The Armor of God

by Diego Valenzuela

  Dr. Yuri laughed. “Sergeant Barnes, he is a . . . he is a heavy man; I wouldn’t be surprised if he was being passive aggressive, like maybe he wanted to let you know he was making noise to guilt you into getting up as well. I suppose it would be rather intimidating to confront him about it, eh?” Ezra nodded and feigned a smile. “Well, you won’t have to worry much about him. I don’t know if he told you but he’s cleared to return to Roue at nights, so only his husband will have to worry about the noise.”

  “I suppose, sir.”

  He looked at Ezra for a moment, considering his next words, and the approach to take. “You know there is a lot to be discussed in this room. Seeing me and not Dr. Higgins in this chair must be difficult.” Ezra had never heard Susan’s last name preceded by that title. “You should know that part of the reason why I stepped down to let Director Blanchard—your mother—take my place, was because it was agreed that I would be the right person to cover this job. I’m not only taking over in Dr. Higgins absence; I’m counseling everyone who was involved in the overload of Absolute Omega’s core, whether they’re new here like yourself or Crescent, or veterans like Parks or Perry.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Like I said, there is a lot that you need to say in here, but it doesn’t have to be today. We can circumvent that topic for now and come back when you’re ready, when the wound is not so fresh. In here, I don’t care about the science of the incident, but the marks left in you.”

  They spoke for the whole hour, but it was as difficult for Ezra as he had expected, even if they didn’t touch the subject of the incident. Dr. Yuri appeared to be leading the conversation into strange and unusual places, asking Ezra questions that to him didn’t make much sense but were vaguely connected to life and death.

  Mostly death.

  Ezra just assumed these questions were meant to reveal aspects of himself only Dr. Yuri or someone with similar training could interpret.

  “Do you think about death much, Ezra?” he asked when nearing the end of the session.

  “I’ve always preferred not to,” Ezra said honestly. “But I’ve been thinking about it more lately.”

  “What is death to you?”

  He took a moment to answer. Susan always asked him to be introspective, but rarely, if ever, delved into philosophical issues. Ezra didn’t like to think that way. “I—the end of life, I guess.”

  “For you, is it something that’s easy to define?”

  “I don’t understand the question.”

  “Is death easily defined? I’m asking whether you think there’s a moment in which you could believe that a being could be neither alive nor dead.”

  He blinked; the question seemed too obvious, so he assumed it was some manner of trick. “If you’re not alive, you’re dead—I don’t think I’m following, Dr. Yuri.”

  “Let me rearticulate the question. Have you ever had pets?”

  “My sister had a dog when I was ten.”

  “Had, then. How did the dog die?”

  “She had to put him to sleep. A bigger dog attacked him outside our house,” Ezra choked when saying this, and not because of the memory itself. “My sister’s dog couldn’t walk anymore.”

  “So she put it down?”

  “She couldn’t play with it anymore, or walk it anywhere. It couldn’t even take a crap without my sister’s help anymore. The dog was in pain.”

  “Did you protest her decision to put him down?”

  “I did when I was a kid,” Ezra said, remembering the moment when he heard his sister ask the doctor to put the dog down. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but that was the first time Ezra faced the reality of death. “It seemed cruel and unfair to me then, but I don’t think I would protest the decision now.”

  “Do you think there’s a moment, a line to cross, when it’s acceptable to you to put a dog down, and then when it isn’t acceptable anymore?” Dr. Yuri asked.

  “If the dog isn’t a dog anymore—”

  “When did your sister’s dog stop being a dog?”

  “When it stopped serving the function—no, wait. When he couldn’t do anything he could—no, hold on.” This was a question that didn’t have an answer, but Dr. Yuri seemed to expect one, and it was frustrating. “I don’t know. It’s something you have to decide on a case-by-case basis. There isn’t a formula to when it’s acceptable to take a life, even a dog’s. Why are you asking me this?”

  Dr. Yuri nodded. “Come with me.”

  The thin man led Ezra out of the studies and into the Compatibility labs. “Where are we going, sir?”

