by Chris Fox
“I will, Dad.” I nodded, and slipped past him into the second cube, between the towering rows of junk. Doing so required me to squeeze past the weight set my dad still used religiously. I’d lost track of the number of jokes about skipping leg day since my dad, well, didn’t have legs.
My father had been after me to go to the gym for over a decade, but I’d had some bad experiences, and hated that place. Working out alone seemed more my speed, but I’d always been afraid to try. What if I couldn’t lift the bar and had to ask my dad for help?
I squeezed onto my bunk, and considered taking off the armor, but I really was exhausted. I drew my worn blanket over the armor, and laid my head on a pillow flatter than my bank account.
Home sweet home. Tomorrow, if the world was still here, then I’d deal with whatever “planetary destruction” meant.
Tonight I was out of gas, and sleep came quickly.
7
The next morning I woke up scratching myself. Everywhere. My whole body itched, and I thrashed desperately on my bed, unable to reach the source because I’d gone to bed wearing the armor.
Mind over body.
I forced myself to stop thrashing, and then to lay back against the bunk. Breathe. The itching continued, but I was getting better at resisting it.
“Okay,” I muttered. “Time to get some answers.”
I willed the helmet to cover my face, and it did. Thankfully the itching didn’t spread, and seemed confined to below the neck. After a moment the HUD lit, and I inspected the readout.
The paper doll hadn’t changed, but a little wheel had appeared next to the crown and trident. It was spinning, and looked different than the other icons. A progress indicator.
The color changed with each pulse, beginning a deep, angry red, and slowly lightening to green. The itching never let up, but having something to focus on made it a whole lot easier to keep calm.
What was the armor doing to me? That had to be it. No other explanation made sense. Unfortunately, I still lacked a manual and couldn’t really ask the armor. That meant I just had to wait it out, then try to understand what it was doing to me. Hopefully it wasn’t irradiating my junk.
The spinner finally turned a bright, happy green, then winked out of existence. The itching vanished instantly. My breathing eased, but my whole body trembled. I wasn’t sure I could stand up if I needed to, and I didn’t even know why.
“Dad,” I called weakly, my throat raw and voice hoarse. There was no answer. I closed my eyes and slowly counted to twenty, then opened them again.
Did I feel any different? A little. My limbs felt like they had after our physical endurance training back at the academy. I’d hated running, and how it made my whole body ache afterwards. That was how I felt, times about a million. Literally every part of my body hurt.
Well, not literally, but certainly enough to make me abuse the word.
I sat up with a groan. It took effort, but it didn’t hurt. Why did everything ache so badly?
“Armor,” I begged, knowing it was futile. “What did you do to me, and why?”
Text began scrawling across the bottom of the screen, in draconic of course. Celeritas Invegra. Some sort of accelerated bio-enhancement spell? I pushed a stack of boxes out of the way, which was easier than it should have been.
That exposed a mirror I seldom had cause to use, but under a layer of dust I could see myself. See the changes. The armor was the same, but the corded suit was form-fitting, and the form it fit had changed.
I had muscles. Not big ones, mind you, but visible muscles. I’d gone to bed with arms like tube sausages, flat and shapeless, and woken up with a recognizable triceps.
That was way, way too good to be true. If I exited the armor what would that do to me? The magic, whatever it was, had to be temporary. There was no way to permanently alter the human body like that, or if there was it was stronger magic than I’d run across. I hadn’t seen everything, after all. And the academy didn’t know everything.
Fortunately, I had a far more terrifying problem to deal with. I needed to figure out whether or not our world was actually in danger, and if so, figure out who I could tell that would make even the slightest bit of difference.
At the same time, I had the more immediate problem of needing to pay off my bond. Trying to save the world with debt-collecting hit men after me did not seem smart. I had until the end of business, and if I didn’t have the credits by then, well…it wouldn’t really much matter to me if the world blew up.
I turned back to my bed and fetched my backpack from underneath, then slung it over one of the armor’s shoulders. I unzipped it, and noted the water bottle was still half full. That should be enough for today, if I avoided the sun and didn’t exert myself too heavily.
I could buy more, but my account was already in the red zone, and I’d just as soon sell the armor and see where I stood. I headed back into my father’s flop, and gave him a bro-nod.
He had no choice but to return it, and said nothing to me as I crept past him and through the flop’s already open door. My father knew what I had to do, and while he didn’t offer encouragement, at least he hadn’t told me I couldn’t do it, as he sometimes did. To my mind that meant he was rooting for me.
I paused outside the door, testing the air with both nostrils. Just the usual rank sludge, thank the maker. I’d learned early on what blood smelled like, and if it was around, I didn’t want to be.
Once outside the flop, I willed the helmet to slither over my face, then cautiously left the alley for the cracked thoroughfare. There weren’t very many places I could go, which made the choice easy.
I needed a friendly face, one I could unload on, who would not only not mind but would appreciate being involved in something interesting.
