Dimension

by Shay Zana

  Kann can be heard issuing commands in the background. “Yes, sir. What’s your location?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need schematics now would I, Kann.”

  “You have no idea where you are?”

  “You try finding your way around a ship with over 20 decks that’s being pulled through a tornado with a clan of soldiers on your ass!”

  “Give us a moment,” Kann recedes.

  In the silence, Rockland utilises the time for headspace and scans his sights through the opening of the maintenance shaft, seeing only rushing operatives and techs. No guards or marines. Kicking the shaft open, he waltzes into the crowds seemingly unnoticed, keeping his pistol concealed beneath his coat as he observes the kinetic directional displays rushing along the high ceilings above him. Deck 19: labs to the right, medical to the left. Further ahead is the portside docking bay, and behind him leads the way to the starboard docks. Taking the directions for starboard, Rockland hears Kann and Zee return to the channel.

  “Alright, we have you on screen. Just keep heading the way you’re heading,” Kann advises.

  Zee is quick to redirect the topic of discussion. “How the fuck are we getting out of this?”

  Rockland proceeds to walk amongst the crowds of people casually, blending in though still anxious. He has to force himself not to appear suspicious by looking around for any sign of hostile activity. “Star shift.”

  As the Oceanus begins to tilt on its stern more violently, Rockland quickens his pace toward the docks, no longer caring for subtlety as the crowds become even more frantic. And as he begins to run, shouts echo from behind him and a single lightning shard fired through the crowd takes a chunk out of his shields. Not wanting to fire back and risk hurting innocent crew members, Rockland curses and dives for the nearest bulkhead, fingers fumbling erratically over the control panel to close it.

  But the marines are too quick on their feet, and he realises there is no way to get this door shut and sealed before they reach him. Ditching it, he fires wildly to suppress them, forcing them to leap for cover. Again, Rockland turns and flees through the wide corridor and out into a large-spanning lobby area littered with terminals and kinetic platforms, like a maze of portals. Layers of encircling balconies span the room, all serving as access points to separate docks. The ceilings are extremely high on each deck, allowing several floors in one deck. The Oceanus is more like a cruise ship than a grizzled warship.

  “I need directions, now!”

  “Hold on,” Kann replies thickly. “Take the third platform in on your left.”

  Locating it, Rockland dashes for it and throws himself bodily onto it, sheltering his head as shards fly at him from behind. He fires back from behind the control panel while hurriedly dotting it with his fingers, his shields on the verge of failing. But he gets the feeling that these guards are under strict instructions to take him to the holding cells alive, so instead of initiating the platform, he morphs his chamber to fire chemical rounds. As his shields burst, the guards cease firing and rush at him, yelling at him to surrender. But Rockland only gives them a wry grin and fires a trail of black dust at the men, the particles fluttering through the air and entering their ventilation systems.

  As they bend over in chocking convulsions, Rockland punches in the command to the platform and scrambles back to his feet as it ascends to the upper balcony. The chemical shards used in a small dose will only infest their respiratory systems, enter their blood stream, and numb their nervous systems, paralysing them for a few hours depending on each individual. In larger quantities, however, they can be cruelly lethal. Rockland wonders if he should have even bothered sparing them, as they will all probably be dead soon anyway.

  “Alright, where to now?”

  “There should be an entrance to the F19 exterior docks just ahead, and from there it’s a straight shot, Commander, just follow the halls.”

  “That part I remember,” Rockland replies and gets a move on through the lifeless halls toward the F docks. Progressing, the floors begin to steepen, forcing him to work out his quadriceps in a way that makes him wish he were ten years younger. He spends way too much time behind a desk these days, he needs to get out more.

  Just as he is about to reach the nearest bulkhead, the floor gives a shudder underfoot and the Titan jeers sharply, swiping the commander off his feet. The Oceanus is under heavy fire, by the feel of it, and most likely by Serenity’s Titan warship, Hyperion, taking advantage of the Oceanus’ misfortune. Bastards, Rockland thinks while heaving himself back up. Though if his planet where under attack, he would be just as merciless.

