Stargazers

 

Rhea, Olympus

 

Rhea, seat of the Olympian Republic, the greatest economic and military power in the known universe, is nothing but traffic jams and skyscrapers.  Towers of steel and glass shine sunrise to sunset, burning like torches to light the way of humanity.  Standing among the tallest is Haze Towers and, at the very top floor, is Eril Haze, drink in hand, staring out at the city.

He is wearing his dark blue business jacket open, sleeves unbuttoned, with his tie half-done.  His hair, platinum blond in color, is stylishly messed, and he smiles out at the city that not his father, but his father’s father and his father’s father’s father and everyone before them built.  Eril is a professional heir, a man of legacy, and it is these lofty heights which he must always reach for.

And despite that, he still smiles, and always smiles, because his life is good, and because he has too much work to do to ever let a frown weigh him down.  Darker days had passed, and he weathered those, and with the weapons his company builds, he expects that he will weather the darker days to come.  At least, he means to.

For now, he has the privilege of watching the sun coast across the sky from his window and watching the clouds gather like fog around his tower.  He can see ships, arriving and departing, flaming tails following as they pass through the atmosphere.  Below, far below, he can’t see the people, but he knows that they are there, clogging the bridges and the streets as they always do.  He rubs his chin and vaguely wonders how long it has been since he left the tower, but he can’t place the date.

Elkiel Lucre watches from the corner, blending into the shadows.  He is well-dressed in a dark suit, tie tightly cinched, hair smoothed back and parted on the left.  His jacket has a telling bulge of a pistol.  His hands are folded politely in front of him. 

Eril finishes his drink and grimaces and goes to rinse his glass and pour a water.  His day isn’t over, but he needed at least something to get him through it.  As he approaches the sink his office door opens with a sigh and his secretary enters.

Meira Rune, daughter of the illustrious Rune family, famed for their drug stores which have spread across the galaxy.  Six years ago, she approached Eril for an internship and never left.  Sometimes, she mentions how her family misses her, and always Eril offers to let her go, but she insists on staying.  She says she is happy where she is.

She is well-dressed, wearing a blue jacket with a matching skirt.  She wears short heels which accentuate her naturally long legs and, as a result, towers over Eril as she approaches him.  Her lips are painted a soft pink which nearly matches their natural color.  She gives him a smile and hands him a folder once he dries his hands.

“Morning.”

“Noon,” she says.  “You really should get out more.”  She goes to his desk and takes a seat before it.  Eril follows her over, looking through the paperwork as he goes.  The Olympic military is requesting modifications to their newest models.  Most of them are simple repairs.  Only a few really catch his eye or his imagination.

“How are you today, Kiel?”

Elkiel gives Meira a stiff smile.  “I’m doing well, ma’am.  You?”

Meira stretches her arms over head.  “Ready for supper.”  She looks at Eril, who has now seated himself across from her, behind his desk.  “Will you have time this evening for drinks?”

Eril looks up from the paperwork long enough to laugh.

“Of course.”  Meira leans forward and frowns.  She stares at his desk, where a holographic grid glows in one corner.  Obsidian figures are spaced across one side, on darker panels.  Holographic figures are set on the other side on lighter panels.  She stands enough to lean over it and laughs to herself.  “I still can’t believe you have this.”

“What,” Eril says, turning a page and making notes as he goes.  “Not a fan of games of strategy?”

“I’m not against them as a rule, it just seems like such a cliche for someone like you have be playing chess,” she says, and she stands straight, hands on her hips.  “And if you have time to play this game, then why can’t you ever join me for lunch?”

Eril smiles and sits back in his seat.  “Winning doesn’t take as much time as you might think.  Meals with you, however, always have a way of turning into something else.  You know what the tabloids say.”

“They still say it.”  Meira shakes her head.  “And who do you keep playing?  Is it some mysterious rival?  Is it Rose?”

Eril laughs, pulls the folder closer and goes back to work.  “No.  I don’t think it’s Rose on the other end, though it very well could be.  You’re right that they are mysterious, but that is part of the charm.”

“Have you ever thought about tracing them?”

“No.”  Eril shrugs.  “Even if I did, I’m sure that they would have protection against such things.  They’re too clever for something so simple to work.”

“And do you really win so often?”

“Not as often as I pretend.”

“Maybe they’re not clever.”  Meira giggles to herself, picking up a piece and runs her fingers along the cold stone of it.  There are sensors on the bottom to pick up its movement.  She returns it to place and watches a single piece move across the board, a knight, dancing always at an angle.  Eril sighs and removes a pawn from the field.  “Maybe you’re just not very good.  How long have you been playing?”

“This game? A few weeks.  We make moves when we can and have a lot of time to think in between.”

“They must be nearly as busy as you are.”

“Must be,” Eril says, staring at the chess board.  He sighs and returns to the paperwork.

“No rest for the wicked, huh?”

He laughs.  “Something like that.”

“If you have so little time, why not quit playing?”

“And admit defeat?  Never!”

“That’s the sort of behavior that will someday sink this company.”

“Not with these numbers.”  Eril stands, fastening the cuffs of his jacket and adjusting it on his shoulders.  “Where would you like to eat, Meira?”

“We’re going out?”

Eril nods and goes to the mirror to mess his hair.  After, he adjusts his tie and fastens his jacket, buttoning it slowly and carefully as he moves to the door.  Meira follows him close, with Elkiel trailing after her.

She looks over her shoulder.  “Kiel, what sounds good to you?”

“Anything.”

“That’s not a type of food, you know,” she says.

Ahead, Eril opens the door for them and follows them into the elevator.  He sets it for the ground floor and adjusts his jacket again, checking himself in the reflection on the elevator’s doors.  “I suppose we can go to Lotus.”

“Ugh.  That food makes me so sleepy, and everything there is so expensive.”

“It’s worth the money spent on it, I think.”

Meira rolls her eyes and, at the ground floor, follows him to the front.  His car is already pulled around, and Elkiel holds the door for the two of them before joining them in the back.

2: Canaan: Desert Research Station

Canaan: Desert Research Station

 

    Jameson Arthur stares out at the Canaan landscape and finds the vast, empty sands staring back.  They glow orange in the midday sun, waves of heat distorting the dunes into various shapes so unrecognizable and yet familiar that he knows there is nothing to fear.  He has his rifle at his side, safety on, as he reclines in his chair.

    The sky is clear and powder blue with a rim of white.  The research station itself is a sun-bleached black that does little to disperse the heat.  At least, in his tower it is warm.  The way the sunlight hits the windows combined with the small size of the room often leaves him feeling stifled.  Even with the air conditioning on it is warm.

    Some of the guards liked to strip down and enjoy the sauna-like warmth.  Arthur never did, but he didn’t see why any of them should be punished for it.  Theirs was the only station for days, perhaps even on the whole planet.  He didn’t know for sure.  No one came out here and announced their presence, so it was hard to get official numbers.

    To his knowledge, Canaan wasn’t a complete desert.  It was warmer than most planets, located just slightly closer to the system’s star.  Close enough at least to keep parts of the planet so warm that they are uninhabitable.  Near the poles he has heard of dense forests where life might flourish.  Whatever could be found there was long since catalogued.  That anything was found this far near the equator is often considered a miracle.

    The Canaan Research Facility officially doesn’t exist.  This wasn’t unusual for privatized military contractors like the one he worked for.  Because of the Three-Party Accord signed just over a decade ago there are a lot of similar research facilities all across the galaxies.  Anywhere uncovered ruins can be hidden from view there will be a corresponding facility to loot them.

    Unofficially, the facility itself is funded by Republic wealth, old money that have a vested interest in the government’s smooth operation.  Officially, it is privately funded by anonymous donors.  Either way, Arthur gets paid.  He quit the politics of governments and military long ago and since has just been doing his best to draw a paycheck.  It is hard enough to get work with his injury.  He doesn’t need something like opinions getting in the way.

    What he does like about the job is the solitude.  He sits alone for hours, staring into the wilderness.  Sometimes he falls into himself, reflects on his life.  Other times he does nothing at all but sit and bake in the tiny room, the tinted windows doing their best to absorb the sun’s light.

    A knock at the door draws him from whatever reverie he has, and he stands with his rifle at his side.  When the next guard arrives, a small blond man with dark eyes and sharp shoulders.  They shake hands.  “See anything,” the blonde asks.

    Arthur shakes his head.  “Nothing except the occasional mirage.”

    “Oh, good, then the shows on.”  The blonde enters the room and takes up the seat Arthur was just at.  He sets his rifle to the side, safety on.  “I hope today’s episode is good.”

    “Honestly, it all seems a little random.  The show’s writer’s must be drunk at the wheel.”

    The blonde laughs and waves, and Arthur waves back before leaving.  He enters the hall and climbs the long ladder down into the facilities interior.  It is cooler here, in the depths of the facility, and for that he is grateful.  He keeps his rifle over his shoulder and makes his way down the hall where he can register it before he grabs a quick meal and goes for his bunk.  

    Twelve hours until his next shift.

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

    The cafeteria is a comparatively large room within the context of the base.  The walls are higher than most and, like the watch tower, there are windows looking outside.  Outer walls obscure much of the sun however while still allowing enough light to see by.  The air is cooler here, especially with the help of the air conditioner and closer proximity to the ground.

    Jameson grabs a tray and loads it full.  He remembered military rations with some envy.  It was easier then to keep in shape simply because they told him what he could and couldn’t eat.  It is always the little things he missing about the military, but he takes comfort in the knowledge that so much of it is, deep down, still with him.

    The room is quiet and the floor glossy and reflective.  The facility itself is small.  The guard staff is the most numerous, with general workers after them, maintenance after them, and the actual research team composing the smallest number of people there. In truth, Arthur doesn’t know what they are researching.  It is something to do with the Guides, but all of the specifics are confidential.

    While in line Arthur runs into a pretty, tanned woman with long legs and a slender frame.  She is older, her smile showing age-lines as she greets him.  Like everyone in research she is wearing a long white coat with her nametag—Dr. Malik Achebe—but she is smiling as she regards him.

    “Well, hello there...”

    “Arthur.”  He holds out his hand and lets her shake it.  “Jameson Arthur, security.”

    Achebe’s smile returns.  It shows the most in her eyes, but that is what Arthur likes about it.  Achebe doesn’t strike him as insincere.  Her eyes just look different when she is smiling.

    “Jameson, I am Malik Achebe.  A pleasure.”

    “Likewise.”

    “Would you care to sit with us?  There are plenty of free tables, but you’re welcome at ours.”  She nods toward a table of researchers already eating. 

    Arthur gives a smile.  “I’d be glad to,” he says, and he waits for her to get her tray and thank the staff before she leads him to the table. 

    Arthur hasn’t met any of the researchers.  Most of his time there is spent getting used to the long shifts they have to work as well as getting used to the heat.  The researchers are busy and often take their meals in their lab when they can, and what time they have off is spent resting just like him.  In the three weeks, this is the most he has had the opportunity to speak with them, or anyone, and he is grateful for the conversation.

    He joins them at the table, following Achebe over and settling beside her.  The two researchers were both men.  One is squat and dark, with a neatly trimmed beard and a square head to match his square glasses.  The other is taller and round.  He keeps a beard, too, his greying at the edges.  His hair is thinning and his body just seems to sag wherever Arthur looks at it.  Still, he smiles and greets Arthur warmly.  They are doctors Trevor Kalam and Stephen “Rooster” Ross.

    “So, Arthur, anything we should be worried about?”  Kalam asks before blowing on his soup and sipping it delicately.  He has perfect manners in everything he does and seems to move with such precision that it is almost robotic.  Every movement is premeditated, Arthur is sure.

    Arthur shakes his head.  “No, sir.  I saw a sandstorm a few miles off, but it should blow over before the evening.”

    “And that won’t cause us much trouble in here,” Rooster says.

    “Speak for yourself.  I, for one, like to get out and get some fresh air when I can.”

    “Too hot for fresh air,” Achebe says.  “Too hot for much of anything out there.  I feel bad for the pilots who come down here, waiting with their doors open while they unload.  And the workers, too.  And can you imagine the poor men and women who had to build this place?  Incredible.  They did the real work, I say.”

    “Oh, come on, you all are doing the best work in the galaxies,” Arthur says, giving another smile.  “The research you’re doing out here will change technology as we know it.”

    “Not the work we’re doing,” Kalam says.  He gives a conspiratorial smile around the table.  “Really, it’s the work she is doing.  We’re just doing everything we can to catch up.”

    “She,” Arthur asks.

    “He’s talking about Clarke. The new girl who came in about a week ago.”

    Arthur has heard something about a new researcher, though he has seen less of her than these three.  The rumor is that she is smartest woman in the galaxies, but there is always talk like that in these sorts of places.  It isn’t until now that Arthur put any stock into it.  From where he sits, each of these three could be the top of their fields, and he wouldn’t know enough to argue one way or another.  To have them be so impressed with this new girl says something good, he figures.

    “I haven’t seen her,” Arthur says.

    “That’s because she hardly ever leaves the lab,” Rooster says.  “She’s a workaholic, that one.”

    “She’s unhealthy.  I worry about her,” Achebe says.

    Kalam laughs.  “You’re jealous.  We all are.  She’s already started making progress on the code in only a week, progress we couldn’t make even with our advanced notes on it.”

    “And what makes her so good,” Arthur asks.

    Kalam laughs again and gives him a long look over the table.  He looks genuinely amused.  “There’s just something in her brain.  She can see patterns.  The girl understands computers in a way none of us ever will.”

    “Really?”

    “She created an A.I.” Rooster says, “And not a simple one.  A so-called ‘Smart A.I.’  Fully functional.  There was an interview with her about it.  The girl was building computers and original O.S.s when she was barely out of diapers.  She’s a savant.”

    “But she works too hard,” Achebe says now, frowning at her meal.  She looks at Arthur.  “She’s going to die young if she keeps this sort of work up.”

    “She’ll be fine.  The young are resilient,” Kalam says, laughing again.  He pats his belly. “It’s us older folk you need to be worried about.”  He looks up, over Arthur’s shoulder.  “And there she is, the talk of the town, out to get her lunch, I imagine.”

    Arthur looks back to find a small girl entering the room.  She has dark hair and thin limbs, and as she passes by, she avoids the eyes of others.  To Arthur it doesn’t seem like she’s rude, more that she’s distracted, like even as she is walking the halls, she is really somewhere else, perhaps still in the lab.

    She goes to the counter and grabs her meal, and she thanks the workers briefly before making a swift turn and leaving again.  As she passes again, Arthur can hardly fathom it.  From his estimation she couldn’t even be five-feet tall, and he would be surprised if she were out of her teens.  He looks back at the other researchers and finds Kalam and Rooster smiling.  Achebe rolls her eyes.

    “She’s older than she looks,” she says.  “You men.”

    Rooster glares.  “What do you mean, you men?”

    “Nothing.”  Achebe turns to Arthur.  “She is small, though, isn’t she?”

    “How old is she?”

    “Twenty-one.”

    Arthur hums.

    “Still damned impressive,” Kalam says.  “Two P.H.D.s, one is Computer Sciences and Neurosciences.  She was teaching over at Urd University, in the Federation, when she was called out here.  Don’t know what they promised her, but it must have been good.”

    “That girl was a teacher?”

    “One of the best,” Kalam says.

    “She’s really quite friendly,” Achebe says.  “She has a nice way of speaking to people, and she knows how to explain things.  Her interviewers are always charmed.”

    “But how is she away from the camera?”

    Achebe smiles.  “Kind but distracted.  She’s always working on something.”

    “Like I said, the smartest person in the galaxies,” Kalam says.  He finishes his soup and stands, lifting his tray as he does.  “Now, I should really be getting back.  Don’t want her to show me up more than she already has, do I?”

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

    Hector drops out of dive-space and drifts into Canaan’s orbit.  She glides into position and coasts along, just outside of the atmosphere, holding there.  Clouds swirl in the planet’s sky.  From the ship’s perspective it is enormously vast and yet the crew can fit it into their palms if they hold their fingers wide open.  The emptiness of space surrounds the planet on all sides as it spirals around its star.

    Lancelot walks the halls.  He has two soldiers flanking him, and all three of them wear dark, skin-tight flight suits.  The soldiers have their helmets on with their visors open.  Lancelot keeps his helmet cradled under his arm.

    They reach the armor dock and the doors glide open.  He grabs a handrail as his body lifts weightlessly and holds near the door while the two soldiers kick off the walls and direct themselves toward their armors, modified Archer models equipped with atmospheric entry-shells.  Lancelot’s custom armor, Jupiter, sits between them.

    Lancelot pinches his helmet between his fingers and uses his outstretched index finger to hit the wall-mounted comms.  When the bridge responds Lancelot says, “Range?”

    “Fifteen minutes until we match rotation, sir.”

    “Stop thrust and keep out sight.  I want this to be quick.”

    “Sir.”

    “And keep the drive warm.  I want to make dive as soon as possible.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Mueller, Stewart, start up?”

    “Ready, sir.  We’re good for launch.”

    “Good.  Lawrence?”

    “Sir?”

    “I’ll give you go from Jupiter’s cockpit.  Lancelot out.”

