The Armor of God

by Diego Valenzuela

  “I do, but only if it’s at least three-on-three and in the Suits,” said Garros. He looked awful, but Ezra knew his words weren’t a bluff—Garros had the physical resilience of a beast of burden. His Creux’s alias seemed to match the pilot as well as the Creux itself.

  Ezra didn’t want to do anything. He wanted to have his nose checked for infection, and then sleep forever. He only had a couple of days before his next synchronization, when he’d be in combat for the first time, and he wanted to be ready. Returning to Nandi’s body was all he had in mind. He wished he could just go down to the docking bay and synchronize, even if just for a minute.

  Still, he forced himself to speak to Erin, thanks to a new instinct wouldn’t allow him to let the entire day pass without doing something productive. “You think you could let me take a quick glance into your new office, Erin?”

  She considered the question for a moment, having forgotten Ezra’s first appeal in the pub. “Oh, right. I haven’t even been there myself. I don’t know why they even gave me an office.”

  “Alice used it all the time,” Garros said.

  “Alice was insane,” Tessa added, and everyone at the table took a moment to try and process Tessa’s words. She never spoke, and now she did so to insult their deceased former leader? “What? She was. She spent more time locked in that office than she did anywhere else.”

  “Dammit, Tessa, be cool. For once,” Garros said. “You’re talking about Alice.”

  “All right, I’m sorry,” she said, but Ezra knew it wasn’t sincere. He could tell.

  “I’ll take you there when we’re done,” Erin said, and looked at all the empty plates on the table. “Which apparently we are. Let’s go.”

  Ezra and Poole had to wait outside the office for Erin to get a copy of the keys. She had assumed the position a few days earlier and hadn’t yet bothered to even visit the office that was now hers. “All right, let’s see what I got,” she said, inserting the key onto the slot.

  Ezra wondered why this area of Zenith was so old fashioned. For reasons a mind like Ezra’s couldn’t understand, not being appreciative for design or architecture, the doors and walls in the Management wing emulated old houses; keys and locks were actual keys and locks, whereas the rest of the facility used key cards, fingerprints, and optical scanners.

  Erin opened the door to reveal Alice’s old office. It smelled like her perfume, or her natural scent, and Ezra wasn’t ready for that. He had to take a moment to compose himself and get accustomed to the smell. He scratched his nose and accidentally pulled the ring he forgot was there, causing him to yell out in pain.

  “This looks too clean to be Alice’s,” Erin mused.

  “It’s been cleaned since, I presume,” said Poole.

  Ezra walked around the desk and noticed that the layout of the office was identical to his mother’s, and the only variations were in decoration. Tara Blanchard’s office had no personal items with the exception of pictures of her family. Alice’s photos were mainly of her and the other pilots in casual, friendly situations. There were a couple of old pictures of her and Susan, and Ezra was tempted to take one.

  “Well maybe Tessa wasn’t so off-center about Alice,” Erin said, looking at the decorations. Alice had a thing about lions—a large feline long extinct. There were figurines, photographs, and a painting, all depicting proud, fearsome lions and their prides.

  “Ezra Blanchard,” said Poole, hand inside an open drawer behind the desk.

  He joined Poole and looked down at a brown leather-bound notebook. The Zenith logo was stamped in golden type. Below: the letters CDSL. Poole took it and flipped through some of the pages, revealing Alice’s busy schedule for that past year, filled only to the halfway point.

  “What was it you want with this?” Erin said, taking it from Poole’s hands.

  “I need to look at it,” Ezra said and looked at the drawer. “Can I have it please?”

  “You can borrow it, but I want it back tomorrow,” she said, closing the book and giving it to Ezra. “I can’t let you keep it, I’m sorry. This belongs to either Zenith or Alice’s family, not us.”

  “That’s okay, thank you Erin,” he said, walking towards the door, notebook in hand. “Are you coming?”

  “No,” Erin said. “I’m here already. Might as well sort this place out if I’m gonna be using it. I guess I should send at least all these pictures back to Alice’s family—I can’t believe no one’s taken care of that. Wait, not this one—this one’s pretty. I’m in it . . .”

