Dimension

by Shay Zana

  Ahead is a sealed door, sparking with diffused star energy, obviously broken. This explains why they got themselves boxed in the first section of the control room, Deo thinks. He rotates, backing down the hall with his rifle poised, covering the soldiers as they rush through the tunnel. “Get it open. Move!”

  “You heard the man, get this sorry piece of shit open! Carter, Reed, and Ortiz! I want you three covering the entrance with the Paragon! The rest of you get cracking here!”

  After hearing a chorus of Yes sirs from behind him, Deo turns his head to catch a glimpse of the ranking officer directing the unit, his datakey tagging him as Major Rick Neal. He cannot see his features for his faceplate, but his trained eye detects a stern warrior.

  Serenity infantry armours are usually grey shaded, nikita-armoured jumpsuits. Luminous star energy highlights power supply, but morphing capability is less advanced than vitasuits. Standard issue helmets are more angular than the UEU’s infantry helmets, but most soldiers apply for custom designs and modifications. They carry the holographic display of the Serenity symbol on their upper right chests and on the rear of their helmets.

  As the soldiers gather around the door, attempting to pry it open, Deo and the three marines hold the entrance of the tunnel, forming a line to ward off the UEU. Deo’s entity constantly shimmers around him in a fiery display, while the shields of the soldiers pulse as they absorb shards. They cannot keep this up for long, even with Mazayus, Boone, and Natheus giving their best efforts at keeping the UEU concentration of fire away from them.

  Someone manages to slip past Boone’s defence and curve a heavy round on their position. Deo detects its incoming haze. An explosive element, adept at cracking armour in a dense force. “Get behind!”

  The three marines rush to his back as he stands his ground, concentrating on his timing. A Paragon can emit a burst of an entity shockwave in a wide radius, but cannot sustain the field for more than a few seconds. This will have to be perfect, or damn near close to it.

  As the round closes in, Deo slams his fist into the ground, shattering a ripple in the deck. A discharge of amber-hot entity surges outward and shields the men from the impact, the collision jarring their teeth and bones, but revealing them unscathed.

  “It’s no use, sir! It’s jammed! Won’t morph!” comes the aggravated shout of one of the men as he continues to bash the butt of his weapon against the broken door, a pathetic attempt in zero gravity.

  Major Neal pushes him aside to try for himself, but is also without success. “Anyone got any explosives or shards that’ll burn through nikita?” he shouts over the noise of battle.

  Nobody speaks up, so Deo growls. “Here, acid shard.” He tosses the tiny green energy core to the Major.

  “Stand back,” the Major orders bluntly to the men near the door, and they do as he says. He morphs his rifle’s chamber open, the weapon making a soft hum of light as it reacts to the new shard and morphs its chamber closed again. Major Neal raises the shotgun to the centre of the sealed door, and fires continuous acidic shards until the element begins to eat through the nikita. Although nikita can withstand the temperatures of stars, it is unable to hold its solid form under such heat or force, splintering apart in nuggets. It never liquefies, only shatters.

  As the acid drips weightlessly from the door, peeling away the nikita into solid motes of dismembered chunks, a large hole is left, large enough to fit through. To prevent the acid from burning at stray limbs, Neal exchanges for an ice element, firing around the edges of the hole to solidify the element. It now crackles, the two elements fusing together like quarrelling symbiotic partners.

  “It’s open!”

  Deo and the marines scat from the entrance, joining the train of crawling soldiers through the burned door.

  “Thank the Zodiacs you came along, son.”

  Deo looks down to Major Neal beside him, his firm voice oozing with respect for the Paragon. “Our sorry asses’d be stuck in the Underworld right now if it weren’t for you Paragons. I appreciate the assist. Major Neal.” He extends his hand.

  Deo takes it. They share a firm shake in the zero gravity. “Deo,” he replies stiffly, trying to shake relatively softly as to not tear the man’s arm off with his sheer inhuman strength. That would be embarrassing.

  One by one, the men haul through the hole in the bulkhead, only to be greeted by a shock.