    Lancelot drifts over to his armor, a big, black, heavily plated monster with a peculiar weapon mounted on its right arm.  It looks like a large javelin imbedded into the plating.  He climbs in through the back and locks into position, fixing his straps and starting up.  Once he is ready, he sends word to the bridge.

    The oxygen is sucked from the room and the doors seal.  The hangar opens, two large metal panels folding inward from above them, and the latches on their legs release.  The armors drift upward and out of Hector, and they use small, controlled bursts of air to right themselves and turn toward the planet.  Jupiter leads them as a pack as they ignite thrusters and make for Canaan.

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

    Chastity yawns.  It is late at night, and she is alone in the lab, which doesn’t bother her in the least.  Overall, Chastity likes people.  She finds them interesting and, on the whole, friendly, but when she has a problem to solve, she prefers solitude.  The problem with people is that they look at things the wrong way, and they ask the wrong questions.  Mostly, they just get in her way and complicate the matter so much that she can’t even see the solution.

    Her whole life, Chastity could always see the solution.  She still remembers the first computer she built.  The pieces just seemed to fit together for her.  She experimented for a few hours, putting pieces together, applying electricity, and she watched what happened.  By the end of a week she had a fully functioning computer built from junk parts.  She was three at the time.  Her parents were astonished.  Chastity just wanted to build more.

    Some people call her gifted or a genius.  Honestly, Chastity never thinks about it.  She doesn’t care how other people perceive her, and she doesn’t care if they know she is smart.  Sometimes, she doesn’t feel very smart at all, like when she hits a roadblock or when she struggles with a concept.  It happens, even to her, but that is when she digs in and breaks it down.  When the solution isn’t obvious, that is when Chastity is most driven to find it.

    That is why she built her own A.I.  The modern Simple A.I. has been around for decades.  The ones that came before them for at least a century.  None of them were truly alive, though, and not for a lack of trying.  The problem was that, like most people, the developers couldn’t see the solution.  Chastity did, though, and that is how she built Cipher.

    The problem is that people never looked at people.  They never understood that if you want to build a smart computer, then you should look at the smartest computer that nature has ever made.  A.I. learn rapidly, but they still have to learn.  Even Cipher started simple, but he was able to grow past it. Chastity studied the brain and saw exactly how to build one.

    She will never build another like him, though.  She loves Cipher and knows that he is lonely sometimes, being the only Smart A.I. in the known-universe.  Sometimes, she feels almost guilty enough to build another, though the undertaking was so great that she isn’t sure if she could do it again.  She hardly slept for three years to do it.  In fact, she sometimes likes to say that is why her growth was so stunted.

    The problem with building Smart A.I.s is the very reason she could build one in the first place.  Chastity understands people, and while she thinks they are good, she also thinks they do some very bad things sometimes.  People don’t treat simple A.I.s well and have no interest in seeing them as living.  Creating more Smart A.I., ones that would function like Cipher does, would be like building little, virtual slaves for people to abuse, and Chastity refuses to be a part of that.

    That is why this project is so important to her.  She was happy at her job.  There were no big questions, no sleepless nights.  Now, she is two days without a wink, surviving off of sugar packets and stale coffee, but she believes it will be worth it.  Because when they told her that they found the first ever Guide, and that it might still be alive, Chastity had to come see.

    And she is not disappointed with what they have.  The Guide they found, codenamed “the Lady,” looks like a human female.  It stands nearly a foot taller than Chastity herself, putting it at almost 181 cm.  It has blond hair, wide hips, and long, lithe limbs.  Chastity finds it quite beautiful and so authentic that she has a hard time believing its body is entirely mechanical.

    Every scan is the same, however, even the ones she has done.  The Guide is a machine and, better yet, it is alive.  It is in a low power state, lines of code running through what appears to be its brain, as if it is waiting for something to wake it.  Afraid of what could be lost if they dissected it, they brought Chastity in to instead wake it up, because if there is anyone who knows how computers speak, it is her.

    Which is why Chastity can’t sleep.  For her, it is more than the discovery of a lifetime.  It is more than changing history.  For her, it is proof to the world that artificial intelligence is alive.  She has a hard time explaining to people what it meant to create Cipher, that she truly created a life, that in a way she has a child.  To know that her work can create a world where Cipher doesn’t have to be alone anymore is the only thing that matters to her now.

    She stretches and goes to get another cup of coffee.  Nearby, her computer runs the code, identifying repeating patterns which may be used for translation.  As she pours, a thought comes into her head.  It is Cipher, giving her an update.

    I’m going to back up the data.

    “That’s a good idea, Cipher.  Thank you.”  Chastity returns to her seat and swivels it around, planting the backrest between her legs and leaning forward on it.  She sips and winces.

    Watch out.  That’s hot.

    “And thank you for that.”  She moves from the holding pod, where the Lady is displayed in a long tube of clear glass, to her computer, where she starts to examine the code again.  The scripting language in entirely unlike anything they use today.  She has looked back at ancient records, and while the code itself is similar to code found in other Guide ruins, it is not uniform.  Chastity squints at the screen.

    You really should have went to sleep with the others.

    “It’s fine.  I stayed up longer when I was working on you.”

    Labor, they call it.

    Chastity laughs.

    But, still, you won’t solve this overnight, and the computer will work while you rest.  It might help to come back to it with a clear head.

    “Mm.  I have you to keep it straight.  You have updated my personal logs, right?”

    Of course.  I can do another back up, if you like.

    “Nah.  I trust you.”  She squints again.  “Can you do a retinal and take a look at this, C? Make sure I’m not going crazy.”

    You probably are, but I’m doing it.  Chastity feels a tickle in her brain or something like it.  She has never been able to explain what the implant feels like when it interacts with other parts of her grey matter.  Okay.  What am I looking at?

    “The code.  Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

    Clearly not or I wouldn’t be asking.

    “Hardy-har.  You say I need sleep, but you’re the one being grumpy.”

    Just tell me what I’m looking for.

    “The computer code.”

    Yes.  Of course.  Very funny.  What about it?

    “I just realized.”  She scans a few more lines, smiles.  “It’s not uniform.  Which is why we’re finding so little repetition.  At least, in places where it would make sense.  Which means...”

    Clever.  Though, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  Chastity smiles.  You want to say it, don’t you?

    “Well, it does feel good to say it out loud.  And it’d be good to have it on record.”

    I’ll get my tape recorder.  She frowns.  Oh, go ahead.

    Chastity’s smile returns as she stands from her chair and paces over to the Lady.  She stares at it through the glass, her lab coat hanging around her body like a cloak.  It was the smallest they had and still seems to swallow her.  She sweeps back her hair and gives it a haughty look.  “The reason we can’t find a script that matches yours is because yours isn’t a script at all.  It’s a cipher.”

    Very good, taunting the poor thing while it’s asleep. What, do you want to put its hand in a bowl of warm water, next?

    “Honestly, I was thinking about it.”  Chastity goes back to her desk and picks up her mug.  She stares at the computer code, still smiling.  Her entire life, she has always seen solutions.  This isn’t any different.

    Still, good job, Chastity.  I couldn’t have done better...

    The lights flicker and die, as do the computers around Chastity.  The hair on her arms stands up, and she can feel something charged in the air.  The front of her head begins to burn for a moment, and she winces, dropping her coffee cup as she braces against the desk in front of her.

    “Whoa, C, maybe you were right.  Maybe I need a rest.”  She stumbles forward.  Outside, she hears something, something loud, like a localized sandstorm.  She sees lights and large, humanoid figures.  “What’re...”  Her arms feel numb, and she falls forward, onto the cup she just dropped.

    “Uh-oh.  C, I think I need help.”  Silence. Not even a tickle.  Her head throbs, and she feels very far away.  “C.  C?  Where are you?  C...”  She whispers into the darkness and then passes out.

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

    Arthur is just falling asleep when a familiar feeling sweeps over him.  His hair stands on end and his skin has a light charge, a tickle across its surface.  It is faint and last less than a second, but it is enough to stir him from his sleep and pull him from the bed.  When his feet find the floor it is shaking, and for a moment he stares down in the darkness until he sees light outside.  He peeks through the blinds and sees there armors in the sandstorm

    He goes to his desk and finds his pistol.  Checking the clip, he flips the safety off and goes to the door.  There is gunfire outside and an explosion.  The guard tower crumbles nearby, collapsing one of the halls.  Arthur ducks down and covers his head as his window is shattered in a hail of bullets.

    The armor outside stomps off, continuing its execution, and Arthur takes the chance to wedge his fingers into his door and work it open.  He slips his body through, sucking his gut in to grow thin enough.  Whatever the attackers are looking for, it will be in the lab.  There are three armors including one still working outside.  That means it will be two on foot and they will be well-armed.

    Another explosion jars the building and smoke spreads through the halls.  Arthur swallows a cough and holds what breath he has.  Outside, the Gigas continues it march around the building, unloading more bullets.  He hears a pause in the gunfire around where the lab is, which confirms his suspicion.  

    Arthur sneaks down the hall and stops where it intersects with another hall.  He pauses, back against the wall, and peeks down both ways.  The smoke and the darkness makes it hard to see, burns his eyes and makes them tear, but he is able to make out an empty hall except for a downed guard at unmoving in a pool of blood. The guard has a bullet wound in his skull and a few more across his chest.

    Arthur continues down the hall, toward the lab.

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

    After finishing his last sweep around the base, Lancelot lands Jupiter heavily at the facility’s southern entrance and opens the back hatch.  Smoke from the collapsed tower fills the air as he breathes and brings back fond memories.  Being a soldier has always been the best part of Lancelot’s life.  In ways, it is the only thing he was ever good at.

    He hops down the back of Jupiter and lands beside it, kneeling as he does and closing the cockpit remotely.  He has a single weapon in hand, a sword just under two feet in length and bladed on one side.  As he lands, he closes the visor on his helm and clicks a few buttons.

    His space suit shimmers and fades, and so does he.  The current that races through the suit passes also into the blade and swallows it, and soon there is no trace of Lancelot, save for the faint sound of his footprints as he moves and the occasional breath.  A trained eye may spot him, if they are looking carefully, and even then, it will be too late for them to react by the he is noticed.

    His men have their orders.  They are to sweep the interior, planting bombs where necessary to collapse the hallways and kill anyone they find on sight, save for the scientists in the lab.  Their targets are two in number: an expert researcher brought in from the Alliance and the living Guide.

    He hears gunfire inside and ducks around the corner to be safe.  It roars a moment longer and then fades.  Someone screams.  There is an explosion.  It rocks the walls of the building, but the foundations are solid.  After peeking around the corner, he enters, his weapon held with the back of it pinned to his forearm.  Years of training have left him almost completely silent.

    A guard comes around the corner, assault rifle up and looking down the scope.  He turns toward where the lab is and gets only a single step in that direction before Lancelot grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him back.  He doesn’t even have time to react before the blade moves through him, and the guard doesn’t know what is killing him until he sees it jutting from his stomach.

    “Who—Who are...”

    Lancelot withdraws and drops the man to the ground, dragging the blade smoothly across his throat as he steps over him. After, he uses the man’s shirt to clean his blade, leaving himself virtually invisible again as he moves quietly down the hall, toward the lab and his prizes.

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

    Chastity feels cold on the floor, her face flat against the panels, her body slightly numb.  The cold feels good, in truth, against her head.  When she moves, she feels sick.  Her head pulses and her vision blurs.  She has to brace against the nearby tables to keep from falling over.

    It takes her a few minutes before she recovers enough to move, and she manages to crawl from her place in the center of the room to a nearby wall.  Outside she hears gunfire.  It makes the pain in her head spread through her body.  Another wave of nausea washes over her, augmented by her sudden fear.  Now, she is shaking, and no amount of breathing is helping her through it.

    “Cipher.”  She says his name again and keeps whispering him in the darkness, but there is no reply.  It hurts her to think it, so much so that she tucks the thought away in the deepest parts of her and pretends it isn’t even there, but she can always see the solution in the problem, and she knows the truth.  Cipher is gone.

    She begins to cry, hard and loud, and every effort to stop is met only in failure.  She curls up and holds herself, lying on the ground so that her face is flat against the cold floor again and breathing through the nausea and the shakes and the sorrow.  The room is dark and, outside, she can hear voices.  There are two, both male.

    “It’s in there.  We need to get inside.”

    “But the power’s cut.  The door won’t open.”

    More gunfire, this time getting closer.  “Shit!  We need to find a way.  Come on.”

    They begin beating on the door.  Chastity can feel it in the walls they are hitting so hard.  It rattles her back softly.  She starts holding her breath, an effort meant to ease her sobs and hide her more completely in the shadows.  It doesn’t last long, and soon she is panting.

    The door slides partway open and light spills in along with hot, fresh air.  Two men enter, each carrying assault rifles with lights attached to their scopes.  Chastity holds her breath again and does her best to melt into the wall.  She is hidden underneath one of the desks and hopes no one notices her.  Whenever the lights sweep over her body, she closes her eyes like a child might.

    She ignores their approaching footsteps; just like she ignores their voices. 

    “Hey.  I found one.  Hey, you, are you okay?’  A hand on her shoulder, and she begins screaming.  She screams and kicks, and she backs away into the wall as best she can.

    “No!  Go away! Get away from me!  Go!”

    She swings wildly until one hand takes her about the wrist and pins her to the wall.

    “Calm down.  Calm down, damn it!  We’re here to help you!”

    “Poor thing, she’s scared senseless.”  That is the second man.  He is standing behind the first.

    Chastity pants and cries, and she keeps kicking until one of them slaps her hard across the face.  When her eyes focus, she sees a man there, hair dark and trim, face edged in shadows.  It is hard to see his features with only the flashlight to see by.  The light makes her headache worse. “Now, listen. We’re here to help you.  We’re part of the guard.”

    “The guard.  The guard?”  Chastity falls into him, crying.  “They killed him, killed Cipher.  He’s gone.  All gone!”  She sobs so hard into his chest that she can’t breathe.  She sobs until it hurts in her stomach, until her throat feels bare and until she finally wretches, vomiting all over herself as he ducks away.

    “Damn it!”  The first man stands.  He paces around her.  “We don’t have time for this!”

    “We do if we want to save her.”  The second man kneels.  In the darkness, he looks quite a bit like he first.  He hands her a handkerchief and, when she doesn’t move, uses it to wipe her mouth himself.  “We’re sorry that you’re scared, and we know you’ve lost someone, but if you don’t want to die yourself, you’ll have to trust us.  So, will you trust us?”

    Chastity looks at him.  She nods, not because she does, but because she doesn’t know what else to do.  She keeps trying to think of what Cipher would say or what Cipher would do.  Whenever something was wrong in her life, whenever she was overwhelmed, she would turn to him for help.  Now, she won’t ever have the option again.

    “Good.  Now, are you okay?”

    “They killed him,” she says, her voice cracking.

    “I know.  I know, you said.  Where is he?”

    “Gone.”  She shakes again.  “All gone.”

    “Damn it, not again,” the first man says, but he gets a glare from the second.

    The second offers her his hand and pulls her onto her feet.  He lets her lean into him as they walk.  It isn’t like her, she realizes, to lean on others, but she figures that after everything that has happened today, she really does deserve the rest.

    “Okay, miss, we’re going to have to run.  It might be dangerous out there, okay?  So, whatever you do, watch my back, and don’t stop running.  Nod if you understand.”

    The first man moves to the door and peeks out.  He looks back.  “Hurry up, man!”

    “Quiet,” second says over his shoulder, and back to Chastity, “Do you understand?”  She nods, and he pats her shoulder.  “That a girl.  Now.”  He turns and takes her by the hand, guiding her fingers to his belt.  “Don’t let go, and don’t look at anything but my back, okay?”

    Finally, she speaks, and it is hardly a whisper.  “O-Okay.”

    “Okay.”  He moves forward, testing her.  She holds on to prove to everyone, including herself, that she can.  “Okay,” he says.  “Ready to go.”

    “Finally,” first says, and he draws his pistol until he gets through the door and then uses his assault rifle to see by.

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

    They move slowly.  The man with Chastity leads with the other following.  Both keep their assault rifles up and move with quick, regimented precision.  They keep along the walls, staring down the sights of their rifles with the lights on.  The halls are hazy with smoke, and it burns Chastity’s lungs as they move.  She swallows her coughs, though, breathing through the pain even as her eyes water.

    They stop at a crossroads between halls.  A warm breeze passes through, and Chastity can vaguely smell baked stone on it.  There is a way outside somewhere nearby, and she is ready for the fresh air.  The man in front of her peeks down a hall and curses.  He looks over his shoulder, and over her, at the other guard.  “The western walkway has been completely collapsed.  We can’t take her through there.”

    “We need to get to the hangar,” the second man says, looking increasingly irate.

    “I’m telling you, we can’t take her down there!”

    The second man pauses, looks at her, nods.  “We’ll move forward and take the path along the wall.  The Gigas outside isn’t moving, which I assume means that its pilot is inside with us.”

    “Agreed.”

    First looks ahead and starts moving again.  A gurgle, and he stops.  Second whispers at him, asking what the hold is, and Chastity can see a faint shimmer in the air.  The first man’s back opens and a thin blade escapes him, coming to a stop only inches from her face, visible only because of the blood.

