The Armor of God

by Diego Valenzuela

  It felt like a challenge. “Just tell me who it is.”

  “Come with me,” Dr. Yuri said after a moment’s consideration.

  Once more, Dr. Yuri led Ezra through the Compatibility labs and into the secured and inaccessible research labs. Ezra didn’t need to see the thing again, but Dr. Yuri insisted it would be educational. Ezra couldn’t imagine why.

  They came upon the door branded SUBJECT EDWARD, and Dr. Yuri opened it. Once again they stepped into the reeking creature’s egg-shaped chamber, onto the platform overlooking its dwelling. Like he had the first time, Ezra approached the railing carefully, afraid of the huge monster below their feet.

  The thing beneath them greeted their presence with a frightened growl; it didn’t appear to have any of the energy or strength it had before. Its long head rested on its huge hairless paws, its whole body curled in a submissive, defeated position. It almost appeared to be weeping. “Why is it even here?”

  “Research.”

  “But it used to be a human being!” Ezra yelled, and the thing looked up at him. Indeed there was something in its eyes that was terrifyingly human—they didn’t match the rest of its tortured shape.

  “Did it?” challenged Dr. Yuri.

  “Stop it!” Ezra yelled. The frightened creature below looked up at the sudden noise.

  “Don’t raise your voice; I’m educating you,” said Dr. Yuri. “I want you to look at it, to look at it and tell me you’re really prepared to hear that the monster down there used to be your father.”

  A wave of heat blasted through his body, leaving it numb and sweaty. He was dizzy when he took a step back and fell against the wall, eyes wide, heart beating in his throat. Ezra began to gag, feeling a rush of vomit coming up to repaint the chamber.

  “—or that it’s your brother, or your sister’s dog, or Alice Nolan.” Dr. Yuri squatted down to look into Ezra’s eyes. “You’re obviously not ready to hear the truth, Ezra. Yes, it used to be a human being, but it doesn’t matter who or what it was. Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to fight the laani—that’s not a choice; your only choice is understanding its nature and its effects. It will make it easier.”

  Ezra crawled to the railing and hoisted himself up to his knees, looking down at Subject Edward. It had an iron brick embedded onto the back of its head, between its ears—something he hadn’t seen the last time he was there. “What’s that thing on its head?”

  “A tracking implant,” said Dr. Yuri, helping Ezra up. “We’re releasing it back outside to monitor its behavior. We can learn a lot from him. I can tell from your face that you don’t approve of this, so I’m glad your mother doesn’t share your points of view.”

  He was disappointed to hear that.

  Subject Edward looked up again, tensing the muscles of its neck. He hated to look at it, hated its entire existence. Maybe he could not save this thing, but Dr. Yuri was right: he could at least fight to prevent it from happening to someone else.

  This is the world you live in, and that’s not your choice. All you can choose is to either do what’s in your power to improve it, or leave it in the hands of those who won’t.

  For their second combat operation, Garros was replaced by Tessa in her Isis Nineteen, a very small Creux that seemed fragile to Ezra. That was, of course, until he saw it take down two Trooper-type Flecks, both of which were almost as big as Isis. Tessa was a master in the control of her Creux, which was the fastest in Zenith’s arsenal. Her presence would be more useful, as they would be battling a new kind of Fleck: a Tunneler type, capable of tearing through tissue at great speeds, and often tasked with scouting.

  More and more Ezra began to understand the complexity of the laani Flecks—they worked with almost military precision; it was no wonder they had brought life on the planet to the brink of extinction so swiftly. He wondered if the hordes of monsters outside Roue, the transformed creatures, were as disciplined.

  “I need the pilots of Milos Ravana and Rose Xibalba to pay close attention to me,” said Tessa. “The speed of your Creuxen is above average, and the body composition is similar, so look at the way I move, the length of my strides in relation to the size of Isis Nineteen. Look at—”

  Startling Ezra, another Tunneler suddenly dug its way out from the red floor. As though she was expecting it, Isis jumped three times its body length into the air, and fell sharply with her knee on the Fleck’s broad back, squashing it like an insect.