  Instead of continuing onward as he expects, Rockland is victim to another rupture against the Oceanus, and is thrown savagely against a nearby bulkhead, his spine smacking harshly and feeling as though it has shattered. He releases a muted yell as an interior explosion rocks up an adjacent hall, shielding his eyes with his bound forearms as the brightness bites at his retinas. That distortion is sucking up the Oceanus with such force that it is stretching the hull to its limits, causing it to tear from within. He wonders how much more it can take.

  “Commander!”

  Rockland looks up from his impact daze and sees several figures rushing toward him, all armed and clad in armour. Kann is at the head, flanked by what is left of the Marauding Exile’s crew of soldiers.

  “I’m alright,” he reassures, though Kann still gives him a firm hand up and deactivates his restraints. “We need to go, now.”

  Kann nods, his sharp eyes piercing with spiked adrenaline, and he hands Rockland a spare rifle to replace his pistol, right before another shudder sends them all crashing to the floor, the deck beneath them hoisting fiercely.

  “Fuck, that was a big one. You still alive, Commander?” he hears Zee ask, almost as if he is enjoying this.

  “Are you dead yet?”

  Helping one another up, they all hurry back through the tedious halls, moving in formation to scan down parallel corridors before passing, only encountering the odd one or two squads of marines, to which they quickly neutralize with chemical warfare. They soon find themselves fighting for every footstep against the tugging gravity.

  Eventually they reach the Marauding Exile’s dock, racing through the extended airlock. Once aboard, Rockland sees almost the entire remaining crew have stationed themselves on the command deck, anxiously hovering around Zee and his helm feeds.

  “Get us out of here, Zee!” Rockland commands as he rushes to him, the crew moving aside to let him through. Kann is instantly by his side with hands clasped behind back.

  “I’m working on it, Commander! Give me some fucking space, people!”

  The crew back away slightly from the helm, though still crowding. As the Exile shudders with the joint pressure of the Oceanus’ straining hull, Zee finally overrides the lockout on the dock and pulls the ship away with careful precision, though slightly dinging the portside wing as the Titan gives another quiver under fire from the Hyperion. Now free, the crew nervously eye up Zee’s trajectory and the approaching vehemence of the distortion as it swallows up everything like the gates of the Underworld.

  “Push her to her limits!” Rockland demands hoarsely.

  “She’s at her limits!” responds Zee with a biting horror.

  “No, she’s not,” the commander replies steadily, placing his hand on the back of the helm chair. “Engage the quantum drive, take us to SSV.”

  From behind the chair, Zee’s expression hits that of maddening insanity. “With all due respect, sir, are you fucking crazy!? We don’t know what will happen to us if we shift inside a distortion. We could end up as mincemeat!”

  “But I know what will happen to us if we don’t! Shift, now! That’s an order!”

  Swearing, Zee obeys reluctantly and engages the Marauding Exile’s quantum drive, dispersing the energy and clouding the Spartan in a field of invisible infinite mass in wave-particle duality.

  KING OF THE GALAXY

  Death. I
t may open a path to transcend, or it may end in a void. It may open a path to be reborn, or it may end in a lost phantom.

  We have forever dreamed and envisioned these eventualities, questioning the very things that may never be answered in life, seeking all answers and all knowledge, searching for and striving to fulfil our purpose. Unenlightened, we can only be at peace with what we choose to believe, and find comfort in those beliefs.

  Life is a cycle, and we all have our parts to play. The more powerful the player, the more powerful the part. Death is a vital part of this cycle, to keep life fresh and make way for new beginnings.

  Death is one end, but is it the end?

  I choose to believe it is not.

  Water falls with them from Babylon’s edge, clutched by gravity in a helpless birl. Their bodies are still closely locked together though they are barely aware of it, the fall dominating, the depths of death’s chasms welcoming them.

  But death has a change of heart. They smack against a solid surface, water spattering over them in a sheer wave. They break apart in the land, aching from the hard impact, coughing and wheezing. The glyphs on the hull and the vessel’s pleased sound answer their questions. They have landed on Altair.