    First slumps against the wall as the blade is retracted, and Chastity falls beside him, still clutching his belt.  He shoves at her with his hand, coughing as he does, smearing his blood across her cheeks.  “Go.  Go, damn it.  Go!”  He pushes her off and onto the ground, where she lies, sobbing.

    “Damn it!”  Two steps forward and fires into the darkened hall.  All he can see the enemy by is the spray of blood left as the blade sways.  He tries to follow that but can’t land a hit as it sways back and forth before closing in.  Soon, second is pinned to the wall by the blade.  He fires as his body tightens from the pain but hits nothing.

    The blade shifts in him, driving up and ending second quickly.  After that, it is dragged along first’s throat.  Chasity lies there, continuing to sob as second slides slowly down on top of her.  Blood pools around her, seeping into her clothes, wetting her skin.  She is taken by the hair and dragged away by some unknown force.  She cries so hard that she begins to cough.

    Footsteps echo around her in the empty hall.  Someone chuckles.  “Now, now, don’t cry, little one.  I’m not here to kill you.”  A man appears, dressed in a skin-tight, silver flight suit.  He stares at her through the visor of his helm as he kneels before her, using second’s pants to wipe his blade clean.  He looks it over before turning his attention back on her.  “I need you.”

    Chastity shakes, hyperventilates.  The world sways, blurs.  This man’s eyes are cold, heartless, he is a predatory, a hardly tamed beast.  Every part of her tells her to scramble and run but she cannot.  Her pants feel wet and warm, and she doesn’t know if it’s the blood or not anymore.

    “Where is the Guide?”  Chastity stares at him; he smacks her across the face.  “I won’t ask again.  Where?”  She points, shaking, down the hall.  “Good girl.”  He takes her by the arm and starts walking, dragging her after him.  They are nearly to the room when she hears gunfire from down the hall, and the man stops.  He looks at her, blade still greasy with blood.  “You didn’t see me,” he says, and he disappears.

    Footsteps drift away behind her as more come approaching from the front.  She has her eyes closed, crying to herself, willing it all away, when she feels strong arms on her shoulder.  She jumps and sways, swinging at the air, and catches a broad chest before she breaks down sobbing.  Two equally strong arms fold around her.

    “Hey, hey, you okay?”  

    Her head is lifted, and she opens her eyes to find a kind face staring back.  Arthur is a big man but moves with even greater care than the guard from before.  She falls into him, hugging him around the waist.  “They’re dead!  They died protecting me and...And...”

    “I know.  I know, it’s alright.”

    “It’s not alright,” she whispers to him.  “He’s still here.”

    Arthur pauses.  “He’s...Who?”

    She looks up at him but can hardly seem him through her tears.  “Please, don’t die for me.”

    Arthur is about to speak when he hears footsteps.  He ducks as the air above him whistles and turns assault rifle on the empty hall, releasing a spray of gunfire.  He sweeps it around the hall and up along the walls.  Footsteps echo, retreating from him as he holds his rifle ready.  His ears ring in the darkness.  Chastity is clutching his back now and shaking.

    Slowly, he turns and pries her fingers from his shirt.  “Did he kill those two?”

    She nods.

    “Why didn’t he kill you?”

    “He said he won’t.  He asked me where the Lady is.”

    “The Lady?”

    “The project.”  Chastity barely gets the word out before she coughs so hard she vomits.  Arthur sighs.

    “Okay.  Then, don’t worry.  You’ll be okay.”  He pauses to listen before pulling her to standing.  “We need to move, though.  He’ll be back for you.”  Arthur looks over his shoulder.  The hair on the back of his neck is standing.

    “He’s watching.”

    “He is.”  Arthur gives her a brief smile.  “I can get us out of here, though.”

    “How?”

    “Just trust me.  Are you strong enough to run?”

    “I think I...”  She breaks down crying again.  “No.”

    “Okay.”  Arthur turns and pulls her arms tight around his shoulders.  He hooks her legs around his midsection.  “Think you can hold on?”

    “No.”

    “You’ll have to.”

    “But...”

    “Try.  For me.”

    She sniffs and hooks her fingers, weaving them together.  “I’m just slowing you down.”

    “No, you’re not.  I need you to live.  I need your eyes.  You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours, and we’ll both get out.  Okay?  Can you do that?”

    Another sniff.

    “Can you do that?”

    “Yes.”

    “Good girl.”  He hooks one leg in hand and draws his pistol with the other, lifting her weight easily.  Considering how small she is, it is almost like basic again.  “Now, let’s go.”  He fires into the hall, where he thinks the enemy might be, and starts charging.  On the way, he drops a flash bang and lets it go off behind them.

    He carries her through the halls, moving slowly and precisely and keeping his ears ready.  They pass bodies on the way, soldiers killed in the initial gun fire or by intruders as they went.  They stop in the end of the guard’s quarters to catch their breath, ducking into one of the empty rooms and pressing themselves against the flat of the far wall.  Chastity is quiet and still, staring despondently at the door.  Arthur nudges her.  “Hey, you never told me if you’re hurt or not.”

    “I’m...” She stares at her hands.  Her vision is better than it was.  She flexes them to make sure they still have blood flow.  They do, but it feels wrong.  Everything feels like it is miles away.  “I don’t know.”

    “Scared?”

    “No,” she says, and she means it.  She doesn’t feel much of anything at this point.  Briefly, she thinks she vomited out all of her feelings earlier.  Anything else that remained after was swept away by the tears.  She feels her pants.  “I wet myself,” she says.  “Like a child.”

    “That’s okay.  That happens.”  He squeezes her shoulder, and she looks at him, not out of sympathy but just to look.  “Can you walk yet?”

    She moves her legs, stands long enough to test her own weight.  “I guess.”

    Arthur joins her.  “Then now is as good at time as any.  Let’s get on it.”

    “Where are we going?  We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

    “Not nowhere.  There’s the jointly held research station...”

    “The Canaan Exploratory Research Station?  It keeps a skeleton crew at best, no one who can help us.  Besides, it’s on the other side of the planet.”

    “Well, then there’s the observatory, for the sun.  It’s run by the Olympic Government and...”

    “That’s still 482.807 km away.  There’s no way to make it there on foot, not with the heat outside.”

    “There are surface water sources for us to hit.”

    “The nearest to us is three km.  In the opposite direction.”  Arthur stares, and she shrugs.  “I memorized the map on the way here.”

    “Well, that’s...impressive.  Still, no matter how tall the order is, we can’t just wait here to die.  So, it’s either we get shot up or we escape.  So, what do you say?”

    Chastity stares wretchedly at the door, and she takes a deep breath.  “Fine.”

    Arthur grins.  “Good.  Then, stay close.”  He goes to the door and peeks out.  Outside there is nothing but dust and shadows.  The sun is still down, the sky is dark but there are stars to see by.  The armors outside remain inert.  Whatever took out the facility’s power likely drained the cells of the armors stationed here, as well as any ships they have.  The mess hall, however, may have something to keep them through the journey.  He looks back at Chastity, who is absently plucking a stray hair from her jacket.  “Your legs up to running?”

    She taps her toes to the floor.  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

    “You’ll be fine.”  Arthur peeks out into the hall again.  “Just follow me close and watch my back.  Do as I say and we’ll be fine.  These guys are amateurs and I’m...I’m...”  He squints into the shadows and sees nothing, but he can hear it, soft foot falls and then a small distortion in the air.  He steps back just as there is a flash of movement in the air.

    He fires wild, two shots into the wall, and hears foot falls around him.  The gunfire echoes and a hazy of smoke follows the barrel as he turns it about.   Someone is behind him, and he turns to fire but feels the barrel jerk away in a flash of sparks.  A gash is left across his forearm.

    Arthur slumps back into the wall and ducks a second swing.  A shallow gash is left in the wall where his throat was.  Arthur backs into the corner, where the angle will be harder.  The enemy will have to lunge to get a good strike on him.  He plants his feet and crouches low, giving the enemy a small target, and then lunges to meet them.

    There is a subtle pain in his side as the blade grazes him and then an impact.  His shoulder meets the enemy’s chest and knocks them back.  A blade appears in the air, materializing and clattering to the floor.  Arthur scoops it up and stops, listening.  He moves forward, slowly, sword ready.

    Two strong hands fix around Arthur’s neck and squeeze.  He gasps and wheezes, flailing and kicking at the air, but there is nothing to be done.  His limbs go numb.  He tries to remember how to break out of a choke hold but nothing in his training told him how to defeat an invisible man and his mind was foggy anyway.  Before he can decide, Arthur blacks out.

    Chastity remains pinned in a corner.  The blade is just feet from her, gleaming.  Then it disappears.  She can hear it scrap along the floor, singing as it was drawn, and she heard it turn in the air.  She remembers that sword, remembers how it looks covered in someone’s blood.

    “No more running,” says a voice.  “Nod if you understand.”

    She nods.

    “Good.” A man materializes in a silver suit, the blade in his hand.  He paces a circle around Arthur, kicks him once, and then holds his blade suspended over Arthur’s throat.  This lasts for a few seconds as the man eyes him, looks him over, keeps him pinned with a single foot.  Then, he drags the blade across Arthur’s cheek and leaves him there.

    The man presses a finger to his ear.  “Hector.  I’ve got the package. Near the hangar, we’ll wait for pick up.”  A pause.  “Go ahead and descend.  We should be fine.  There won’t be any ships out this far, not military, at least.”  Another pause and he looks at her, his eyes hidden behind a reflective lens.  “I’ve got the girl, and we’ve got someone else coming along.  We’ll need men for the Guide, though.  Lancelot out.”

    The man lowers his arm and folds the blade, which is segmented, up for storage.  He tucks it into a patch on his lower back and then approaches Chastity, kneeling to look her in the eyes.  She still isn’t crying, but only because she has nothing left in her to cry out.

    “Listen.  I don’t need the sword to kill you.  Either of you.  So, keep quiet, don’t struggle, and you won’t die.  Nod again if you understand.”

    Chastity nods and, from there on, does her best not to breathe too loudly.

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

    Arthur wakes up feeling light-headed and queasy.  His limbs are stiff and cold, but as he flexes them warmth returns slowly to his fingers.  His head throbs.  When he opens his eyes the pain grows worse, but he slowly adjusts to the light and sits up.

    He is in a bed, the mattress thin and resting atop a cold steel plate.  The ceiling of the room is angled and gray.  Black lines frame the edges.  He feels weightless and cold.

    Chastity is beside him, hugging her knees and floating inches off the ground.  She is crying quietly to herself.  It takes a moment to get his bearings, but when he does, Arthur pushes off the wall and drifts toward her.  When his hands find her shoulders, she flinches, screaming, and then remembers herself and falls into his chest.  “Hey, hey, you okay?”

    “You didn’t die!  I thought you died!  I thought he killed you like everyone else!  I thought...”

    “No, no, shh,” he pats her head.  They drift into the nearby wall and bounce off, drifting lazily, from there, into the center of the room.  He pats her back while she continues to cry.   There is nothing around them, save for the single mattress on the small, steel platform.  He looks around room and stops them against a nearby wall.  “We’re in space, aren’t we?”

    She nods.

    He sighs.  “I’m sorry.”

    “It’s okay.”  She wipes her eyes and looks up at him.  “There wasn’t anything you could do.  There was nothing any of us could do.  We were—we are—powerless.”

    He pats her head.  “Maybe. Did he tell you what he wants?”

    She shakes her head.  “No,” she says, eyes now fixed on the ground.  “They’re going to kill us.”

    “No, they won’t.”

    “How do you know?”

    “If they were going to, they would have done it already.  You saw how they came in.  They weren’t gentle.  You and I are alive for something.  So, think.  What would they want us for?”

    “Nothing,” she said, shaking.

    “Nothing at all?  Nothing they might be after?  Nothing in your research that might attract unwanted attention?”

    She wipes her eyes.  It is different, thinking now.  Part of her brain feels numb, still, and without Cipher there to catalogue the information, to draw it for her, she feels slow.  It has been years since she has had to rely only on her own intellect.  She breathes deeply.  “They wanted the Lady, but they already have her.  Anything else we had was wiped with the EMP.”

    “The Lady?”

    “She—It was what we found at the facility.  Guide ruins aren’t so rare.  There’s plenty to pick from across the planets, which is why the governments will share them.  What made Canaan’s ruins so special was that we found a survivor, or something like it.  It was a humanoid machine, and everything we found suggests it is still operational, just in a suspended animation of some sort.  In appearance, she looks like a human female—synthetic skin, synthetic everything, entirely indistinguishable to the naked eye.  So, we called her The Lady.”

    “I see.  And they were after her?”

    Chastity nods.  “Most research facilities are made public knowledge as demanded by the Three-Party Accord.  This place was kept secret, because of the Lady, against the treaties and, in my opinion, better judgement.”

    “What better way to steal alien technology than to steal it from those who can’t admit to having it stolen, huh?”

    “Yes,” Chastity says.  “But we don’t have anything on her.  We were still decoding things and couldn’t wake her, at least not without hurting her.  There are protocols to these kinds of things, and we were trying to figure out what they might be.”

    “Well, maybe that’s why they kept you alive.  You’re an A.I. Specialist, right?”

    “Not a specialist, really.  I mean, I do have an extensive background with adaptive codes.  That’s why the facility brought me in, between me and...”

    “Either way, you’re the best suited to helping them.”

    “Yes, but why would they attack now?  Why not wait until we have something concrete?  And furthermore, if they spared me for that reason...”

    Arthur looks toward the door.  “Why did they spare me?”

3: Codex 001: Gigas Armors

Codex 001: Gigas Armors\

Taken from War Machine Monthly, Author Anonymous…

 

    “Many historians say that the modern era truly began with the invention of the Gigas Armor.  Created from retro-fitted Guide technology, the Gigas Armor advanced military exoskeleton was first envisioned as an anti-extraterrestrial military weapon, the reasoning behind which was that if the Guides were out here before us using such technology, then likely anyone else we found would be doing the same.

    There were differences, however, between the Gigas Armors we ‘created’ and those which we found in the Guide ruins.  Guide Gigas Armors are nearly half-again as big as those which we use and somehow run on half the power.  The reason for our armors being so much smaller, in fact, is the difficulty in finding a power supply large enough and efficient enough to run one adequately while still allowing the flexibility and versatility required to make them useful.  

    Since their creation, however, the Gigas Armors have become a standard among all three major military forces in space.  In fact, following the signing of the Three-Party Accord, Guide technology became freely traded and understood.  This gave easy access to military contractors and manufacturers to begin building their own models, selling them to each military which they worked for and making agreements with those same military bodies to test their prototypes both in the field and off of it.

    These private contractors brought diversity to the field.  Building not only the bulk of the military armors now in use today, they have also recently begun turning to the private sector to build domestic Gigas Armors for things such as architecture, policing, etc.  Soon, we may not be able to walk down the street without seeing medical armors flying overhead, carrying supplies to people in need.

    This is an interesting shift in public opinion, however, following the Centurion Incident only a few decades ago.  At the time, the appearance of massive, mechanical armors drifting through our sky was something which frightened or even traumatized the people of Mt. Olympus, capitol of the Olympic Repubic, and subsequently led to the breaking of the Republic and the birth of the Federation.  Now, however, Gigas Armors are hailed by economists to be one of the fastest growing businesses in our intergalactic society.

    Why is this?  Much of the blame can fall to the shoulders of a single figure and the company which follows him.  The young CEO Eril Haze, founder and public face of Haze Industries, is often attributed with not only demystifying the modern military Gigas Armor for the public but also taking the fear out of them despite their terrifying forms.  Following the Great Exodus, he and his company sunk trillions of dollars into marketing and research to build and sell Gigas Armors without losing their public face.

    Of course, our Olympic hero is not the only face in the field of Gigas engineering.  He has many contemporaries, each of them providing armors to competing governments and creating their own private monopolies.  Martinson Mechanics is the largest provider of military armors in the Federation for five years now, starting with their famed and resilient Hunter armor, the lightest and smallest found in modern warfare. 

    Meanwhile, the Unified Militia of the Alliance enjoys the work of Mahmoud Engineering.  Founded by Dr. Mahmoud out of the planet Uruk, some people sometimes argue that Dr. Mahmoud gives his government an unfair advantage as the founder and so-called inventor of the Gigas Armors to begin with.  A fourth is rising in the business, Asimov Inventions, though there is little known of them or their business model save for the new frames that they are producing and selling to whoever shows interest.

    Following Project Centurion, some people enjoy the seeming transparency of the Gigas industry and the way it projects itself into the public eye.  However, nothing else could be done after Mt. Olympus’ streets shook with gunfire as massive, metal men rocketed through by, displacing entire buildings in their carnage.  Others call for a return to form, prioritizing people and not machines as the face—and cost—of war.  I, however, believe this: the Gigas Armor is here, and now that we have the technology we cannot, realistically, lose it again.

4: Canaan's Orbit

Canaan’s Orbit

    Daedalus appears out of dive-space in a flash.  Reality undulates around it in waves of rubbery light that slowly return to fade.  The ship glides smoothly into Canaan’s orbit, matching the planet’s rotation and floating within its gravity.  Captain LeGuin, a tall, broadly built man moving into middle age, stands still, staring out at the planet with an immovable calm.  He has his arms folded behind him, his back straight, and his cap resting perfectly on his head.

