The Armor of God

by Diego Valenzuela

  “It’s going to be okay, Jena. It’s going to—”

  “No,” she said barely able to speak through the tears, having to stop after every other word to collect herself. “Dr. Mizrahi said it’s not pneumastratis, Ezra. It’s not a disease in the lungs—it’s the laani!”

  Chapter 9

  One Last Day

  Leonardo Crescent was taken into isolation two days after Ezra’s visit, and that was the last time the man ever saw his daughter. Dr. Mizrahi declared him dead three days later and, though very few of the people in Zenith had met or even heard of him, the solemn aura of painful loss had spread to every corner of the facility.

  There was no religious dominion in Zenith or even Roue, and like most of the remaining human population, neither Jena nor Leonardo professed any faith. Thus, the ceremony wore no colors except the traditional black of mourning.

  Calling it a ceremony would be generous, however, as it was no such thing. Ezra had thought that, being this place was so used to death, there would be some sort of ceremonial protocol to send off the departed, but such wasn’t the case.

  A group of people, none of whom were there by anything except their own free will, gathered in the sports pitch, where several rows of plastic chairs had been arranged pointing North. The dome above simulated a colorful day—a day so beautiful it could never exist outside, under a real sky that was incapable of such colors.

  Jena had been given a box that contained the ash remains of her father’s body, or at least the ones that had not been deemed possible contaminants. For reasons Ezra couldn’t understand, she was trying very hard not to cry, but it was a battle she should never fight and could never win. She sat in the front row between Ezra and Kiva, the latter’s arm around her, offering his large shoulder to rest her head.

  “I don’t want to be weak,” she whispered as she clutched the box.

  “You have every right to be weak,” Kiva replied to her in a comforting whisper Ezra didn’t agree with.

  “It’s not weakness to cry,” Ezra protested. “Do what you have to do.”

  It was Ezra’s approach that hit her hard, so she began sobbing, burying her face on Akiva’s uniform. Akiva only looked ahead, where Dr. Yuri and Dr. Mizrahi stood, looking down at Jena and the congregation.

  “Second Private Crescent has refused to speak, and it is a wish we will respect. There is not one in here who hasn’t experienced loss and tragedy,” Dr. Yuri said, and Ezra again disagreed. Ezra had never lost a close friend or family member. “It is never easy for any of us when we lose one of ours, or when one of ours loses one of theirs. We live in community and unity, and one person’s pain is everyone’s pain.”

  Ezra scanned his surroundings to see who had joined them and was saddened to discover that the turnout was small. The most conspicuous absence was Poole’s, which Ezra found strange; she had never been close to Jena, but it seemed too cold, even for her, to not offer at least her company in Jena’s time of mourning.

  Both of Jena’s crewmembers were there, as well as Susan, Garros, Erin, and of course Alice, who couldn’t stop crying. Susan held Alice’s hand in a comfort, but it didn’t do much help. Garros also seemed to be on the verge of tears, and it was Erin who offered him a hand to hold. Tessa was also there, standing near Ezra and holding a violin behind her.

  “It was the laani that took Mr. Crescent’s life. If we can salvage something from this loss, it should be this: Let it be fuel for your determination,” Dr. Yuri said. “Everyone here is training and studying new methods to fight this disease so this may never happen again, and we may take back this world.” He let these last words, which he had said before, sink in for a moment. “All rise for the anthem.”

  All rose to their feet, and Tessa began to play the valiant and melodic national anthem of Roue on her violin. Perhaps there was a change in the tonality of the song, because it rid the melody of all heroism, turning it into a dirge. He thought she saw tears stream down her face; such was the power of the melody.

  Jena cried throughout the song and when it was finished, the congregation scattered. Most of the people present took a moment to walk over to Jena and offer their condolences before going back to their respective business; after all, it was a weekday.

  After a silent time alone with her and Kiva, Ezra himself left them to be together under that colorful, impossible sky.