  Ezra and Poole left Erin to her business and walked out of the office. They walked together out of the Management wing, through the central area and towards the dormitories. As it always seemed to be, the Pilots’ Lounge was empty, so they took a seat at the farthest corner.

  Poole opened the notebook, flipped through Alice’s busy schedule, and found the last entry. It was dated the day before the explosion—the night Alice got drunk and visited Ezra in his dormitory. That latest entry, scheduled during dinnertime, was filled in with a thick black marker.

  1930s – 2100s: MEETING WITH WHOSITS / CONFERENCE HALL B

  “‘Whosits.’ That isn’t very helpful, Alice,” Ezra said.

  “Of course it is, Ezra Blanchard,” Poole refuted. “We know there was a meeting with someone she didn’t know, probably from outside Zenith, and we know where it was. We only need to go there and see if the room’s computer was used that day. The computer is likely to contain information about the meeting.”

  Ezra nodded, for the first time in weeks feeling stupid.

  They looked back down at Alice’s last written words and noticed something else: a folded piece of paper slipped between the next pages. He put the notebook down on the colorful table and unfolded the loose page. It was a recycled sheet of paper, filled with evidences of boredom. Small doodles surrounded a larger one: a triangle with circles drawn over the angles, the top one blacked out.

  “They’re just doodles,” Ezra said, disappointed. “And why is that tooth sneering at me?”

  “No, Ezra Blanchard,” she said. Every time she used his full name, it made her sound condescending, like she was talking to a child. “Why would she keep a page full of doodles? The central figure, this triangle, is important. The rest likely aren’t. And that is a lion, not a tooth.”

  Ezra nodded again. “I’m really glad you’re with me on this,” he said, and Poole smiled, blushing.

  Chapter 15

  A Lifeless World

  So, basically, that’s what I’ve learned from all this: Even if our stars weep, even if our sun dies, we never really stop growing.

  It was the final line of Alice Nolan’s book.

  Ezra read it the first time many weeks before the event that would later be known as the Shattering. It was the only thing in the entire book Ezra would have tried to dispute, but he couldn’t; when he finished reading it, the author could no longer offer further insights to support that crucial final claim.

  Despite his physical and emotional transformation, Ezra still considered himself a cynic, and would argue that the human mind comes to a developmental halt at some point in adulthood. As time passed, Ezra began to better understand what Alice had meant, and would notice that, even in her death, she was a formative force in his life.

  Not long after his first field test, Ezra began to wonder if he’d ever be truly happy in Zenith. He had been soaking inside Besoe Nandi’s capsule for ten minutes, ready for his first battle operation, and despite the excitement and anxiety he had anticipated for days, he truly wished he could continue his investigation with Poole. Ezra didn’t know why, but something about the trail of clues left behind by Alice told him that the mystery had an expiration date. Somehow, he knew that he had a time limit to discover Zenith’s secrets and what was said in Alice’s final meeting.

  “Ares is prepared,” said Garros through the speakers system. “I’m synched at 93 percent—reeeal damn low for me—but I’m out here. Erin, fearless lead
er, what’s your status?”

  “I’ve been out here for over ninety seconds. My OS says I’m at 97, by the way,” came Erin’s voice.

  “Bugger off, Lieutenant,” said Garros boldly, but Erin laughed. “What about the noobies?”

  “Milos Ravana is synchronizing as I speak.” It took Ezra a few moments to recognize Kat’s voice pouring from the speakers. “Everything normal. Phase two starting.”

  Barnes clapped his large hands together for a thunderous sound. “All right, it’s show time. Watch your head, Blanchard,” he said as the lid began closing and all the familiar sensations took over.

  Ezra fell spiraling into darkness, his body being torn apart and remade with sturdier stuff. When his eyes opened again, he was in the hollow red world, in the guise of the red Minotaur—Besoe Nandi.

  This was a dead space, but for him it was like breathing again. He wondered how he could have gone so long without this feeling of power and freedom, wanting never to go so long again.

  You’re here again.

  Get used to it.

