The Armor of God

by Diego Valenzuela

  “And Poole?”

  “Oh, right. I’ll tell her on my way down.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Ezra said and walked into the shower, horrified of being caught exhausted and hung over by Barnes. His head hurt too much to be yelled at, and he was far too nauseated to exercise. He could only hope the shower would help.

  Seven minutes after Akiva’s visit, Ezra was showered and combed, ready for Barnes’ arrival. He decided to make his bed and clean up the room in case the man decided to step inside and inspect it. Among other things he seemed to have brought back from the party, Ezra found a helmet with two huge plastic horns he had some memory of wearing. They had been a gift from Garros.

  The knock on the door finally came, and, thanks to Kiva’s tip, Ezra was halfway presentable. He opened the door and there stood Barnes, looking down at him, silver bull ring on his nose.

  “Oh, this will be good,” the man said, looking at Ezra with a mocking smile.

  There was a harsh awakening that was both humorous and horrible that morning. Jena, Akiva, Poole, and Ezra were taken down to a field outside the main building, and the dome overhead pretended to be a bright sunny day.

  All four of them, especially Jena and Ezra, were sick and exhausted, but that didn’t stop Barnes from making them run laps around the field, then do jumping jacks and calisthenics for the best part of an hour.

  Other pilots began appearing from the dormitories, some looking down from their rooms, an audience to a cruel show Barnes was hosting. They began to laugh as Ezra could take the exercise no more and collapsed on the ground. He was sweating, dehydrated, and in dire need of sleep. He was completely sure he was going to throw up and faint.

  Then, when they were done, the group of pilots were pointing and laughing, and when Barnes began to laugh too, it finally hit him: The whole thing had been a prank.

  “How’s it going, Blanchard? Don’t throw up now,” Barnes said, helping him up. Like Ezra, Jena was so nauseated her skin was almost green. Akiva and Poole looked slightly better “Hope you liked the second part of your welcome ceremony. Follow me.”

  Jena grabbed onto Ezra as she walked.

  “Another drink?” Garros yelled, laughing. He looked in perfect condition, considering he had drunk more than anyone else.

  Ezra smiled and walked into the main building with Barnes. “All right, as you may have guessed, this whole thing was to haze you on your first day.”

  “Ah. Funny,” Jena said. They walked into the dining room, which, impressively, was spotless—like the party that took place just a few hours before had never happened.

  “Your day is scheduled to begin at noon with a meeting with all the other pilots. After that, you’ll go down to the main offices to meet with Dr. Mizrahi. You will meet your crew and receive your class schedule. Then you and your crew will become familiar with the Creux laboratories and of course your Creux.” He turned to Ezra, who immediately remembered Alice saying Barnes was a fan of Besoe Nandi.

  “What do we do until then, sir?” Jena asked.

  “You might want to use these hours to begin your Moreau tutoring, Blanchard, but you have free time,” he said and chuckled, walking away.

  “I can’t believe they did that,” Ezra said, hand on the wall, hoping not to drop unconscious or vomit again. Jena and Kiva only laughed. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m not feeling receptive for any tutoring. I’m getting breakfast and a few hours of sleep, if that’s okay. What about you?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that,” Jena said, expecting Ezra to follow her toward a table.

  Akiva didn’t follow, and Ezra didn’t see him again for several hours.

  Chapter 7

  The Minotaur

  Ezra was still tired and ill when he met with Alice in the Compatibility labs. He was directed towards a small meeting room, where he found Alice in the presence of two others.

  “Ezra, how was your morning? I hear Barnes got you good,” Alice said. She looked remarkably well, like she hadn’t had a single drink the night before. Ezra still looked at her with great respect; she was so beautiful in such an honest and human way. The fact that she was his superior and teacher gave her an added aura of intelligent authority that was irresistible.

  “I think I handled it well, ma’am. Where are the others?”

  “With their respective teams, in their own meetings. Welcome to your first Crew Meeting—the first of many. I want you to meet the two crewmembers who will be in charge of Besoe Nandi: Dr. Lance Mustang, and Lance Corporal Katherine Covington.”

