The Armor of God

by Diego Valenzuela

“I’m in, I see you,” Davenport said and laughed through the speakers. “I’m wearing The Armor of God!”

  Ю

  Ezra had been sitting inside the Egg for ten minutes and three times already he had heard the sound of cheers and laughter. He had tried to believe Susan’s words, assuring him that it was safe and that nothing would happen to his body or mind, but he couldn’t help feeling nervous. The tiny monsters in his stomach were back, and they hurt.

  “He did it!” Susan ran into the room, a big smile on her face. “Akiva synchronized with Milos Ravana! Everything is stable!”

  A great wave of relief took him and washed away a lot of anxiety. It was then that he understood that most of it stemmed from fear, not for his own safety, but for Kiva’s. Four false matches had died trying to do what Kiva had just done.

  “That is wonderful!” Dr. Mustang said. “I wish I had been placed with Milos!”

  “I’m sitting right here,” said Ezra, and Dr. Mustang apologized.

  “Poole is in as well,” Susan said. “They’re coming now. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ezra said. “Oh and ma’am? Can I—can I tell you something? First Lieuten—I mean Alice. She’s not feeling very well, ma’am. I don’t want to be indiscreet but she was crying yesterday. I know you two are friends so . . . could you talk to her? Maybe she shouldn’t do this today, maybe someone else—”

  “I know what you mean,” Susan said. “Nothing can stop her from synchronizing with you today, but if it makes you feel any better, I can go talk to her. Maybe I can make her feel better.”

  Ezra wondered if the reason why Alice had cried, why she had drunk herself to such a stupor that she kissed him on the lips, was connected to the conversation she and Susan had at lunch. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Susan smiled at him in a way that reminded him of his mother. It was reassuring.

  Dr. Mizrahi, Alice and Garros walked into the room a minute later. “Three down, one to go,” Alice said and approached the computers and screens next to the window. “How are you feeling, Ezra?”

  “I’m all right, ma’am.”

  “You ready?” asked Garros. Ezra nodded.

  “All right, then. Close the lid,” Alice said.

  Dr. Mustang gently pushed Ezra’s head down, into the Egg, and began pressing a series of buttons before whispering, “Good luck.”

  The lid closed and a rush of anxiety grabbed him in a stranglehold when he felt utterly trapped. It was so dark he couldn’t see his own hand, and the water reached all the way to his ears. He was going to drown—

  “Ezra, can you hear me?” Alice’s voice. It didn’t appear to be coming from speakers of any sort; it was so clear, sounded like she was right there with him. “Do you see a light?”

  “It’s dark, it’s—”

  At the end of the Egg, just above his naked feet, Ezra saw a white dot about the size of a coin. It blinked in a steady cadence, like the sleeping breaths of a newborn. Looking at it filled him with a queer kind of peace.

  The dot came on and off, on and off. The white light appeared to overtake him. It was warm and beautiful. Maybe it was the numbing agents in the fluid, but he no longer felt his own body in the water: only the warmth of the dot—

  Who are you?

  “He’s in,” came a distant voice. “All four synchronized at over eighty percent. Davenport at nearly ninety.”

  He couldn’t move.

  Why are you here?

  “Ezra?” the voice came again, closer now.

  His eyes focused, and he couldn’t completely understand what he was seeing.

  “Ezra, you’re in,” came Garros’ voice. Again, it was as though he was speaking directly into his ear. Finally, he understood what he was seeing: it was the docking chamber, but now he was looking from the other side of the window.

  He was inside Besoe Nandi. He was looking in from the eyes of a giant.

  “Ezra? Is the link set up? Why isn’t he—Ezra?” Alice’s voice sounded horrified. “Ezra, please answer—”

  “I’m here,” Ezra said. “I’m just—I can’t move.”

  What are you doing here?

  Even through the strange technologies that let him hear their voices, Ezra heard Alice sigh in relief. “The Creux is locked. You’ll be able to move when we’re miniaturized. How do you feel?”

  “Strange,” Ezra said, looking down at the crew inside the chamber; they all seemed so small, like ants. “I don’t know. It feels like the Equivalency Suits, but I can’t move.”

