Dimension

by Shay Zana

  “Well as we understand it, sir, this woman was sighted aiding the rescue of King Anzac, and in fact was piloting the vessel that took him off world. Do have anything to add to that?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t even know of that, ma’am. I’m not here to gossip and get on the news, I’m here to do my job and save lives.”

  Suddenly, a commotion overtakes the scene, and the reporter can be heard yelling, along with her crew and several doctors. A flash of red hair streaks by, and a large figure can be made out through the blur, fleeing from the cameras. Rahna.

  Boone cracks up, spitting his snacks out everywhere to strew across the floor.

  “We have also been receiving scattered reports of a mission assigned to this unit of Paragons. According to rumours, they have travelled from Earth to stop the distortions, of course having discovered how to. They apparently carried the orders of the Ciphers to evacuate the galaxy, and claim that the UEU is not responsible for the distortion events. Only time will tell if they are here to save us. That is all we have for you right now, but updates will continue regularly. Stay safe, and hang in there.”

  “You should be studying.”

  Boone spits out his chomped up food again at the fright, coughing before spinning to see his Cipher standing behind him, arms crossed over her chest. “I was,” he argues. “Just taking a break.”

  Kitera shakes her head, but instead of scolding, she moves to sit beside him on his bed, heaving a sad sigh.

  “Thought I’d savour the last time I ever watched the screens,” he admits after a moment, switching channels. On every station, news reports and live footage of distortion events and evacuations mar the once pleasant pass-time. “Nothing good on today, anyway.”

  Kitera leans over into his arm, grabbing for his hand in a clasping grip.

  “You know,” he mumbles soothingly, knowing the sound of his voice and the resulting rumbles of his chest have always comforted her, “as much as I want the honour and to save everyone, I also wanna go on living. I like my life. All the others dream of making their Sacrifices, jumping at every summoning to their Ciphers, taking the job so seriously. But I wanted to make the most of the time I had, to really live in each moment, discovering new planets and meeting new people and blowing different shit up each day. There’s nothin’ like it. Paragon Boone, living life as it’s thrown at him, new adventure every day, never knowing what he’s in for. But I never did fit in... You know, sometimes I wonder why I’m even a Paragon. I don’t have the honour the rest do.”

  Kitera clutches his hand tighter and fights back empathetic tears. “You do have honour, Boone. You do not need to follow tradition to be honourable. You were chosen, not for what is here,” she tugs at his sleeve, “but for what is in here,” she now tabs at his chest, indicating the Paragon heart within. “Nedai, the heart. Remember that.”

  “Even if the Zodiacs think I’m a derp?”

  “Even if.”

  Cracking a thankful grin, he snakes his arm around her shoulders and yanks her in for a hearty embrace. “You’re my favourite Cipher, you know that right?”

  “Yes,” she replies, beaming as he plants a smooch on her forehead. “You are my favourite Paragon.”

  “Thank you for everything. And for making the last seven years of my life, minus the time in cryo, a breeze.”

  “I will miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you more. Visit me in the Underworld whenever you can, ok?... and bring some booze.”

  Kitera weeps silently into her pillow, legs curled up into her stomach, alone in her quarters. The sweet vanilla aroma sweeping around her is her only comfort, her mind a deep pit of grief. A thin braided strand of her hair curtains over her cheek and fades in and out of her vision, soaked in the tears that meander down.

  As anguish continues to tear through her, her vision keeps going over the pain that is cast upon the galaxy. She has only witnessed a small portion of it, and the thought of all the lives lost and suffering right this moment burns her within. To add to this, her Paragons have had a unanimous decision to initiate their mission ahead of schedule, and now as the realisation of losing them whacks into her stomach, a fountain of depression has been working its way up from her roots, threatening to bury her in the chilling depths of inactivity. Why did the Zodiacs have to choose her? Why was she chosen to witness all this horror, this hurt and hell?

  A swish of cool air announces the soft morphing actions of her door opening to someone’s presence. She forgot to lock it. Sitting up quickly, Kitera dashes the tears away from her eyes.