  “There are more on the way,” Erin yelled. “Be ready!”

  A large clawed hand with jagged bones protruding from its knuckles exploded from the floor beneath Ezra and grabbed at Nandi’s ankle like a bear trap, claws shattering in attempts to pierce the armor.

  Use my hands.

  Ezra didn’t immediately listen to Nandi—his first instinct was to try to step away from the powerful grip, and he fell backward. The thing tried to pull Ezra into the deeper darkness underground, but the moment it revealed its ugly head, it was like Nandi’s hands moved on their own to meet it. He grabbed its jaw and tore its head apart.

  “My word!” Jena exclaimed, and it was then that Ezra realized the vicious brutality of his kill.

  He didn’t linger and was on his feet to receive a large Trooper type charging at him. It was strong, but Nandi was stronger. He leaned into the charge and received it with his shoulder. Nandi’s red hands grabbed the Fleck’s oddly feline-looking head.

  Energy gathered in his horns, and when Ezra stretched his arms, the thing’s head disappeared, and it fell dead before him.

  Come on! He wanted to scream. Let me show you what we’re capable of. Let me show you how I can stop you. Let me show you that this world is mine to protect!

  “Ezra!”

  He turned on his heel to see Jena’s Creux being overpowered by two of the monsters. He charged at them.

  Blue light engulfed him in a protective shell: it was Rose Xibalba’s protection.

  Nandi gored one of the Flecks with his horns, and the dead thing fell with a howl, riven. The other one, as if wanting to avenge its fallen comrade, jumped at Ezra.

  Rose’s cocoon around Nandi appeared to burn it. He began to charge the energy in his horns, but before he finished, Jena had already fired at least ten arrows. Rose’s protection disappeared from around him, and he thanked her through the aural link.

  Like last time, the group had cleaned the area efficiently. Only lumps of dead Flecks remained between the feet of the six Creuxen who took care of them.

  The third operation took place in different terrain, and Ezra presumed it was bone tissue. The area was as dry as the dead organs in which they had previously fought, but the ground was hard here, and flakes of dead tissue covered the area. When he awakened inside Nandi, flakes were falling like snow. He had only read about snow, of course, never experiencing it himself, but it was refreshing to imagine that he was actually there, and those scales would be cold to the touch, and would melt on his skin.

  Yet they didn’t; they merely stuck to the iron bodies that didn’t belong in the dead world. Ezra could feel Nandi’s discomfort, as though the Minotaur could feel them sticking to his hard skin and wanted them off.

  Garros joined them again this time, as they would be battling a Titan type Fleck. They were the largest and hardest to take down, often used to tear through mineralized tissue to spread contaminants. The subject in which the battle took place was far beyond salvation, so the inside of the bone was entirely empty. Even when Erin spread light upwards, Ezra could see no end to the darkness, like looking up at the night’s sky.

  The Flash consisted of one Titan type and at least twenty Carrier types: small sluglike Flecks that carried the true contaminant, the laani strain, in a disgusting fleshy pouch.

  The gigantic Titan type was arachnid in shape: seven thick elephantine legs spread to the floor from a hovering blob of brown flesh: the creature’s core. Taking it down would normally be a matter of strength and persistence often left for Quantum Ares, but
Poole and Ezra’s arrival in Zenith had given Garros the framework to design a new battle strategy they would put to the test.

  The only way to take down a Titan type was by damaging the soft tissue in the back of its knees, incapacitating each leg one by one until at least four of them were rendered useless. Technomancy was far more useful to disable each leg’s weakness, but the soft spots were too small, and required too much precision, for technomancy to be an adequate strategy.

  Ezra barely had time to be intimidated by the thing’s relative size; the battle began the moment Erin gave the signal that launched the entire unit to attack.