    The ship’s pilot looks back at him.  “In orbit, sir, but no responses to our hails.”

    “Anything from our scans?”

    “Facility is dark, sir,” says the navigator.  “But we are picking up a ship in orbit.  It is leaving the atmosphere right now.”

    “Hail the ship,” says Captain LeGuin.  “And follow at a distance.  Get word to Lt. Guinevere.  We will need to be ready, in case things go south.”

    The Comm. Officer salutes and returns to the operations board.

    LeGuin walks forward, running his hand along the rail support.  A raised platform in the center of the helm allows him a view of all operations around him.  From where he stands, he can also see a clear view of Canaan, its surface a gleaming bronze with small, swirling clouds like smeared whip cream.  In the distance, a dark speck floats slowly into and then out of view.

    Daedalus turns, effortlessly, and follows the speck.

    “Sir, they are not responding to our hail,” says the Comm. Officer.  After a prolonged silence, she adds, “I’ve issued them our credentials and requested they halt.”

    “Sir, there are warp distortions,” says the Navigator.  “They are preparing for dive.”

    “I see,” says the captain.  “And how far out are they?”

    The pilot checks her mechanisms and gives a solemn glance back at the captain.  “Too far to catch them before dive, sir.”

    LeGuin frowns.

    “There could be survivors on the surface, sir, and even if we make chase, they’re out of range for our cannons to do any significant damage before they escape,” says the pilot.  She looks ahead again and fixes her hands around the ship’s controls.  “Sir, should we make chase or land?”

    LeGuin rubs his mustache and clears his throat.  “Page all of the armor pilots to the armor bay and call the Lieutenant to the bridge.  We’ll send armors to the surface to check for survivors and make pursuit as far as we can.”

    The bridge’s crew salutes.  “Sir!”  Then, they go about their various tasks.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

    Chastity and Arthur are left floating in a cold, steel room.  Arthur is bound and was unconscious for a time.  When he wakes, he complains of a headache and sits up stiffly, now held to the ship by manufactured gravity.  They make sullen eye contact and have little time to themselves before the door slides open and their captor steps in.

    He is still wearing his battle gear, though he now wears his goggles up.  His blade is out, unfolded, and he is cleaning it with a rag in one hand.  Two guards follow him in.  They are wearing a form of black military uniforms, and both carry pistols on their hips and have batons out. 

    At their entrance, Chastity shuffles back against the wall.  Arthur stands to meet them, but the guards meet him first.  They push him down into a seated position on the bed, and he offers only a glare in return.

    Their captor, who is clearly the leader, surveys them calmly.  Then, he returns his focus to the blade in his hands.  He is smiling beneath his mask, and it can be heard in his voice.  “I see that you’ve collected yourself, girl.  That is good, because we have much to discuss.”

    Chastity grabs her pants tightly in her hands, holding the fabric knotted between her fingers.  She stares over the man, past him.  The guards might not even exist to her, but he does.  Periodically, she looks at him.  Periodically, she looks at the blade in his hand.

    “The robot—a Guide, isn’t it?  We took it, too, but it’s asleep, inert, and we want to know why.  And you,” he tilts his blade toward her, points with the sharpened tip of it, “are the only one who knows how to make it work.”

    “I don’t know,” Chastity says, quickly.  “We ran the code, over and over again, but we never figured out...”

    “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sound like the right answer.”  He stares her in the eyes.  “Why don’t you come forward and speak a little more clearly?”

    Chastity gasps, chokes, as one of the guards approaches her.  She curls her legs up to her chest, screams as she retreats.  Hearing her, Arthur stands again to intercept for her, but this time he is stopped with a baton to the knee.  He falls to kneeling before being struck again, in the back this time.

    He falls flat onto the floor.  A spark of electricity sounds through the room.  Face-down, the electrified head of the baton is put to his back, between his shoulder blades, and his body jumps in response.  The second guard joins him, pressing his baton only a few inches away.  Both hold them there until Arthur goes quiet.

    Chastity screams and presses hard against the wall. One of the guards flips Arthur over, onto his back, and then drags him away and to another wall.  The other guard grabs Chastity by the leg and drags her toward the doorway.  She cries, ineffectually, on the way.

    Their leader approaches her and kneels beside her.  He cups her chin with his free hand.  His other hand is fitted, tightly, about the hilt of his weapon.  The blade rests on his knee.  “Now, you shush and listen.  What is your name, girl?”

    “Chastity.  Chastity,” she hiccups and sobs, “Clarke.”

    “I see.  And you’re a doctor, Chastity Clarke?”

    She nods.

    “Good.  Then I want you to stop crying and act like one.  And if you don’t, well,” he pauses, thoughtfully, and then chuckles.  “Well, I’ll make sure to give you something to cry about.  I will beat you, and break you, and rape you until you are so empty inside that nothing else will hurt you again.  Do you want that?”

    Holding her breath, afraid to sob, to gasp, she shakes her head.

    “Then,” he nods toward Arthur, “I’ll have him killed in front of you, just so you have no hope at all, just so you understand how little power you really have.”  He keeps holding her, his hand moving around her neck.  She has stopped crying.  “Good job.  Now, I want you to tell me how to turn the Guide on.  I want you to tell me how to control her.  I want you to tell me anything and everything you know about her.

    “I told you, I don’t know how...”

    He strikes her across the face with his open palm.  It hurts, and it shames, and she has to wipe her eyes and look away before he realizes that she is crying again.

    His hand tightens around her throat.  “Answer me.”  He speaks calmly, without rage or regret, without anything at all.

    “I’m trying to answer you,” she says, calmly and with precision.  “We didn’t know anything.  We just...”

    He stands now and kicks her hard in the stomach.  She doubles over, holding her midsection, coughing and crying again. 

    “Don’t you dare start crying again,” he screams, and he stabs downward with his sword, the sharpened end of it planting into the cold steel beside her.

    She goes quiet.  They make eye contact.

    “And don’t you dare keep lying.”

    “I-I’m not lying!”  It hurts to speak.  Her stomach feels like a hot ball of lead was dropped into it, and her jaw is swollen and numb.  Everywhere else, the pain wis spreading, moving through her like sickness.  “Please, you have to believe...”

    “I have to?”  He grabs her by the hair throws her across the floor.  She stops against the door.  “I don’t have to do anything but get information from you.  You’re supposed to be a genius, aren’t you?  Then, why can’t you figure this out?”  He pins her to the wall with his foot, pressing hard on her chest and forcing the air from her.  The more he leans on her, the harder it is for her to breathe.  “Now, talk.”

    “I don’t know anything!”

    The man breathes, deeply.  “I see.  Then,” he lifts the blade, looking at it gleaming in the light.  “Then you know what that means, don’t you?”

    She nods, holding back tears.  In the back of her head, she remembers Cipher, crumbling, fading away inside of her.  Soon, she will follow him, too, and even after experiencing his death firsthand, she is still scared.  She knows, in the core of who she is, that she doesn’t want to die.

    He clicks his tongue.  “Never can be too sure, though.”  He lifts the sword, rests it on his shoulder, and he removes his foot from her chest.  “Boys.”

    The guards lift Arthur up and turn him to face Chastity.  He is dazed.  Drools runs from his lips.  Their leader grabs Chastity by the neck and tosses her forward.  She stops just in front of Arthur, staring up at him.

    The man passes her and rests his sword against Arthur’s shoulder, blade down and angled for his neck.  “Tell me, then, what part would you like, first?”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

    Daedalus skims the atmosphere on its way to intercept Paris.  On the way, as it rides the edge of the atmosphere, it opens its bay.  Three Gigas Armors slide from the bay, two Hunter armors equipped with back-mounted Pegasus Rockets for flight, and the third an experimental armor named Mercury.  The three, Mercury leading, slip away from Daedalus and descend toward the planet’s surface.

    Captain LeGuin watches silently from the bridge.  The ship rattles as it pulls from the atmosphere and back out into open space.  Ahead, he watches the rear of Paris continuing to break away, nearing the departure of the planet’s gravity.

    The pilot fixes Daedalus’ trajectory toward Paris and looks back at LeGuin.  “Sir, I’m sorry to say, but the ship is too far ahead.  Even if we burn hot, we won’t be able to meet them before they leave Canaan’s gravity well.  We might not even be able to follow their trail.”

    LeGuin frowns.  “Can we enter range to fire, at least?”

    “Not in time,” says the navigator.  She punches in a few numbers and meets his gaze.  “We’re too far out of range.  Even if we try to lead them, the projectiles wouldn’t reach them in time.  Laser weaponry would diffuse.”  She checks the screen again and frowns.  “I’m sorry, sir, but nothing would land with enough impact to give them pause.”

    LeGuin rubs his mustache and leans onto the handrail.  He stares at Paris.

    “Sir, we’re getting a transmission from Mercury,” the Comm. Officer interrupts.

    LeGuin sighs and stands straight, joining his hands behind his back.  “I see.  Put her through.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    A brief hiss of static, and then Guinevere’s voice comes through the bridge speakers. “Captain, Guinevere.”

    “Yes, Lieutenant?”

    “Our scans indicate no life remaining in the base.  It’s been scorched.”

    LeGuin’s frown deepens.  “I see.”

    “We need to catch the ship, sir.  The Hunters can handle ground recon.  I should take Mercury to intercept the enemy.”

    “Lieutenant, Mercury isn’t even cleared for battle testing yet.  The armor is too light.  We’re trying to test the balance and...”

    “Sir, the test-model is equipped with two hard-light blades.  Their ship is small; it can’t have more than three armors on board.  I may not be able to capture the ship, but I can easily slow it down long enough for you to get a shot in.”

    “I don’t like this, Lieutenant.”

    “Then you shouldn’t have let me take it out in the first place,” Guinever says.  The crew smiles.  She adds, a second later, “Captain.”

    Hiding his own grin, LeGuin rubs his mustache again, frowning carefully as he does.  “Fine,” he says.  “Lieutenant, I’m trusting you.”

    “Sir.”

    LeGuin looks at the Comm. Officer.  “Put me out to the entire crew,” he says, and once given the go ahead, he speaks.  “Everyone, we’re going to be entering ship-to-ship combat.  Our two Hunter armors are to remain on the surface and search for survivors or information.  Mercury will intercept the enemy ship and prevent them from making dive for as long as possible.  Let’s be safe, and let’s see this done.  Captain LeGuin out.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

    Lancelot watches her expectantly, his blade resting still on Arthur’s shoulder.  Arthur’s head is down.  Blood pools beneath Arthur, soaking into his pants, clinging to his knees and his boots.  Lancelot reaches down, grabs Arthur by the hair and lifts his face to show Chastity the shallow cuts left there.

    “This is just the beginning,” Lancelot says, venom in his voice.  “Listen and understand the severity of your situation.  Nothing I’ve said is an idle threat.  I will do anything I have to, everything I have to, and I will not regret it.”

    “I-I understand,” Chastity says quickly, her voice choked.  Tears run down her cheeks.

    “Clearly, you do not, because you are still crying.”  He drops Arthur’s head, stomps across the room to grab her by the neck.  “You’re a specialist, brought in to understand that thing in there.  That was your job, your only job, and you’re telling me you know nothing.”  He throws her into the wall and then kneels.  “You’re lying,” he says, pinning her to the door with one hand against her sternum.  “So, listen.  Watch and understand how desperate your situation truly is.”

    Lancelot reaches back and unclips his helmet. He lifts it, smoothly, from his head and lets his long, dark hair cascade down his shoulders and back.  Dropping the helmet there, he turns to Arthur again and paces slowly toward him.

    “Lift him.  Let him see.”

    One guard grips Arthur by the hair and lifts his head.  At first, Arthur winces, but when he sees Lancelot’s face, his brow knits, and his breath catches.  “You.”  His voice is barely a whisper, and he goes limp in the guard’s arms.  “You!”  He wrestles now and ends up pinned to the floor.

    Lancelot smiles, and he turns to face Chastity.  He looks nothing like she expected.  His face is thin, angular, even pretty.  His cheeks are high, his lips thin, and his eyes a vibrant, yellowish green.  He is not scowling anymore, but smiling a feral, hungry smile.  To her, he appears like a wolf on the hunt.  “Now, Jameson, go ahead and tell her who I am.”

    Arthur growls, pushing himself up with his neck.  The guards pin him to the ground again, using their knees to hold him by the back.

    “Tell her what I will do to her.  Tell her that I will get my information one way or another.”

    “She doesn’t know anything,” Arthur shouts, cheek flat against the cold floor.  “Please, Lancelot, she doesn’t know anything!”

    The ship shudders and the guards lose their grip, catching on the walls to steady themselves.  Chastity rolls into a nearby wall.  Lancelot remains stable, widening his stance and turning toward a communication board.  One guard has already made his way there.  The other has Arthur pinned again.

    The bridge comes in, panicked and breathless.  “Sir, we’re under attack.  An unidentified ship is following us, and they’re released an armor, type unknown.”

    “A single armor?  Then raise ships and return fire.”

    “We’re trying, sir, but it’s fast, faster than anything we can follow. It’s impossible to get a lock.”

    “Of course,” Lancelot growls, his face tight.  It sharpens his features, makes him look more lupine.  He trades glances between the guards and the prisoners, and then he hits the wall hard enough to leave the steel warped.  “I’ll be there soon.”  He looks to the guards again.  “You two, outside.  Lock the door.  I will come back to finish this later.”

    Before he leaves, he stops to look at Chastity, sobbing against the wall, and he growls.  “And you better be ready to talk, then, girl, or I will make it hurt in ways you cannot even comprehend.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

    Guinvere tilts the controls and Mercury follows suit, spiraling about and flying literal circles around Paris.  Magnified shells hurtled past, meant for where she is and hitting only where she was.  Mercury dips and pivots around, moving in close and touching now beside a turret long enough to slice it open with one of its arm-mounted hardened light blades.

 The Mercury armor is a prototype Gigas Armor designed and manufactured by Haze Industries specifically for the Olympic Republic.  It is meant to be mass produced into a line of high-speed Armors, meant for intercepting enemies quickly and particularly engaging enemy spaceships.

    Right now, the armor sports a thin, sleek frame and a brand new, top of the line, prototype rocket called a Hermes Rocket.  At fifty percent capacity, it can move five times the speed of the most powerful Pegasus Rockets, which are standard on all ships and armors.

    Guinevere pulls Mercury up beside Paris and draws a long, smoldering wound across her starboard hall.  Chunks of armor plating disconnect, floating off into spaces.  Parts of the interior hall are exposed in thin strips.

    She pulls forward and directs herself to the front of Paris, following its shifting trajectory.  So long as she stays in range, she can keep them from performing dive.  Piloting a prototype, she has little in the ways of weaponry and cannot single-handedly stop Paris forever, but she can hope to stall them long enough for Daedalus to move into firing range.

    Right now, Guinevere is running the Mercury at fifty-nine percent its maximum speed.  The thrust forces her hard into her seat.  She was chosen specifically from a long list of candidates to test the model, even before she was forced to undergo rigorous G-force training to endure the speeds the Mercury can reach.

    Tilting down, she moves under enemy fire and makes another swipe, slicing a turret off and rendering it ineffectual.

    Paris opens it docking bay in the stern of the ship and launches two Gigas Armors.  They are smaller units, similar to the Olympic Hunter armors in Guinevere opinion.  This makes them ranged units, though she cannot say for certain.  The armors themselves are different from the traditional Hunter model.

    She closes distance between them quickly and, with one smooth push, drives a hardened light blade through one armor’s helm.  The optics shatter in a glittering display of broken lenses and electric sparks.  A small plume of smoke radiates from the fried sensors.

    The other, she kicks from the ship, dislodging it and letting it float away before she lands inside of the docking bay.  Four other armors sit in the bay, one of which is a unique armor entirely different from anything she recognizes.  It is a large, black armor with a thin, metal protrusion, like a lance, built onto its left arm.

    The second Hunter unit returns, now sporting its own hardened light blade.  It drops and swipes, but she sidesteps and turns to puncture its chest piece, and the pilot, in the process.  This time, when she removes the armor from her blade, it floats back silently.

    Her comms buzz.  “Lieutenant, report.”

    “Sir, I’ve boarded the enemy ship, in the armor bay, and am holding position.”

    “Boarded?  How in the world did you manage that,” LeGuin says.  “They’d be crazy to jump with an enemy armor on board.  Be careful but hold position.”

    “Will do, sir.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

    Lancelot enters the bridge and tosses his helmet to his XO.  The entire room sits quietly, waiting in fear for Lancelot to speak.  He stops at an upper platform, where his captain’s chair is, and rests his hands on the guard rail there.  “Status report!”

    The XO jumps forward.  He moves quickly, stopping just short of joining Lancelot on the platform, and he holds the helm firmly under his right arm.  “An unidentified Gigas Armor is attacking us, sir.”

    Lancelot casts him a glare.  “A single armor?”

    The XO swallows thickly.  “Yes, sir.  It’s fast, too fast for our targeting programs.  We sent two armors to deal with it, but...”

    Lancelot sighs heavily and then punches the railing, leaving the shape of his knuckles indented in it.  After another deep breath, he growls.  “But?”