  “Kitera?” she hears Deo’s husky voice.

  Trying her best to compose herself, she turns her face to see him standing in the doorway hesitantly, his figure shadowed by the dimly illuminated atmosphere that Altair’s symbols create. He has not yet entered her quarters.

  Seeing her move to sit on the edge of her bed, Deo takes this as a sign that his presence is welcome, entering her quarters, making sure to seal the door behind him. He can tell from her swollen eyes that they have harboured tears.

  “We’re leaving soon,” he tells her gently as he comes to a halt before her, unsure what else to do or say.

  She gives a slow nod and stares demurely off into a symbol. “Yes, Boone has informed me. I must prepare the Verilai’Sina,” she says coldly, her remote stare holding.

  Right now, Deo does not know where he stands with her. They had shared a kiss, but have not yet spoken of what exactly it meant. In fact they have not spoken since the destruction of New Reason. Perhaps it had just been a way of saying goodbye.

  Nodding in conclusion, Deo turns to leave.

  “Do not go,” he hears the words crack from her throat. “Please.”

  Halting in his tracks, he turns again to see that she has shot up from the bed and is now standing, shoulders slightly slumped. He roves his eyes over her troubled features, trying to read her as she stares up at him with need, a need that pulls at him. Her silver eyes are like rivers of sadness, dams only just managing to hold in their water. The sight of her torment is excruciating.

  At once, the Paragon rushes to her, taking her within his arms and holding her protectively. He feels her frail physique tremble within his hold.

  Kitera gives a sigh of choking emotion as she curls into his enfolding cocoon, an elated feeling shooting through her. Instead of crying into him, her lips find his and they clash together in barely contained passion, hot breathing and blood pressure rising. They share a long, deep, heated kiss, brimming with long held desire and intimate comfort. Their union escalates to a hardened need, lips firmly seeking depth, tongues caressing smoothly. Their bodies close the gap between them, him pulling her up while she tugs him down, hands exploring and tugging at clothing with blind feeling.

  She pulls at the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward, and he breaks away from her briefly to help her pull it over his head, tossing it away carelessly. Neither of them see where it lands, nor care. In a moment of awe, the woman stares at the display before her. Deo’s figure is magnificent, a powerhouse of overwhelming proportions, enriched by the radiance of his veins as his entity revs in arousal. Her hands reach for his body, fingers gliding up the taut valley of his abdomen, her lips softly grazing his hot skin in their wake until she reaches his chest, planting firm kisses. She feels bursts of heat buzz at her lips, his entity coming alive within him, vibrating under him, his veins glowing even more intensely like alien tattoos. Entranced by his inhuman heat, she trails her fingers across the expanse of his shoulders, finding the blade scar across his deltoid. She kisses it, her hands continuing their journey down his powerfully dense arms until she reaches his hands at her hips.

  The feel of her deft touch sends heat plunging through Deo. Intense passion surges through him, driving him to a frenzy of need as he grabs her firmly by the thighs and lifts her up to his height. He hears a soft exhalation from her and feels her sigh against his lips, her hands melding to the back of his thick neck, fingers massaging. A shot
of blood travels to his manhood as her thighs enwrap him, and he cannot stop himself as he moves to the wall and slams her back to it, perhaps a little too roughly.

  She gives a hiss of arousal at his powerful need, the slight pain of the collision gone as soon as his hot lips find her neck and caress her vulnerability with moist affection. A moan escapes her as his lust has her pinned, her hands pulling him in, legs crushing his body closer. The feel of his hard, muscular form pressing into her, his strength supporting her, his vigorous urgency taking her, she is prepared to yield fully.

  In the custom of her people, sexual intimacy is treated as an honourable gift shared between two mated lovers, and involves a ritual before and after the experience. It is viewed as the ultimate show of love that is gifted to human kind by nature, and the act should be treated with such respect and sacred honour. But currently, Kitera cannot care less for such customs.

