by Shay Zana
“Negative, casualties are too high,” Mazayus decides firmly, gunfire splitting the void.
“You misunderstand my intentions. I will seal the bulkheads in sector E1, preventing any civilians from harm, though I will first have to inform many military personnel to evacuate sector E1 and retreat to sector E2. Only UEU personnel will be eradicated.”
Mazayus ponders this for a moment. “Right,” he utters, right after leaping from the blast radius of a heavy shard. Refraining from clearing that up is not helping his paranoia of A.I’s turning rogue. “Get them out of E1.”
“Affirmative,” Ranity replies clearly, her voice owning formality. “To vent, first you must restore atmosphere in sectors D3 to D99 before I open the airlock. I am opening all bulkheads in all D sub-sectors. Awaiting your order to open the airlock.”
Mazayus peers around the edge of his cover. With one quick glance, he is able to determine where the atmospheric controls are before he has to jolt his head back into cover, an onslaught of shards hunting him. His kinetic shields pulsate, riding over his armour in a sheer milky colour. Now or never.
With a burst of heat from his boot-thrusters, Mazayus blasts from his cover and jets toward a parallel row of terminals, swapping his SMG’s for his Phoenix. The intricate weapon ruptures to life in his grasp as he slides through the stream of gunfire that pours in his direction. He morphs it to separate into dual blades, though without his entity, the effect will be lessened.
Catapulting through a cluster of soldiers, the Paragon spreads his arms, wielding the two blades back-handed as he slashes through their bodies in one swift motion. As his body is propelled onward, their bodies separate at the waists and flow apart weightlessly, their blood pooling in large drops before freezing in the sub-zero temperatures. Their intestines dangle aimlessly, leaving a bloody, frozen muck-trail surrounding them that crackle and shatter against one another. This creates a maze of meaty cover for Mazayus.
Despite this, UEU fire eventually penetrates through the Paragon’s shields, hammering against his armour plates, but this does not hinder him as he reaches the life support terminals, slots his blades to his back, and beats his fingers into the keypad of the first terminal he reaches.
His body coils in pain as rounds penetrate his armour, but with one final keystroke, or more keyslam, he reactivates the atmospheric field throughout sector D, save for sector D1, D2, and the primary section of D3, where the hull breach is. Within seconds, a faint hissing sounds throughout the area, indicating that the artificial atmosphere is restored. But this does not deter the UEU soldiers, continuing to fire upon the Paragon. Some shards manage to sneak through the gaps in his plates and tear into his flesh. He stifles a pained groan and pulls himself back into cover, seeing a dotting trail of blood leak out behind him. If they had broken through his suit before he reactivated the atmosphere, he would be dead right now to exposure.
Pressing his back behind a console, he dives his hand into the utility pouch on his hip and pulls out an elixir egg, smoothing the hot liquid onto his open wounds between the cracks in his armour. It clings to his bloody skin in the zero-gravity, burning at his raw flesh and drawing a gritted moan from his throat. That should seal the torn areas of his vitasuit and protect him from exposure.
“Ranity, Do it!”
“Acknowledged. Hold onto something.” She almost sounds human as Mazayus forces his hands to grip onto the edge of the console and drives his boots to the flat surface of the ground, increasing their magnetic hold to maximum.
The sound of a bursting volcano shrieks through the station, and every man, woman, and piece of loose equipment are rifted from their place and inhaled violently by the breath of space, sucking everything out into its endless and screaming abyssal. Bodies impact against walls, shattering shields, armour, and bones in loud, haunting cracks and screams. Mazayus compares it to being inside a monstrous ventilation system, except the entire world around him is vanishing with a horrid screech. The air wails loudly, as if complaining about just being restored and now sucked out again unfairly. Torrents of suction whip at Mazayus’ body, tugging on him and trying to writhe him from his grip on the console and the powerful force of his mag-boots. He bares his teeth inside his helmet and groans against the ripping pressure, but despite his injuries, his hands grasp deeper and his fingers form like rigid metal around the console, refusing to be swallowed by the deep gasp of the void.
Boone had his helmet pressed against the sealed bulkhead when a great blast and a loud scream of wind drums inside his head, making him lurch back as the door heaves and vibrates. “Ranity, what the heck is Mazayus doing in there?” Boone asks the S.I rather nervously, though an edge of excitement has caught in his voice merely just from the sound of an explosion, heightening his adrenaline even more.
Ranity’s translucent purple form appears next to him, reaching only to his shoulder. “Paragon Mazayus and I decided the most logical solution was to clear sub-sectors D99 to D3 by restoring and venting atmosphere.”
Boone passes a glance to Natheus, and now skims his eyes over the anxiously waiting marines behind them. “Did it work? Has he reprogrammed the defences?”
“Ventilation is still in progress. Paragon Mazayus is currently unable to reach the heavy cannon controls, and I am unable to override the controls unless I am given permission to a solid projection via kinetic light energy.” She crosses her holographic arms, as if showing her annoyance and attempting to goad him into giving her permission.