  DISTORTED COSMOLOGY

  Shuddering bursts of liquid energy pool above, like skies on fire. Smouldering in peaceful existence is a nebulous cloud, embracing the heights of the sector. Stunned fixation and slack jaws are the results.

  It is like a nebula is half immersed into the station, the walls glazed in an ambient glow. They can feel its heat like the swarm of a fire, but it is not overly searing, and other than the lucent hues bathing the room, all is normal.

  Nobody moves, as if the slightest muscle twitch will cause the nebula to grow and swallow them. They can see it roaring like a pool of boiling magma, and as one of the soldiers extends his hand and presses it through the air, feeling the heat on his gloved palm, the others release their bodies from their frozen drifts in zero gravity, but their eyes are still not released from their frozen gazes.

  “What... the... fuck...” Carter breathes in a hushed whisper.

  Deo forces his mind to wander away from the impossible nebula, eyes narrowing on the rows of consoles before him. Gravity controls... gravity controls... At once, he presses his boots to the ground and trudges his way toward the consoles, slinging his rifle. The others do not follow, they dare not approach any closer to the boiling cloud of energy, but they lower their bodies downward to enable their magnetic boots to secure them to the ground.

  “Gravity controls, Ranity,” Deo prompts the S.I.

  She responds instantly, as if predicting his question. “On the next row to your left, sector A’s life support systems can be accessed. Any console is adequate. I will grant clearance.”

  He heads to his left, conscious of the looming heat of the nebula above him. Why has it not burned through the hull? How can it just shift through the station and not cause any damage? They should be getting blasted with radiation right now. Once his hands reach the first terminal, he quickly accesses the gravity controls, activating them manually within moments. Hopefully that makes things easier for the others out there.

  Their bodies all thud with release, once again subtly pulled downward with the familiar feeling of gravity. The nebula is not affected at all, still swimming in a hazy fireball through the station.

  “What is this?” Deo asks Ranity.

  “Could you please be more specific?” she responds flatly.

  “The damn nebula that’s inside the station.”

  “I detect no such readings. Scanning your neural-root...Paragon Deo, you appear to be suffering from heightened stress levels, may I direct you to the station’s nearest infirmary in sub-sector A7? A medical examination may be necessary.”

  Deo just sighs irritably, not bothering to try to convince the limited artificial intelligence of what he sees. It must be a distortion, he thinks. The Paragon strides deeper down the aisle of terminals, searching for information on damaged sectors. The men behind him now approach, some spreading out in a defensive perimeter, two guarding the hole in the door, and others aiding in accessing the control terminals.

  “The station’s not picking up a foreign heat signature of this size anywhere in sector A,” announces Neal as he skims his fingers over a terminal. “It’s like it’s not even there at all.”

  Deo makes no reply, just continues down the endless terminals until he reaches the cannon controls for the exterior of sub-sectors A1 through to A99. They have been reprogrammed to fire upon Serenity forces, but he quickly adjusts that with the help of Ranity, who is still taking on her usual ignorant tone.

  After checking the surveillance domes throughout all A sub-sectors and doing what he can to restore functions, Deo turns and lets himself stare at the cosmic gas
that is floating ominously inside the control department. Echoes of light expand from the nebula, emanating a deep rumbling fused with the searing hiss of heat. Although it is strange, it is a beautiful sight, like a glistening sea of sapphire, its core temperature scorching yet only casting a gentle heat through the room.

  The men behind him are torn between watching for approaching enemies and watching the nebula for anything that may threaten them. Major Neal directs them to keep in formation and keep their eyes peeled, but he too finds himself always glancing back at the nebula. Distortions have proven themselves to be unpredictable.

  Deo chimes his earchip. "Kitera, how’s it looking outside?"

  She takes a moment to respond, but when she does, her voice comes in crystal clear, indicating that Altair has not been further wounded. "The distortions are growing worse. I can see a mild disturbance on the far side of the guardian station. And there seems to be a thickening nebula forming around the planet. It is somehow moving through the station hull, but I cannot see any resulting damage. Are you still in sector A?"