  Deo has to restrain himself not to take her right there, against the wall without comfort. Breaking off from her to summon a breath, he presses a hand against the wall to ground himself and looks into her eyes for confirmation. She stares back with the heaviness of lust, her breath quavering. “Kiya,” he whispers with cherishing care.

  This is the first time he has ever called her by her nickname, Kitera realises as the following warmth fluxes to her chest.

  He kisses her strongly, carrying her back over to the mounds of blankets upon her bedding and gently lowering her down within them, never breaking away from her lips, never lengthening the distance of their bodies. He grasps at her supple thigh, his hand travelling up the length of her body while hers ripple down his, flowing over each muscle and enticing his desire. His grip on her flesh tautens, drawing a pleasurable hiss and an intake of breath from her between their hardening kisses. Once he is comfortably propped upon her, careful to support his own weight as not to crush her beneath him, he moves from her swollen lips and begins kissing his way down her luscious neck, nuzzling into her creamy skin as she purrs in her curious tribal way. He follows the path between her breasts, kissing wetly, dipping his warm mouth down her stomach as she arches up into him, her ribs exposed in the stretch. His hand goes to her back to support her as his lips plant firm kisses along those ribs, her every detail intriguing him. As his journey of worship reaches her navel, he stops, not daring to journey further to her intimate lands just yet. His way of being a gentleman. Instead, his hands slowly slip her garment from her body, tenderly working at straps and knots, kissing as he goes. For a moment he just takes in the sight of her naked body, marvelling at her beauty until his own body mourns the closeness of hers.

  This man’s powerful aura has her intoxicated, lust motoring through her to a height that is almost unbearable. She wants him, all of him, and not just physically. She wishes she could join her consciousness to his, learn all there is to know about him, understand him fully, and share her own soul with his until they reach that unreachable, ultimate bond that one wishes for but cannot comprehend. His flaws are perfection to her, his pain her pain, his passion her passion. She could care less what her people think, what they forbid and what they deem pure or poison. This man, this warrior, is her Paragon. Her territory. Her mate. His poison fills her soul, and it is a poison she welcomes.

  STRANDED

  Blooming light emerges from nowhere, stabbing into the eyes of every crew member aboard the Marauding Exile as she reappears. Shifting inside the distortion was suicide, but it has also just saved their asses.

  Rockland regains his balance as the view out the bridge windows comes back to life after a swirling darkness. So they are not dead, not in the Underworld or any other form of it, and definitely not in heaven, so where have they ended up? The endless void owns glittering stars, no identifiable constellations or hazy clouds of distant nebulae, but at least there are stars. Kronos, the guardian station, the war and all its warriors, and that dreadful tornado distortion have all vanished from existence.

  “System-wide pulsars; find out where we are,” Rockland orders curtly, the first words spoken since the shift.

  “Sir,” Dimitri responds at the navigation station, already on it. After a moment, the head navigator rubs at his chin and his expression falls into perplexed lines. “No identifiable masses or gravitational cycles, the stargrid’s off by a long shot. Nothing matches. We should be in orbit over Kronos right now, still in the Elysian Fields.”

  Rockland gives a knowing grimace and paces over to Dimitri’s station. “I thought this might happen...”

  “You thought what might happen?” Zee spurts back from the helm.

  Rockland does not initially reply, too focused on working the analysis sweep of the surrounding space. He picks up multiple celestial bodies locked in wide orbit of a white dwarf star, which would have once been similar to the Sun, using up all of its remaining hydrogen fuel in its core and collapsing inwardly, compacting its mass. None of the planets in this system will have life due to their extreme distance from this dying star, and any closer orbiting planets would have been swallowed up by the star’s red giant phase before it shrunk. But what fascinates the commander most is the fact that none of these signatures correspond with the stargrid.

  “We’re in another dimension.”

  For a tense moment, nobody speaks or even appears to move a muscle. Rockland examines each and every one of his crew aboard the bridge, seeing both fear and wonder in their demeanours.

  “Damn...” Nadine whispers at last as she peers outside, transfixed. Others follow her in their fascination, as if this is the first time any of them have seen space or witnessed a distant white dwarf.