    “The enemy armor has already dealt with them, sir.”

    “What is it using for weapons?  Can you at least tell me that?”

    “Arm-mounted hardened-light blades, sir.  Two of them.”

    Lancelot’s face tightens.  “And that’s all?”

    The XO nods.

    “One armor, and without proper weaponry, and it’s causing you this much trouble?”  He stands tall now and stares down his XO.  “Anything else to tell me?”

    “I-It has taken the hangar, s-sir.  We—We can’t make dive...”

    “Why didn’t you start with that?!”

    “Sir, I’m sorry...”

    Lancelot yanks the helm from his hands and shoves the XO away, into a nearby console.  “Keep the yggdrasil engine primed.  We’ll be diving soon.”

    “But, sir...”

    “But nothing, officer.”  Lancelot bunches his hair quickly and jerks his helm on.  He looks back at the officer, at the entire bridge, and pauses there.  “Keep the hangar doors open.  I will handle this myself.”  He draws his blade, clicking it open and letting it unfold with a series of snaps.  “And when I am done there, we will have a conversation with proper battle protocol.”

    With that, Lancelot leaves the room and hurries toward the hangar.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

    Guinevere uses her light blades to sever walkways and dismantle armors.  Debris floats around her in open space.

    The bay door opens and a man wearing an airtight flight suit and helmet enters.  He carries, over his shoulder, a missile launcher.  When he enters the bay, he levels the missile launcher and fires.  

    Guinevere lifts Merucry’s left arm and activates her harden-light shield.  A small panel of light, hexagonal in shape, appears before the armor, projected by a spinning dome-like projector.  The rocket erupts on impact, filling the room with smoke and flame.  Through the haze, she can see the lone figure still there.  He produces a metal shaft, which unfolds into a long, thin blade, and he charges.

    “You’re really going to fight me hand-to-hand while I’m in a Gigas?  You’re insane!”  Disabling the shield, Guinevere flips her light-blades on and lunges forward.  Her enemy sidesteps smoothly, dragging his blade across the Mercury’s arm and leaving a shallow incision just deep enough to severe the wiring inside. The light-blade flickers and fades.

    Mercury was designed for mobility above all else.  Attacks are meant to be evaded, not stopped, which keeps the armor thin.  Trapped in the armor bay like she is, however, the Mercury’s speed doesn’t serve Guinevere at all.  She tries to back up but finds herself at the back of the bay.

    Somehow, this man is faster than her and more agile.  He uses the armor to his advantage, attacking from angles to narrow for her to block, leaving cuts along the armor’s legs and torso.  Once behind her, the man does a flip off of the wall and lands on the armor’s back, stabbing into the cockpit.

    The blade enters just beside her, narrowly missing her head.  It parts the monitor in front of her, leaving it to spark and smoke.  She reaches back for him with the armor’s right arm but finds its functions minimal.  Checking the damage report shows a black screen—nothing.

    The man leaps from again.  She can see him standing in the armor bay, holding tightly to a material pallet that is bolted to the door.  Her sensors wail as the gravity dies and, through a broken screen, she watches his body drift up.  The armor bay opens, expelling her in the process.  She watches, through her broken screens, as the Mercury drifts, tipping and turning and, in stolen, brief glances, the enemy ship, Paris, disappearing into a distortion in space.

    Guinevere screams.  A monitor beside her sets off a warning.  The cockpit is leaking air.  After a few calming breaths, she initiates her comms.  “Daedalus, this is Lt. Guinevere.  The target has escaped.  I repeat, the target has escaped.”

    There is a pause.  Then, the operator says.  “Understood, Lt.  What is your status?”

    “Stranded with cockpit damage and exposure.  Requesting an immediate pick up.”  She reaches for her keyboard and finds it rent.  “Internal damage is severe.  I cannot activate a beacon.  Requesting a search.”

    “Understood, Lt., and granted.  The Captain is curious as to your status, Lt.”

    “Pissed off.”

    Another pause.  “I will pass that along.  See you soon.”

    The comm dies.  Guinevere rests back, breathing slowly to preserve her air.  She keeps her eyes closed and feels the armor, spinning, drifting, in the black.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

    Lancelot rests on his back, staring up at the closed armor bay ceiling.  He is more winded than injured, but the landing did leave an ache in his back, and the decompression strained the tender muscles in his left shoulder.  Two soldiers enter the bay, leading a physician with them.

    Lancelot stands and shoves past them.  “Return to your posts.  You’re not needed.”

    He marches from his room and removes his helm on the way.  By the time he reaches the bridge he has his helmet tucked under his arm.  Upon entering, he tosses the helm to his XO, who catches it clumsily, and Lancelot barks, “Report!”

    “A-All turrets have been rendered inert,” his XO says quickly, following Lancelot around the bridge.  He watches Lancelot checking meters on his own and continues stammering, “We’ve lost three armors four armors altogether.  The ships thrusters have suffered minor damage.  Two rockets are operating at seventy-five percent, and the armor plating on both starboard and port sides have suffered medium lacerations, though the hull is mostly intact.”

    Lancelot leans over one of the operators.  The bridge has its visor down, eliminating visual information on the outside world while they are in sub-space dive.  “Are there any docks on the way?”

    The XO looks toward the navigator, who sits up straight.  “We can hit Charon Station, sir,” she says quickly. “It is neutral territory.”

    “One of the few places,” Lancelot says.  He stands straight and rubs his chin.  “It will slow us down, but we need to at least get the turrets functioning again.”  He nods. “Leave dive and divert toward Charon.  Send a report to Troy updating them of our status.  We can rest there at least long enough to let the trail dissipate.  I doubt they’ll give chase, but if they should, it’s better to lead them there than home.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Sir,” the XO says, earning a glare from Lancelot.  The XO flinches.  “W-What of the prisoners?”

    Lancelot grows a thin, vicious smile.  It is almost wolf-like, the way it shows his teeth.  “For now, we let them sit.  We’ll get what we want from them, and if not, then there’s always the airlock.  We’ve got the Guide, and that’s all that really matters.”

5: Codex 002: The Guides

Codex 002: The Guides\

            “I got the job.  I was hired and will be receiving the official briefing in-person before I arrive on-site, but I had already taken the time to do my own research before even accepting the position, of course.  What kind of organization goes head-hunting someone like me for a private position without giving them the details?  It was obvious from the start by the location of the planet alone and the company seeking me out that the work I would be doing would be curious, to say the least.

            Most of what I do know can be inferred by the things I don’t know.  I don’t know exactly what I will be doing there, but I can figure out some of it based on my degree and my work history.  I am one of the foremost experts on computer and coding language in the known universe.  I created Cipher, after all, and have been working both academically and professionally with A.I. templates and in classrooms for a few years now.  My expertise is not only acknowledged but well-earned.

            So, if they’re seeking me out, then it has to do with computer programming language and, most-likely, artificial intelligence.  The fact that they won’t tell me this directly also tells me that the work I will be doing is going to be, at the very least, private and, if I am honest, possibly illegal.  If that is the case, then why would I accept such a position?  Because, it has to do with the Guides.

            The research base they are shipping me out to is on the planet Canaan, or at least that is what it said on the hiring sheet found within their private databases.  Looking around in there, I also know that they are keeping everything hush-hush.  The HR managers don’t know much beyond placement and skillset requirements, and I was at the top of a very short list of people they needed.  

            Needed.  That was the word they used.  They needed me.  That means that they also have something big, and it is big enough to hide it from the other worlds.  They have found something revolutionary in the field of Guide research and, based on my work and research history, I have a few guesses.  What if, just what if, the Guide had machines of their own, with functioning A.I? What if we found an A.I. that was still salvageable?  What could we learn from it?

            Ever since moving into the stars, almost all of our technological achievements have been made by following the examples and blueprints left in the corpses of those who died before us.  We came to populate the stars and found them already populated.  It is in the shadow of the Guide’s vast but fallen empire that we build our own, and it is by looting their corpses that we make any progress in preserving our own livelihoods.

            To date, all we know of Guide technology and culture, however, are the crashed ships we find dotting distant planets.  Each one found so far has been at least as large as one of our Crown Ships, but they are composed in a manner alien to us, largely from alien material, and held together in an alien way.  By dissecting them and studying them, we have been able to build our own spaceships and improve our quality of life in the doing.

            As an example: look at interstellar travel.  Using our Ark ships, we left our home planet and travelled out here.  Since, our fastest ships have been able to travel between star systems within the space of a few weeks, which made interstellar trade difficult.  After building ourselves an Yggdrasil drive after the ones we found in guide ships, however, we are to travel between systems in a matter of days, sometimes hours, depending on proximity.

            Much of the technology we have, however, is foreign to us.  Their full function eludes us, and we’re no closer to deciphering any of them than we are to finding a Guide living.  That said, the existence of an A.I., even one badly damaged, could tell us so much more about our mysterious and missing benefactors.  If nothing else, it could tell us what they thought like and perhaps give us hints into their culture beyond the contoured halls of the Guide ships made known to the public.

            I am an expert in the field of A.I. research and am the first to create a fully functioning Smart A.I. program.  Subsequently, I can only ascertain that their interest in me is built on that.  The only other logical explanation comes from programming.   Having created a Smart A.I. that functions so well as Cipher does (Thanks for editing this, buddy), I have an extensive understanding and familiarity with computer programming and programming code.

            Modern computer programs and the computer O.S.s themselves run on A-O Code.  This code bares a striking resemblance to the existing Guide code that has been found on the crashed ships.  Having looked at it myself, and having successfully translated and replicated the code by hand, I have proven myself capable of whatever task they are assigning me to.  More than that, I have been able to narrow my suspicions.  With my knowledge, they could also benefit from me translating the code, though I cannot imagine that they would only seek me out now to perform the task.

            The Guides suddenly disappeared, leaving nothing but crashed ships in their wake.  No bodies; no bones.  Just a future civilization sailing the stars, building their homes on the dead.  There is so much we still have to learn from them, and I only hope to be a part of the lesson and not a cautionary tale of vainglorious scientists taking their science too far.”

…From the journal of Chastity Clarke PhD. 

 

6: Hades: Charon Station

Hades: Charon Station

            The planet Hades glitters like a black pearl.  Across its surface, a sprawling city sparkles in the darkness.  Spinning with it as it orbits the Omega Star, the space station Charon is tethered to the soil of the planet by a massive elevator that brings goods and people to and from its surface.

            Achilles docks in the station.  Hades, and Charon by extension, exist on the fringes of Republic space.  As a result, it has become a nesting ground for criminals, political refugees, or anyone avoiding government oversight as a rule.  At this point, the militaries of the galaxy allow it this freedom.  Everyone, they have realized, needs a place to be, and it is better to have as much of the crime localized to one, lawless star system rather than spreading like a disease to the others.

            In Lancelot’s eyes, Charon is the safest place in the galaxy at the moment.  He is seated in his captain’s chair, leaned back, his head on his balled fist.  When the ship locks into place with a small lurch, he stands and issues orders.  There will be no rest.  They will repair and resupply, and then they will leave immediately.

            He grabs two soldiers and brings them with him to the brig.  At the big door, they stop, and Lancelot looks at the two fresh-faced soldiers awaiting his command.  They regard him soberly, with mixed fear and respect, as he prefers.  Each is a mountain of a man, but they know he could kill them without a struggle.

            “I want you two on Arthur.  The girl will be mine.”

            They salute and follow him inside, where Chastity is curled up on the bed.  Arthur is seated beside her, and he rises to meet them as they enter.  One mountain grabs him immediately while the other plants a fist into his gut.  Lancelot passes Arthur without even a second glance.

            He grabs Chastity by the hair and pulls her onto the floor.  Then, with his open palm, he strikes her hard when she starts to cry.  Her face swells red while he drags her from the room.

            “Lancelot,” Arthur shouts, struggling against the two soldiers.  They punch him again, this time with enough force to knock his legs out from under him.  He goes limp in their arms.

            “I’m done with your games,” Lancelot says, dragging Chastity by the hair while she stumbles after him.  “I’m done with your lies and your misinformation.  So, here is what we will do.”  He throws her into the wall and drags his pistol from his hip.  Cocking it, he presses the barrel into Arthur’s forehead.  “What do you know about the Guides?  How do we wake that one up?”

            “I. Don’t. Know!”  Chastity speaks through sobs, tears and snot smearing and mixing on her cheeks, choking her as she struggles to breath between coughs and whimpers.

            “Wrong answer!”  Lancelot strikes Arthur across the skull with the butt of his pistol.  Blood warms his palm.  “You know what I want.  Tell me the truth, girl!”

            “I am! I am telling you the truth!”

            Lancelot growls, presses the cold barrel into Arthur’s head once again.  “Last. Chance.  He will die, and it will be your fault.”

            “Please!  Stop!  I don’t know.  I don’t know anything—I don’t...”  She struggles to her feet, falls to her knees, and then crawls toward him like a child.  One of the mountains leaves Arthur to grab her by the neck and hold her in place.  She sobs louder.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I don’t...”

            “Then what do you know?”

            “Nothing.  We couldn’t figure it out.  We couldn’t find anything...”

            “Stop it, Stephen,” Arthur says, lifting his head to meet Lancelot’s gaze.  “You know this sort of interrogation is useless on a civilian.  She’ll agree to anything to get you to stop.”

            Lancelot gives a long, hard stare, and then hits him again with the gun.  “Then it’s pointless to keep either of you around,” Lancelot says.  Chastity’s eyes go wide.

            “Wh-What...I...”

            “If I can’t even trust your information,” Lancelot says.

            “P-Please, if I just had Cipher, I could...The biggest hurdle in Guide technology is the language, and we....”  She falls back into sobs.

            “What was that, about Cipher,” Lancelot says, drawing near to her.  He made sure to move in a way that kept the pistol always in her vision.

            “C-Cipher was my A.I.  I-It’s processing speed was...We were using it to find matching patterns in the software codes of the Guides a-and...Without it, I don’t have anything.”

            “But you have your brain, don’t you?” Lancelot taps her temple with the barrel of his gun. “And you’re a genius, yes?”

            “But...”

            “And you’re in a desperate situation,” he says, grabbing her tight by the face and holding her, forcing her to stare into his dark eyes.  “Because if you’re useless to us, then we space you.  So, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.  At least if you try, you stay alive a fraction longer.  Right?”

            She swallows.

            “Right?”

            “R-Right.”

            He holds his gaze on hers before flipping the safety on the gun.  Taking her from the soldier, he holds her by the arm and drags her toward the door.  The second mountain returns to Arthur, where the first has him pinned him to the floor.  

            “I want you to understand,” Lancelot said to Chastity.  “If you even WALK in the wrong direction, I will kill you.  Do you understand?”

            She nods.

            “Good.”  He looks back at the soldiers.  “Do what you want with him but keep him alive.  I’m taking her to the Guide.

            “Sir!”  The soldiers salute and wait for Lancelot to leave before letting Arthur up to have their fun.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot drags Chastity by the throat through the empty halls of Achilles.  It is a small ship, dimly lit, with steel gray walls and flooring.  The interior is reinforced, suffocating, and inescapable, and Chastity’s feet come from under her as she struggles to keep pace.

            They reach a gray doorway and Lancelot throws her down.  He keys it open and then kicks her inside, where she curls up to cry on the floor.  Like the last room, this room is angular and thickly insulated.  It is designed to keep her in and keep others out.  She stares up at Lancelot, who watches her with hollow eyes.

            Grabbing her by the hair, he pulls her to standing and shoves her toward the table.  There, the Lady sleeps, no longer held within the confines of its private chamber.  Up close, she appears human.  A blanket is draped over its body, hugging its seemingly female form.  Its hair is blond and straight, its skin porcelain.  Chastity comes to a stop, gasping over the Lady.

            “This is the last time.  Wake. Her. Up.”

            Chastity braces against the table, crying, and stares at the Lady.  “I can’t,” she whines, and inside she begs for divine intervention.  All her life, she never really believed in God.  At this moment, she is desperately hoping to be proven wrong.  “I can’t,” she says, and her legs give out.  She falls beside the bed, holding the edge, weeping.

            Lancelot growls and slams Chastity’s head into the bed before letting her collapse onto the floor.  “I warned you what would happen,” he says.  “I won’t just kill you, girl.  You know that!”

            She lies there on the floor, holding herself, crying.

            He grunts.  “Fine, then, if this won’t jog your memory.” He smacks her one last time and reaches back, kneeling over her as he grabs his sword and lets it unfold.  The blade it sleek and thin.  The edge gleams.

            “Please...”  Chastity struggles until he smacks her again, and then she stares as he kneels on one knee above her.  He holds her by the throat, the blade pointed toward her neck.

            “I didn’t want to kill you,” he said, and he sighed.  “Such a waste.”

            Her cheeks burn, and she tastes blood.  She closes her eyes and waits, patiently, for her death.  She waits, and she waits, and just as the cold steel touches her neck and draws blood, he is lifted from her.  She hears him hit the wall across the hall.

            Opening her eyes, she finds the Lady standing there, naked save for a blanket tied around its midsection.  Kneeling, it gingerly touches Chastity’s neck and wipes the blood away.  Then, lifting Chastity, its stands.

            Chastity winces.  “You?”