  The pain along Deo’s many wounds tighten and flare in the harsh smack, evoking a clenching of his lungs. He brings up inhaled water, coughing and choking until he can roll on his side and clear his airway.

  Kitera gives a watery hack also before dredging herself up and crawling over to the depleted man, lifting his head enough to cradle it in her lap. “Deo,” she breathes gently, her voice heavy with concern as she wipes some of his drenched brown hair from his face, fingers still trembling from terror. Blood leaks from the corner of his mouth as he gives a small cough, indicating internal injuries, and her trembling fingers wipe at that, too.

  Deo’s vision shuffles for a moment before he conquers it again, seeing an angel cradling him amongst the streaming red sky to her back. Staring up at her, Kitera appears like a heavenly apparition, her elfin quality so serene as the soft light reigns down on her like a glowing nimbus. Her moist skin shimmers with radiance as water drips from her, and her black hair falls in wet strands over her shoulders and drapes down her body, her face framed by its silken texture. She is clad in some form of beige undergarment, subtle red tribal patterning scattered sparsely, and that iconic pendent sways gently from her neck, polished and shimmering. Deo has never seen her so beautiful before, raw, without all the jewellery and the paint and body art. Just her.

  Still numb, he sees his own hand glide upward to stroke a long strand of her hair from her face and brush his fingers ever so slightly against her cheek, though he cannot feel her smooth skin through his gloves. He wishes he could. Her cheeks bloom as she smiles down on him, light catching across her bone structure.

  Time and terror seems to halt as the two share a moment in each other, but in a matter of thoughts, they are ripped apart yet again, the vessel losing its balance amongst a new threat.

  “Kitera!”

  He reaches for her in the chaos, seeing her flung back across Altair’s stern as it rears in a gust of explosive wind. She rolls relentlessly, spine finally punching into a raised groove in the outer hull, ceasing her motion. Her vicious shriek of pain splits the air, inducing a pain of his own in empathy. Despite her pain, he is relieved she did not fall, though internally beating himself up for letting her be ripped away like that.

  Pinned by the intense g-force pull as Altair curves sharply away from a hulking mass he has yet to identify, Deo can only roll over on his stomach and yell at the struggling woman to hold on. She is grinding bared teeth and clinging onto the hull for her life, her weight inadequate to keep her grounded for much longer. Once slight adjustment in gravitational forces, and she will be flung outbound.

  Suddenly, Altair readjusts itself in a steady shot for freedom, allowing Deo to scramble over to Kitera in a haze of exhaustion and curl himself over her, pulling her in tightly by the waist, hand pressed firmly to her stomach as her muscles clench in fear. Hot embers enwrap them as fire reaches over Altair’s hull before it can clear a blast radius. The two have yet to comprehend the danger they have been thrust into, just staying down and secured together until heat subsides and light shrinks.

  Deo raises his head, still holding Kitera’s down, not feeling any resistance from her at all as she remains beneath him, obviously petrified beyond curiosity. He watches as an Olympian spins erratically on its stern, its length protruding from the tornado, pulled in like the victim of a black hole. The large warships are not rated for atmosphere, their mass too heavy for their engines to sustain lift, yet the powerful distortion has it falling into the city and gyrating around like a leaf down a drain. Its melting hull flakes off with each harsh rotation, scathing through buildings. Kitera looks up just in time to see the warship grate into the city, shearing through civilisation with pockets of eruptions that make them both flinch down.

  “No!” the Cipher screams as the impending event occurs.

  Deo has to crunch down on the hysterical woman as a muted implosion rocks the air into a brutal explosion. The shockwave drums out across the Fortunate Isles, sliding a breathtaking burn at clouds and waters that pushes and smothers.

  Kitera wrangles free from Deo’s screening grasp and wails at the destruction they left behind them, her voice rising to a scream of extreme guilt and sorrow. Suddenly, she clutches at her head as if a migraine has attacked, screaming until her voice cracks from the strain and thrashing until the wave subsides. Deo has to lunge for her before she can do anything stupid in her shock, wrestling with her momentarily until she breaks down back into his angrily heaving chest.

