Dimension

by Shay Zana

  Mazayus shakes his head. “They have their own problems. Their homeworld is lost. This attack is most likely their last until they can regroup and re-establish control of their forces.”

  “And your Cipher told you of their homeworld’s fate?”

  The Paragon nods steadily.

  “Why is it that the Ciphers inform their Paragons of sensitive UEU intelligence when they do not inform the royalties of such things?”

  Mazayus can see the ember in the king’s eyes. “Our Cipher has only just learned of their homeworld. I don’t think the Zodiacs wished to inform the Ciphers in fears that it would spark another war. It’s not my place to reveal such things. She will explain everything to you in due time.”

  “Do you have any idea as to how the UEU located Kronos?”

  “Not as of yet, your Highness, but we suspect there was a mole implanted within Babylon Skycity, or perhaps they already knew of its location and were waiting on a moment to strike. Whatever the answer, it doesn’t matter now.”

  Anzac pauses his questioning for a moment as he gnaws his lip and ponders.

  “I don’t give two shits how they found us,” Rahna mumbles out of turn, though receiving no repercussion from the king as he lingers in thought. “I just wanna get back there and see to it that they all regret looking in the first place.”

  “You are sure that these distortions are not the UEU’s weapon?” Anzac asks Mazayus after a moment of silence.

  “I am sure. Our Cipher is enlightened.”

  “Your Cipher’s visions are true?”

  “She believes so. She will speak with you soon.”

  Anzac studies Mazayus for a moment. “I wish to speak with her now.”

  Fair veils obscure my vision. Pure ashen light sweeps through infinite distances, lifting me to transcendence. Eternal harmonies carry me onward, upward, and forward until divinity absorbs my soul and celestial ambience cradles my spirit.

  I seek enlightenment, though I can feel the pain that inflicts my gods at their effort of reaching my consciousness. As they enwrap me in their inexplicable aura, I feel, though do not comprehend, the presence of those parallel gods I have named Demons. I feel them biting at the Zodiacs, bursting their existence with pain I will never experience nor understand.

  My spirit dances in luminous waves, returning from a failed quest, descending unto life.

  “My Lady?”

  Kitera’s vision returns to the indigo stardust of the Elysian Fields Nebula. A planet hovers amidst it, coated in a pearlescent sheath of gas, its beauty appearing perfectly spherical. Shooting stars sprint the space around it, adding a pace of movement to the otherwise still environment. Behind it, the glistening black shelters many distant stars, radiant like jewels.

  Kitera glides her head around to see Mazayus standing patiently in the doorway of the starboard observatory, his hands neatly behind his back, belying his pained stance at the wounds he had sustained during the battle of Kronos. Thankfully, while examining his wounds before docking with the Fire Blade, they had discovered that no crucial organs had been damaged, and together, the elixir and his entity had already begun to heal his muscle tissue. Deo had required a quick automated surgical procedure to correct his internal bleeding and reset his broken bones, and due to modern medical science and the aid of the healing qualities of his entity, is now almost fully recovered and ready for action again.

  “Mazayus,” Kitera greets as she stands out of respect, pressing her four fingertips to her forehead in Cipher greeting, thumb curled inward to her palm.

  Mazayus returns the traditional greet by bowing his head. “King Anzac wishes to speak with you now.”

  Once in the presence of the king, Kitera immediately offers him an elegant bow from the waist down. He stands abruptly, eyeing the Cipher up for a moment in what appears to be a mixture of awe and shock. She is garbed in a shroud of material, layered hastily to conceal bruises.

  Anzac returns the bow with equal depth.

  “My King,” she says.

  “Lady Cipher,” he says.

  Mazayus can feel the tension between them as it subtly poisons the air, and as he moves to stand beside his Cipher, an uncomfortable silence ensues. The queen, prince, and Remington also stand and bow, and Rahna, who is already standing and had been leaning up against the wall, joins in with a gracious bow. Kitera returns their gestures of respect and smiles brightly at them, though upon sensing their sorrowful souls for the loss of Hadar, her forced smile ebbs to a soft look of sympathy.

