Steam from the heating substance pours into the air, and a soft sizzling sound is heard as the elixir dries and sets to her skin, creating a firm blue bandage that numbs the pain and stays transparent for ease of knowing the wound's healing progress.
Other methods of using elixir on the field are with a spray, roughly the size of a pen, but holding enough elixir for a mortally wounded soldier. The distribution is not as thick as using the elixir straight from the ball, what marines call the ‘egg,’ but it is easier and faster. Elixir can also be used to speed up the natural healing process of nikita, though it is not much needed if the nikita has direct access to starlight. Just about any biological matter can be healed by elixir.
Deo gives an irritated grunt, causing Kitera to look over her shoulder curiously. He is trying to dig out something from his wound, perhaps debris or a sliver of his vitasuit’s skin as the round pierced through. She cannot help but smile in slight amusement at the frustration on his face. She approaches him.
"Let me," she insists, looking at him in patience.
Deo gives a grunt and shakes his head. "I got it."
He had applied a misting spray of elixir, which numbed and cleaned the area, but not enough to seal it over. As he digs, he can hardly feel a thing, though blood flows from the wound like water from an overflowing drain, and it will not stop until he can fully seal it. The tissue of his abdominal muscle is thick, making it difficult for him to locate his target and extract it. He plans on terminating it by either curb stomping it or throwing it out the airlock.
Not willing to put up with his stubbornness, Kitera dons a pair of sterile gloves and takes the scalpel from him firmly. She ignores his mild protest and digs amongst the wound, hearing him give in with a sigh.
Silence permeates the clinic as Kitera focuses on her task, and Deo sits brooding, feeling awkward about letting a Cipher get her hands bloody to help him. She had gotten shot and nearly killed trying to help him. That would be the third time now she has risked her life to save his. The first time aboard Altair, the second when she somehow managed to tackle him out of the way of a shard, and then when she wielded his rifle and provided him with covering fire. He did save her from that scout, and again when he carried her through Olympus as it crumbled beneath them, so that is at least two off his back. One more and they are even.
After peering around the room impatiently, he now finds his eyes are drawn down to her. He cannot help but notice how beautiful she is, even in her current state. Her midnight hair cascades around her face in tangled strands, the depth of its darkness and luscious length giving her a mysterious, exotic aura. Her full, structured brows are tightly knitted together in concentration, casting a contouring shadow over her face, her beautiful, angular, angelic face.
Her beauty is almost too impossible, overwhelming to his eyes. It always has been, like she is too exquisite to be real. Wide-set almond-shaped eyes fringed by thick black lashes, high cheekbo
nes, full, luscious lips, a small, narrow nose, sharp jawline, and her skin... luminous, milky. He almost does not notice the bruise decorating her cheek, or the layers of dirt and ash clouding her face, or her body. Her body. His maleness cannot block out the view from his vantage point, the swell of her breasts threatening a swell of his own.
Stop staring, damn it.
"Ouh," he utters all of a sudden.
Kitera looks up in shock, pulling the scalpel away from him. "I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you," she stammers quickly, though when she sees his grin, she frowns. “You were... teasing...”
A mischievously successful gleam shows in his eyes. “Gotcha.”
A returning smile grows on her, his playfulness surprising her, and his Martian accent swaying her toward him slightly.
With just one word? Since when did Deo have charm?
Regaining her composure, she shakes her head before going back to his wound. "Do not do that again..."
He just laughs softly, a warm depth in his chest. Feeling as though he has taken away some tension from the air between them, Deo relaxes slightly, shoulders releasing their tension and muscles slumping, and as he does, she pulls the scalpel away, holding a small piece of nikita no larger than her fingernail.
Deo peers at it before nodding appreciatively to her, his eyes narrowing on the tiny thing she holds in her fingers. How in the fuck did that get in there? Little piece of shit.
Kitera places the nikita fragment into a bowl that the medical sphere offers from behind her, and when she returns back in Deo’s direction, she is presenting an elixir egg. She looks to him as if asking his permission, and he nods again, swallowing his pride.
"I guess I should thank you for saving my arse three times now," he mumbles to her as she applies a thick amount of the blue elixir to his wound. He feels the liquid burn at his skin and sizzle loudly as heat evaporates into the air, but with the area already numb from the spray he applied not long ago, the burning sensation is not as intense as usual.
"A Cipher's duty is to protect and guide their Paragon warrior," she replies coldly, not looking at him, just focusing on applying the elixir.
Deo gazes at her in awe for a moment, her sudden change of mood disorientating, and now blinks as the rising steam of the elixir makes his eyeballs glaze. "I saw you with that UEU officer on their ship. Ciphers know how to defend themselves I take it?"
Kitera says nothing, but bows her head subtly, and Deo does not understand if she is bowing in acknowledgement or appreciation at his compliment. If that could even be considered a compliment.
Through the awkward silence, she finishes applying the elixir to his abdominal wound, and moves her focus to the shard wound in his ribcage. Natheus had applied elixir over the armour, but Deo would have peeled it off in order to remove his suit. She examines the wound gently, remembering the horrid sound the pistol made as it launched the shard into him. Before applying the elixir, she steals a glance up at his face, knowing this will hurt him. He stares back in hardened affirmation, eyes losing their bloodshot hue.
She slaps on the elixir, holding it to his ribs as he hisses and holds his body taut, feeling the liquid sting through his lung. This close to him, Kitera can smell the scent of battle on him, the soot of charcoaled remains, the ash of hot fire, the tang of blood, but most dominant to her, the musk of his male scent. The burning sizzle soon subsides, and she can feel Deo sink back beneath her palm, a palm that, curiously, grieves for the loss of him.
