by Shay Zana
They will have to get back up into that city if they want to find the King and secure his safety. But to negotiate for the evacuation of the entire galaxy will be a challenge, even for the authority of a Paragon. Only a Cipher has that privilege to override the military or the royalties. Only Kitera can negotiate with Anzac efficiently.
Briefly, Deo allows his mind to wander as he lets his body rest for a moment, relishing the almost surreal feeling of actual planetary ground beneath him. He wonders how Kitera is faring. Probably still with Altair, keeping tabs on the distortions around Kronos and helping out Serenity troops where she can. But what had that great flash of light been? Has Altair been killed? Deo is sure that he has never seen such a vehement light from an ikamanu before. They usually produce dense amounts of entity particles when they perish in a painful death, but nothing quite as bright or sharp as what he had witnessed aboard the guardian station.
No, she is alive. She can tell the future, right? She would have foreseen her death and avoided it, right? She is alive. She has to be.
Deo lies with a vacant mind, listening to his regenerating entity and how it pulses in tempo with his heartbeat and breathing. He wonders what would happen if he were to remove his neural-root implanted at the base of his skull. He would lose the ability to control his datakey and any telepathic advantages it gives him, but would he also lose the ability to wield his entity? The scientists and doctors during his youthful years of training always warned that he would not be able to wield his entity if he was to remove his implant, and his father would always scold him for inquiring, but he has never actually tried it, nor has he heard of any other Paragon attempting it. Not even human curiosity has tempted anyone to try parting from their entities. It is a part of them, given to them at birth. Deo cannot imagine what it would be like without his entity, without that constant feeling of strength flowing through his blood and perching itself at the peak of his consciousness, ready to be wielded at his whim.
Distant footsteps interrupt Deo from his absent reverie. His head snaps in the appropriate direction.
“Paragon?” comes the breathless call of Major Neal. Trailing him closely but tiredly are his three remaining marines. Not many survived the re-entry.
Deo sits up fully as the four soldiers approach, propping his elbows on his knees. He waits for the major to form the next words that are evidently playing on his mind.
“They alive, sir?”
Looking around at the unconscious Paragons, Deo shrugs and nods. “They’ll live.”
At the good news, Neal’s shoulders relax slightly in relief, and he allows his helmet to morph away from his face. The death of three Paragons who had fought alongside him would look bad in his report. The major’s features are weathered and stern, but a certain softness still remains in his eyes. His hair is shaved exactly to military regulations, a light brown. “No doubt you’ll be wantin’ to catch King Anzac before the UEU get their paws on him. Look, I would offer to accompany you, but my men are beat. We’ll be as good as cannon fodder up there without reinforcements and a decent resupply.” As Neal speaks, his men spread out and form a defensive perimeter.
“The skycities all over the Fortunate Isles have gone to hell,” Neal continues. “Calling in support was a waste of time, everybody’s tied up in defensive blockades or civilian extractions, plus the long range comms are out so communication outside of the Isles is like trying to piss through a straw. This is the heart of the military in this galaxy, but even so, nobody was expecting a full UEU force to be knockin’ on our front door this morning.”
“Any idea what screwed up the comms?” Deo asks.
“No clue. Either the UEU hit the hotspot with a pot-shot, or that pretty starmist all over the planet is causing interference.”
Pretty starmist, Deo thinks. The major would get along with Kitera just fine, though his sarcasm might be a bit much for her.
A faint flicker of static erupts over their earchips for a moment, making them all subconsciously press at their right ears as if it will strengthen the signal. The static is soon joined by soft whispers of an electronic female voice. The voice stutters out incomprehensible words, eerie in nature, almost like an apparition, until the words actually form meaning.
“Online. Contact re-established. Replacing guardian station algorithms with Kronos planetary surface algorithms. Personnel locators active. Scanning Serenity occupied space for Paragon presence... Hello, Paragon Deo.”
The familiar, and somewhat annoying, sound of Ranity’s voice beams over Deo’s consciousness with a sudden headache. How did the S.I get herself back online? She must have a backup star shard somewhere on the planet’s surface. He wonders where her main processor is located... No harmful reason...