  Deo moves through the rows of terminals until he finds the exterior surveillance domes. "Yeah. That nebula thing is in here.”

  “Are you in danger?”

  He glances up at the nebula again, seeing it shift subtly and expand along the ceilings, spreading like a beautiful virus. “All good for now...” he feigns confidence.

  He hears a soft hum on the receiving end of the comms link. She heard through his wit. “Mission status?”

  “I’ve made it to sector A’s control centre. The guys are covering the entrance.” He paces casually, alternating his focus between exterior cameras and the nebula. “Do you think it’s a threat?"

  "It may be. All vessels are staying clear of it... Though it appears to be circling the planet without disturbing the atmosphere."

  Through the view of the exterior domes, Deo can now see the extent of the distorted nebula. The vibrant dust is emerging in shuddering bursts around the planet, throwing out light in all directions, but it does not seem to be doing much more as it shifts through the ink. He can see the constant flashes of naval combat and weapons fire, but now that he has reactivated the outer defences to all A sub-sectors of the station, no more UEU vessels will be able to board or even get close without taking massive proportions of fire.

  "What’s the status of the other sectors?” Deo asks her.

  "Many have been infiltrated. I can see escape pods entering Kronos... Via isik.”

  He has come to know that phrase as some form of curse. “What is it?”

  She sighs, frustrated, and hesitant. “I’ve been sensing something... connected with Kronos. Powerful. The planet is not safe. A distortion." Her voice is suddenly sharp with concentration, and for the first time, this makes Deo nervous.

  “We have to get down there.”

  “I know...”

  "We'll move as quickly as we can. We managed to get the station S.I back online. I'll patch her through to you. Tell her you're a Cipher and you'll get top access to all systems. I can verify that for her. See what you can find out in the other sectors."

  Kitera falls silent momentarily as she taps into the frequency that he provided. "I will aid. And Deo?”

  He halts from switching off the link.

  “Be safe.”

  Nodding, Deo deactivates his earchips and turns his attention back to the marines. "Let’s get a move on."

  The men stiffen, and Major Neal gives a tight nod. The other Paragons emerge through the hole in the bulkhead, followed by four surviving soldiers. And just as expected, they all stop and gape at the blue nebula that is merging inside the room. As the three Paragons look to Deo for an answer, he just shrugs. The other four soldiers join the ranks under Major Neal's command.

  "Control centre is secure. Cannons rerouted. Kitera’s linked with Ranity," Deo explains flatly, exchanging shards.

  Neal regards the other Paragons. "We'll assist. This station's about fifty thousand klicks 'round. Millions of people live and work up here so I'm sure the UEU can't outnumber us, unless they pulled every single damn soldier in the galaxy to this station.”

  “They can’t outnumber you, but they can outskill you,” Deo reminds him darkly.

  Neal continues. “They would have sent a boarding party to each sector's control departments to override the station, sectors A right through to Z." Neal lowers his rifle to his side and activates his datakey. A translucent blue layout of the guardian station emerges from his palm. He highlights each control department in the station with a vibrant red. Twenty six in total. "We can't walk the distance, and trams are offline, so we'll have to re-dock in each sector."

  Deo approaches him and studies the layout above his palm. This will take too long to secure every single sector's control department. "We need to get down to the surface of Kronos to locate the King. It'll take too long to secure the entire station, but if we can just secure the sectors that are directly above the Fortunate Isles, we can get down there." With four quick motions, Deo touches at Neal's datakey display, re-highlighting the four red control department sectors that are directly over the sky city to a green. "These. That'll give us clear skies for a couple hours until the station rotates."

  Mazayus looks to one of the domes on the nearest wall, and it flashes a bright purple at him. "Ranity, contact Rahna and inform her of our plan."

  This time, Ranity's personal projection appears before them, her translucent purple body decorated in glowing veins, a tribute to entity users. She is clothed in what appears to be a vitasuit, except the design is tailored to compliment the female body and to keep in line with current fashion trends. Her hair drapes past her shoulders in flickers of purple strands, and her face owns fine, dainty features. "Yes, Paragon Mazayus. Paragon Rahna has successfully cleared sub-sectors A20 to A5. I am directing all wounded personnel to seek medical attention in sub-sector A7's infirmary. Paragon Rahna wishes to continue aiding the Serenity personnel, but requests an audio link to her datakey. Shall I accept?"