  “I see Nandi and Milos, but where are Rose and Jade?” Garros said. He had opened Nandi’s eyes, facing dark redness that spread to infinity. Ezra turned, and the world spun around him. Finally he stopped when all he could see was overlapping iron plates in gray and black. He took a step back to get a good look at Quantum Ares imposing itself before him.

  Garros’ Creux was much larger than Nandi. In fact, the head from which Garros looked was of a height with Nandi’s tall horns.

  “How are you feeling, Blanchard?” Garros said, but Ezra was frozen, and couldn’t reply. He knew Quantum Ares was big, but looking at it, even from inside the armor of Nandi, was intimidating. Even Milos Ravana was dwarfed by this monstrosity—how could The Armor of God possibly be more powerful?

  And how did Garros expect Ezra to fight side-by-side with him?

  “I’m all right,” Ezra said, just as Jena and Poole reported their arrival through the six-way aural network link. “I didn’t expect Quantum Ares to be so . . . large. How does anything get past it?”

  Garros and Erin both laughed, then he said: “It’s just big, Blanchard.”

  “You didn’t study the other Creuxen’s information sheets, did you?” Ezra remained quiet, too embarrassed to admit he hadn’t. “I’ll let you figure out its weakness: have in mind the energy concentration in its T-Core is below half a spark per cubic inch. You know what that means?”

  “It’s just muscle,” Garros said.

  “It has no significant technomantic power,” said Poole, bailing him out of the awkward situation.

  “That’s where you’ll come in,” said Garros. “Besoe Nandi is very well rounded: the middle ground between a Creux like Quantum Ares, and a Creux like Tessa’s Isis Nineteen, or Erin’s Phoenix Atlas. You got both muscle and technomancy.”

  They don’t know what they say, said Nandi. I’m better than they say.

  “You’re supposed to know that, Blanchard,” said Erin. “Half-moon in front of me.”

  Ezra had been looking around the dead world within this cadaver. The atmosphere and terrain didn’t seem very different to the last time he had been in Nandi. Far away, he could even see some the same protuberances he had seen last time—hemispherical swellings in the dead flesh, connected by some kind of dead vessel.

  “So. This subject is recently dead, and the laani still inhabits it. We need to get rid of it.”

  What is she talking about? She knows nothing of this.

  Ezra wanted to speak up, say that he knew what the laani truly did to the victim: even after death, it was capable of mutating a body, transform it into a monstrous, tortured creature in its own image. But the others didn’t know. He had been trusted with a secret by Dr. Yuri, and had to restrain himself from speaking up.

  But Erin had to keep talking, and she cleverly covered up details with lies of omission and careful wording. Erin was good at lying.

  “There is a swelling about three hundred body lengths from here. It looks like a dry, red hill. Inside, we’re going to find a Flash: a small horde of Flecks. Those Flecks are what we’re here to take care of.”

  “How many are there?” asked Jena.

  “We’re expecting one Flash of more or less twenty Trooper types. I’m sure you can handle them. If not, Garros and I will take care of them for you. Like we said in the operation order, we’re going to be in formation with you, but we’ll only help if you’re being overpowered. You shouldn’t be.”

  “Recite the Five Adages for us, please,” said Garros.

  “One: I am not my Creux,” they all said at the same time, their overlapping voices causing communication dissonance in the link. He could feel it causing Nandi some discomfort. “Two: My body is not in danger of infection or death—”

  At this, Nandi chuckled. Despite everyone’s assurances of its rarity, the fear of Assimilation was still there. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be absorbed by Besoe Nandi’s T-Core—

  “Three: I am not a killer: the laani is not a creature of the Earth; Four: I am fighting for humanity’s future, and I’m its first and last lines of defense.” For the last one, Erin and Garros joined, speaking softly as if in prayer: “Five: This is what I was born to do; for every body a soul, and for every Creux a pilot.”

  “Not to put pressure on you,” said Erin. “But you have an audience. Are you listening, Dr. Mizrahi, Dr. Logan, Director Blanchard?”