            Lady stares at her, holds her close, and passes Lancelot’s unconscious body as they leave the room.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Arthur falls back against the wall, his body sore, blood running down his nose.  His hands are cuffed behind him, and the two guards are taking turns venting their frustrations.  One stands by the door while the other strikes him.  Periodically, they switch.  The room has grown hot with movement, and they’ve rolled up their sleeves or removed their uniforms over time.

            They switch.  A big man, looking more like a mountain than he did before as Arthur’s eyes swell shut, approaches and hefts Arthur up by the shoulders.  There is murder in his smile.  Behind him, the doorway bulges with a metallic groan.  Everyone stops to look as the door falls inward, toppling the man beside it and revealing the Lady now in its place.

            The remaining guard hesitates.  He drops Arthur and reaches for his pistol, but the Lady is fast and lithe.  Moving like liquid, the Lady slides into range and drives one hand into his chest.  His ribs crack audibly, and he folds into himself while wrestling with his gun.  When he draws it, the Lady takes his wrist and snaps it deftly before throwing him, hard, into the far wall.

            The Lady then approaches Arthur on the floor.  He watches as it reaches over his shoulder, almost gently, and pulls him to standing.  Then, holding his cuffs, it twists the chain between them and snaps it in half.  Behind it, outside of the door, Chastity peeks in, eyes hollow.

            “You’re okay!”  Arthur moves around the Lady, intercepting Chastity as she falls into his arms.  She cries into his chest, her face smearing the blood there.  He holds her and soothes her with gentle whispers.

            “That man,” she says.  “He’s a monster.  He’s a complete monster.  He wouldn’t listen to a word I said, he just kept...”

            “I know, I know.”  Arthur pats the back of her head and helps her to stand.  Then, he looks her in the eyes.  Blood vessels have burst in her right eye, leaving it red.  Bruises are forming all across her face.  “Where is he now?”

            Chastity looks past Arthur, at the Lady, who stands patiently and without expression.

            Arthur turns and regards the Lady, too.  “And who is that?”

            “That is the Lady.  She’s the entire reason we were on Canaan in the first place.  The greatest scientific discovery in the galaxy, maybe even the entire universe.  The first Guide ever found.”

            “She’s a Guide?”

            Chastity nods.  “And now she’s awake, and she’s killing.”

            Arthur looks at the men on the ground.  “Maybe, but she’s on our side, I think,” Arthur looks back at the Lady, “Aren’t you?”

            It eyes him silently, and then moves past him and out into the hall, where its stops, and waits, and watches them.

            Arthur follows it with his eyes and then takes Chastity by the shoulder.  He squeezes her gently.  “I think we should follow...it.”

            “Probably,” Chastity says, her eyes cast downward.  She is staring at the guard under the door, at the blood leaking out of his skull.

            Arthur lifts her face and looks her in the eyes.  She stares through him.  “You okay?”

            Like Lady, the Chastity is silent.

            Arthur takes her hand.  “Just stay with me,” he says, and he leads her out of the room and to the Lady’s side.  “I’m trusting you,” he says to the Guide, and without a word, the Lady leads them forward, down the hall.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Lancelot wakes sore and breathless and pulls himself to his feet.  His ribs are broken, he knows that much, but his single-minded rage pushes him through the pain and down the hall.  On the way, he slams his fist on the comm.  “Helm, this is the captain.  The Guide and the girl have escaped.  They’re running free on the ship.  Lock down all halls, all exits.  I’ll be there for a status report in a moment.”

            “Sir,” the comm. responds, “They—They’ve already made their way off of the ship, and they grabbed the other prisoner on the way.”

            Lancelot freezes partway down the hall and grips the wall tightly.  His side hurts.  His pride hurts more. Slamming his fist once more into the comm button, he shouts, “Get people on them!”

            “Sir, yes, sir!”

            “And prep two Wraiths and the Zeus armor.”

            “You’re going in your Gigas, sir?”

            “Yes, I am!”  Lancelot slams the comm off and pushes himself away.  He has to use the wall to steady himself in the hallway, but he keeps moving.  All that matters now is recapturing the three of them, and, truthfully, with the Guide moving on its own, he could easily do without the other two.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            The Charon Station crown is a massive bazaar tightly packed into a small, circular platform.  Arthur leads they Lady and Chastity into an ever shifting sea of people, looking odd and out of place anywhere but here on Charon.  Both women are half-naked, one bloodied and bruised, but they move without drawing attention.  That is because the people in Charon all have their own skeletons in the closet, and they are too busy tending to them to care much about what others do or are doing

            The crowd swallows them, dissolving their trail like smoke in the air.  Arthur keeps them moving, wanting first and foremost to put distance between himself and the Achilles crew.  After that, he will find a true refuge and, hopefully, a way off of the planet.  From everything he knows of Hades and Charon, they can be just as dangerous to the three of them if they are unfortunate enough to find themselves stranded there.

            This area of space is considered largely lawless.  Located between the three major governing bodies of the galaxy, it is marked as a no-man’s land where all of the refuse from other worlds find themselves, almost as if by calling.  Few visitors leave their ships, stopping only long enough to refuel and leave. Those that do rarely leave the station for fear of what might happen planet side.  Military forces only make their presence known under dire necessity, and then always with a bullet being their standard form of diplomacy.

            The people of Hades find that negotiation is easier when you start it with bloodshed.

            The three grab clothes on the way, ducking into corners and changing quickly before returning to their mad rush.  The Lady follows Arthur’s every command with robotic indifference, and even than it shows more emotion than Chastity can.  By this point, the young woman looks more like a doll than their Guide companion, save for the bruising.

            Arthur works a slow, wide circle toward the center, keeping his eyes down but always open.  There, the Styx land-to-space elevator will lead them to a momentary reprieve and enough freedom to get their bearings. The Lady is important, he knows, but so is their survival.  His job is to keep them alive long enough to get word out to the military, any military at all.

            They make their way to the elevator—an enormous shaft of gleaming steel at the center of the bazaar—and slip inside.  The interior is well-lit and clean.  There are dozens of people already waiting inside and, through holographic walls the exterior can be seen.  Below, swaths of clouds swirl like dabs of fresh paint.  A dark blue sea can be seen, seemingly still, to one side.  Grey cityscapes consume the surface of the planet surrounding the elevator’s base.

            Arthur finds refuge near a wall and keeps his head down.  The Lady follows close with Chastity dawdling after.  She stares blankly ahead, bruised and gashed but alive.  Arthur takes the time to look her over, to worry over her, but knows better than to approach.  The demons she is facing now, she needs the quiet to work through it on her own.  Lancelot wanted her alive, and he wanted her broken.

            Bodies fill the empty spaces around them.  The three stay close, packed in tight.  The doors close and the lights dim.  Music plays, and instructions, and locks click loudly into place.  The elevator pauses, lurches, and drops, the initial inertia great enough to make their stomachs churn before the dampeners kick in. 

            The holographic view shifts.  The horizon swells, the clouds rushing up at them and then swallowing them whole.  Arthur smiles briefly.  They have escaped to the surface, but they are far, far from being safe.

7: Codex 003: Dive Space

Codex 003: Dive Space\

Imagine Dive Space like a folded piece of paper with a hole cut through it.  When folded, you can move through the holes clearly and cleanly, and when unfolded, the paper is its normal length.  Dive Space functions on the same principle, except the paper is space itself and, once a ship dives or surfaces, the holes mend.  

            Scientifically speaking, the term “compressed space,” is more accurate and more widely used by the scientific community.  Dive Space, however, has become popularized to the point of conventional usage.  The term evokes the image of a submarine of old dipping into the water, only to appear elsewhere, unharmed.  The image is not wholly inaccurate, though the description of what it does it not entirely factual.

            The Yggdrasil Drive, designed and fashioned after the more advanced compression drives found on Guide ships, allows ships to exit what has been called ‘flat space’ or ‘linear space’ and allow them to move in what is called ‘compressed space.’  Compressed space, which moves the ship beyond the speed or light (or more accurately outside of light) leaves the ship’s exterior darkened as the ship moves rapidly between vast distances.

            Through the creation and eventual refinement of the Yggdrasil Drive, which much of the work being done by the famed Ouranus Innovative Technologies, an Yggdrasil Drive requires priming and coordinates.  Then, a ship will ‘dive’ into compressed space and surface at those coordinates upon arrival.  Often, this is understood by laymen as being instantaneous, but just as with a hole through paper, space must be covered even if the length trip is greatly diminished.

            This can be seen in the first successful test done, a pioneer flight made between the Alpha star of the Republic to the Beta star neighboring it.  This trip, formerly, would have taken weeks.  With the use of an Yggdrasil Drive, the very same trip was capable of being made within only a few days.  Since, it has been improved to a few hours, and some scientists believe as we come to understand the nature of space travel and of the Guide technology, we may be able to make such trips in minutes or seconds.

            While all of this seems unreal, there are still dangers to the use of Dive Space and the Yggdrasil Drive.  In particular, Dive Coordinates must place ships outside of gravitational sinks, the most common of which are planetary orbits and atmospheres.  While a ship can, theoretically, surface within a planet’s atmosphere, placement is difficult at the best of times, and gravity plays havoc on the return.  Attempts have found ships tearing apart or disappearing inside of a planet’s crust.

            The danger of a dive malfunction also exists, though such errors are more discreet.  In early tests of the Yggdrasil Drive saw ships simply disappearing into the aether, never to return.  In popular media, there are stories of ghost ships found derelict following a drive malfunction or run by an ageless crew unaware of the time that has passed outside of their compression bubble.  Most theorists, however, say the ships are simply lost, the compressed space collapsing on them and reducing them to nothing.

8: Hades

Hades

            Hades has always been a ball of dust with little to recommend it.  Colonization was slow.  It was difficult to sell an arduous life spent eking out a harsh life on a barren wasteland.  There was mineral wealth but little else.  The atmosphere was caustic.  Cities were built inside of bubbles, and on the edges, vacuum sealed trailers never meant for lifetime habitation.

            The population grew, at first, due to proximity.  Existing at the far rim of the Olympic Republic, it was a refuge for those seeking a life outside of Olympian rule.  When the Federation formed, and the Alliance came into being Hades grew more popular because it existed between the three.  It became not only an escape from all three but also the only common ground found between.  Though officially a part of the Republic, republic law never seems to last long there.

            In time, Hades grew, and as it grew, so did its troubles.  Criminals from all three governments and all of the worlds within them built thrones here.  From this ball of dust they built empires that spanned star systems.  Decades passed, and Hades was cultivated not for its mineral wealth but for its promise of freedom.  No one comes here that can’t defend themselves, and there is only one real law on Hades—don’t shoot first if you can’t kill.

            None of the governments can lay actual claim to Hades anymore, and Olympus only pretends at having control over it.  Military ships stop briefly and never see the planet’s surface.  Slavers, gangsters, and para-military mercenaries make their homes here, eating away at the rich mineral innards that once held the planet together and coring it to a husk.  From their hollow thrones, they run the galaxy’s blackest markets without fear of reprisal.  In Hades, everyone is safe until they aren’t.

            Arthur knows this and walks like he knows it.  He uses his training to move with authority, meeting people with a hard stare and ask no question.  He keeps both the Lady and Chastity at his side, leading them by hands as if he owns them and betraying no fear of what will happen if people find out that he doesn’t.

            The elevator down is crowded and stinks of heat and perspiration.  It takes hours.  Holographic displays playelies about the paradise awaiting them on the surface.  Chastity sits despondent.  The Lady watches the lies absently, her eyes glowing. Arthur ignores the videos and watches the people instead.

            The elevator opens to another bazaar very much like the one they had left.  A winding labyrinth of stalls greets them.  Arthur drags the Lady and Chastity with him, leading them through the narrow allies and carefully avoiding dead ends.  They move quietly but with purpose, drawing as little attention as possible.  When he can, Arthur stops to gain his bearings, using the elevator column to navigate by.  The farther away he gets, the better.  There is no escape, but distance makes them more likely to give up the search.

            In the military they trained him to fight pragmatically.  In the Centurion Program they made him apply that training every day.  Even now, years after his military service, Arthur still thinks like a soldier.  He assesses each new day carefully and critically, weighing his advantages and finding solutions for his disadvantages simultaneously.

            On Hades, they are just another number.  Without a proper military to back them, they are left to their own devices and to solve their problems in their own ways.  This leaves him with limitless creativity but also means that the enemy can bear down on them with all of their resources.  In a war, the crew of Achilles has them outgunned and with Lancelot at their head, they have him outmatched.

            Arthur, however, does have one advantage: the Lady.  In combat, she is unknown.  Though she shows a physical prowess exceeding conventional means, she is worth more to him as a bargaining chip than anything else.  Guide technology is in high demand all around the universe and is best kept secret.  That is why Canaan was a black site, and that is why Achilles could attack without reprisal.  It is also why Arthur needs only to shout to find shelter. 

            Crime lords on Hades enjoy freedom from the governments in which they were born, but they still vie for government power.  Having a politician in their pocket is important to them, because while it pays to be a king on Hades, it pays more to diversify.  Being able to ship through settled space without trouble leaves them less likely to being scavenged by competition, and an actual, living, active Guide is worth any politician they can find.

            Arthur takes a left turn and then a right.  He weaves and ducks, hiding in crowds before trickling away like small rivulets of water parting from the stream.  Through the domed horizon he can see dark, solid peaks stabbing at the sky.  A roadway leads out into the wastes and to the other cities in the desert.  That is where they will find freedom.

            The elevator becomes a towering line behind them, changing the heavens to the dusty brown earth below.  The farther they go, the thinner the crowds become.  The people here are only visiting.  People don’t come to Hades to live.  There are no lives to be made here, only lives to be lost.  Arthur keeps his eyes fixed on the horizon, checking his back only when he is about to turn and only to make sure that he isn’t being followed.

            They enter a parking lot well outside of the bazaar and walk a loose weave between the vehicles, searching each one carefully but never stopping.  Arthur remembers being young and believing that a car could stop a bullet.  It seems a lifetime ago now with all of the experience he has gained.  He entertains no notions of having a firefight here and is instead seeking an escape.

            They stop and kneel behind a small, four-door car.  Arthur has to pull Chastity down after him.  She obeys automatically, her eyes blank and expressionless.  The Lady follows quietly and efficiently, nothing ever wasted in such graceful strides.  At rest, Arthur rubs the sweat from his face. “Okay, here’s the deal: we’re in a bind.  I can’t be certain by who, but I know we’re being followed.  Could be thugs, could be the crew of that ship trying to hunt us down.  Either way, it’s five of them, all big and all carrying.  Could be just them, but I feel safer operating under the assumption that they’ll have backup.  We won’t win in a fight, so we need…”

            “We have to escape,” Chastity says.  Her eyes are fixed on the vehicle behind him, a truck with a closed bed.  Her voice is distant and dry.  She looks at him with glassy-eyed disinterest and says, “If you can get this car behind me open, then I can hotwire it.”

            Arthur pauses.  “You can?”

            “Most cars have digital interfaces now. Besides, I read about it once in a book.”

            Arthur’s lips purse while his brow knots.  “That doesn’t inspire much hope, Chastity.”

            “It’s do or die, right?  Then, I’ll do.”

            He sighs.  “Fine, good, then we’ll take care of it.  We’ll keep them distracted.”  He looks up at the Lady.  “Won’t we?”

            The Lady nods.

            “Good.”  Arthur sits up on his heels and peeks through the car’s windows, staring out the other side and to the distance before ducking down and checking the car’s underside.  He sees that the thugs are moving between the cars, ducked down so that they are harder to see.  They are also spread apart and moving in a pincer to flank.  Arthur removes the shawl he stole and knots it around his left fist.  “Be quick about it, Chastity.”

            Chastity gives an absent nod and steps away so that Arthur has room to open the window.  He pins his fist to the glass and then gives a quick, hard jab.  The window fractures into a wall of small, sharp beads which rain down around his hand.  Arthur winces as he withdraws his hand, the glass leaving shallow lacerations across his knuckles.

            Using the rag, he clears the broken glass and then unlocks the door for Chastity to slip inside.  Then, he turns to the Lady, who remains perfectly still and unblinking.  “Let’s split up and attack them from behind before they get to Chastity.  Do you understand?”

            The Lady stares.

            Arthur stares back.  “I’ll just assume that you do.”  He glances over his shoulder for approaching enemies.  “Let’s go,” he says, and he ducks away and into the cover of another car.  When he looks back, the Lady is gone.  

            He follows a narrow labyrinth before working an uneven circle back around.  Periodically, Arthur ducks under the cars to check for the enemy’s feet.  They follow the pattern he expects them to, walking a wide circle and looking down each row to find them.  Chastity, meanwhile, keeps her head down and inside of the car.  She will be overlooked at first, but the broken glass will eventually draw attention.

            Inside of the car, Chastity is hard at work but keeps her ears open.  Her mistake with Lancelot was being unprepared, and she has decided to fix that.  She pulls a panel off of the car’s interior, prying it open with superficial damage to her fingertips.  With blood running, she uses a pocket knife found in the center console to part wires and shave them down.

            She hears footsteps outside of the car and goes rigid.  Looking up, she spots someone peeking into the car and watches him tense.  He gives a gurgle and then collapses, revealing the Lady standing nearby.  She leaves him on the ground.