  "Yes."

  "Very well. One moment." And one moment later, Rahna's thick and purpose-riddled voice chimes in their eardrums.

  "Rahna. Nice to know I'm not the only Paragon on this thing." Her voice sounds husky and strained. "Mazayus, right? I've been trying to secure the station to get down to the King too, but until you guys showed up, the UEU have been at it like a rocket's been shoved up their asses. Word must've gotten around that four more Paragons are looking for a fight. Shit, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ranity’s been announcing it to the whole damned station." She gives a little amused chuckle, and now she can be heard catching her breath.

  "Do you need assistance?" Mazayus asks her.

  "Negative, we're all good here for now. We've got a lot of A sub-sectors secure. I docked in sector B first and secured the control department there and left a heavily armed squad to defend it. I'm losing a lot of men, but they're a tough bunch. We'll get to sector C's control department and override the cannons so that you can get down there. I plan on staying up here and helping out where I can, then I’ll join you on the surface to kick these sons-of-bitches off. This is my planet."

  "Understood. We’ll handle sector D's control centre."

  “Good. I’ve made contact with Kitera. I have to admit I was lost for words at first, but I won’t ask what she’s doing out of isolation, no doubt a top secret mission that I don’t need to know about. Just letting you boys know that I’ll keep an eye on her while you’re down on the surface. I’ve asked my men’s ranking officer to alert as many people as he can of her presence, and to look out for an ikamanu. Hopefully the message spreads.”

  Mazayus feels relief shoot through his chest like a gust of cool air. “We appreciate it, Rahna. Keep up the good work.”

  "Just a heads-up, the D blocks have a big ass hull breach," Rahna quickly pops in before closing the exchange. "So take it easy in there, UEU Gladiators are all over it. Good luck, and kick some ass."


  As their short exchange with Rahna ends, Ranity's holographic body takes on a focused expression, stance rigid. "I am detecting an unauthorised dock in sector D1. I am unable to deny the docking sequence. UEU life signs detected, along with UEU Gladiator warships invading through a hull breach in sector D3. Proceed with caution."

  PARAGON PROJECTILE

  The soldiers fan out and backtrack to the A docks, where Major Neal directs them to a docked Blackray military grade vessel.

  Blackrays are infantry class dropships that can carry a load of fourteen, including the pilot and co-pilot. The design is inspired by the earthen sting-ray, with a wide wing span and flat body. With heavy nikita armour plating, an infantry shard cannon stationed under each wing, and a large star shard core, Blackrays are fitted to withstand heavy bombardment and are designed to drop troopers right in the thick of the battlefield. They are rated for space and atmosphere, making them popular vessels in both Serenity and the UEU. Unlike Gladiators, they are not as sleek or maneuverable, but larger and sturdier.

  "Pelevin, get your ass in the pilot's seat," barks Neal as they make their way down the ramps of the space-docks. A lean but sturdy man races forward, his boots making loud clangs as he pulls ahead, marines covering his advance.

  The space-docks are vast, like a giant city for gods. Multiple Titans can dock, and even a starcity, space stations that migrate across galaxies, mobile homes to billions. A kinetic barrier is cast over the opening of the docks, securing the atmosphere. The raging war outside continues to blaze in violence, muted sounds of rupturing vessels giving off delayed rumbles.

  As Pelevin moves through the morphing ramp at the stern of the Blackray, the others follow just behind him. Deo, Natheus, and several soldiers are on constant lookout for enemies, weapons primed against their shoulders, boots dragging carefully behind every movement. Neal and Mazayus lead the troops into the passenger load and head straight through the small confines to the cockpit, while others take their seats. Natheus and Boone helm the vessel's two cannons manually. Neal takes co-pilot while Mazayus stands behind both him and Pelevin, inspecting their movements with a chilling presence.