  “The research labs,” Dr. Yuri replied and stopped before a large door in the corner of the labs, opposite to the docking area. Ezra had noticed the door before, but had only seen Dr. Mizrahi take it; he had never had clearance himself.

  Dr. Yuri produced a keycard from his coat and slid it over a sensitive panel. The door opened to another long hallway.

  How big is this damned place? Ezra thought as both made their way into the dark corridor, which lit up upon their entry. The deeper they went, the louder the distinct and somehow familiar sound of painful howls became. “What is that noise?”

  “Someone who will make you think about my question, and your purpose here,” Dr. Yuri said and opened another door with his keycard. Ezra noticed the words CLEARANCE LEVEL 8 NEEDED permanently indented onto the door, and just below: SUBJECT EDWARD TESTING CHAMBER. “You should know, Ezra, that what I will tell you and show you now is strictly confidential, and you are not to share it with anyone, not even the other pilots.”

  Though nervous, there was a strange feeling of pride in Ezra. Why was classified information being shared with him? It felt like growth.

  This door opened to a huge egg-shaped chamber, and they stepped onto a catwalk structure that circled the interior of the room from about thirty feet above floor level. This place smelled like dead animals and excrement, so when Dr. Yuri covered his nose and mouth with a tissue, Ezra did the same using his shirt.

  A horrifying howl made Ezra wince because it came from just below his feet. The catwalk appeared to be an observation deck for whatever it was Zenith kept below—whatever made those terrible wails.

  Dr. Yuri stood at the edge of the deck, hands on strong iron railings, and invited him to look down. Ezra was afraid to approach the railing to oversee the animal below, but was compelled to in previously unfelt morbid curiosity.

  “This is Subject Edward, Ezra,” Dr. Yuri said, and Ezra finally looked down. It was a very large animal, and not one he had ever seen or heard of before. Though it was squatting down over a meal, it seemed to be extremely big. It was almost humanoid in shape, in possession of a very large, powerful torso, but thin long legs and arms that didn’t seem capable of holding the weight of its muscular midsection. Its head sat atop a remarkably thick neck and was vaguely equine in shape. Its skin was hard, similar to what Ezra knew elephants’ skin used to be.

  The thing—Subject Edward—heard Ezra’s voice and looked up at him. As though it could recognize him, the foul creature got on its deceivingly strong legs and hissed at him, baring sharp teeth that dripped its meal’s blood. Standing on its hind legs, it was at least twenty-five feet tall, and terrifying even when beheld from the safety of the catwalk.

  “This is what lies outside Roue, in the wastelands. You were told these monsters arrived with the laani when it fell on our planet, but that is a lie. All that arrived with it was the virus, and this is what that virus makes of a living thing: It mutates its host. Even after an animal’s death, the laani can regenerate enough of the dead tissue to bring it back to life and mutate it into a giant version of the contaminant itself.”

  “This—it used to be a human being?”

  Dr. Yuri considered the question, looking at Ezra in the eye. “Maybe it was a dog, or a horse. But if I said it used to be a human being, would you protest to kill it? We could do it. Right now, with just the pressing of a button, I could incinera
te Subject Edward. Remember it can’t think beyond its basic cravings and its instinct for survival. Do you think it should be killed?”

  Ezra’s heart began to hurt, increasing its pulse to what felt like a dangerous rate. His head hurt, and tried to believe that Dr. Yuri was lying to test him. “Can—can it be cured? Can it be brought back to normal?”

  “The work you and your fellow pilots do inside your Creuxen is trying to accomplish precisely that. We’re close, I like to believe, but if you asked me to cure it today, it would be impossible. So, should it be killed?”

  Ezra looked at the pathetic creature, then back at Dr. Yuri. The man was torturing him, testing values and morality Ezra had never cared to exercise. “If it can’t be cured—”

  “What if I told you that this very creature you’re looking at used to be someone you knew personally? Maybe someone you loved.”

  Ezra’s eyes returned to the monster below him.

  “Should it be killed?”

