Dimension

by Shay Zana

  “Skycities on the ocean floor are prepping for ascent, Paragon, and Metropolis class starships are assembling in orbit, ready to receive civilians per city. Time estimation for total evac is three to five hours,” reports one of the officials managing the evacuation.

  “Roger,” Deo replies. “What’s the response from the outer colonies?”

  “They’ve acknowledged the order and are underway with evac procedures. A fleet of Metropolis and Empire class starships are deploying to each colony, and Pegasus class starships are headed to various space-stations throughout the system.”

  “Any updates on the other three systems?”

  “Ikamanu scouts report the evacuations in both the Iron and Minerva systems are well underway, but the scout sent to the Brutus System never reported in.”

  Odd, Deo ponders silently, wondering what Boone has gotten himself into this time. After the transmission ends, a burst of static hits his earchips, clouded by a fog of electronic notes. He presses at his ear and taps the base of his skull to encourage his neural-root, housing all of the data stored within his mind and serving as a personal relay. With his peripheral vision, he catches a blue flicker through the stormy haze beyond the shield of the city, but as it grows nearer by sliding down and phasing through, he realizes it is cyan. Water coughs out through the transition that Altair makes through the shield, and the droplets of rain in the sky catch the glow of its symbols, creating a cyan nimbus.

  Deo watches in confusion as the ikamanu gravitates his way. What is it doing here? Is Kitera aboard?

  Altair swoops to the nearest landing pad, setting its weight down on a jutting platform a few hundred metres away from the balcony Deo is upon. Kitera wastes no time in scrambling toward the airlock and sprinting out into the heavy rain of Lightning Skycity. Her ritual garment quickly becomes saturated, and her body art slides from its opacity into translucent residue.

  Deo sees the familiar nimble figure emerge from the vessel and immediately vaults over the balcony to land on the street below, crisscrossing over suspended bridges and sprinting past abandoned stores. His mind is a buzz of both anxiety at what news she brings, and the unexpected excitement of seeing her again.

  “Kiya?”

  “Deo!” he hears her cry back, her voice laced with urgency. They almost collide into an embrace when they meet, arms clutching arms. “Deo, I know what we must do.”

  He holds her steady, seeing a wild quiver in those abnormally luminescent eyes. “You couldn’t just radio in?”

  She shakes her head frantically. “You must come with me.”

  He gives her a concerned frown as she begins to tug on him to follow. “Kiya, what’s this about?”

  “My visions were clouded by the Demons, my deciphering hindered by the God War, but now I see clearly, more clearly than I ever have before.” The words tumble from her mouth. “We cannot disconnect the link of our dimension through a sole galaxy, but we can exclude this galaxy independently, separate it from the network, like disrupting a planet’s orbit from its system. The key lies within the core.”

  Deo’s frown stands firm as he is dragged by her, never has he witnessed her so worked up. “The galactic core?”

  “Yes. We must get the others.”

  He thinks for a moment as rain patters his face. “So you’re telling me that I told these people to evacuate ahead of schedule for no reason?” Kitera nods regretfully, but Deo snorts in amusement. “They’re really gonna hate me when they hear about this.”

  The stargrid sheds pools of subdued radiance. Kitera grasps at her datakey and keys in the command to link to the stargrid, plotting a course around Scattered Planet with Deo at her side. The two are on their way to pick up Mazayus in the Iron System, circling their way around the galaxy in a clockwise direction. Boone will be next, and Natheus last in the Minerva System.

  Deo stands closely beside his determined Cipher, watching as she peels away layers of the stargrid and crawls deeper into the hologram with precise mental accuracy, examining the galactic core. She pulls the visual display in deeply, plummeting through old bursting stars and black holes until a reign of light causes the stargrid to lull its brightness automatically. And there it is, the super massive black hole in the centre of the galaxy, winding around slowly and pulling everything down into its crushing depths of unfathomable power.