The Paragon sighs quietly, not looking forward to having the artificial intelligence yapping away in his ear yet again.
“Hello, Paragon Deo. Are my sound-waves audible?” Ranity repeats in her English accent, her voice warmer than before, as if pleased to be reunited.
Deo swallows his frustration. “Status of King Anzac?”
“I am currently re-establishing contact with several Serenity officials operating within the Fortunate Isles. They inform me that King Anzac is located within the skycity of Babylon, which is currently headed on an unknown course. All contact with the city is disabled, and I am not able to make contact with any Serenity forces within.”
Deo nods. Of course. Could this day get any worse?’ “SITREP on the Serenity registered ikamanu Altair, and Kitera?”
Ranity takes a moment to respond, and in the silence that gathers in her absence, muted sounds of her analysis correspond with her faint electronic whispers that fill the comms link again. It almost sounds like there are two, their voices collaborating and clashing. “I currently have no available data on an ikamanu registered as Altair, or a citizen named Kitera. My relays are strictly constricted to Kronos, as my relays within the guardian station, and throughout the entire Rhadamanthus System, have been taken offline. I can now only operate on the planet’s surface. I can, however, access the data that was extracted from my memory core aboard the guardian station and conduct a thorough scan for any data relating to these two individuals.”
“Well we don’t have all day,” Deo snaps impatiently, already sick of her prolonged and unnecessary blabbering.
“No,” Ranity replies flatly. “We do not have all day, Paragon Deo. I estimate another five and a half hours of daylight before the term you refer to as ‘night’ will become appropriate to descr-“
“Just shut up and find out what you can!” Deo cuts in with a poisonous tongue, stinging Ranity into an obedient silence.
“Real ladies man,” Neal jokes with a mild chuckle.
Deo ignores the major.
Distant rumbles carry through the wind from the distancing skycity as it looms away from the Fortunate Isles, and the marines flinch after a loud reverberating boom. Intertwining shrieks of enemy Gladiators sprint through the skies above them, pursued by Serenity Gladiators. The skycity would be a marvel if it were not for the violent war it is harbouring.
“Any ideas how I might get up there?” Deo now asks Neal, pointing to the skycity with a flick of his chin.
Neal gives a long sigh. “Up to Babylon? The kinetic platforms have been taken offline to cut off any UEU troops from entering on foot. Without an airlift, I don’t think there’s any other way up. Damn shame we didn’t land in one of its buildings, instead of bouncing off one, then another, then another, then hittin’ the sea.” Neal rubs his injured shoulder to emphasis his point of a screwed up landing.
“We only hit two buildings,” Deo corrects, defending his piloting skills with mock offence.
The major gives a thin laugh. “Same diff, Paragon.”
Deo studies Babylon more closely now. How to enter it without kinetic platforms or an airlift? What would his father do? His grumpy old man always had a solution. He trained Mazayus well.
As if poured int
o his mind by the Zodiacs, the solution dawns on him. Standing, Deo morphs his armour plating off his vitasuit, letting the material reform itself in fragments and fall into place around utilities and holsters. His helmet divides and gapes open, visor folding back out of sight at the nape of his neck, allowing the fresh breeze of the beach to tickle his lungs and tousle his hair.
The marines attempt to cover their curiosity, for none of them have ever seen a Paragon’s face before. They all thought them to be faceless warriors, or even descendents of the Ancient Ciphers, serving them like archangels. But no, this Paragon is merely human. Awe inspiring, enhanced, and larger than life, but still human and mortal, just like the rest of them.
“Got a new assignment for you and your men,” Deo proclaims to Neal, also regarding the other three marines positioned around them. “Stay here and watch over the three sleeping beauties for me,” he gestures toward the others in their slumber. “And keep trying for support. Mazayus, the big guy, has taken a few hits, so try for a med-evac.”
Feeling dwarfed next to him, Neal takes a moment to register his words before nodding.