With a relieved sigh, she turns to the hovering medical drone behind her and places her bloody hands into slots that it now offers, peeling away her gloves.
“You know, you’re a damn good shot for someone who’s never fired a gun before,” the man’s voice rumbles softly.
The Dagger, she remembers. “The Zodiacs came to my aid.”
Deo watches her suspiciously, wondering what is running through that mysterious mind of hers. "You say the Zodiacs aren't responsible for what happened to Olympus?" he asks her with a slightly accusing tone.
Kitera takes a breath and sways back in his direction. "Yes. Though I do not fully understand what happened to Olympus, I know for certain that the Zodiacs are not to blame."
"What do you understand?" he frowns in curiosity.
"That there is something wrong with this entire galaxy, and if we do not find a way to stop this, it will not just be Scattered Planet that is in danger."
“You think other galaxies are in danger, too?”
“The entire universe may be in danger if we fail.”
Deo cannot hide his lack of understanding, a small frown hovering on his brows. “You told their commander that our entire dimension was dying...” He leans closer, dropping his voice. “What does that mean for us?”
Her pulse spikes at his nearness, his body heat radiating over her skin. She struggles to compose her breathing. “This is just what I absorbed from the Zodiacs. My knowledge is... vague.”
He senses her discomfort, but mistakes it for fear. He leans away from her. "Is this related to our mission?"
"I do not know," Kitera sighs.
Slightly frustrated that she still does not seem to know much, Deo stands and begins to collect his things, done with this conversation.
"Deo," Kitera suddenly speaks, her manner hesitant.
He turns his head her way, halting.
"I... Mazayus told me about your father...I am sorry."
"...Why did he tell you?"
"He did not mean any disrespect. He was telling me about how you and he met, and that he served with your father."
Deo's face crinkles slightly as he looks away from her, his brown eyes seeming distant as if he is watching his past. With a deepening frown, he continues collecting his things; his assault rifle, his Phoenix, and anything else he removed from the top half of his vitasuit so that he could pull it away from his wound.
A slender hand touches at his bare arm, hovering over his skin at first, but when he turns to face Kitera, her hand goes to his jaw, cupping it delicately, feeling the soft prick of his light facial hair. Deo stares deeply into Kitera's silver eyes. They are full of sorrow, and shining with gentle liquidity. For a moment, he almost forgets about Olympus, about his father, about their mission, about everything that weighs on his mind, and all he sees is her, the Cipher standing before him. His eyes fall to the luminous pendent hanging between her breasts, catching his eye as it glows at him.
"Do not shadow his shame onto yourself. He was a great man, no matter his dishonour, and so are you."
Her soothing voice seeps into him like silk, making his features soften. He cannot figure out whether he is attracted to her, or creeped out by her. Her spirituality is something of an obstacle for him, although Natheus' spirituality does not bother him, but Kitera is different. He cannot put his finger on what it is about her that draws him in, yet repels him. She is beautiful, but strange. Strong, but weak. Powerful, but fragile. And then there is the fact that she is a Cipher. He cannot trust a Cipher, not again. They sent his father to his death, on a pointless mission. They sent his father to his shame.
His face changes to a troubled scowl. “I don’t need your sympathy.” Firmly, he grasps her wrist and pulls her hand away from his face. Both of their arms fall.
As Deo walks rigidly out of the medical room, Kitera watches him leave dolefully. She knows he does not trust her, and she knows he may never trust her.
She cannot deny her red blood, inexplicably drawing her to Deo. He is attractive in a rugged way, his facial features warmly enticing, an unconscious sultriness that is masculine and bold, with a physique to wield such appeal, but it is more than his good looks that attracts her. He carries his lion-hearted spirit with a staunch nobility, pulling up her deep affection that contrasts her surface, yet his unruly and often insubordinate ways keep her guessing. As a Paragon, he is an outcast, but his dark stoical attitude and fiery tendencies are mysterious to her. His aggression stems from a deep rooted defiance of Seren
ity society, but although he may not agree with everything the nation supports, his loyalty to the concept is what keeps him from turning rogue. She respects that.
His hard but often thoughtful eyes own a diverse cast of expressions, and when they fall to the soft curves of such rare occurrences, it opens up his tender centre beneath all those layers of moulded steel. His humour often catches her off guard, ranging from dry and dark, to fun and teasing. And that smile... her favourite of his expressions, so seldom witnessed that it is a treasure to his collection. Perhaps that is where his charm comes from...
Yes, he is a strong, confident man with a hidden gentleness, but she cannot become infatuated with him. Their mission is too important. He is destined to make his Sacrifice, and she will not rebel against her people. The Ciphers are forbidden to develop intimate relationships with anyone other than another Cipher. The risk of conceiving offspring is too high. Their blood must be pure, for if it is not, the child will be put to death.
Although she knows the dangers of feeling this way about a homo-sapien, she cannot push Deo from her mind, the mind that is supposed to be so much more powerful than the simplicities of the homo-sapien brain. The man angers her, drives her crazy, makes her blood broil inside her veins, and he even scares her at times with his unpredictability and quick temper, but she cannot stop thinking about him, cannot rid the heated flutter in her chest at the thought of him and the warming between her thighs when she allows her thoughts to linger.
But she knows this is just lust, and lust can be controlled.
DISTURBIA
Warm water careens upon her scalp, fountaining out her hair as it drowns her vision in a slick of black. She pushes it back and angles her face up to the water, allowing its smooth liquidity to nurture her skin. For a long while, she lingers, the shower washing away the ache in her sore muscles. Thoughts swarm in her mind, nibbling at the dark crevices and feeding on any light she attempts to absorb. What little light she has grappled for only slips away slowly from her thoughts, clearing a path for more darkness to emerge.