That meant Briff, my best friend from the academy. We’d come up together through the ranks, and had formed an arena team that had dominated our senior year. Now we both fervently hoped that hadn’t been the peak of our careers that we fondly reminisced about when we were old and even more destitute.
The op on the Remora had been my first job after graduation. So far as I knew, Briff hadn’t gotten a job. He’d somehow remained in his academy dorm, and was living there rent free until they figured it out.
I hoofed it up the boulevard, and turned north. The walk to the academy was about eight clicks, which would take most of my morning. And give me too much time alone in my head thinking about things I’d just as soon avoid admitting I knew.
I waved my hand, and an automated lift zoomed over. I slipped into the tiny vehicle’s sole compartment, and hadn’t even buckled my harness before it shot back into traffic.
“Input destination, please,” a pleasant feminine voice came from the vehicle’s dashboard.
“Take me to the academy. Drop me off as soon as you hit the campus.” I’d added that last order because if I didn’t the lift would find the exact center of the campus, and roam around while racking up charges I couldn’t afford.
I relaxed into the hard plastic seat as much as I was able to, but each time we darted through traffic and passed another lift my mind flashed back to the dreadnought. To hiding in the strut. To seeing those ships come for the Remora.
Thankfully we reached the campus within a few minutes, and the lift deposited me on the sidewalk. I followed it to block four, which was the closest building, a four-story dormitory designed to hold about a thousand students.
I waited for a distracted young woman to leave, then darted over to the door before it closed. I seized it just in time, and slipped inside the dorm. We’d perfected the practice during our freshmen year, as we often came home after curfew and didn’t want a record in the system.
The stairwell was next to the door, so I ducked inside and followed it up to the fourth floor. I poked my head out of the stairwell, but there was no sign of campus security.
Briff’s door was the second one on the left, and had been mine for about two years as well. I missed the p
lace, and was shocked to see how little furniture remained in the tiny two-bedroom apartment. The place was…empty.
A familiar two-meter plus dragon lounged on what remained of a couch that had clearly been designed for humans. His left thumb and forefinger tapped furiously at the air; the motion picked up the console and instantly translated into his character firing on the holographic projection over the device.
“Hey, Briff,” I called from the doorway, waiting for acknowledgement. “Is it cool if I come in?”
“Oh yeah, man,” Briff’s slitted, draconic irises never left the holoscreen and I slipped inside the flop. It was noticeably warmer. Unpleasantly so.
Briff’s character took a void bolt from behind, and went down, and the screen flashed defeat and then a scoreboard showing Briff’s performance…which wasn’t half bad.
“You’ve been improving.” I pulled up an empty vat of algae and flipped it over as a seat. My only option other than the floor, since I saw no furniture outside the holo and the couch.
“Been playing a lot since graduation.” Briff delivered a toothy grin, exposing rows of deadly teeth. The threatening image was ruined by the rather substantial gut he’d managed to accumulate, and the pile of discarded energy drink cans littering the floor around his couch. “Maybe a little too much. Got myself a really good team, and we were just wrecking arena. Felt like you and I back at the academy. I’m telling you…we’d have gone pro if we’d kept after it.”
“Maybe,” I allowed, and meant it. We’d had the right mix of intelligence and instinct, and among the five of us, had dominated the academy’s tourney that year. “But we didn’t keep after it. And only you and I are left. Mala left during the last hiring, and Roktar the one before that.”
“Well,” Briff rumbled as he waved his scaly hand and the holo went into standby, “at least I’ve been able to pretend for the last couple days. Sooner or later they’re going to kick me out. Sooner, I think. A campus goon came by earlier to disconnect quantum, but I faked a molting and he left. So how did your trip go? Did…depths, man, what are you wearing? Did you guys strike it big? Tell me everything!”
Briff’s leathery wings gave a short flap as he lumbered up onto two legs, and took a step closer to me. The dormitory’s floor groaned in protest, and I imagined the students below were terrified whenever Briff came or went.
The hatchling leaned closer, and tilted his head to inspect the armor. “Wow. Oh, wow. This isn’t recorded in the codex. This is new. If you auction this, and invite some professors from the armory…depths, maybe have your mother pull some strings and get the minister to attend. This belongs in some fancy museum or maybe the armory itself, and you need to line your pocket.”
Only the most amazing, ancient, and unique artifacts were placed in the armory, our planet’s repository of magitech, mostly passed down from the battle preceding planetfall.
That answered my first question. No one knew weapons and armor like Briff. No one. That he was impressed backed up my own findings, but also made the weapon’s ominous prediction more likely to be true.
As if summoned by the thought, the entire building began to shake violently. I tumbled into the wall, then landed in a pile of empty cans as the entire building swayed backed and forth. The earthquake went on for a good thirty seconds, then ceased abruptly.
“That was even worse than yesterday,” Briff groused as he pulled himself to his feet. Apparently the dormitory floor was stronger than it looked, if it had survived that. “Every time it happens it knocks out quantum. Now I gotta wait before I can get online again. You’d think the academy would have a better connection.” He heaved a heavy sigh, then dropped down onto the couch, which strained, but held.
