The Armor of God (28 page)

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 reading 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.

How could Ezra feel so strong and so vulnerable at the same time? The thing was still writhing when Ezra got to Nandi’s feet and felt the energy converge in his horns before shooting a vicious blast. It exploded, leaving only a twitching lower half.

Ezra yelled. Nandi roared. He was scared, drunk with its power.

He tried to launch another blast, but his core, or his horns, or his arms, wouldn’t respond.

“Ezra, it’s dead!” Garros said. Ezra didn’t hear. He tried to shoot again, but the warm energy in his back turned into pain.

“Ezra!” Erin yelled.

“
Stop
!” Poole yelled.

Then, he was on the floor again. Besoe Nandi rolled, ready to charge and shoot and destroy the enemy—

Quantum Ares stood over him. He had been knocked down by his own teammate. “Blanchard, do you
want
your core to overheat?!” Garros roared into the communications link, his giant Creux towering over Nandi. “Don’t charge your blasts to the top unless you
have
to!”

Still on the floor, still immobilized by the overwhelming sensations of fear and exhilaration, he looked around at the battlefield. Only two Flecks remained alive, both in front of Milos Ravana. All around them, there were piles of dead flesh and pools of brown blood.

Akiva’s Creux outstretched his arms to the skies, completely unfazed by the Flecks biting and clawing and charging at its formidable body. Milos Ravana’s hands shot a blinding beam of yellow light that stretched upwards to forever. He brought the beams down in one powerful motion, like a hammer. The two remaining Flecks were crushed. Ezra could hear them scream, as if in pain, just before dying. He was glad they were only Flecks; he would be horrified to hear such painful howls from anything else.

Don’t trust him.

After their return, Erin gave them twenty minutes to go to the dormitories and shower before debriefing.

Every moment of the battle, which lasted no longer than one hundred and twenty seconds, replayed in Ezra’s head as he furiously scrubbed his body, ridding it of a taint that wasn’t really there. It was as though his mind had forgotten nothing this time: Every sensation that he couldn’t feel as Nandi, he felt as Ezra. He felt the fear of seeing those monsters snapping their jaws at him. He felt the titillating joy of being strong. He felt the shame of being overtaken by that strength and then being subdued by Garros.

But most of all, he felt alone. He needed Nandi’s voice in his head.

Ezra needed to go back down and make amends for his mistakes. He knew he could be a better pilot; he only needed to know what would combat really entail, and now he had, and he was ready.

“What would you say you did right?” Erin asked to the group in general, but no one answered. Between Erin and Garros, the big screen displayed an image of the lifeless world from which they had just returned. The entire mission had been recorded from Phoenix Atlas’ perspective so they could study its every beat. “Guys, it’s not a trick question.
What would you say you did right?
”

“We got rid of the Flash,” Jena said. “Which was . . . our objective?”

“Yes. That you did, and efficiently,” Erin said, fast-forwarding through some of the recording. “There were fifteen Flecks, and we only had to take care of one, which means you as a unit managed to kill fourteen in under three minutes. Not bad at all for your first battle operation.”

“Who killed the most?” Akiva asked.

“Uh . . . It’s hard to tell from the recording, but as far as I could tell, you did. You got six, Blanchard got three, Jena got three and Poole got two,” said Erin, looking at a report in her hand. Akiva smiled, self-satisfied.

“Considering the power of your Creux, I expect
you
to do twice as well next time,” said Garros, and looked at the others. The recording was paused just before Erin tore the mound. “Did you notice something you
didn’t
do right?”

No one said anything. Ezra knew the answer: he had become caught up in the action, forgot the limits of his Creux. He could have been hurt, could have hurt the others.