  Jena was excused for classes that day, but she didn’t take the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts, memories, and the remains of her father. By third period, when Erin and Garros were giving their Engineering class, Jena walked into the lecture hall. No one said a word until she sat down next to Ezra and opened her notebook.

  “Crescent, you don’t have to be here,” Garros said. “It’s okay if you want to take the day off. I’ll ask Ezra or someone to catch you up.”

  “No, I know. I want to be here. Please, continue.” Kiva took her hand and attempted to smile. Ezra then turned toward Poole, who was doing everything she could to avoid looking at Jena—she knew she should have been with her that morning, and now felt guilty.

  Erin continued the lecture. It was the fourth engineering class, and it focused more closely on the basics of mechanics and materials that made the Creux and the Equivalency Suits functional. This time, Garros and Erin had dismantled a scaled-down but otherwise exact replica of Absolute Omega’s T-Core, and attempted to explain its construction.

  Ezra was happy to discover that there was another class he wouldn’t need help with. He wanted to learn more about the Creux; it was the laani he had trouble understanding. Maybe it was just his natural disposition: He was better at understanding the weapon than the enemy.

  After that day, his life inside Zenith continued as expected, and there were even moments when Ezra felt guilty for starting to enjoy himself again so soon after his friend’s loss.

  Ezra met with Susan twice a week for their scheduled counseling sessions. With each one, he became more convinced that his decision to have her transferred to Zenith had been a good one. Yes, she might have not been entirely honest with him, but still it seemed to Ezra that, like himself, she belonged in Zenith. Some days it felt like she, Alice, and Garros were his most sincere friends—even more so than Kiva, who lately appeared to be keeping too many secrets.

  Since Leonardo’s passing, Susan would inquire about his feelings towards death in every session. Ezra’s answer never changed: “I’m sad for Jena because I know she’s sad, but that’s it,” he would say. “I don’t know how she feels. If there is something controlling our lives, and even if there isn’t, I’m thankful that I’ve never lost a family member or a close friend. I hope it doesn’t happen.”

  Susan would nod at this reply, and when he repeated himself the third time, she said something that surprised him: “You’ve always told me that sincerity is something you appreciate in someone, especially your friends. So why do I feel like you’re not being sincere right now?”

  “I don’t know, Corporal,” he said after a short beat.

  He immediately regretted his reply; completely avoiding a denial of Susan’s claim was a confirmation of it in itself. She smiled. “I feel you’re not handling the idea of his death very well. Your lives changed so much, like you took a train to another world, when you came here. It’s always a shock to realize that death is as real in this world as it was in your old one. Doesn’t it bother you that the laani is as much a threat in here as it was in Roue?”

  “He’s had pneumastratis for years.”

  “Yet it was here where it developed into a laani infection.”

  “Yes, and I don’t understand why that happened,” Ezra said, finally giving words to a question that had been bothering him. “How could the man live unusually long with pneumastratis and then die of laani infection a week after coming to Zenith?”

  Susan stared at him, perhaps thinking of the best way to answer, or deflect, the question, but then spoke honestly. “I don’t know, Ezra. Your tests will take place
next week. I hope you’re ready for them.”

  “Preparing myself has been the only thing on my mind, Corporal,” he said.

  And it was true.

  It took Jena just a few days to return to a very accurate representation of her former self, reserving her tears and mourning for the solitude of her dormitory. Throughout the remaining of the month, Ezra met with her and Kiva four times a week for tutoring on the Moreau, and it was during those hours, when it was only the three friends who joined Zenith together, that he could see that Jena would be all right after the death of her father.

  It took a lot of effort for Ezra to truly retain the information Jena and Kiva were trying to teach. Alone, they were very good teachers, as they had an almost complete understanding of the material and were both very patient; together, however, it was more difficult—they didn’t seem to agree on each other’s methods, and were more concerned with enjoying themselves than in teaching Ezra.

  “Oh cripes. What are you doing?” Akiva would playfully protest during a chemistry session, wiping Jena’s still unfinished equations from the board to begin his own work. “Who taught you chemistry?”