  “Here,” she says to him. “We must create a new breed of star. It will act as a quantum entanglement event that will stabilize the galaxy. The interlinking supernova event will alter the dimensions of each star, and end the God War, for now.”

  “For now?” Deo snaps, pinning her with a wary look.

  Kitera turns to him guiltily. “Each galaxy is a fragment of the God War, and this galaxy is only the point of its origin. The war of the gods will shift in time, and each galactic core will become compromised until they can crack our defences.”

  The hard brown-gold eyes soften with realization as he gazes off into the active stargrid. “So this is eventually going to spread throughout the universe...”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we stop it?”

  Her face is taut as she examines him, searching for the level of strength he owns at this news. “We cannot.”

  Deo’s gaze refocuses on her, and the brown-gold eyes harden again. She is full of fear, eyes wide and glittering, jaw set. He takes her by the hand and pulls her to him, allowing her to press her cheek into his chest and bury herself in his security. His anger surges wildly at the inevitability of the future, of the chaos to come, of the rawness that his Cipher has just told him there is no escape. But to mask this he just holds her securely to him, hand to the back of her head, wishing he could shield her from all this pain. Guns and explosives will do nothing here, and he feels useless.

  “I wish we had more time,” she croaks as she smothers her forehead to his chest for a moment before looking up into his eyes. “I wish I could do more.”

  Deo’s firm resolve melts. He tucks some of her thick hair behind her ear, revealing her sculpted cheekbone and the shii paint that smeared in the rain. “You got the key. I’m not gonna ask how you did it, not sure I’d understand if you told me, but that’s a win.”

  “But it is not enough,” she protests, pressing her cheek back to the soft leather of his vitasuit again, concentrating on the comforting sensation of his strong heartbeat against her. “We can slow the process of the war, but our survival lies within the hands of the Zodiacs.”

  “And if they lose?”

  “Then we lose.”

  The Iron System is thick with asteroid clusters and small planetoids acting as a barrier to closely orbiting colonies. There are two colony worlds in this system, and its neighbouring system is a binary star system, close enough that the two stars can be seen as distant moons orbiting each other in perfect commitment through the night sky.

  Upon entry into the system, Altair’s system sweep immediately detects swarms of starships escorted by warships, obviously deep into their evacuation procedure. The ikamanu patrols the outskirts of the system for a while until its passengers can claim clearance to land on Vesta, the colony world where Mazayus has been stationed.

  Vesta is a world dominated by jungles and greenery, swathed from pole to pole with weaving oceans and rivers. It does not take them long to locate and contact Mazayus, and at first he seems a little perturbed by the change of plans and the early effort of evacuation, but once Kitera informs him fully of her discovery, he nods silently in his usual manner and takes his natural role as the leadership figure, whether he is conscious of it or not.

  The next destination is the Brutus System to extract Boone, and during these brief hours of careful interstellar travel, Altair having to move with ease as to not get caught in a distortion, Kitera briefs Mazayus on the updated mission details.

  “How do we create this new star?” he asks.

  “I do not know how to initiate the process, but once the seven stars emerge into one, a singular Sacrifice
will suffice in igniting the chain reaction.”

  Deo crosses his arms over his chest and turns to Mazayus hopefully, his movement an obvious volunteer to the practiced eyes of those who know him best.

  Mazayus raises his hand subtly to steady the Paragon. “Let’s find the others first, and then we will discuss our options.”

  Kitera paces a moment, fingers to her lip in thought. “When I shifted dimensions and encountered the septuple star system in the galactic core, I noticed the orbits of the nikita spheres were far too symmetrical, positioned strategically. I believe the spheres were created for this purpose.”

  “Created by who?” Deo queries.

  “Unknown. Perhaps they are remnants of alien technology left unscathed by the Demons, though it is unlikely they would allow such existence. It is more likely that the species who created these spheres were left alive for some purpose. Perhaps to safeguard from a mission such as our own...”

  Deo scratches at his stubble. “So there could be an alien armada prepared to prevent this new star from being created?”

  “It is a possibility.”