“Paragon Deo?” comes the inevitable presence of Ranity again. “I have analysed my data regarding the whereabouts of the ikamanu Altair and citizen Kitera. It appears the two were reported MIA just prior to the impact of the Olympian Ottawa with the D sector of the guardian station. Reports mentioned a blinding light with a substantial concentration of entity particles, far exceeding that of a yield 100 megaton heavy shard. The vessel tagged as Altair then reportedly vanished, and has not been located since, nor has the Lady Kitera.”
Deo’s fists slowly ball at his sides as this information repeats in his head over and over again. It hits the pit of his stomach, hard. Is she dead?
“Some reports suggested that the ikamanu had entered star shift while within the distortion of Kronos, resulting in the unstable tear and therefore shifting the vessel to oblivion,” Ranity continues emotionlessly. “A galactic search will be conducted to recover the vessel, though none seem to be optimistic about finding any results, as no results have ever been found after these anomalous events occur.”
Pulling himself from his gloom, Deo bends to pick up his rifle. As he shoulders the weapon, his glance falls through the skies, watching the wreckage of the guardian station and the still radiant remnants of Altair’s entity, bathing the sky in cyan light. The display mimics the echoes of a nebula, glimmering in the red light of Kronos.
“How you gettin’ into the city?” Neal asks him, unaware of the Paragon’s anguish.
“Up there,” Deo points to the kinetic waterfall.
BABYLON SKYCITY
Sprinting without the added movement restriction of his morphed armour plating is much easier, though the boots of his vitasuit are still hindered within the soft sand along the beach. Deo pushes his already tired body to its limits, muscles taut as they stretch and coil with his movements, fuelling a powerful sprint across the island to stay in pace with the soaring skycity.
A slight incline dives upward from the pale sand, offering the rushing Paragon a small ridge of rock that enlarges to border the rest of the island, extending to a steep cliff ahead. He needs to keep on land and sprint for as far as possible, as swimming will be considerably slower, decreasing his chances of keeping in pace with Babylon. He notes that the direction of the wind will aid him a lot in the swim to come, just as long as the skycity remains on its current course.
Above him, the skies of Kronos crackle with the raging naval battle. Radiance pours across the view of the guardian station, highlighted by the nebulous distortion. The sight of the mangled station is vivid from the planet's surface, spattering the ocean with falling debris from the Olympian warship that it recently swallowed. Gunships of many variants are wreathing the skies overhead in dog-fights and airstrikes, hammering the skycities and their anti-air defences. Kronos is hell, and right now, nowhere is safe.
Deo controls his breathing as he feels the burn of straining muscles, moving like a cheetah across the rocky ridge of the island and leaping over obstacles that shackle his momentum. His entity sparks in pace with his movements, and the veins on his body burn in response to his body's need of the energy boost it provides him. With the alien organism lending him an extra source, Deo digs his boots harder into the solid ground with every stride.
The edge of the ridge comes into sight, bringing with it a sheer drop into the turbulent ocean below as it heaves under the gravitational tide and smacks against the cliff face. He can perceive the ocean dredging up scarlet hued seaweeds, lathering up with the smashing of the waves.
With a singular thought that travels through his datakey, Deo morphs his vitasuit's armour plating back over his body. The odd sensation of transforming armour riding along his body is barely felt as he focuses solely on moving faster and faster, picking up even more speed to prepare for the dive. No longer can he feel the salty wind battering against his face as his helmet reforms back over his head, his visor burning in iridescent shades as his entity coils up within his blood, bolstering his preparation.
Reaching the edge, Deo leaps off headfirst. His armour completes its conversion in midair, sheathing his plummet downward as his senses are wracked in falling vertigo. The water quivers as he plunges through it, the frothing liquid grasping his heavy limbs for a moment until he regains his strength. He pulls his way back up through the curdling water, breaking the surface and instantly clawing his way onward with powerful strokes. His arms pound through the water with fresh energy, and his legs kick continuously, fighting against the buckling currents.