  “Your mom taught me chemistry! You’re awful at this. Here, Ezra don’t listen to him—this is how you balance an equation.” Jena would start her work again on another side of the blackboard.

  Kiva was too interested in proving himself the smartest one in the room, and would compete with Jena in every exercise of every topic of every subject, sometimes doing it, Ezra thought, just to play a part. It was amusing, and Ezra definitely liked seeing Jena being playful again, but the sessions were becoming a waste of their time.

  This went on for days until Ezra felt the pressure of the tests, and the Moreau in particular, building up, so he politely declared the tutoring sessions ended. There was protest from Jena and especially Kiva, who particularly enjoyed the role of teacher, but both conceded with an apology that they hadn’t been as helpful as they should have been.

  In the end it was Besoe Nandi’s crewmembers, Kat and Dr. Mustang, who in just three days explained what Jena and Kiva couldn’t in weeks. Kat and Lance seemed genuinely concerned about Ezra’s education and appeared to have more experience as teachers and instructors, so they were far more efficient tutors. Ezra smiled, thinking about how Poole had been right all along.

  In addition to the hours of studying and lectures, Ezra, Jena, Kiva, and Poole clocked a total of thirty-eight hours in the Equivalency Suits before the end of the month. Though Ezra’s progress was still the slowest of all four, there was definite improvement that made Garros very proud.

  The huge, bearded pilot would often commend Ezra on his progress and discipline, but Ezra wouldn’t call it discipline when he enjoyed practicing in the suits so much. Every time the suit encased his body in its protective wrap, he felt more and more comfortable and at home inside. By the end of the month, thanks to extensive and exhausting physical training sessions with Garros, Ezra had grown stronger and could much more easily move inside the Nandi suit. At Alice’s recommendation, they even played a short game of ball while wearing the suits, just to test the pilots’ improved mobility. It was brutal and exhausting, but fun.

  When it was time to finish their introductory period to Zenith, Ezra felt smarter and stronger—a different person entirely: one prepared and more than capable of becoming a true Creux Pilot.

  The last day of their period of integration was a Friday, almost four weeks after their arrival. Following a long night of group study, they woke up an hour later than they usually would and met in the grand lecture hall. The advancement tests waited for all four of them, though Ezra would first have to take the Moreau.

  Overseeing the tests were Dr. Mizrahi, Alice, and finally Susan. Susan’s presence was a choice, and she sat there in her Roue Army uniform, looking at the children like a proud mother, a book in her hand.

  All four of them started at the same time, and Ezra finished the Moreau upon the hour. He had completed every segment of the exam with ease, only stopping for brief moments to remember basic equations and procedures taught to him by his crewmembers just a few days earlier.

  Following a very short break in which he left the room to drink a can of soda and then piss it out in the restrooms, Ezra returned to receive his standardized advancement test in the form of one very heavy booklet and an answer sheet.

  Sitting down and preparing himself to tear the seal between him and the test, he took a look at the others. Out of the other three, it was Jena who looked frustrated and stuck; Kiva and Poole, though barely halfway through the test, appeared to be as focused and confident as Ezra felt.

  The gap in difficulty between the two tests was an unpleasant surprise. Indeed, Ezra felt like all the material being tested had been covered either during their Entry Lectures or tutoring, but it was still much more complicated than the Moreau. As he had expected, it was the content covered in Dr. Mizrahi’s science classes that halted his otherwise assertive stride through the examination.

  He was still missing one third of the exam when Jena finished and handed hers to Dr. Mizrahi. She had been the third, and they were each silently ushered out of the room after finishing, leaving Ezra alone.

  During a moment of hesitation given by a particularly tricky question that could be answered by two of the possibilities provided (93. In Laani Virology, the term ‘Griever’s Point’ refers to: A), the host range of the human laansivirus-6; B), the maximum infection range before a host body becomes unsalvageable; C), the moment in which the single stranded DNA expands to double-stranded infected cells; D), the apex of an RNA coil of repeating protein sub-units), Ezra looked towards the desk at the front of the room, where Susan sat. Corporal Higgins, looking over the results of the Moreau he had completed a few hours earlier, gave him a smile and raised her thumb.