            Gunfire sounds and Chastity buries herself back into the work.  She doesn’t care to see the violence and only just allows herself to listen to it.  Tracing the wires back to where they connect to the car, she pairs them off and starts touching them carefully and watching the sparks fly.

            A rain of bullets eats at the hood and windshield of the nearby car as the Lady weaves around the gunfire.  A bullet grazes the Lady’s arm as the Lady closes distant on her enemy. The woman is stopped quickly as the Lady closes distance and knocks her unconscious with a kick to the gut.  She is left dead when the Lady throws her into a nearby car, snapping her back in the process. 

            A third enemy rises and levels a pistol at the Lady.  He ends up on the ground with his head bent at an unnatural angle.  Arthur approaches after that, his own lips swollen and bruised.  He gives the Lady a smile and says, “Well, that was good.”  The Lady stares back at him blankly before returning to Chastity’s side.  Arthur wipes his bloody lips and follows. “So, are you about done?”

            Chastity peeks out from under the steering wheel.  “Yes,” she says and another series of sparks follow.  Smoke rises from the console, and then the engine hums to life.  The dashboard interface flickers on, and Chastity climbs into the driver’s seat.  “Get in.”

            “You good to drive?”

            “I’m an adult,” Chastity says, and Arthur watches her.  She isn’t, not in his mind, but they don’t have the time to argue.  He climbs into the back while the Lady moves around to the passenger seat.  Once all three are in, Chastity shifts gears and pulls out.  Watching the road, she keys in a few buttons and pulls up the GPS. “Where are we going?”

            “A hotel outside of town or something like it, anywhere we can hide until we can send out a call for help.”

            She looks at him through the rearview.  “Help from whom?”

            “You had to have known, Chastity.  We were private on the surface only.  The Olympic government knew everything about us and was a major backer.”

            Chastity gives him a long stare and then picks a hotel at random.  “Right.”  She pulls onto the highway and from there onto the bridge that leads out of town.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Achilles pulls from the dock and follows the modified armor Jupiter into atmosphere.  Lancelot, in Jupiter’ cockpit, flies close to the Styx elevator on the way, nearly scrapping the long tubes of glass as it descends.  He makes a sharp dive that nearly finds him in the dirt and pulls up at the last minute, flying close to the city’s dome before following the car out of town. When he catches them, he intends to kill Arthur and Chastity.  If that isn’t enough to sate his anger, he will finish the Lady, too.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Chastity speeds down the bridge, passing vehicles where she can and ignoring all ethics and logic.  Overhead, Achilles breaks atmosphere with Jupiter leadings its way.  They dive down and then drift toward the car, gliding over the parking lot where it had been parked and following it down the highway.  Arthur watches from the backseat.  Jupiter fires blindly into the domed glass tubing before following them inside

            “Chastity, they’re gaining.”

            Chastity glances into the rearview while passing another car.  “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

            “Shit!  They’ll open fire soon.”  He sits forward.  “Zigzag.”

            “That’s too hard to do in traffic,” Chastity says, weaving between cars where she can.  She keeps the accelerator pressed firmly to the floorboard while the inertia of the car holds her to her seat.  Jupiter matches the speed and follows her movements so closely that the armor’s thrusters make the car’s rattle.  It then takes off and lands at the center of the road, crushing a car under its foot as it settles.

            Chastity turns hard and flips the car, which bounces across the asphalt.  Its window fractures, its roof bends, and it skips along the pavement until it comes to a stop at Jupiter’s foot.  The armor holds, sending the car spinning and rolling to a stop thirty feet away.  Traffic comes to a hard and catastrophic halt as Achilles hovers overhead.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Arthur hurts.  As he wakes, he finds his right arm bleeding and his head rattled.  It takes a moment to blink away the pain and pull the world back into focus.  He is on his back, staring upside down at the asphalt and the glittering shards of glass that surround him.  The air is dry and hot, the broken tubing of the bridge unable to combat the planet’s arid atmosphere.  Achilles hovers within view.

            Pressing his palms to asphalt and glass, Arthur lifts himself to his knees and then to his feet.  He sways as he pulls himself out of the car and uses its broken body for balance.  The Jupiter Armor towers over them, its turrets turned down and ready to fire.  The Lady stands before it, holding the unconscious Chastity in her arms.  Lancelot’s voice booms and echoes.  “Surrender!”

            The Lady’s head lifts and stares stoically into the barrel of Jupiter’s turrets.  Then, calmly and carefully, Chastity is set to rest on the ground while the Lady faces the armor.  Arthur holds tight to the car and stumbles around it and toward them.  He reaches for them and calls, “Lady.  Chastity!”  He watches the Lady’s eyes glow, and Jupiter’s engine cuts.

            Jupiter lands heavily upon the bridge.  The Lady looked up and watches Achilles launch two more armors.  They dance gracefully through the air before slipping into the bridge’s cover.  As they come close, they Lady’s eyes flash again, twice more, and both armors crash into the pylons and pillars below the bridge.  The Lady then collapses.

            Arthur shoves off of the car and crosses the distance between them.  He finds the Lady unharmed but inert, eyes dull and glassy.  Chastity breathes shallowly but steadilyy beside them.  Above, Achilles lowers itself, cracking the fractured glass below it, displacing some of the shards which stab into the gathered cars that surround them.  A stern voice comes over the ship’s speakers.  “Surrender now.  We don’t know how you disarmed our machine guns, but we still have explosives and would rather see the Guide destroyed than see you escape with it.”

            Glaring up at Achilles in empty defiance, Arthur considers his options and the futility of their fight.  Centurion or not, he finds that this may be a battle he cannot win.  Whatever the Lady had done hobbled them, but it had not stopped them at all and may have in fact only bought him time before he died.  He lifts his hands and kneels.

            “Smart choice. We will be landing to…”

            Achilles explodes.  A cloud of dust appears nearby from where the projectile had passed through and hit the dirt.  Amidst the chaos a thundering boom is heard.  Another ship sails into view, appearing almost out of nowhere but only stealing focus as it approaches.  It ss larger than Achilles, a warship, and bares the red sails of the Asgardian Federation, white axe and shield painted sloppily across its hull like a scar.

            Arthur ducks and throws himself over Chastity.  Large panels of glass, broken off from the tubing, come crashing down around them.  Bent rods of steel spear the concrete.  Arms of molten steel, burnt and warped by Achilles explosion collapse a distant part of the bridge.  Debris crumbles the Jupiter Armor as it is swallowed by the destruction.

            Dust kicks up around them and then swirls and thins.  The Federation cruiser hovers overhead.  Soldiers in red armor jump from open hatches and descend into the risen dust.  Their rocket packs clear the air as they land.  They surround Arthur with assault rifles drawn.  Laser scopes indicate where their weapons are trained.  Helmets cover their faces with dark circular lenses cut into them for sight.

            A voice booms from the cruiser, shaking the pavement.  “Surrender.  We can help you, but only if you can show us that you are not a threat.  Any sudden movements and you will be put down immediately.  This is your one warning.”

            Grimacing, Arthur remains on his knees.  He puts his hands on his head and shouts, “The girls are injured and will need immediate medical attention.  I am unarmed.”

            An officer steps forward and switches out the rifle for a pistol as he approaches.  He keeps the pistol on Arthur as he kneels beside Chastity and checks her vitals.  He motions for someone else to check on the Lady and then speaks to his commander.  “Sir, there are three, two injured.  Understood.  Will do.”  He then approaches Arthur and takes him by the wrists.  Binding him, he pulls him to standing and says, “We’ve got stretchers for the other two.  Let’s get these people to the infirmary.”

 

9: Codex 004: Lawless Hades

Codex004: “Lawless Hades”\

Olympic Republic Travel Advisory: Though the planet Hades is located within Republic space, its proximity to the other lawless governments makes it a den of criminal activity.  Caution is advised.

 

            “Lawless Hades”.  That is the name given to the planet by gang-leader Paul “Hard-Head” Steamer.  Originally opened and settled as a mining world, its placement at the far reaches of space put it between three governments while being far enough from the settled regions to attract criminal interest.  Formally a part of Republic space, the planet has long operated without formal government control.

            Hades’ long-lasting autonomy can be attributed to two primary things.  Firstly, there is now a belief held that the waste must go somewhere.  Crime, having already taken hold here, will continue to fester within the planet, but some argue that fighting crime can be like fighting human nature.  No amount of effort will fully expunge it from the galaxy, and so it is better to give the darkness home than to invite it into your home.

            Secondly, Hades is lawless but not entirely without rule.  While there is no formal governing body, there is a hierarchy that keeps the economy of the planet from collapsing into complete anarchy.  The planet is separated into territories by the most powerful gangsters in the universe.  Those that enforce the rules do so in controlled spheres of influence, and those without the power to do so submit or succumb.  

            In recent years, corporations seeking to escape from government oversight have been drawn to Hades.  Military arms companies, pharmaceutical companies, and manufacturing companies have all used their vast wealth to establish footholds on the planet service and brought their own private military’s with them to do it.  Through force and finance, they have added a hint of civilization to an otherwise rabid planet.

            As a result, Hades is tightly controlled, with only the fringes of the planet being truly free.  Lawless, then, means that unrestricted trade is allowed, making the planet’s unofficial capitol, Persephone, a market unlike any other in the known galaxy, where the danger faced may be offset by the goods you can procure, if you’re careful.  Even with this hint of civilized commerce there, you may be swindled, mugged, or murdered in broad daylight without any repercussion if the swindler, mugger, or murderer has enough power.

            Some still argue that Hades must be brought into line, though they are far too few to see it done.  Everyone, from a penniless urchin plying the wares of those above them to corrupt CEOs buying and trading people without a care for their plight make their homes here.  Go only if you must, and then go cautiously.

 

Note: The Beaches of Cecile are well-known for the beauty of their burning sands and the sunsets when seen from the Styx Sky Elevator are said breath-taking.

10: Federation Cruiser Siegfried

Federation Cruiser Siegfried

            Arthur wakes first, his head ringing and his body sluggish.  He had been sedated before being brought onboard the ship and now finds himself at rest in an infirmary.  The interior is a soft, washed pink.  The lights are dimmed.  He has a curtain pulled for privacy and can see shadows cast along it.  A nearby monitor shows his heartbeat.  He sits up before help can come.

            A nurse meets him, a short, stout man with dark hair wearing red scrubs with black clothes underneath.  He has an identification badge that Arthur only glances at.  This man is a member of the Federation military, and that is all Arthur needs to know about him.  He doesn’t like the scrutiny or the mistrust, but he had been trained for a long time not to trust a Fed, and he can’t bring himself to betray the notion now.

            “How are the girls?”

            “The Commander will be here soon,” the nurse says coolly.  He has a clipboard and flips over its holographic interface.  “Your injuries were largely superficial.  We pulled your records, those that were public.”  The nurse looks at him.  “You know how to roll with the punches, don’t you?”

            Arthur goes quiet.  He retreats back into his head and watches from there.  It is instinct to him, his military training kicking in.  They are not interrogating him yet, and he finds it unlikely that he will be tortured again, but he feels less safe here than he did on Lancelot’s ship.  At least there he knew who the enemies were.  Here, they will hide their blades behind a smile.  It is all politics until the first bullet is fired, and then it is war.

            The nurse takes Arthur’s vitals and records them before leaving him behind his curtain.  Arthur hears a door slide open and close.  A short time later, the door does this again, and a man enters.  This man is tall and strong.  His jaw is pronounced, his body long and powerful.  He wears an officer’s uniform with a series of badges pinned to his chest.  Arthur doesn’t know enough about the Federation military to discern their meaning, but they are impressive none-the-less and tell him what he needs to know—this man is the Commander.

            The Commander regards him quietly.  He stands tall, back straight, arms folded behind him.  They make eye contact, and the Commander does not look away.  After a lingering silence, where Arthur is quietly appraised, the Commander says, “You seem in good health.  I trust that my people have been taking care of you.”

            Arthur stays quiet for a moment and weighs his every action.  He allows a nod.

            “That is good.  You might be wondering where you are—though I have some idea that you might have figured it out already.  This is my ship, the Federation Cruiser Siegfried.  It is newly built and still getting its kinks worked out, but it is a fine ship that runs smoothly, and it will take you wherever you might need to get to, but we before we discuss where you need get to, I have a few other questions.

            “You may or may not know—though I am assuming that you do—but the Federation military does not visit Hades often.  No one does, really, except for criminals.  We fly the boarders, for various purposes, but we keep clear of this area.  A war would erupt—could erupt now—should we be seen interloping in such criminal business.  The atmosphere is tense on Hades, which raises the question as to why we stepped in.”

            The Commander pauses.  He gives Arthur a moment to speak.  Arthur stares fixedly at the ground, so the Commander continues.  “We’ve heard some interesting radio traffic, and it led us there.  Military involvement on the planet Hades is peculiar, almost unheard of, but strange happenings call for strange responses.  Would you like to tell me, Captain Jameson Arthur, formerly of the Republic Military’s Centurion program, what it was that you were doing on Hades, and what had brought so much firepower down upon you and your friends?”

            Arthur keeps a wary silence and watches the Commander as he does.  They already know his history—they know about Centurion—which likely means that they suspect him already.  Silence could be incriminating, but the wrong words could find him dead.  He chooses carefully what he will reveal and what he won’t.  The Three Army Accord would see a war break out over what was brought onto this ship.

            “They were pirates,” Arthur says.  “We were on a research facility—I don’t know what they were researching—and we got hit by random.  They were taking anything they could salvage, metals, electronics, people.  I was doing guard detail, but they caught us by surprise.  In remote places, it can be hard to be kept in the loop sometimes.  I managed to escape when they docked in Charon, and I brought those two with me.  They were chasing us down with everything they had.”

            The Commander listens quietly and without judgment.  His face remains passive until the end.  Then, he rubs his chin.  “All of that firepower for escapees?”

            Arthur shrugs.  “Who knows what those sorts of people are thinking? If they were rational, they wouldn’t be doing pirates in the first place.”

            “You and I, sir, have different opinions of rational. That sort of freedom can be appealing to some and isn’t lightly given up for a handful of slaves, not if they have a ship full of supplies.  Who were you doing research for?”

            Arthur pauses heavily.  “I don’t know,” he says.

            The Commander lifts his eyebrows before smiling.  “You don’t?”

            “I worked for a private military contractor.  To my knowledge, the research station was private as well.  They didn’t fill me in on details, and I didn’t ask.”

            “With your history, you might find yourself more cautious.”

            “I probably should have.”

            The Commander laughs.  “Your records list you as Olympic, so we will see you back if you were taken by pirates or slavers.  We’ll reach out soon.  Until then, you’re welcome to mess and the infirmary, but we’ll be keeping you in the hold with the girls. We’ll call on you if we need anything.”

            “Thanks.”

            The Commander nods and leaves.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Arthur is returned to the hold, escorted by three guards, each carrying automatic rifles at the ready.  The safeties are kept on, but their presences are made known.  He keeps his eyes down but remains ready as well.  Though they are at a relative calm, it is a calm within an enemy vessel, and Arthur is trained to stay primed for combat even when at rest.

            He waits in the hold while the nurses onboard continue their examination of the others.  Chastity is injured, but the damage is superficial.  Lancelot is a skilled interrogator and a master at torture.  He did nothing to her that couldn’t be set right.  It was his intention to break her mind and not her body.  Too much duress can get false confessions or, in the case of death, nothing at all.  He wanted her exposed, not gutted.

            Lady is unharmed, though the examination is short.  Arthur worries most over what was found in that time, but the guards betray nothing to him when they drop the others off.  Chastity falls asleep beside Arthur on the cot where he sits.  Lady stands at the doorway, vigilant.  Restless, Arthur stands and leaves to walk the hallways while their movement isn’t restricted, to get a feel for the atmosphere of the ship and how it might have changed following the Lady’s examination and interrogation.

            Arthur walks the halls unattended.  He walks lightly with his head down.  Soldiers pass him, their eyes lingering.  He stops by a holographic window and stares out into sea of stars that surround them.  Hades glimmers in the fore, the long, steel tether of Charon catching the light of the star.  By itself, the planet looks almost like a constellation of stars.

            “Arthur.”  Commander Blake approaches him from behind.  Arthur turns to meet him.  They stand together in silence, Blake with his arms folded behind his back, Arthur with his hands at his side.  Siegfried remains in orbit, drifting silently around the planet.  The light side of the planet comes into view.  Charon remains in sight no matter where they go.

            “Stretching your legs.”

            “Need to make sure they haven’t fallen off.”

            Blake smiles.  “I can understand.  Things were bad down there.”  They speak without making eye contact.  There is a wall between them.  Blake is fishing for information, and Arthur remains unwilling to give it.  “I trust that your friends have been returned to you.”

            Arthur nods.

            “Good.  And they are in good health?  I must ask to keep my crew honest, you know.”

            “We’re all being treated well.”

            “That is gratifying to hear.  Though, I must ask, I believe my medical staff is playing a trick on me.”

            “Oh?”

            “The tall one, she has no records, military or otherwise.  It could be she’s undocumented, but that is a problem in itself, isn’t it?”

            Arthur remains quiet.

            “What did she do on your base?”