  Ezra shook their hands. Mustang looked down at Ezra from almost a foot above, but had a frame that made his uniform sag as if dangling loosely from a hanger. His uniform, though clearly Zenith’s, had a few differences from the rest: it lacked the shoulder pads and many of the pockets. Ezra deduced that this was the uniform worn by the non-military Zenith personnel.

  Katherine seemed almost completely opposite in appearance: she was very short, yet stood with a poise and confidence that turned her into a striking figure.

  “Nice to meet you Dr. Mustang, Lance Corporal Covington,” he said.

  “Pleasure is mine, sir,” Katherine said, bowing her head in an awkward gesture Ezra’s insecurities did not appreciate. “Feel free to call me Kat, sir.”

  “Blanchard, sir, it is an honor,” said Lance in a strange accent. “I am an admirer of your family.”

  “Where’s your accent from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I was born in Kerek, sir. It’s another domed city, very, very far away. It—well, it doesn’t exist anymore. My family was brought here after I was born, and it fell to the laani not much after.”

  “When was that, anyway? You look very young to call yourself ‘doctor.’”

  “I’m thirty-two years old, sir,” he replied, and Ezra was surprised. Lance didn’t have a single hair on his face and had skin like a child. Were he to guess Lance’s age, he wouldn’t have gone past twenty.

  “Normally your counselor would be here too, but you made a request for an outside transfer,” said Alice. “Corporal Susan Higgins, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ezra said. “I was told I would take some tests to see if she’s a good match for me.”

  “Yeah, you will, tomorrow night after classes. Just between us, I’m glad you made the request; I am very, very fond of Corporal Higgins—I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. As CDSL, my vote in favor of her transfer will have some weight,” she said. “I wish I had had that power last year.”

  He nodded and smiled. Ezra was glad he had finally found someone who thought it was a good idea to have Susan in Zenith. He had truly begun to doubt her intentions and question her methods; Alice’s approval of Susan was remarkably validating. “Thank you very much, ma’am. I appreciate it.”

  “For now, Dr. Mustang and Lance Corporal Covington are assigned to Besoe Nandi. They’ve been training to be Creux crewmembers for a while now, and they know everything you need to know about Nandi. They will be sharing a dormitory with you and are at your disposal if you need anything.”

  Though it hadn’t been stated outright, it seemed to Ezra that these two individuals were his subordinates, if only to a limited capacity. Ezra wasn’t sure he liked the idea of being someone’s superior—he had imagined if he ever got to that position, he would have already gained enough experience to be comfortable.

  Lance stepped forward and handed Ezra a file. “These are the specifications of Besoe Nandi, sir. We will go through them so you can familiarize yourself with the suit. Afterwards, we can go down to the docking bay so you can see it in the flesh. . . so to speak.”

  “I’d like that,” Ezra said and looked down at the folder, which had the Besoe Nandi insignia printed on the cover. He opened the file to read the first document.

  Something told him that it was data he had to memorize, but it was hard when he understood so little of the information presented. Of course, Dr. Yuri had said he wouldn’t pi
lot the Creux for at least a month, so there was time—and eagerness—to learn.

  The meeting began when they sat down and the crew, with occasional contributions by Alice, answered some of Ezra’s questions. There were three topics in particular that concerned him. “It says here the suit is heavy and that I need to be physically strong to pilot it efficiently. I’m not.”

  “We are aware,” Alice said. “You’ll have physical training to gain some weight and add strength so you can control your Creux like we expect you to. That is not something you should be worried about.”

  Ooh boy.

  “Okay. So, uh, what is this stat here—temperament?”

  Kat answered, or tried to. “That’s a word coined by Dr. Dahlia Mizrahi, may she rest in peace. She used it to define the Creux’s personality. It’s hard to explain until you pilot it, Blanchard, sir, but each suit has a mind of its own. It will test you, play with your head, and even fight you for control; it is very important you never lose to him. Once you meet Besoe Nandi, you’ll describe the suit’s temperament to us so we can profile him.”