  The three voices travelled through the link and into Besoe Nandi. Ezra heard his mother say: “We’re looking forward to seeing what they can do. Good luck.”

  Erin led the group of six Creux in the Right Line formation: In a single line, shoulder by shoulder, starting from the left: Besoe Nandi, Jade Arjuna, Rose Xibalba, and Milos Ravana. Behind Nandi walked Erin’s Phoenix Atlas. Behind The Armor of God, walked Garros’ massive Quantum Ares; he could almost feel the ground shaking under its feet, but it was just an illusion—it was easy to forget how small they really were.

  “I see the hill,” said Jena, whose Long-Range-class Creux possessed better visual recognition and mapping technology than all the others. “It’s not far.”

  “It’s called a mound,” corrected Erin. “How far would you say it is?”

  “About fifty body lengths,” she said.

  “Good. Crewmembers back in Zenith? Activate field hearing on Nandi, Jade, Rose, and Milos,” Erin said.

  Something changed in the way he could perceive this place. The first time, he hadn’t been able to hear anything except the communications link, but now it was as though Nandi’s ears had opened up, and he could hear the world. He could hear each of their steps on this red terrain. He could hear what sounded like wind—air, an element of the living left behind in the dead.

  The scientific crewmembers for each of their Creux spoke into the aural link: “Field Hearing open; all functional,” each said, Dr. Armstrong being the last.

  “Oh my word,” said Jena, and her voice was a bit less clear, lost among the overwhelming and surprising sounds of a dead body.

  When they reached the mound, there were noises coming from inside—something evil, like the amplified growls of a thousand monsters.

  “We’re going to take the quincunx formation,” said Erin. “Everyone get in place.”

  Ezra had learned the formations almost immediately, and was glad this one was chosen for this operation: it put him, as a Tank-class Creux, in the front line; it made him vulnerable, but at least he wasn’t alone. To his right stood Quantum Ares, who turned to look at him and raised its iron thumb. Behind and between them, stood Milos Ravana. Then in the back: Jade Arjuna and Rose Xibalba.

  Having now seen Jade’s ability to use Nandi’s horns to increase the power of its arrows, Ezra finally understood why they had chosen to put her behind him.

  He couldn’t deny being afraid. He could almost hear his own heart beating all the way back in Zenith.

  Don’t be afraid, Nandi said, as if rea
ding his mind. I can help us.

  Help us.

  Suddenly, Erin was ahead of them, standing tall and proud in front of the mound. A blast of light engulfed her, and when the light dissipated, the fight began.

  Ezra hadn't seen how it was that Erin tore an opening on the side of the mound, but when she did, the things began to pour out of its insides like enormous ants. Ezra hadn’t expected it to be so sudden, but the Flecks were aggressive little things. One of them, one slightly smaller than Besoe Nandi, broad in its shoulders, huge in the arms and apparently headless, ran like a quadruped towards Ezra. He barely reacted quickly enough, stretching his arms and letting the hot energy flow from his lower back to his horns. When the thing was less than a body length away, when Garros was yelling at him to shoot, he let go.

  The blast ripped through the thing’s body, making it explode in a rain of fluids and ruined flesh.

  Ezra took a step back, trying to get away from the torrent of monsters to buy time to think, not able to hear what the others were saying through the intense dissonance.

  Your right, Nandi said. Ezra took another shot and injured another attacking Fleck’s leg.

  “Ezra, stay in formation,” Erin said. She sounded far too calm. Laani Flecks kept pouring out of the mound, and they were welcomed by a colorful lightshow of energies.

  Behind you—

  Ezra fell onto the floor and could almost feel the wind leaving him. He rolled on Nandi’s massive shoulders and a small befanged Fleck was biting at his armored chest. He clapped his red hands on its head and crushed it, for the first time feeling their true strength.

  It’s me, Nandi growled.

  Another one, a huge thing that was about Nandi’s height, rushed to attack, its jaws snapping at the air, ready to tear off whatever piece of the Minotaur it could. Still on the floor, he shot another blast of energy by pure horrified reflex, and it fell dead to the floor with a pathetic roll.