  “It does, doesn’t it? All your readings are fine and normal, the synchronization is stable; you were really born to pilot, Ezra. Stay calm and see if you gauge Nandi’s temperament for the report tonight. I’m closing communications, but your crew will still be here at all times, if you need anything. I’m synchronizing with Absolute Omega and we’ll begin Phase Two.”

  Ezra saw Susan pass by the window, wave at him, then disappear. From this vantage point, he couldn’t see the whole room; only the space close to the window, where Garros now stood, giving him a thumbs up.

  Are you the one who is supposed to tame me? You are so small.

  Where were those thoughts coming from? Ezra could almost hear them in his mind, even in his own voice, as though they were his own.

  I am the guardian of the maze. I am the monster appointed to slaughter intruders.

  It was Nandi. These were Nandi’s thoughts Ezra was sharing. Suddenly he felt vulnerable, like he was trapped in a cage with an invisible feral beast that could pounce on him at any moment.

  “I think I can—is this voice—?”

  “What you hear are the thought patterns left behind in Besoe Nandi’s T-Core, Ezra,” he heard Dr. Mustang’s voice. “Remember those are not your thoughts. They are not really there at all. You will have to learn to use the knowledge left inside your Creux to your favor. It is vast.”

  “It’s loopy,” Garros said. “Ares was a butthole at first. You just need to learn it and tame it.”

  I cannot be tamed, Ezra thought. We cannot be tamed.

  No, not Ezra. Nandi.

  “Shut up,” Ezra said.

  “Hey man, take it easy,” Garros replied from inside the docking chamber.

  “No, not you—Nandi, he’s—”

  “Hold on. Ezra? Absolute Omega is online. We’re going to set up a communication network. You will be able to hear all five synchronized Creux, so don’t freak out if you hear too many voices. Setting up link—now.”

  The noise that came next could be compared to a blast of wind suddenly hitting his ears, followed by the overlapping voices of Kiva, Poole, and Jena, each having their own separate conversation with their crewmembers.

  “Shut up, everyone—be quiet!” Alice’s voice boomed over all the rest. “Akiva, please be quiet. Can everyone hear me?”

  All four voices overlapped again. It almost hurt, like having too many thoughts at the same time. He looked down at the docking chamber to try and focus; Kat had joined Garros by the window.

  “We’re going to be here for five minutes while your minds get used to the Creux. It feels alien and strange—Kiva, be quiet—”

  “I didn’t say anyth—”

  “Be quiet! If we all talk at the same time, there will be what we call communication dissonance. The voices are being transferred from each Creux’s respective Egg to all of our Creuxen, and that overlap causes interference and hurts the synchronization. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Akiva, I said be quiet.”

  “Ma’am, I didn’t say anything,” said Kiva. Ezra hadn’t heard Kiva’s voice either; maybe there was a problem with the communications.

  “Ezra, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Jena, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Poole can you—Davenport, I am not joking. You open your mouth again and I will make you—”

  Ezra’s eyes suddenly focused on the inside of the docking chamber. There w
as too much movement. He could see Dr. Mustang moving dials on a computer, but he couldn’t hear anything.

  Something was wrong.

  “Akiva, please!” Alice’s voice yelled, and it sounded like a plea. “Please stop!”

  “Ma’am, I swear on my mother’s grave I am not talking! What is happening?”

  “Something’s wrong,” he heard Jena said. “Something’s—”

  “Please! Please stop!” Alice yelled.

  “Ma’am! I’m not—Alice, I’m not talking! Someone help!” Akiva began to yell, and hearing his usually calm voice spiral to panic disturbed Ezra.

  Finally, he heard Garros’ voice. “Guys, there is a slight overload in the—oh, damn. Uh, okay—okay. Stay calm, we’re unplugging you. Be still, we’re getting all of you out of there. Oh no! Dammit!”

  Alice’s voice was the plea of a tortured soul, begging its torturer to release her through death. “You monster! It hurts so much. Please! Please stop!”

  Ezra began to panic, desperation setting in as he tried to move but found himself completely immobilized by Nandi’s monstrous body. He needed to get out and return to his own.