“Briff, you said you wanted to hear how I got the armor?” I began, knowing that was the way to secure his interest. “I found it on a derelict dreadnought. One of the Great Ships. It was inside a weapons locker that hadn’t been opened since before planetfall. A long time before planetfall.”
Briff’s eyes widened, and his tongue played over his teeth in a way that had always unnerved me. Like a dragon surveying something it was about to eat. At least he was interested.
“And?” Briff demanded.
“And it came from the height of the dragonflight epoch, maybe seventy thousand years ago.” I willed the helmet to slither over my face, and it obliged. “Look at me, Briff.”
I extended my arm, and made a motion that terrified flaccid guys like me everywhere. The one designed to show off your biceps. I flexed. This time…I actually had a muscle.
“Depths, man. Is that built into the armor? You look like you’ve been working out all summer.” Briff’s tail began swishing back and forth, knocking the holo off its stand, which even the earthquake hadn’t managed to do. The plastic device cluttered to the carpet, forgotten for the moment at least. “Tell me, man. I have to know.”
“The armor magically induced my muscles to grow,” I explained. I didn’t understand it well, but I still tried to boil it down quickly. “It’s advanced in ways I didn’t realize were possible for magitech. You can see what it did to my body in just a couple days, right? You’re with me on that?”
“Okay, so it’s advanced. And it should be in the armory.” Briff finally took a step backwards, reining in his interest. “You’re getting to a point, and I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.”
“Briff, those quakes?” I stabbed a finger out the dormitory’s door, at the world at large. “They’re going to pull this planet apart. The armor is convinced of it. That comet destabilized our orbit. Bad things are going to happen.”
“Huh.” Briff calmly returned to his couch, his wings flapping furiously as he settled his bulk. “Well, that sucks.”
“That’s it?” I protested. “You’re just going to sit there and play virtual arena? I just told you the world is ending.”
It was the first time I’d said it out loud, and it sounded just as crazy as I feared it would.
The way Briff was looking at me didn’t suggest disbelief. It was resignation. He shook his scaly head, sadly. “If you’re right, let’s say we’ve got a week. What am I going to do? I can sit here and play arena, feasting on algae, or maybe even some soy steaks. Or, I can panic and run around frantically, and then still die. In a way this is good news. Now I can blow off my shift tonight. Do you have any idea how boring being a security guard is?”
“You don’t even want to know how the world is going to end?” My shoulders slumped. I thought I had an ally.
“Nope.” Briff’s tail curled around the holo, and set it back on the stand. “You can hang out if you want, but I’m not leaving unless that campus goon comes back.”
Guess I needed to solve this on my own.
8
I left Briff’s dormitory with my head spinning, but not so much so that I abandoned caution. I caught a lift back to the flopstacks, knowing that would make me a target as I exited. A whole industry has formed around hitting returning drunks and partiers.
Thankfully it was still early, and while there were predators about, none wanted to tangle with someone in spellarmor. I willed the mask to slither back into place, and considered my next option as I ambled out of the slums where we clung to our ragged existence.
A few figures lurked in the shadows, but none made any threatening motions as I passed. I kept a hand on Ariela anyway, though I didn’t draw her. I didn’t want anyone to feel threatened. I just wanted to be left alone.
My wish was granted, and a few minutes later I emerged into the safer part of town, which was unironically called the Buffer. It was the demarcation between the poor and worthless, and the upper echelon of society.
In the space of three city blocks you go from sludge-covered alleys and precariously stacked flops to wide, well lit streets patrolled by sweeper drones. Those do what they sound like and clean the streets, but they can also disintegrate undesirables when needed.
A clean white disk whizzed overhead, its lens
es whirring as it scanned and identified me. Had it been unable to do so, then the local militia would be instantly alerted, and some of the scariest mercs in the sector would come have a little chat with me.
The drone gave a satisfied whir as it zoomed off to hassle the next person emerging from the flopstacks, and I hurried up the wide walkway, which contained a smattering of lower class service people trudging to jobs they hated.
The Buffer ended at a twenty-meter wall molded from blasteel, a magical blending of metal, plastic, and who knows what else. Bulky turrets dotted the wall at twenty-meter intervals, their barrels aimed into the Buffer as an ever-present reminder to mind our manners.
The trickle of traffic passed under a tall archway, with a pair of turrets turned in our direction as we flowed through. Apparently guards had been a liability, so they removed them—cheaper, and disgruntled workers can’t really hold a turret hostage.
I passed through, tensing as the barrels swiveled in my direction. I passed whatever scan they were conducting, and finally exhaled the breath I’d been holding as I made it to the other side.
It was like entering a different world. Gone were all pollution, all garbage, all graphiti, and anyone who looked like they belonged in the stacks. The buildings were tall, white, and gleaming, and if they lacked the elegance and age of the academy they were still impressive.
The people allowed through were all presentable, at least enough to fit into a menial job. I didn’t even have that much. What I did have was a price that I couldn’t put off paying any longer. I made the first right past the checkpoint, and walked into the first building.