  “Remember the Spinning Mirror!” yelled Garros, and Quantum Ares began to climb up one of the Titan’s legs like a tree, holding on against the thing’s efforts to shake him off. The gigantic spider emitted a hornlike sound as Garros began to make its way to the blob connecting all the legs, making it stop its stride. “Now!” he yelled.

  Rose Xibalba ran and stopped underneath the creature, right at the center between its seven thick legs. She assumed an elegant stance on one leg, like a ballerina demonstrating her grace and flexibility. Soon, she was engulfed by a crystal-shaped cocoon of energy that spun around her, glimmering with light of its own fabrication. “Do it, Ezra Blanchard!”

  Ezra took a step back and stood three body lengths away from the circumference made by the thing’s legs. He began to charge and blasted quick, powerful shots directly at Poole.

  What are you doing?

  The spinning crystal began to grow bigger with every blast of Nandi’s technomantic power. He kept shooting, trying to ignore Poole as she whimpered with every hit. The crystal around Rose grew, loading itself with energy. It began to become unstable, shaking, causing sparks of light. And then . . .

  “Do it, Poole!”

  She screamed.

  The crystal exploded with a massive outburst of Nandi’s magnified energy. The blue shockwave tore through the Titan’s legs, destroying them almost entirely, and the legless thing came crashing down with a howl.

  The blast of energy hit Ezra, knocking him down as though hit by a giant wave. If Creuxen were susceptible to their own technomancy, he would’ve been incinerated.

  Ezra and Nandi looked up at the destroyed body of the Titan, joining the others, who had been witnesses to the violent spectacle.

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

  After the unexpected success of their mission against the Titan type, which Quantum Ares, Besoe Nandi, and Rose Xibalba destroyed in one tenth of the time it would normally take, the trio was greatly celebrated. During dinner that night, even the pilots he barely knew came to congratulate Ezra and Poole on their “exemplary performance.”

  It was a strategy that would optimally work with Nandi, who could fire the short bursts of energy needed to load Rose’s crystal defense quickly, but could easily be replicated with any Creux of similar technomantic abilities; proving it was functional and efficient made everyone’s work a little easier.

  Ezra was wolfing a second serving of breaded steak when they were joined by Akiva and Jena. “You guys are the talk of the town,” said Kiv.

  “Yes, they’re like celebrities,” Erin said.

  “It was Garros’ idea. We only did what he told us.” He wasn’t being honest with these humble words; inside, he was proud, and happy to be recognized. “And it was Poole who had to take the pulses of Nandi’s energy. She made it happen.”

  Poole nodded her head, welcoming the appreciation with the warmest smile he had ever seen adorn her face. Everyone had agreed that they had undeniable chemistry in battle. For someone like Poole, who had been alone and friendless most of her life, the feeling must be even more alien than it was to Ezra.

  “Nice work,” a gruff voice came from behind Ezra. Jed Townsend finally appeared to have recovered from whatever accident had put him in the hospital wing, but the pilot of Nebula 09 was not likely to ever get rid of the burns scarring half of his face, and the thick smell of the oils he treated them with. The man laughed when Ezra turned around to face him. “I like that—the ring on your nose.”

  “Thank you,” said Ezra, then Poole.

  “Want to join us?” Garros asked.

  “Thank you, but I can’t. I have a date with the medical wing to treat these,” he said in a miserable voice and motioned to the burns on his neck. “If you hear my screams, don’t worry—it doesn’t really hurt that much.”

  Garros and Ezra both watched as Jed walked away.

  The large man scratched his beard. “Y’know, I like Jed but he’s a giant bummer. Burn treatment hurts like hell, though. Can’t imagine what he’s going through,” he said. “So, Blanchard. You’ve stacked at least three points in your first three battles. You think you might go for the Golden String?”

  “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” said Ezra, finishing up his meal. “What points?”