  He too, is left in shock, hatred for the Demons imbedded in him. He is looking through the dimming light of a city sent to ruin, plunging down into the ocean, a wreckage of fire and ash. The warship is a scattered husk, its core having ripped it apart from within. The tornado still ravages, descending down to the ocean to follow Babylon’s grave. His eyes stare through the hot wind as the funnel clashes with the water, curdling it into a spiralling movement, great waves looming inward like the forerunner to a tsunami.

  Instinctively, Deo holds Kitera even closer, arms enwrapping her in a possessive aegis, his rage smouldering within him.

  Mazayus’ dark eyes glaze over as he accesses his datakey telepathically. King Anzac, Queen Xania, and Prince Eldad watch and listen to the leader of these Paragons as his left palm ignites in an electric blue.

  “...Our mission is to reignite the stars on an even plane to create a balanced chain reaction, which will, as we understand it, create a quantum overload and disrupt our dimension’s link to the Demons. Other than that, our instructions are vague.”

  The king continues to stare off into the distance as Mazayus explains their mission details, transferring authorisation data to inform him that the mission is under the jurisdiction of the Ciphers. He barely acknowledges the glow in his palm as his datakey receives the data.

  They are aboard Altair, in the navigation centre. The Fire Blade and Altair had rendezvoused near the outskirts of the Rhadamanthus System, far enough to be safe from Kronos and the skirmishes elsewhere in the system that are prohibiting system-wide communications. The other Paragons retired to either the kitchen, medical, or to their quarters to shower and catch up on some shut-eye, and Kitera had insisted on being alone for a few hours to meditate and reflect on the recent events, refusing to eat or sleep. Rahna and the captain of the Fire Blade, Joshua Remington, are also present in navigation, silently observing the negotiations. Remington is acting as a representative for Admiral Corazon of Serenity’s Hyperion fleet, and Rahna has been assigned as an escort for the royalties, much to her obvious irritation.

  “This is the data we secured from Olympus,” Mazayus continues, activating his datakey’s visual display. “The file shows signs of attempted decryption, but our vessel was able to extract the data intact and wipe the local copy on the UEU w
arship.” He studies Anzac’s blank features for a moment, wondering if he is taking all of this in. He has hardly said a word the entire debriefing. “I presume that Olympus and all other colonies within the Messiah System were evacuated due to the distortions? When we arrived, Olympus was completely deserted.”

  The king gives a nod.

  Queen Xania sees that Anzac is not up to speaking, and so she answers Mazayus on his behalf. “We believed it necessary to evacuate all outer colonies and keep our populations tightly grouped together.”

  Mazayus nods in appreciation to her, looking back to Anzac softly. “Your Highness, under secondary directive of the Ciphers of Utopia, we wish to propose galactic evacuation.”

  At this, King Anzac’s dull eyes flick to life and peer at Mazayus. Sitting up straight in his seat, his eyes narrow slightly. “The Ciphers order this?”

  “Not order, sire, no. The Zodiacs urge evacuation, and the Ciphers only wish to pass this on as a warning in the event that the situation here escalated.”

  “To which it has.”

  Mazayus nods solemnly in agreement. “I understand that this will be no simple task without prior preparation.”

  After a lengthy pause, Anzac sighs tiredly and buries his face in his hands for a brief moment. Xania places a supportive hand to his thick shoulder, her gaze lowered to her knees and tears weltering amongst her eyes. Eldad sits apart from them as they speak, idly watching the stargrid as stars skim past.

  “My son is dead,” the king murmurs. “And Kronos and all of its people are suffering. Nothing in this galaxy is simple anymore, Paragon.”

  “For what it’s worth, I am sorry for your loss, sire. If you give the order to evacuate the galaxy, so many more will be spared. Prince Hadar’s sacrifice would mean the continuation of countless lives. ”

  “The Universal Eden Union is at our gates, destroying with fire and nikita. We cannot simply just turn and flee, they will pursue us until we are nothing. They believe us responsible for these distortions.”