Eventually, the Paragon’s angle of direction causes him to approach the skycity from its west, enabling him to swim underneath as it passes overhead. He waits for the waterfall in its wake to scoop him up in its gravity stream, carrying him up into Babylon. This is his theory...
The colossal structure grinds through the air with a deep drone, joined with intertwining hums of star energy. The gravity field holding the skycity afloat is speckled with light notes of burning star energy, slivers of it streaming out into the air in a dazzling array of perfectly synchronised harmony through atmospheric gases.
The water around the awaiting Paragon begins to drag subtly backwards as the kinetic waterfall approaches, the gravity stream picking up the water lightly without heaving it up and disturbing the natural flow of the ocean currents. From Deo’s view, it appears like a rising mist at first, but slowly thickens as it rises. He hopes the gravity will pick up his weight.
Feeling himself lose control of his direction, he gives in to the pull of artificial gravity. But his body is not lifted. He is too heavy. He swears and swims after the rising mist, thankful that he stole Mazayus’ thruster-boots before setting off. He will not be needing them.
This time, Deo activates the thrusters. They were designed for low gravity, and will not allow him to fly, much to his disappointment. Instead, they assist in raising him through the water enough for the gravity stream to catch his weight.
He tumbles at first as the water brushes past him, splashing off his armour, but soon he is lifted seamlessly with the upward waterfall, feeling the strange tug of gravity but also the gush of elevation with the shrinking view of the ocean below him.
As Deo nears the edge of Babylon, the snap of gunfire permeates the air where columns of smoke roil into the sky. In preparation, he reaches over his shoulder for his assault rifle, firmly poising it against his chest to prevent from losing his grip on it and having it snatched away by the artificial gravity.
As soon as the height of the waterfall greets him, the warfare of Serenity and the UEU dominates his vision, and the fact that he is riding up a waterfall is diminished. He sees rampant exchanges of gunfire flung across building to building, vehicle to vehicle, soldier to soldier. Even a few brave or crazy civilians are retrieving weapons from defeated soldiers and wielding them at their enemies in fits of fury and blinding emotion. Buildings in the distance of the city com
e to destructive ends as they succumb to their damage, collapsing in tumbling wrecks of debris and chaos. Billows of fire and smoke choke the lower streets on the ground, and fires invade the skystreets above, where platforms and walkways weave between skyscrapers. The once spectacular city is being reduced to ash and rubble by the violence of human nature, right before Deo’s angry eyes.
The kinetic waterfall releases him from its grasp and dumps him, along with tonnes of water, into the slender Euphrates River that meanders through the skycity to its inevitable drop. In mid fall, Deo lets off a few bursts from his rifle into the hull of a passing Dagger before he is plunged into the river. Unable to sight its assailant, the Dagger continues onward.
A nearby explosion rocks the river into a sharp wave, pushing ocean water over the edge of the river’s containment and spilling over the battle-scarred streets, swallowing a few fleeing marines. Deo uses this distracting event to emerge from the rumbling river and clamber across the streets, weaving his way through sailing shards, elemental explosions, and soaring debris.
He needs to find an officer or a base of operations to query about the location of King Anzac. Comms are a mess, filled with incomprehensible chatter and pouring with interference and static. He makes a point of staying clear from the heavy areas, finding a remotely dull area in what is left of an alleyway, a skystreet platform covering his vulnerability. Surfing through the channels, he halts his search when an organised choir of voices clamours through his earchips.
"... GONE! LOST MY MEN IN THE TEMPLE..." Static fills the channel for a moment. "...REPEAT! THE TEMPLE IS OVERRUN! ALL UNITS FALL BACK TO DELTA!"
Deo concentrates his earchips on that channel, catching snippets of orders and directions, all centred around a temple. The King must still be there.
Slipping into low cover behind a wrecked Blackray, Deo hunkers down at the edge of an abandoned street, many tall buildings and aesthetic structures of curved or sharp elegance surrounding him. Well, elegant enough without the damage riddling them. Whoever was engaged in heavy combat in this area has moved on, further up street he gathers, by the sounds of distant battle rolling downwind.