  This was particularly hard to understand, and any further explanation coming from any of the three experts only made the whole thing more confusing.

  He pretended to understand and moved on, only hoping the lessons he’d take in the upcoming month would be more helpful. “What about this: technomancy. I know that word, but what does it mean in this context?”

  “Technomancy is the ability Creux have that make them so valuable. We don’t know yet how it works or where it comes from, exactly—”

  “Shocker,” Ezra whispered, but everyone heard it, and the cynical sarcasm was more embarrassing for him than anyone else in the room.

  “So we don’t know how it works, but every Creux has come equipped with a core of naturally refreshing energy it can use in either offensive, defensive, or support techniques, all unique to each Creux. Nandi is a Tank class, which means it is heavily armored and can absorb great damage.”

  “Is that what ‘T-Core Rate’ means?”

  “No. Well, yes—well, no. They’re related. The rate is the speed at which Nandi re-charges and is able to fire again. That word there, T-Core, it’s short for Technomancy Core, the area in the Creux that stores the energy,” Lance explained, or tried to. “The efficiency of the Creux’s technomancy is measured in sparks per pulse, and the power is measured by the concentration of sparks per cubic foot of energy. The T-Core is always full of this energy, but a large part of that is useless, so the concentration of sparks per cubic feet is what matters. In other words, Nandi is a strong hitter but very slow to recharge. Are you following, sir?”

  “No, not at all,” Ezra said, eyes on the information sheet, trying to puzzle out the numbers and terms, but finding it to be too complex for his exhausted mind.

  Alice laughed. “It’s a lot of information, but that’s what the next month is for. You should study that file, Blanchard. You are expected to know all of those specs by heart by the end of the week.”

  “If you have any questions, come to us,” Kat offered.

  “Now.” Alice got up. “Are you ready to meet Nandi?”

  Kat excused herself to attend to some business, and Ezra followed Alice and Lance down a long descending tunnel that made Ezra wonder just how big Zenith was.

  They passed by a giant door labeled CREUX DOCKING CHAMBERS and entered an even longer hallway. On the wall to his right, there were numbered doors, each spaced at least twenty feet from the next. The group walked the length of the passage until they reached door 14, on which a decal with the Besoe Nandi crimson bull had been freshly applied.

  The chamber was walled by screens and computers, all of which were currently dead. Right before him, opposite the door, there was a huge window overlooking the massive docking bay, wherein the Creux waited.

  Ezra approached the window to set eyes on Besoe Nandi for the first time.

  At the other side of the thick glass, there stood a monster. Though the document had said that Nandi was fifty-five feet in height, it seemed much bigger when beheld in person, even if the thing’s feet stood far below and it stretched up to look through the window.

  It was decidedly humanoid in shape and well-deserving of its alias, The Minotaur. Its chest and shoulders were massive over its comparatively small waist. Most imposing of all were the two bull’s horns stretching sideways and up from the sides of its head. They looked too heavy to be supported even by its thickly armored neck.

  A helmet-like structure stretched down over one central eye like an angry brow—a cycloptic scowl staring him down. Scattered around the main eye, there were many other smaller ones of varying sizes; Ezra could only imagine what technologies were behind its bizarre and terrifying gaze.

  You, it seemed to say with its mouthless face. I don’t welcome you.

  “I’m going to pilot that?” Ezra said, wide eyes on the iron monster.

  “Don’t let it scare you,” Alice said, standing by his side and affectionately putting her hand on his lower back. “It is terrifying, I know. It looks like it could crush you, and it could. I know how scary it is to think about attempting to control a thing like this, but it’s in your blood to do it.”

  Ezra was a million miles away, lost in Nandi’s blue eye, through which he’d soon be seeing.

  Alice held his hand and Ezra looked down at the link, trying to understand its significance, or lack thereof. “You’ll do it. You were born to do it.”

  “Is he the biggest?”