  “The Zodiacs can’t clear this up for you?” Mazayus slips in.

  “Their knowledge of other dimensions is vague. They are confined to their own dimension, but because of their war, they can catch glimpses, though it is not enough to sustain my comprehension.”

  “I guess the only way to find out is to go see for ourselves, then,” Deo concludes.

  PARAGON DOWN

  The thermal complexion of the Zion Cluster burns iridescently through the stargrid, the image portraying their course through multiple star systems riding along the gaseous trails of the nebula. As soon as they come within the radius of Zion’s relay stations, Altair’s comms filter blinks with two received messages from Boone. They play the messages, but all that was received was static.

  “Distortions,” Mazayus decides as he ceases the messages from replaying. “Just what we need.”

  Deo sighs and shakes his head irritably. “The Demons really don’t like us.”

  “The Demons do not control the exact nature of the distortions,” Kitera corrects him. “The events that happen are aftermaths of their tampering in our codes. Glitches. They can disrupt the codes of certain locations, that explains why we encounter events at every turn, but they do not control them.”

  “Good to know,” Deo shrugs.

  Mazayus accesses the real-time display of the stellarium, relaying the image to the forward screens. They can see their approach upon the golden speck of Brutus Superior as the ikamanu slips from SS to place itself comfortably in orbit. Once Brutus Superior enlarges, they can see the distortion is now full blown in the form of a sandstorm. The entire planet surface is choking in burning sand.

  “Shit,” Deo marvels softly.

  Mazayus leans into the comms node. “Altair to Boone, do you read? Over.” After no reply, he tries again, and again, but without any response but maddening static that begins to sound hollow to their ears. Mazayus eventually lifts his gaze to Deo. “We need to get down there.”

  Deo nods glacially, turning rapidly for the airlock.

  “Kitera,” Mazayus says next. “I need you to extract Natheus.”

  She nods also. “I will be back with haste. Be careful, both of you.” Her eyes plant on Deo for longer, and he gets the message, halting in the doorway for a last look. Do not be reckless for once.

  The two efficiently suit up and prepare for drop-entry, not wanting to risk Altair entering that sandstorm. Mazayus takes the portside airlock and Deo the starboard, awaiting the moment when the floors will morph open and release them into a whirling frenzy of falling vertigo.

  “Equalizing pressure and atmosphere,” they hear Kitera inform over their earchips. “Atmospheric drop in five.” And five seconds later, the floors open to a sandy haze below, sucking the two armoured Paragons down with dizzying velocity. This time they are not confined in SSP’s.

  They plummet into the feuding sand below as the particles bash at one another in a continuous sea of anger, and within moments of making contact with the gulping sandstorm, their bodies are whipped around mercilessly, their entities the only thing that can stabilise their free fall. Pressure beats at them in spasms, and their limbs feel like they are being peeled slowly from their joints.

  Mazayus lands first in an explosion of red entity shielding to cushion his impact, letting his legs crumble to a crouching position to absorb the shock, and before he can look up, Deo lands not far behind him, a burst of his entity creating a minor shockwave around him. Immediately the two stand to brace themselves against the wind, ready to race it to reach Boone’s flickering biocode.

  Together they confront the raging distortion, leaning into its screaming teeth, each step defying its resentment. Its unworldly heat irritates their exterior senses, sneaking through their suits gradually, clinging to their skin and encouraging sweat from their pores. Sand burrows into the divisions between their armour plates, causing their entities to flare up in retaliation.

  “Hurry,” Mazayus urges as they mount a dune. “His lifesigns are fading.”

  “What’s he doing so far out from the city?”

  “Hopefully he can tell us that himself.”

  Eventually, the two stumble in range of Boone’s readings, realizing the signal is emanating from beneath their feet, several metres deep. They begin to dig hastily, shovelling off mounds of sand with their hands. But the raging sandstorm continues to build upon its foundations faster than they can tear it down, threatening to bury them also if they remain much longer.

  Deo swears, but Mazayus has an idea. “Stand clear!”