  Ezra was confident in his guess that the gesture meant that he had passed, which made him feel even better.

  The final segment of the test covered the engineering lectures in Garros and Erin’s class. Ezra breezed through most of the engineering section, immediately identifying materials and diagrams. He handed his answer sheet after three and a half hours: a fairly standard time.

  “The results—the results of the exam—you’ll get them tomorrow before your synchronization test,” Dr. Mizrahi said. “I have no doubt they will be satisfactory. We expect you to be well fed and well rested tomorrow at eight in the morning in the Compatibility labs. Eight in the morning. Compatibility labs.” Dr. Mizrahi picked up her things—a briefcase and the remains of an unfinished sandwich—before she left the grand lecture hall.

  “You looked confident,” said Susan.

  “Are you going to make me some money?” Alice asked, taking Ezra’s answer sheet from his hand. “There was a pool again—we’re betting on your score. If you get over 90 percent but under 95, I’m a bit richer. So hey, if I win I’ll treat you to dinner during our next outing to the city.”

  Don’t these guys have anything better to do? he thought, but worded a better question. “Did someone bet above you, ma’am?”

  “Garros did,” Alice said and put all four answer-sheets in a folder. “That guy has faith in you.”

  “Poor bastard,” Ezra replied. “Am I right in thinking I passed the Moreau, Corporal?”

  “You are, you did,” said Susan, and looked down at the document that broke down Ezra’s answers. “87 percent overall. Congratulations, Private First Class Blanchard.”

  The smile he showed her was not entirely honest. Ezra felt proud that he had earned his first promotion, finally joining his friends in their entry rank. Behind that thin veil of pride, however, was disappointment; he had expected a much higher result in the Moreau. Even after his second attempt, he had fallen short of Jena and Kiva.

  “Don’t look so glum,” said Susan and opened the door for him. “You got 62 percent last time. That’s a huge improvement, and a passing grade.”

  “I just thought I had done bett
er,” he said. Susan and Alice followed him out of the grand lecture hall and towards the dining room.

  “Go get something to eat. You have free time until tomorrow morning, but if I were you I’d book the Training Arena and the Equivalency Suits. The synchronization test is tomorrow,” Alice said. “It won’t hurt to be a little more prepared.”

  “She’s right,” said Susan. “Also, we don’t have a scheduled session, but I’m not going to be busy after lunch, so give me a call if you need help preparing for the test. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll join you and your crew in Nandi’s docking chamber to look over your synch tests. I’m sure you’ll be all right.”

  Ezra thanked them both and walked into the dining hall to be immediately greeted by Garros and Erin, who showered him with questions.

  Before sitting down with them to discuss the exams and their possible result, he overheard Alice speak, not to him, but to Susan: “Hey, join me for lunch? Need to talk to you.”

  He saw them find a table at the far corner, where they could find a semblance of privacy for a talk clearly not intended for anyone else’s ears.

  Still upset by his disappointing performance in the Moreau, Ezra stripped himself of all the ersatz confidence he had gained during his deceitful performance. Overconfidence could mean failure, and he needed to avoid it. He knew he should follow Alice’s advice and take some time to train, but when he considered his possibilities, Ezra realized that all he really needed was some sleep.

  Before retiring to his dormitory, Ezra took a walk down to the Docking Bay, where Kat and Dr. Mustang were making final preparations for Besoe Nandi’s first launch. Ezra thanked them for their effective tutoring and lied about his results on the Moreau, adding a few digits to his real score, just to make them feel a little better about their service.

  Then, he looked at Nandi, who was staring into the chamber like a monster planning to destroy it. Still, The Minotaur was passive. Ezra looked at his eyes, a set of which he had worn for many hours already in the Training Arena.