  “Seriously, Ezra, I’m this close to assigning you some really heavy reading after each class,” said Erin, and she didn’t appear to be joking. “We went through this in two different Entry Lectures when you got here.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I forget some of the stuff. I’m good at other things.”

  He hated to say that phrase, which he had said to his sisters too many times.

  Garros laughed and slammed his hand on Ezra’s back. “He’s learning, give him a break. Look, in combat-oriented operations, each kill or assist you do has a numerical value depending on the Fleck type you take down. Your three kills of the Trooper Flecks in your first two operations sum six points, one for each. Your assist of the Titan today adds four more. These go into your operation reports—it’s a way to quantify your individual performances.”

  “The Golden String is an achievement we made up two years ago, when I got here: it refers to a string of ten consecutive operations in which you get more than three points. So far, no one’s been able to do it,” added Erin.

  “Has anyone come close?” asked Jena.

  “Seven is the number to beat,” said Garros. “I got to seven last year, then failed during a very, very simple operation. I still blame Tessa; so get this: I was getting ready to take down a—”

  “Dammit, Garros, get over it already,” said Erin, looking over at Tessa who ate her dinner alone at another table, reading from a notebook.

  Garros grumbled. “Fine. I lost my streak because of Tessa. Jed lost a streak of six the day Nebula overheated, I’m sure it happened because he was desperate to get those damn points. Alice was also at six when . . . well, you know.”

  “Even Milos Ravana failed to collect three points during the last mission—killing Carriers is useless to this end, and that’s the job a lot of the time; it’s also a matter of luck.”

  “And I’m at three? I need seven more?” Ezra asked.

  “It’s cute that you think you’ll do it in your first ten operations; it’s much harder than it sounds,” said Erin.

  Ezra didn’t say it out loud, but he accepted her challenge.

  “One: I am not my Creux. Two: My body is not in danger of infection or death. 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 both its first and last lines of defense. Five: This is what I was born to do; for every body a soul, and for every Creux a pilot.”

  The fourth and fifth operations were considered successful thanks to a newly designed strategy that Erin had been working on that would accentuate on the combined powers of Besoe Nandi, Rose Xibalba, and Jade Arjuna.

  As they had been for most of their operations, they were put in the lungs of a dead patient. When a Flash of at least twenty Trooper types and no fewer than ten Tunnelers emerged from a mound, the trio got in position.

  And it was not, in any way, a graceful position.

  Ezra heard Nandi’s protests as Jade Arjuna climbed onto its back like a child, locking its legs around the Minotaur’s wa
ist.

  What the hell is she doing? Get her off me.

  Wait.

  Once Jade was firmly in place, Rose stood behind them and released its protective blanket around the trio.

  He could hear Garros and Akiva laughing. Nandi wasn’t flexible enough for Ezra to see, but he was sure they looked ridiculous.

  Get her off me!

  “I’m gonna need you to always look ahead, Ezra—Nandi’s horns are right on my face. I don’t want to—”

  “Go!” screamed Erin.

  Ezra began to charge, keeping all the energy in the space between his horns, never transferring it to his arms. He began to see thick, powerful arrows shot from above his head.

  They were infinitely more powerful than their separate powers could ever be. Every Fleck they hit all but disappeared, consumed by the energy. Any attempts for a Fleck to attack them would hurt them in turn, as Rose’s blanket proved an all but impermeable shield.

  Jena kept cursing every time she missed a target, which was often—she had neglected a lot of the bow-and-arrow training she’d have to extrapolate into Jade’s technomantic power.

  “Get closer!” Jena ordered, and it was an agreement that she would have to steer him like a horse. Moving was trickier, as it required much more of Nandi’s strength, which Ezra had barely begun to command. His feet dug into the dry flesh with every step, but his strides were confident. Jena kept shooting through the veil of energy between Nandi’s horns, every arrow a death sentence without a name.

  The powerful blood thirst took over him again throughout the operation, but Jena and Poole’s presence helped him remain in complete control; he was part of something, and he wasn’t alone.