  A frag grenade is tossed down, sifting off sand in a clean blast, allowing Deo to burrow deeper as Mazayus shelters their work from more invading sand, spreading his entity out like a wall of devouring fire, charred sand accumulating at his boots.

  “Found it!” Deo shouts as he reaches the hull of a red shuttle, moving around to kick at the busted door mechanism. Its morphing capability shudders in malfunction, snapping at him as if in rebellion, but he pries it wide with vigorous strength and pulls himself inside. Sparks spit out from wrecked consoles as he shuffles them aside and phases his arms through still-operating holographic displays, pulling out a limp body. “Fuck, his visor’s cracked!”

  “Is he breathing?” Mazayus transmits.

  Deo checks his vitals. No pulse, no breath. Only the glowing veins along his vitasuit to indicate life. “His entity’s keeping him in stasis, but it won’t last much longer.”

  Mazayus immediately radios in to Kitera for urgent pick up, praying to the Zodiacs that his signal will cut through the distortion.

  But Deo knows there is no time. Without an explanation, he cracks the seal on his own helmet, lets it morph away from his head, and detaches it from his suit, holding his breath in the hot, oxygen deprived air. The helmet mechanism is now nothing but a slim rectangle of layered nikita.

  “Deo!” Mazayus snarls at him in disapproval, but Deo ignores him and works quickly to detach Boone’s helmet and replace it with his own, pressing the manual activation key under the helmet’s jaw to morph over his head. While Deo works his datakey to activate the field-defibrillator and sets the program for Boone’s biomass and anatomy, Mazayus frantically attempts to contact Kitera. They have no idea what elements are in the distorted air. He will not allow any of his men to die on this god-forsaken planet, not when they have come so far.

  “Mazayus to Altair, come in. Kitera, we need urgent extraction. Boone is down. Repeat, we have a Paragon down!”

  Deo tries repeatedly to restart Boone’s heart, setting the defib for the augmented Paragon heartbeat rate by upping the voltage. The defib program scans Boone and generates a holographic representation of his body, showing all of his organs and muscle tissue and the weaving network of his veins and arteries. A pulse projector zaps at his heart once, and once it detects that its subject is still flat-lining, it zaps again, an
d a third time, and continues, all the while Deo is needing to take a fresh breath of oxygen to his lungs.

  Mazayus notices the growing strain and removes his own helmet from his suit, placing it to Deo’s while he is busy working the defib. They take turns with Mazayus’ helmet, swapping whenever the other needs to breathe until finally, Boone’s body takes in a gasp of air, though he does not regain his consciousness. No doubt whatever smashed his faceplate has given him a nasty concussion, and with the lack of oxygen supply to the brain for a long period of time, he may even be brain damaged. Well, even more brain damaged now, Deo thinks as relief courses through him at the revival.

  “Got him back,” he says to the unhelmeted Mazayus over the roar of the sandstorm, who gives a silent thumbs-up in response.

  Like a miracle appearing from the heavens, the drumming hum of their ikamanu thunders through the rattling sands. The two manage to scuffle their way from the capsule, dragging Boone with them. Deo takes one last breath of air before handing the detachable helmet back to Mazayus and hefting Boone up over his shoulder, the added weight sinking him into the sand.

  “Boone?” Kitera asks anxiously once they clamber in from the airlock.

  “Exposure. Cracked visor. Suspected head trauma,” Mazayus reports bluntly before she brushes past him to race after Deo further down the hall. “He’s stabilized but unconscious.”

  She bites back her questions while she watches Deo set Boone down on an infirmary cot and beckons over a medical sphere from the wall, the machine opening up its cache of supplies.

  Deo stands blankly before directing a hard gaze at Mazayus. “Get Natheus.”

  Soon, the most experienced at medical procedures is rushed in to examine Boone, hacking his armour to morph away the helmet and plates. Noticing the helmet belongs to Deo due to its identity tag, he mumbles. “Well that was reckless.”