  “I cannot take it anymore! Someone! Please! Ezra!”

  And then there was dead silence. He saw Garros begin to pound on the machines and scream.

  Thud! Thud!

  The pounding became louder and louder until it was just next to him. He was no longer seeing through Nandi’s eyes, but staring at the white dot that just a few minutes earlier had given him peace.

  The Egg slid open and he heard Garros yelling into a communication device. “Alice Nolan has gone silent. I repeat, Alice Nolan, pilot of Absolute Omega, has gone silent!”

  Ezra gracelessly crawled out of the Egg, dripping the soapy fluid onto the floor and almost slipping on its cold surface. “Where’s Susan?”

  Kat answered: “She’s with Second Lieutenant Nolan—”

  “Ezra, stay here. Don’t move!” Garros growled and continued yelling into the device. “There is an overload in Absolute Omega’s T-Core. We need to maintain—”

  Ezra ran out of the room, ignoring Garros’ deafening roars behind him, again almost slipping and tumbling down onto the hallway. Heart racing, he ran down towards the last door, where he knew Absolute Omega was docked. Where Susan and Alice—

  A piercing sound, like the harsh timbre of strong interference, tore into his ears the closer he got. It became louder and louder until there was nothing else.

  Suddenly Ezra was on the floor, tackled by the enormous mass of Garros.

  “Susan and Alice!” Ezra tried yelling, but the noise became too loud—a cruel, deafening blast. Their ears began to bleed. They screamed.

  Garros looked back towards the end of the hallway and then covered Ezra in a protective hug—

  The entire world shattered.

  He couldn’t breathe when his back and head hit the wall, then his feet the floor, then his head again. Launched away by the blue explosion, Garros and Ezra flew end over end before landing with a thud that sent him to sleep.

  He opened his eyes, but couldn’t hear anything. Erin was covered in dust, crying as she held his head and neck, desperately looking for any signs of severe damage. Ezra couldn’t feel anything—his whole body was numb—but he could read Erin’s lips.

  “Blanchard!”

  Enduring pain in every joint, bone and muscle, he sat up and saw Garros’ massive body sprawled face down on the floor next to him. A large piece of his uniform was burnt off, exposing seared, smoking flesh underneath.

  A few feet away from Garros stood Akiva and Jena. She was screaming, facing the aftermath of the blue eruption: There was nothing but a gap in the hallway.

  Alice. Susan.

  Ezra’s soul left him. He collapsed onto Erin’s hands, wishing never to wake up again.

  We cannot be tamed.

  Chapter 11

  Faces on the Wall

  In his dreams, things were beautiful. In his dreams, life had gone on. In his dreams, his body was big and armored, impervious to damage and his soul was strong, unable to feel sorrow.

  But dreams ended, and when his did, there was only pain.

  A soft song drew him away from the painless land of dreams and back into reality, where life had to continue, with or without his participation. Ezra finally opened his eyes to the heartbreaking realization of having survived.

  His throat hurt, as did his ears, and he couldn’t remember much of the events that had landed him in this recovery room. His last clear memory was being tackled by Garros, and then endless flashes that reminded him that Alice was dead.

  That Susan was dead.

  Had that part been a feverish dream? His hope was low.

  Ezra turned his head to find some unlikely company: it was Poole, sleeping curled up into a ball on a very small couch that barely contained her.

  “Poole?” he said in a weak, raspy voice, and the words were like claws raking at his throat.

  She opened her eyes and got up with a start before leaving the room without saying a word and in a hurry.

  “He’s up,” she said outside, and he barely heard—his hearing was not quite right, as if his ears were blocked. Ezra tried looking around to see that Poole had been his only company, and a thought shook him: How much time had passed since the day of the accident, and what repercussions had it had? The explosion had been enormous, making a clean sphere in the structure; had Zenith suffered further structural damage?

  Was Besoe Nandi still operable, or had this accident taken more—

  He winced and a tear rolled down his face.

  Alice Nolan. Susan Higgins. They wouldn’t walk into the recovery room to wish him good health and thank the creator for their survival—they hadn’t had his luck, good or bad.