  “Hadar is with the Zodiacs now,” she tells them gently, and her smile returns with reassurance.

  Xania stifles a sob and lowers her sad face to hide her swelling eyes. “I thank you, Lady. My son was a brave young man, and would have been as honoured as I to be graced by your presence.”

  “As would have I to have met him.”

  To Mazayus, the sudden connection between the two women seems to purify the poison from the air, making it possible to commence with the negotiations. Once comfortably seated, Kitera plunges into the recently discovered history of the Zodiacs and their fellow gods with passion and loathing. She tells of the God War, how they tore themselves apart over the disagreements of how to dictate nature. She tells them of their hybrid planet-star, at the centre of all dimensions like a rift in existence, and how the war ripped it apart and entombed each sodality of gods to one dimension each, unable to reconnect. She explains the horrid motives of the Demons, the sodality who had first instigated the war, and how they wish to break their bonds and regain control of life, to free nature from the harming ways of sapient organisms.

  They listen in horror as she explains the nature of the distortions, their unpredictable wrath, their unstoppable generations, how they are the aftermath effect of the Demons’ attempts to restart the code of life, altering it in ways that cause fluctuations and corruptions of the algorithms.

  Anzac grows sceptical. Mazayus ponders if he does not trust Kitera. Perhaps he is threatened by her, and is concerned about her taking away his authority. Does he not know his place?

  “Holy Cipher, are you telling me that these distortions could spread beyond this galaxy?” the king asks in disbelief.

  “I am. This galaxy is merely the place of origin, where the war began, where the wounds of life are still fresh. Evacuation is only a temporary solution until our mission can be concluded. If we fail, I fear no others will have the strength to take our place.”

  Following a long sigh, Anzac slowly nods and passes his eyes to Mazayus, who had been quietly sitting beside Kitera throughout her tale of the gods. “I will consider your request, though you must know that evacuating an entire galaxy will take time.”

  “With luck, our mission will be concluded by that time, your Highness,” Mazayus replies. “And the evacuation can be cancelled upon victory.”

  “And if you fail?” Eldad suddenly speaks up, drawing everyone’s surprised attention before Kitera answers him.

  “Then save as many as you can.”

  The King appears to be somewhat satisfied by the outcome of the negotiation, giving encouraging words in preparation of departure. “You are our warriors, do us proud. May your Sacrifices be honoured.”

  Xania and Eldad depart through the airlock first, taken safely back aboard the Fire Blade, and Rahna halts to briefly shake hands with Mazayus and wish him luck.

  “Wish I could come with you, help keep an eye on that crazy Deo of yours,” she laughs, her voice showing cracks of obvious fondness.

  Mazayus scoffs in good humour. “I fear both my eyes will not be enough. It’s been an honour, Rahna.”

  Ending their handshake on a firm note, Rahna straightens her stance and flings her hand up to her brow, saluting him. “An honourable Sacrifice, Paragon. See you in the Underworld, huh?”

  Mazayus returns the salute stiffly. “May your Sacrifice also be honoured.”

  Smiling and nodding with finality, Rahna turns and heads to the airlock, where she stops
at the entrance to wait for the king. But Anzac slows before exiting the airlock, turning back slowly to lay his eyes upon the towering Paragon as he sees him off.

  “The Paragon who extracted us from the temple, who was he?”

  Taken aback for a moment by the sudden curiosity, Mazayus attempts to hide his frown. “That would be Deo, sire.”

  A thoughtful shadow passes over Anzac’s features for a moment, before his eyes move to rest on Kitera as she departs for her quarters. She stops, turns, and stares back at the king intensely, sensing an underlying motive, told by his eyes, a dark motive of twisted spite. Suspicion settles deep inside of her.