Again, Boone looks to Natheus, who offers nothing in the way of advice, just a blank stance as he listens and ponders silently. Boone does not know the protocols to giving an S.I solid form, although he should. What he does know is that Paragons have top level access to anything in Serenity space, so they obviously have authority to activate an S.I’s solid form, but he is still hesitant. After all, any form of artificial intelligence programmes are still held under intense scrutiny after the A.I rebellion and that human-A.I hybrid was created. “Uh... can we get eyes in there?”
“Negative. Camera domes have been disabled.”
“Could you reactivate the controls if I gave you kinetic form?”
“Negative. I would not be able to act until the ventilation sequence has ended, provided that Paragon Mazayus is too injured to act. My solidgraphic energy would be vented from the station.”
Is she designed to be this vague? Relieved that she has taken that decision away from him, Boone shrugs to Natheus, who still has not moved or offered suggestions. “Guess the big guy’s on his own.”
Suddenly, a stutter invades Ranity’s figure, motes of light scattering in static debris. She vanishes not long after, spiking blood through everyone’s veins as at the same moment, the lights go out. They are in solid darkness, swallowed by the eternal night as the pillars have lost their bright data readings, the kinetic pathways have deactivated, and Ranity’s domes throughout the sector have lost their purple glow.
“Ranity?” Major Neal asks throatily, getting no answer from her, just the nervous shifting of his men. A tense moment passes as pitch blackness has captured them, and the only light they are provided with is the light from the torches on their weaponry, their night vision irises, and the light of the stars seeping in through the hull breach above them.
Natheus watches with a green vision as Boone wields his Genesis and morphs it to an explosive variant, hefting the missile launcher and propping it on his shoulder, the barrel toward the sealed door. “Are you sure that is a good idea?” Natheus queries on a private channel.
“We gotta get in there somehow.”
Natheus glances back at the soldiers before expressing his concerns to Boone. “Opening a bulkhead between two pressure points is a bad idea.”
“That’s all good, we have our entities to keep us from hitting anything too hard.”
Again, Natheus glances back at the men behind them, and Boone follows his stare. Those soldiers have no genetic or cybernetic enhancements, and no entiti
es. They will most likely be injured or even killed if he blasts the door open while the atmosphere is still venting on the other side.
Understanding, Boone lowers his Genesis missile launcher, but before he can even clutch it to a comfortable grasp in his hands, a ripple of shard energy passes throughout the giant spanning chamber, the darkness seeming to enhance it.
Everyone’s attention is pricked and pulled toward the other end of the sector, but they can hardly see the bulkhead that leads back to sector D2 without a scope due to the sheer distance and the suffocating darkness.
“UEU?” one of the soldiers whispers drily, making the men around him stiffen and raise their weapons, a languid movement in the zero gravity.
Natheus props his Parallel against his shoulder and peers down the sights, seeing no movement in the dark. Even so, they would not get very far without the pathways, and if they attempted to leap the distance in the zero gravity, he would be able to spot them and neutralize them with ease. Still, shards could leap that distance without trouble.
Suddenly the bulkhead blows open in a fiery wave of plasma and nikita shrapnel, sending debris spinning radically. Natheus immediately drops to a knee, while Boone pushes in front of the marines and prepares to support the recoil of his Genesis.
“UEU!” Natheus confirms their suspicions as he hones his sights on them and fires without hesitation.
Upon this confirmation, Boone fires in his wake, a large compact orb of shard energy trailing across the sector in a blistering hue. A moment later, his shard fragment makes impact, but he cannot tell if he hit. “Confirm?” he yells to Natheus as he crouches to let his Genesis vent heat, allowing the surrounding marines to open fire in a spray-and-pray tactic to suppress any retaliation.
“Negative!” Natheus yells back. He did not make a single hit, the explosive missile darting straight through their ranks and making impact with the wall behind them. Some of them were blown off their mag-boots by the force, but managed to regain their footing by pawing at the ground.
Boone swears and prepares to fire again. His magnified optics can scope the distance, and by layering the night vision optic, his targets suddenly pop into view. “Firing!” he shouts over the comms link to the men and propels another heavy explosive round, only to make a dull and dissatisfying poof as it collides with an ice round, which neutralizes the element and causes the two to splinter into frozen particles. The elements fuse, and those frozen spears turn explosive as they penetrate marines on both sides, tearing them apart, literally.
The Serenity soldiers scatter from their tight formation and spread themselves out, diving for cover behind dead pillars, obeying the barking commands that Neal is throwing out at them while the Paragons advance. Boone swears again, but louder and with more vehemence, wrapping himself in his entity as many shard elements are sent sailing their way, beginning the long range exchange of clever elemental attacks and accuracy.
ENTITY SUPERNOVA
As Altair pivots around the outer rims of the battlefield, Kitera constantly scans outward from the portside observatory, eyes straining into the distance of space. She can make out the explosive dust trails of the shifting nebula, and can see how it moves right through the guardian station in clouds of light, but she can only see the ships engaged in combat if she utilises the ikamanu’s magnified display on the transparent skin.