  What about Garros? He had been burnt like raw meat protecting Ezra; would he share his guilt, or would he be part of it?

  Poole walked into the room again, followed by Jena and Kiva. Jena ran to his side and hugged him. The pressure of her arms hurt. “You finally woke up!” she said, but her words were a blur to his ears. When she took a step back, Kiva hugged him in a friendly embrace.

  “How long?” Ezra managed to say, licking his dry lips.

  “Seven days,” Kiva said, and again Ezra had to read his lips to understand the words being said.

  Ezra started crying again. Jena took his hand, squeezing it in a comforting gesture that was as futile as it was authentic. “I’m sorry this happened,” said Jena from far away. “It’s been difficult, but they said you would recover. You heal fast, Ezra—just like Garros.”

  “So Garros—”

  “I’m fine,” he said. The large man had been standing by the door. He was wearing his uniform already, but needed the help of a crutch to walk. Limping, Garros walked towards the couch and sat, smiling behind his beard. “We’re hard to kill, Blanchard.”

  He took a deep breath, then summoned the courage to ask: “Did someone die?”

  “Maybe you should—”

  “Please.”

  Garros sighed. “Lieutenant Nolan. Two-thirds of her crew. Corporal Higgins.”

  The confirmation felt like a burning blast—like the explosion all over again.

  “They had their farewell ceremonies; we missed them. We’re making preparations to move on,” Garros said and looked away from Ezra. “We have to do what we have to do.”

  Move on, he thought. Like it’s so damn easy; just prepare yourself and move on. Yeah, right.

  “Now that you’re awake, all the pilots have to vote for a new leader of the CDS,” Garros said. “Then we’ll have to try the synchronization tests again. Whoever is elected will synchronize with you.”

  Ezra began sitting up and Kiva helped him. “What really happened to Alice? Did you figure it out? Why was she screaming, blaming Kiva? He wasn’t doing anything.”

  “Only three bodies were found in the rubble, Ezra,” Kiva said, a bit uncomfortable. “Alice wasn’t
in there, so we think that she was assimilated. She lost control and Absolute Omega betrayed her; it overcharged, causing the explosion. Nothing the computers could pick up suggested it was Milos’ fault, so it’s still considered Active and unhazardous.”

  The explosion again. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “And Nandi?”

  “Nandi and the others are active too; the damage to him was minimal,” said Garros.

  It was stupid to try and think of that as a comfort; two of the only people he had grown to trust had violently died doing something he was expected to do again. How could he hope to find a silver lining?

  The feelings he brought with him into Zenith returned: He wanted to go home; he was wearing boots that were too big for him. “Am I going to be okay?”

  Jena nodded. “We didn’t expect you would wake up until tomorrow, so you’re probably doing well. Oh, and your hearing will return soon. Most of your injuries were external. You’ll be fine, Ezra.”

  “You might return to the classrooms as soon as next week,” said Garros. “If everything goes as planned.”

  “That doesn’t seem to happen a lot around here,” he mumbled.

  Though his hearing wouldn’t fully recover for another week, it took Ezra four more days to feel strong enough to leave the recovery room. That day was a Wednesday, and he left the bed early enough to be able to shower and catch breakfast before his first class.

  He sat down alone, not finding Jena, Kiva, or Poole, but was soon joined by Garros, Erin, and Tessa. Tessa regarded him with a shift in her judgments. She hadn’t spoken to him much and had given him the impression of coldness, not unlike Poole. But now, as she looked at him with a new sense of empathy, he felt in her a warmth he had only seen once before: during Leonardo Crescent’s ceremony, as the mournful notes of a dirge left her violin.

  “Where are the others?” Tessa asked, arranging her long brown hair in a complex braid. “You look better, Ezra. Bit thinner, though.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” Ezra said, moving his food around in his plate. He had been disappointed in feeling the new uniform sag again; in recovery, he had lost some of the size he had earned during that first month. Looking at Garros, Ezra thought the same had happened to him; his arms didn’t quite fill out his very big uniform as they did before.