  PART III: THE MISSION

  REMINISCE

  Gloom and worry swamp him. Natheus sits in the armoury alone, where he knows he will not be disturbed. About him are many glowing shards, grenades, kinetic gun racks filled with spare weaponry and mods, and cases filled with various models of vitasuits with many upgrades and modification items. Natheus has always found the armoury to be comforting, centred, full of tools that he can wield in defence or to kill, his mind never ceasing to pour creativity into the art, to never grow predictable.

  But right now, killing is the last thing on his mind, though death always lingers. His datakey is active above his palm, other hand lazily flinging caches of information aside as new fragments appear, only to be pushed aside again. Maddening amounts of distortion event reports compile, death-tolls in various systems, footage of minor distortions from acid rain and sandstorms, to major distortions such as cracking planets and global meteor showers. In one particular report, he sees captured footage of an entire ocean’s tides reversing before the gravitational forces fluctuate to a point where the ocean is heaved up and propelled into orbit, evaporating into space. A carpet of water just ascending. It seems the gods are also pouring their creativity into the art of killing.

  All of these demented events are occurring throughout the galaxy, yet nowhere can he find a report of a distortion establishing itself near Gallagher V, where his wife is stationed. He does not know if this is good or bad. Yes, it is good that there is no news of Gallagher V being hit by an event, but that does not necessarily mean that it has not. Perhaps the system’s relays were destroyed, or the news agency was killed before they could report the event. The usually stoic Paragon can feel his defensive walls begin to crumble around him, his emotions held in check by the skin of his teeth. His training, sense of brotherhood to his squad, and patriotism to complete the mission and defend the human race is keeping a leash on his heart and his pure desire to ditch the mission and search for his wife. Just thinking about taking this course of action pumps his augmented blood with anxiety, his entity roaring for action.

  But instead of losing his cool in an emotional meltdown, Natheus gives up and instead accesses his virtual memory core within his datakey, experiencing the memory of her, the sight of her, the feel of her, the sounds and smells of her. All these memories collaborating like his life flashing before his senses, until one particular memory dominates his concentration.

  Outside his habitat window, he could see the free land of Sparta glowing golden in the starlight of the day, its grassy youth spreading out like the plains of heaven. A warm haze filtered through the sweeping golden grass, and beyond that, mighty mountains adorned the horizon in distant shades of deep burgundy and soft browns.

  Beyond the campsite lay a hilly plain with a thin river streaming through it, and it was near the edge of that shallow river that his wife dwelled, her flowing coral dress extending from her figure like a sheet of silk swaying in the wind. She was gathering fresh water, ready to take it back into their habitat to be purified.

  This memory was always like a dream to Natheus, and as he experienced the memory again, he watched his vision turn from the sight of the warm atmosphere of nature and move over to a cabinet in the far corner, where he proceeded to gather and don his vitasuit and attach his weapons.

  They had argued moments before, her decision to choose her career over their relationship creating a raw opening of emotions. She had announced her assignment at Gallagher V, accepting it before discussing it, and throwing it at him like a hurricane. Foul words were exchanged, flung on impulse. He had been blistered by hurt.

  Right then, from his view through shaded memories, she looked serene, warm, glowing with health, but he knew that her interior was rotten with hurt, just like he was.

  Without looking back, he left his habitat and waded his way through the thigh-length grass. His capsule awaited, its gleaming white coat peeking at him through the wavering grass. But suddenly, his footsteps grew heavy, an invisible rope dragging on his movements. He looked back.

  And she was staring after him, standing idly, hair flowing across her face obliviously. Tears were in her eyes, seeping from their banks and wetting her cheeks.

  But he pulled away. Piloting his capsule, Natheus ascended from the golden harmony of Sparta’s lands and aimed for its skies instead to pursue a freelance mission, anything to be away from her.

  That was the last time he ever saw her. When he returned to Sparta, she was gone.

  Now, regret blisters his heart. He should not have taken that mission. During a Paragon’s Cycle, there is an idle time where Paragons can depart from the Milky Way and from the service of the Ciphers, an idle period off duty. They can choose to aid in Serenity operations, and Natheus could never stay idle during his Idle Cycle. The Cycle consists of three phases. The Training Cycle, the Idle Cycle, and the Service Cycle, when they must return to the Ciphers and report to them on active duty.