Upon making contact with Paragon Rahna, two Serenity Gladiators had offered to escort Altair around the battlefield, but Kitera declined, insisting that they were more needed in the battle, and Altair was quite capable of protecting itself. Ranity has been assisting in co-ordinating flight paths away from enemy ships, and Kitera has been able to ward soldiers away from certain areas of the guardian station that have hull breaches, are surrounded by the growing nebula, or are taking damage by relentless Olympian fire. There is not much else she can do to help aside from keep Serenity forces updated on any distortions, which they are sceptical about. They still believe that these events are caused by the UEU. Each nation is blaming the other.
“Would you like me to give you combat updates on the Paragons, Cipher Kitera?”
“No thank you, Ranity.”
“Oh. Very well.”
Kitera stands rigid with her eyes transfixed on the transparent window, watching as the recently repaired holographic stellarium interacts with the images outside. Kronos is heavily populated for a military centre, with thirty million residing in skycities over every continent or dwelling in temporary habitats on the grounds, and four million aboard the guardian station.
In the habitable zone at two billion miles from the red giant star, Rhadamanthus, Kronos’ surface temperature is often cool. Because red giants are older stars that have expanded from main sequence stars such as the Sun, their outer mass is decreased considerably, and their surface temperatures are lower, giving them an amber to red hue. Despite this, their core temperatures increase. They have exhausted their supply of hydrogen and exchanged this for a thermonuclear fusion of hydrogen in an envelope surrounding the core.
The battle over Kronos is framed by this red beauty, but Rhadamanthus’ beauty is spoiled by the deathly panorama of war, mechanical savagery, and human violence. Although every planet in this star system is dominated by red starlight, the dazzling sapphire and violet hues of the Elysian Fields nebula is always watching over the night skies, adding to the brightness that the guardian station is reflecting. It was once beautiful, but now it is aflame.
“Ranity, please highlight sector D.”
“Certainly, Lady Cipher.”
Kitera watches as a portion of the station is highlighted, as if it really has changed colour in reality. Ranity is able to access Altair’s systems, if the ship allows it, and trade her data, allowing the S.I to alter the display in its transparent skin. If A.I’s were not so shadowed in suspicion, one would have been installed in Altair’s systems for the mission.
“Thank you.” With a swift motion of her hand, Kitera enlarges the view on sector D and zooms in, revealing the large hull breach in D3. She can also see many UEU vessels docked in D1, but no sign of the Paragons or any Serenity vessels. Rahna informed her that they were en-route, so where are they? A phantom of worry festers within her.
“I changed my mind about those combat updates, Ranity.”
“I’m sorry, but combat updates are no longer available.”
“Stream helmet feeds?”
“Apologies, but live feeds are currently unavailable.”
“Locate the Paragons.”
“Locating,” comes the soft reply of the shard intellect.
Kitera gathers her cloak around herself more tightly and crosses her arms, immersing herself in the holographic displays that flitter around the room and onto the screen. Her pupils retract from the brightness of the displays, but despite the floating feeling that her body is drifting into, her mind circulates over one thing, the dominating thought that overrides her worries of the destruction at hand.
Deo.
Are you safe? Have you been reckless? You are so reckless. Is it your father that drives you to such recklessness? Does his dishonour fuel your deep seeded hate for my people, for me? There is so much you do not understand. I wish I could tell you. Should I?
Rantiy’s voice interrupts her inner brooding. “I apologize, but I cannot locate any Paragons on the guardian station.”
What? No, that cannot be possible. “You must scan again,” Kitera pleads, the slight desperation oozing from her vocal chords.
“One moment,” Ranity replies unemotionally.
Kitera cannot just rely on the S.I, so she interacts with the data as it sifts through the stellarium, solely with her mind, not even lifting a finger to access the information and send snippets of data rushing through the room. But soon her mind becomes overwhelmed with the emotions she is pushing downward, and she cannot concentrate. She reverts to hand motions, controlling the data feeds with kinetic interaction, her wrists beginning to ache from her harsh flic
ks.
Many pieces of worthless information pour out to her. Atmospheric pressures on the station, oxygen levels, populations in the residential sectors, food supplies and water recycling methods, back-up reserves of star energy, active combat feeds, death tolls, kill-count tallies for the soldiers who are too busy worrying about their reputation rather than saving lives, and other worthless readings that keep invading the stellarium. She cannot find anything on currently active personnel. She can feel the sickening twist of cold adrenaline rush through her veins, forcing cruel realisations and punishments to invade her mind, weighing on her heart as it quickens its beat.
“It appears that my biometric scanners have just been deactivated. I cannot give a current and accurate report,” Ranity informs, her electronic voice laced with nothing but coldness, making the words sink into Kitera’s mind more deeply and with a biting chill.
With a sharp intake of air to her lungs, she attempts to contact Mazayus, but all she receives is an attack of static. “Via isik!” she hisses aloud.
The magnified view of sector D suddenly bursts like a ruptured pipe, and she can see streams of atmosphere venting out from the E1 docks, the airlock open and freeing the precious contents, feeding it to the hungry pits of space. Pieces of random furniture pour out, followed by capsules, equipment, and bodies, many bodies, all wearing UEU uniforms and armours.