  “Oh no,” Alice said. “Ares is bigger. Mine—Omega—is bigger. Milos Ravana, the one Kiva was sorted into, is more or less the same size, only not as . . . bulky, I guess is the word.”

  Ezra looked away from the horrifying eye of the Minotaur and paid closer attention to the chamber. It was not very big: about fifteen feet by twelve feet and occupied mostly by computers and screens. A large, egg-shaped red capsule sat in one corner, connected by tubes and wires to the computers, floor, and walls. “What is that, ma’am?”

  “It’s called a Creux Synchronization Capsule, but we call it the Cardinal’s Egg, or just Egg. The more pretentious ones call it the Womb,” she said, and her eyes regarded the Egg with a quality of fear Ezra didn’t understand. “This is the space your body will occupy when you pilot Nandi.”

  Ezra frowned and looked at the Egg, which looked too small for it to be at all comfortable.

  Lance approached the Egg and slid his hand over its smooth, polished surface. “Think of it as a remote cockpit, sir. Of course the Creux will be miniaturized, but it cannot happen if you are inside it; you would be crushed. It’s a safe alternative, as well. Even if you could be miniaturized along with it, this way nothing is likely to happen to the pilot if something happens to the suit.”

  “That’s not very comforting,” Ezra said and gave the Minotaur one more look.

  Why did it feel like the creature was looking back at him?

  Classes began early the following day. Ezra woke up early, just after the dome’s simulated dawn, which appeared to function with the exact same technology as the one that protected Roue from the outside world, and its dwellers.

  Groggy and still troubled by the memory of Nandi’s many eyes, Ezra showered and met with Jena outside his room, glancing at his crew’s bedroom on his way out—they had already left for the day, leaving their chambers tidier than Ezra ever could hope to leave his.

  The group of newcomers, excluding Kiva, walked together towards the lecture halls. They were lucky Jena had remembered to bring her class program, because neither Ezra nor Poole had.

  As he understood that first day, his classes would be divided into three categories: Entry Lectures, which would cover all the most basic knowledge a pilot is expected to completely understand and would be taken by all four of them, alone; Regular Lectures, which covered up-to-date data such as developing battle strategies, and they would take with all the other pilots; finally, Remedial Lectures, which he’d take by hi
mself under the tutorship of Jena and Kiva.

  The duration of the Entry and Remedial lessons would depend on the results of the tests he would take in four weeks, and could altogether end as soon as then.

  Kiva joined the trio late for the first class: an Entry Lecture imparted by Alice herself. For two hours, she talked about Zenith’s history, peppered with details about The Fall of Terria, the event that had introduced the laani onto the planet and forced the surviving members of humanity into domed cities.

  After Alice’s history lesson, the four of them moved to another classroom for another Entry Lecture: Basic Alien Virology, imparted by Dr. Mizrahi.

  “The laani is often referred to as a virus, but that’s not what it actually is,” Dr. Mizrahi said. “The laani is an organism that found this planet in the Fall of Terria, arriving in many shapes: from the large monsters that roam the planet, quickly bullying their way into becoming a dominant species, to the microscopic organisms that are deadly to organic life,” she said and started writing on the board. The first word was VIRION, then LAANI BUBBLE, then lv-DNA, LAANPHAGE, GRIEVER’S POINT. None of these seemed to be connected to another. “The smallest independent form of the laani, the laanphage, is colloquially called a Laani Fleck; these are miniature, independent beings that work in large groups called Flashes. Most of your missions—your operations, missions—will involve battling these aggrupations which move from one organ to another, infecting their wake. We have mapped the manner the laani moves when infecting a body through the respiratory system, and we have defined one moment that marks the difference between a human body being salvageable from infection and when it’s lost to disease.”

  Ezra took notes of every word, drawing and chart she put on the blackboard, but despite his efforts, it was during this class when Ezra understood that he was truly behind in his basic studies. Though Dr. Mizrahi was a good teacher (ignoring her bizarre way of speaking and reasoning), she was talking to him in terms that required a certain domain over chemistry and biology—a domain Ezra did not possess, however basic.