  Himself, Mazayus, Deo, and Boone had all been activated on the Service Cycle, returning to Utopia to receive their missions, but little had they known that they would all be formed into an elite squad and tasked with the responsibility of saving an entire galaxy, and perhaps even the universe. Scratch that. Every universe in existence.

  At the time of this current memory, Natheus had been on his idle phase, but had volunteered in the Leonidas Defence Corps, a mild Serenity naval force situated in the Leonidas Kingdom, a star cluster harbouring the Laconia System, and the planet Sparta. Instead of spending time with his wife, he had volunteered for a mission off-world to locate a missing survey team last seen just offside the gravity field of the Laconia System’s fifth planet out, Gytheio. His return only offered him misery.

  Letting the memory disperse with his datakey, Natheus sighs deeply, the cool air rushing through his nostrils soothing. He continues to maintain his Parallel, wiping it free of any dirt that had built up. He cannot let his will break down now, and resting is something that he just cannot continue to do.

  Since departing from the Rhadamanthus System, they have been dawdling leisurely around the galaxy, giving Serenity the time to start the evacuations, and also to give themselves time to recover. They have no idea what will happen when they complete the mission. Once the Paragons release their entities within each of the four stars they are tasked to reignite, the chain reaction that will then reignite every other star in the galaxy could be devastating to human life. It is logical to assume that the chain reaction will release a galactic supernova event, so the longer they wait before they begin their mission, the more lives they could be potentially saving. It has been two Earthen days since the Battle of Kronos began, and on the fourth, they will commence with the mission.

  Standing, Natheus places his maintained Parallel back into its designated rack and heads out of the armoury, careful to be as silent as possible as to not disturb the meditating Cipher. The cool air conditioning whispers along his bare arms. He feels naked without his vitasuit, exposed, vulnerable. He has always felt awkward in civilian clothing, pretending to fit in with a shirt and trousers.

  Down the far aft of the hall is entrance to the life pod room, where they had escaped during their attack beyond the galaxy, but to its left is a narrow staircase leading downward into the depths of Altair. Natheus proceeds down this staircase, small lights on each step to
guide his way in the gathering dark. Below deck is the simulation room, where the cybergrid can be accessed and interacted with. Upon his entry, lights installed within the ikamanu immediately flick to life. The room travels almost the entire length and width of the ikamanu, and owns a stark whiteness, blinding compared to the rest of Altair’s interior. Deeper within Altair is its core, where its accumulated star energy melds with its entity in constant hydrostatic equilibrium.

  The cybergrid is more than just the universal network, it is an interactive neural simulation, a cyber-world that can house trillions of minds, though cyber interaction is limited to each galaxy, and lag often occurs when data is streaming over long distances. Until humanity can perfect quantum entanglement, the cybergrid will remain limited in its reach.

  With his datakey, Natheus boots the cybergrid, and as small hexagons of kinetic energy race along the floor, walls, and ceiling, a menu animates above his palm, allowing him to set his experience in the cybergrid to his liking. If he wishes, he can connect to others throughout the galaxy in a close proximity and engage in a co-operative or competitive simulation of any chosen scenario, but he wishes to be solo, changing the settings to block anyone from connecting to him.

  The cybergrid is essentially an online gaming world, a virtual reality, one where the user’s mind is fully immersed both through physical or mental interaction. Physical interaction is widely used for combat training, as long as a simulation room is provided. But mental interaction with the cybergrid has virtually no limitations, much like a dream, but a dream that can be controlled.

  Natheus sets a combat template, and watches as his entire environment shifts and undulates into a virtual reality of the plains of Sparta. He can feel the flecks of the long golden grass tickling at his bare hands, can feel the warm wind on his bare face, can smell the scent of grassy fresh nature as it curls around his senses. Ahead of him are three rocks with red targets painted on their centres, spaced exactly one hundred metres apart. He stands one kilometre from them, an illusion of distance via the cybergrid.