  Chapter 13

  Inside and Out

  Ezra’s relationship with Dr. Yuri changed forever after that first poorly named counseling session. The man kept pelting Ezra with the same question over and over again, giving it different angles and hoping he wouldn’t notice. Every question was made more frustrating when he denied Ezra answers of his own. Ezra had to know if the last words he said in Subject Edward’s chamber had any truth to them.

  What if I told you that this very creature you’re looking at used to be someone you knew personally? Maybe someone you loved.

  Was that the case, or was Dr. Yuri only trying him, torturing him psychologically as some kind of cruel test, part of an even crueler training? Maybe his mother’s return to Zenith had something to do with it, but she was not as available as she had promised on the day of her arrival, and every chance Ezra had to be with her, she seemed to deflect questions about Zenith—she said she wanted to forget they were both trapped, and wanted to enjoy those few moments she had with her son.

  Who could it be, if it was someone he knew? Ezra had not lost many people close to him, but many friends of the family had to be hospitalized and eventually died because of a sudden and unexplainable laani infection.

  The old family housekeeper who sang lullabies to him and his sisters. His father’s estranged father. His sister’s dog. Susan. Alice.

  Akiva had said Alice’s body had not been found—maybe the Egg had protected her from that devastating explosion; maybe the contact with the outside after the structure fissured had infected her.

  Ezra shook his head, deciding to ignore those thoughts, and a more obvious name came to him: Leonardo Crescent. Jena’s father. He had died of a laani infection. Dr. Mizrahi assured everyone that he had been declared dead and was then cremated, but now Ezra could easily believe that Zenith and its directors were capable of telling lies.

  Did that include his mother? Was she keeping more painful truths from him?

  Ezra didn’t want to think these things, even if they were unavoidable. He especially didn’t want to think them now that he sat inside the Besoe Nandi synchronization capsule as Barnes and Dr. Mustang prepared the Creux for launch.

  The day when he was expected to synchronize with the Minotaur had come too soon, and the moment was upon him.

  The newly appointed leader of the Creux Defense Squad, and the newly promoted First Lieutenant Erin Perry, had been in the room when Ezra stepped into the Egg. “Thank you again for your vote, Ezra. I won’t disappoint you,” she had said. “See you on the other side.”

  She had then gone with her crew to the room where Phoenix Atlas was docked, and Ezra hoped that wouldn’t be the last time he’d see Erin. It was amazing how easily just one traumatic event could condition a young mind.

  Garros walked into the Minotaur’s docking chamber and approached the window overlooking the docking bay, where the four massive Creuxen were lined up, waiting to be boarded. Eyes on Nandi, he said: “Erin is inside Atlas. The others are synchronizing now. Everything looks fine. How are you feeling, man?”

  “I’m ready.” Everyone in the room knew he was lying; the tank could already read his vitals, and there was no way to hide his fear. Everyone had wordlessly agreed to not think, much less mention, the disaster that had happened last time, sure that after all the preparations, things were more likely to go smoothly. “Let’s just get it done.”

  Garros smiled behind his beard, which had grown larger and bushier. According to Erin’s tales, Garros had kept a thick beard for years, but normally trimmed it every few days to keep it neat. He also shaved his head with the same regularity. However, lately, he had ignored his scheduled use of scissor and knife; even his hair was starting to grow again, revealing a deeply receded hairline that made him look older.

  “Mr. Blanchard, you—you’ll need to try and relax,” Dr. Lance said, examining Ezra’s vitals displayed on a screen.

  “Hey, Ezra,” Barnes said next. He looked up at the man, who held in his hand a thick blue-and-red ring similar to the one that always hung from his nose. “This is for you. After this first synchronization is done, we’ll hook it up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Barnes pulled at the ring in his nose, making his meaning obvious. Garros laughed, giving them but the faintest glance before returning his eyes to the docking bay, and the monsters that waited there. “Just like mine.”

  “Oh, but I don’t want to get a—”

  “Sure you do; you just haven’t earned it yet. Watch, I’ll put the ring right here,” Barnes said and put it in one of the many pockets of his tactical pants. “Make your Creux proud!”