  “Shifting inside the distortion field must have triggered a dimensional shift,” Dimitri mumbles more to himself as he studies the data display. “Our shift enabled us to slip through the two tiers of space as their boundaries were unstable. We essentially created our own portal.”

  Rockland’s frown grows deeper. “This is what happens to vessels that jump to SS speeds while inside a distortion field. They don’t get obliterated, they shift through dimensions.”

  “They shift to one specific dimension, sir,” Kann corrects him, drawing the commander’s curious attention. “What the Cipher called ‘the Demon Dimension,’ and I believe we’re in it.”

  This is a change of tune for his Executive Officer, as Kann had previously been sceptical about what the Cipher had told them. Rockland studies the man’s stern face for a moment, attempting to seek conflict. “You believe the word of a Cipher now, Ike?”

  Kann nods his head, eyes unwavering at his commander’s more personal use of his first name. “Yes, sir.”

  Smirking at Kann, Rockland gives him a thankful nod. He stands up straighter, addressing everyone on the bridge. “It seems we have just flown out of one problem and into another, as this mission has had us doing repeatedly. But Operation: Ghost Tempest is concluded, and as far as Admiral Coleman views it, I have gone rogue from the UEU military and have sided with Serenity. In truth, I still serve the UEU at heart, even if they declare me AWOL, but this situation has gone far beyond the quarrels between humanity’s differing opinions. More than serving the UEU, I serve humanity.

  “You no longer have an obligation to serve under my command, but regardless of the chain, we all need to co-operate for now until we can sort out how to get back.”

  “Has anyone considered the fact that we may not be able to go back?” Nadine raises the issue.

  Rockland regards the young woman earnestly. “Let’s not jump to any damning conclusions just yet.”

  “Like it or not, we’re all stuck here until we learn more,” Kann backs him up firmly, sweeping his sights across the entire remaining crew. He sees nerves, exhaustion, and shock. Not surprising. “But for now, we seem to be safe,” he checks for a nod from Dimitri, “and we have all the star energy we could need. I don’t want riots or any bullshit, so if the thought of an uprising even crosses your mind, you know where the airlock is.”

  The cr
ew shuffle, unsure to be humoured or afraid.

  Rockland tames a grin. “What Kann means to say is, treat this as a well earned intermission. Now, who’s with their old commander?”

  All the crew exchange glances and seem to come back to life, straightening their stances and flinging their hands up to their brows in crisp salutes. He hears a chorus of verbal agreements from them, intensely proud of them all.

  “So,” Zee cuts in. “Not that we’re in a hurry, but how are we getting back to our dimension?”

  The commander chews on his upper lip for a moment in contemplation, and now directs his gaze at the head navigator.

  Dimitri lifts his hands as if in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I navigate at SS speeds, not interdimensional.”

  “Well we shifted through a distortion, right?” Zee ponders aloud. “Would we get the same result if we found one in this dimension and shifted inside again? Reverse effect?”

  “Could work,” Dimitri shrugs, features dull in thought. “Though locating one could be difficult since we have no accurate blueprint of the galaxy.”

  “It’s better than nothing, Jason,” Rockland decides. “All right, crew dismissed, get back to your stations, I want people monitoring our radius at all time. We have no idea what we’ll find in this place. Updates will be fed through the intercoms.”

  As the crew slowly disperse from the bridge, Rockland stands idly watching them. He had not wanted to voice his largest concern during that makeshift crew meeting. The Cipher was right about parallel dimensions and the distortions being linked to them, but had her warnings of a separate collection of gods been true? Have they just crossed over into enemy territory? Into the devil’s jaws?

  A DANCE OF MINDS

  I am cradled in the glades of blue foliage, Nera’s white light joined by its binary brother, emitting a harsh radiance that drives the wildlife beneath the surface. I watch as their orbits climb to their peak, feeling the glades around me weep their natural sap for protection against the rays. I, too, am driven to seek the nocturnal shelters underground, where my people dwell.