  Ezra didn’t know what to say—Barnes’ fanaticism to the Creux was something that could only be categorized as odd. “Okay?”

  “Is everyone in?” Erin voice boomed from the machines.

  Garros pressed a button and spoke into a mic. “Blanchard is missing. Down in 10.” Garros nodded at Dr. Lance and the skinny man passed the nod on to Ezra. Slowly, the lid began to close, and Ezra dipped his head, closing his eyes and hoping for the best.

  Where’s Mom? he thought, wondering why she wouldn’t be present for her son’s synchronization test. I hope she’s far away. Maybe even back in Roue.

  Then came what Ezra expected, just as he remembered it from Alice and Susan’s last day. Total darkness, then the soothing white dot between his feet at the end of the Egg. Then, whispers and echoes and a terrifying feeling of detachment.

  Nandi’s voice: You’re back.

  I’m back, Ezra thought, and couldn’t tell if the thing could hear him.

  You seem afraid.

  I’m not.

  Then his new eyes opened, and he was looking through Nandi’s eyes—a giant looking down at the humans at the other side of the glass.

  Being suddenly out of his body, no longer feeling his lungs filling and emptying with quivering and weak motions, made it easy for him to forget that he was afraid. He was out of his body. He was altogether safe.

  In here it was just him in an indestructible body, accompanied by the presence that once inhabited it. It spoke to him, whispering with cold breath.

  Are you sure you’re prepared?

  “Mr. Blanchard, you’re synchronized but you’re not very stable. Try to relax,” Dr. Lance said into a microphone, and he heard him inside Nandi. “Can you see us?”

  “Yes, sorry,” Ezra said.

  “The others are already in the network so I’m going to link you as well. Everything is perfectly normal,” he said trying to sound reassuring, but his foreign accent and the inherent sheepishness of his voice didn’t add much confidence to his words.

  Blanchard. I know that name, whispered the Minotaur. I know your name.

  The sudden blast of sound filled his mind, and again he was linked to all the others—he could feel their presence, more than he had been able to the last time.

  “Is everyone ready?” Erin’s voice had replaced Alice’s in this replay of his nightmare. “Blanchar
d?”

  “I’m ready,” he replied.

  Are you?

  “Crescent?”

  “I’m ready, ma’am,” Jena said.

  “Davenport?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Poole.”

  “I’m ready, ma’am.”

  “Everything seems to be stable according to my crew, and I’m just waiting for the green light from your respective chambers. Guys, I know it’s difficult to believe after these folks repeated it so much the last time, but the hard part is behind us, everything is working normally, and—”

  Silence. Erin’s voice was suddenly cut off.

  Ezra had no stomach to feel, but he knew it had frozen inside the Egg.

  “Hello? Erin? Jena?—Poole?”

  There was no answer. Everyone inside the docking chamber stood still.

  You’re not ready, the Minotaur said and mocked him with a mean, growling laugh, aware and amused by its new inhabitant’s fear.

  “—taking you.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Blanchard, there was a minor blip in your link,” said Dr. Lance. “I can see it gave you a good fright but everything still reads normal otherwise. You’re almost ready.”

  “It’s all right, Ezra,” Erin’s voice reassured him. “That happens all the time, especially with Phoenix; I probably should have warned you. So hey, remember: if you’re booted from the aural network, just give it a moment—it usually doesn’t last longer than a few seconds.”

  “Understood, ma’am,” Ezra said.

  “Everyone else on board?” she asked, and the other three spoke up to confirm. “Phase two begins . . . now,” Erin said.

  The feelings with which the process of miniaturization filled pilots had been described in Entry Lectures as dizzying and disorienting. The human mind is accustomed to a particular sense of scale, and suddenly changing it could result in a lot of psychological distress and discomfort.

  In her book, Alice called it Dimension Shock.

  For Ezra, it was like falling. Like riding a car that went far too fast down a winding road. Like a thrill ride without safety precautions that could betray you at any moment. After Erin’s last words, he could no longer see or hear anything except the black, and that sensation of falling and sinking, never knowing when his body would hit the ground.