            Arthur pauses, shrugs.  “Not sure,” he says.  “I mean to say, she wasn’t there.  She was already on the ship.”

            “And you found her?”

            Arthur nods.

            “She seems quite protective of the girl, of Ms. Clarke—Ah, Dr. Clarke— to have only just met her.”

            “People get strange when they’re put into difficult situations like this.”  Arthur pauses thoughtfully, and when Blake doesn’t speak, he says, “They’re not soldiers like we are.”

            “Like you were,” Blake says.  “But you’re right.  It is easy to forget that civilians aren’t trained for such things.  Still, there is something else that baffles me about their report.”  Blake pauses now to see if Arthur responds.  “Surviving a crash like that without injury.  We found her unconscious, but…”

            “She got lucky.”

            “Very.”  Blake shifts his weight and taps his boot against the floor.  “I’ve gotten lucky before, you know, a bit like you.  You suffered, what, one lasting injury in your time as a soldier?”

            “My knee,” Arthur says.  He knocks his right knee with his knuckle and announces the metal plate used to replace it.  “Got it injured on my last mission, actually.  Pure luck.”

            “Bad luck.” Blake smiles.  “Lost a part of my left leg,” he says.  “Got it replaced with synthetic bits, all of them meant to make me stronger and faster.  Damn thing aches when it rains, though.  You ever get that?”

            “A little stiff when I wake up, but nothing when it rains.”

            “Lucky.  Keeps me spaceborne, honestly.  I read that you forewent any modern prosthetics—just a plate.  May I ask why?”

            “Didn’t need it,” Arthur says.  “I don’t see the reason to ever be more than human.”

            “Then tell me your secret, because it seems to me with how people walk about, always expanding into the stars, we do nothing but look for how to be more than human.”

            Arthur shrugs.  “For me, I saw war, and I realized that nothing else we do will ever make us more than what we are.  Everything good or bad about us is stuck right here.”  Arthur taps his chest.  “Machines, prosthetics, synthetics, none of that will make us less of this.”

            Blake nods.  “That’s one way of looking at it, but it does raise a question.  If nothing will make us more than we are, then I have to ask, that woman traveling with you and Dr. Clarke, do you happen to know what she is?”

            Arthur goes quiet.  A hundred answers pass through his head, but none of them are real enough to say aloud, so he doesn’t answer.  Instead, he asks, “What do you mean?”

            “The medical examination, the x-rays, they all told us something very peculiar.  At a glance, it seems entirely human, but when you look on the inside, there is nothing but steel in place of bone, like a robot from science fiction, like a miniaturized Gigas suit.  Ring any bells?”

            “Maybe extensive medical replacement?  What did her file say?”

            “I told you, no file.”

            Arthur goes quiet, pausing as if he is considering it but really searching for something else to push it aside.  In escaping Hector to Siegfried, he jumped from an open flame to a nest of vipers: it is better only in that he can fight death this way.  “I see,” he says, “I forgot.  Well, I don’t know much about her.  She doesn’t talk, so I don’t know what I can tell you.  Like I said, we were all picked up for slaving and…”

            “Yes, you had said.”  The warmth has left Blake now, and he is foregoing an attempt at charming the information out of Arthur.  “Well, thank you for the chat, Captain.  It has been a pleasure.”  He nods and walks away, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts and with the stars.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Chastity wakes to find the Lady at her side. The Lady is awake and watching her with impassive stoicism.  Chastity sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes.  She looks the Lady over but finds no obvious harm done.  Her own body, however, is covered in scrapes and bruises.  She puts her back to the cold steel of the holding cell where they are.  Her memories are foggy at best and things best left unsorted.  She doesn’t want to remember Cipher dying in her head, nor does she want to remember anything that happened after.

            She starts speaking only as a way to distract herself, saying, “We’re lucky to be alive, huh? Any idea where we are?”  She is surprised when she hears the Lady answer.

            “Siegfried.  Federation Cruiser, Federation Space Fleet.  Commanding Officer Commander Robin Blake.”

            The voice is synthetic but nearly human and feminine in tone and timbre, but the inflection is not natural.  Chastity stares for a moment before she responds.  “Did you—you just spoke, didn’t you?”

            The Lady turns to her, eyes faintly glowing.  “Yes.”

            Chastity smiles for the first time in days.  “You’re talking, you’re actually talking.  I’m talking right now with a Guide.  Unbelievable.”  She meets the Lady’s gaze and finds it far-off, still distant, like the Lady is watching something else entirely while in the room with her, and Chastity marvels at what she sees.  “How long have you been able to speak?”

            “I could always speak,” the Lady says, voice and eyes equally distant.  “I had no words.”

            “And you have words now?”

            “Yes.”

            Chastity looks at the Lady and wishes that Cipher were still there.  For years, she had an extra mind inside of her own, and while she now has theories, she hasn’t the tools to build on them.  Out of desperation to learn, “Your eyes are glowing.  I saw them do the same when we were on the last ship, and also when we were on the planet’s surface.  Is that a normal part of your function, or does it signify something else?”

            “I am learning.”

            “Learning?  Are you, by chance, interacting with the ship’s extra-net connection?”

            “Yes.  There is so much,” the Lady says. “I have been asleep for so long.”

            Chastity smiles and presses her fingertips together.  She looks at the scaffolding of her fingers and then between them as she thinks.  “How long were you asleep?”

            “Unclear.  There is no basis for comparison between our two calendar systems.”

            Chastity laughs.  “That’s probably true.  Do you remember anything from before you were asleep?”

            “I remember you.”

            Chastity blushes and looks away.  She is just about to speak again when the doors slide open with a rush of air.  Arthur enters.  He looks healthy save for the bruising across his face, and he carries himself not with a limp, but showing care on his left side.  He joins Chastity on the cot.  “Are you well?”

            Chastity nods.

            “Good, and how is,” he looks to the Lady.

            “She’s speaking.”

            “She is?”  They look expectantly at the Lady, who continues to stare at the distant wall.

            “Jameson Arthur, former Republic Military, Special Operation: Centurion.  Public data is limited due to the program’s clandestine nature.  However, parts of it were made public following…”

            “Please, don’t.”

            The light in the Lady’s eyes fades as they make eye contact.  The Lady nods.  “Understood.  I do speak.”

            “I’ve noticed.”  Arthur rubs his chin and sighs.  “When did that start?”

            “Only moments ago,” Chastity says.  “Maybe something in the car crash jarred her memory.”

            “No, I’ve merely amassed enough words in your language to comprehend and express.”

            Arthur looks between the two of them and sits back.  “Right.”  He rests his hands on his knees to keep his back straight.  “Well, that’s interesting, I suppose, but it makes things harder.”

            Chastity’s brow knits.  “What does it make harder?”

            “We’re aboard a Federation cruiser who has made contact with the Olympic fleet.  They’re taking us back to them.”

            “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

            “The Commanding officer has made a log.  They are suspicious as to my origins,” the Lady says, eyes alight and gaze distant.

            “Exactly.”  Arthur sighs.  “Which means that this is a play of some sort.  I am just trying to figure out what.”

            Chastity curls up on the cot.  “They won’t hurt us, will they?”

            “Not if they’re contacting the Republic.  That would be far too dangerous to treat us like that, especially following the attention they would have garnered at Hades.  No, they’re not going to hurt us, but they might use us as a bargaining chip once the Republic gets here.  Either way, we need to tread carefully.”   He looks to the Lady and says, “And you should keep your voice off for now.”

            “Affirmative.”

            They settle in, Arthur’s back at rest against the wall.  Chastity looks between them and wrings her hands.  “One more question, though, if I can impose.  Lady, do you have anything that we should call you?  What is your name?”

            The Lady looks toward her.

            “I mean, should we just keep calling you the Lady?”

            The Lady nods silently.

            Chastity nods.  “Then, I guess, we should introduce ourselves.  Lady, I am Chastity Clarke, and this is Jameson Arthur.  It’s nice to meet you.”

11: Codex 005: The Asgardian Federation

::: The Asgardian Federation :::

            Once a collection of disgruntled planets swearing allegiance to the Olympic Republic, the Asgardian Federation is an example of a bloodless succession.  Following the attempted assassination of Representative Wagner, one of the chief politicians lobbying for the succession of the Asgardian League of Planets (a collective of planets who would go on to be the Asgardian Federation), the planets were allowed their freedom as a way of alleviating the public disgrace that the Republic was facing.

            The conflict began nearly half a century before.  As the different arks began to establish conventional trade routes, three separate governing bodies seemed to form naturally in space.  The strongest of these three, and the first to make contact with the other star systems, would eventually become the Olympic Republic.  Those farther from these centralized planets, where much of the governing across space was done, would take up the mantles of the Alliance and the Federation.

            The disagreements held between the planets were largely ones of practicality.  At a time when days, weeks, and sometimes even months passed between contact, it felt somehow wrong for Federation citizens to pay fealty and finance to the Olympic Republic which hardly took notice of them.  However, the notion of succession and self-governance never took hold in their minds until the Alliance did so in a bloody coup that saw the first use of the then prototype, experimental Gigas armored knights.

            As the Republic struggled to take back the allied planets who defied them, the Asgardian League began to meet in secret on their own planets.  On their soon-capital planet, Asgard, they came to the conclusion to and drafted their assertion of self-governance, announcing their intent to succeed and hoping to push it through before the tensions between the Alliance and the Republic had cooled.  Their hope was that the conflict with the Alliance might slow the Republic’s response and free them to govern themselves in turn.

            Instead, their decision to leave the Republic created a chain reaction of events that would see the Centurion project publicly exposed in an assassination attempt on Rep. Wagner and nearly spark another war to be fought.  Unable and unwilling to justify their response, the Republic unwillingly parted with the nine planets making up the League, and the Federation was born.

            The Federation operates almost identically to the Republic, though their military has grown much more quickly.  Supported at first by the Alliance, who offered them valuable technology and schematics in hopes of continuing to destabilize the still powerful and vast Olympic regime, the Federation has since produced a powerful military which is supported by a political party pushing a more militaristic government—the Aesir.

            In turn, the rich among the government push more for domestic tranquility and a powerful working class, with emphasis put on farming, architecture, and factory production, arguing that without a powerful economy and the means of supporting themselves financially, the Federation itself is without a purpose.  This group calls themselves the Vanir.

            With the threat of war looming on the horizon, the Aesir hold most of the power in the government, though the Vanir are not entirely without a voice.  Entire planets follow Vanir doctrine, which gives symmetry to the fledgling government’s efforts.  Vanir planets produce and support the military might of the Aesir’s interests.  In turn, the Aesir protect the more domestically inclined Vanir.

            Continued Asgardian interest in weaponry and efforts to grow the military with Gigas Armors, among more conventional weaponry, have drawn public interest, however, and tensions between the Republic and the Federation are a powder keg ready.  The entire universe is just waiting for the eventual spark which will begin the blaze to follow.

12: Olympic Dreadnought Agamemnon

Olympic Dreadnought Agamemnon:

            In the empty, impartial cold of space, under the violet glow of the star Theta, Siegfried appears.  It slips from the undulating folds of dive space, light and void distending around it as it forces its way into place there.  It drifts a few meters before blasting air from the front and easing to a stop.  A short distance away, the dreadnought Agamemnon appears, a mass of steel painted blue and white, decked with rows of cannons.  Each cannon is fixed on Siegfried as Agamemnon stops parallel to the other ship.

            They form a slow, delicate circle, hailing each other and then matching drift.  Their hulls line up and connect to make the trade.  Four Olympic soldiers, wearing white armor and carrying assault rifles at their backs, meet the Federation soldiers halfway.  The three prisoners are put between them and will be the first to die should shots fire.  They are handed off peacefully.

            Arthur leads them to the Olympic soldiers, who give stiff nods to the Federation soldiers before leading them away.  In the safety of Agamemnon, Arthur gives a sigh of relief and thanks the soldiers.  They respond curtly and order him to the bridge. 

            It has been decades since Arthur has seen the interior of an Olympic ship, and he is surprised to find it similar in build to the Federation ship he was just on.  After brief consideration, however, it makes sense to him.  Most ships are built by third party dealers selling to both armies, especially during times of peace.  A certain degree of uniformity, born primarily from function and cost, is to be expected.

            They are walked to the bridge, a wide, angular room with five walls lined with enormous monitors.  Thirty people work from consoles spread tightly through the deck.  From a raised platform, a tall, broad-shouldered man keeps watch.  He wears a uniform heavy with medals and keeps a neat, trimmed beard that is going gray.  He greets them with a humorless smile and a long stare.  “Hello.”  He nods to the other two and shakes hands with Arthur.  “Jameson, it’s been some time.”

            “It has.”  Arthur speaks without warmth.  His scowl betrays his feelings.  “You’ve been promoted,” he says, regarding first the medals and then the ship itself.

            “Some circles might see it that way.”  The man looks past Arthur, to the others.  “I am Rear Admiral Gerald Galahad, and this is my ship: Agamemnon.  You are all welcome here and will be granted the protection due to all citizens under Olympic law.  Men, take the ladies to the infirmary and make sure they’re properly bandaged.  You can never trust a Feds shoddy work.”  He looks Arthur in the eyes.  “You, however, can stay and tell me what the hell is going on.”

            Chastity hesitates, watching Arthur as the soldiers flank her.  She remains rooted, and they wait beside her, reluctant to move her by force but willing should they need to.  Arthur gives her a smile.  “It’s okay.  We can trust them. I’ll be along soon.”  Hearing this, she nods and allows herself to be led away.

            Now alone with him, Arthur fixes his attention on Galahad.  Old memories surface, pushed along by equally old feelings and lingering regrets.  Arthur finds that the only thing that has changed about Galahad in eleven years is the number of badges he has sewn into his jacket.  Galahad, in return, is disappointed by what he sees in Arthur.  He paces a circle around him, hands folded behind his back, and appraises him before turning his attention to the monitors on the walls.  Each shows the inky blackness of space, broken by the faint glow of distant nebulae catching the light cast by the stars.

            “You’ve had a few promotions since we last met,” Arthur says.  He has moved only enough to follow Galahad’s movement.  Galahad meets his gaze with a stiff smile.

            “I’ve done well,” he says, and he turns toward Arthur in full.  “And you, you went into the private sector, didn’t you?”

            Arthur shrugs.  “After everything that happened, the military didn’t have much to offer me.”  He looks around the impressive bridge interior and adds, “It still doesn’t.”

            Galahad give a cold laugh.  “You always were difficult.  Still, I suppose that I’m glad to see you alive, and lucky, too, from the looks of things.  So, will you tell me the truth about what happened on Canaan, Jameson?”

            “I’m assuming you knew about the project there?”

            “Which one?”

            Arthur scratches his head.  “Well, I hope I’m not stepping on any toes here by saying this, but the Guide ruins.”

            “Those.”  Galahad nods and rubs his beard.  “Yes, I know.  Despite everything, I am still very well-informed, though that is military high command.  They wanted us watching for pirate activity in the area.  It seems their instincts were right.”

            “Partly right,” Arthur says.  “They acted like pirates, but they had no interest in anything other than the Guides.  They were organized, too, and they were using Gigas Armors.”

            Galahad frowns while rubbing his beard.  “Were they Olympic models?”

            “Some of them, yes, but heavily modified and led by a non-standard armor.  It used an EMP to knock out base’s defenses and communication.  Then, a small team of pilots picked apart the outside before moving in on foot.  The attack was efficient, but they didn’t take anything for loot.  Their target—targets—were specific.”

            “The Guide.”

            Arthur nods.  “Not only did they know it was there, they knew exactly where to look,” he says.  “There must have been someone on the inside.”

            “It does sound like it, but how do the Feds come into play?”

            “Happenstance.  The enemy stopped at Hades on the way to wherever they were going.  At the time, I was able to escape with the others, but we were caught and nearly killed.  The Feds happened to see what was happening and intervened, and it was lucky for us that they did.”

            “And how much do they know?”

            “Nothing hard.  I lied as best I could, but they had me drugged up, and their commander was suspicious.  Plus, it’s hard to hide what we had with us during a physical examination.”

            Galahad rubs his beard, tugging absently at the hair as he thinks.  His face tightens into a scowl.  “Damn it.  This might be trouble.”

            “What’s more, the Lady, one of my companions, is a Guide.”

            Galahad halts.  He gives Arthur a long look before saying, with open disbelief.  “She is a Guide?”

            “It’s crazy, I know, but the Lady woke up and helped us escape.  When examined on the Federation ship, no injuries were found.  The results were strange, vaguely human, but machine.  You must know yourself that the facility was built into Guide ruins.”

            “It’s why, officially, we have nothing to do with it.”

            “The Lady is what was there.  It’s why Chastity was brought in to begin with.  They were trying to wake it up, I think, and they did it.”

            Galahad gives a long look at the floor.  He plucks vigorous at his beard as he thinks.  Folding his arms, he asks, “Is there anything else I should know, Jameson?”

            “One thing.”  Arthur waits until Galahad meets his gaze and then says, “The one leading the attack on our facility was Lancelot.  It was Steven.”

            Galahad’s frown deepens.

            “So, it wasn’t a military operation then?”

            “He was discharged.  You know that.”

            Arthur folds his arms over his chest now and gives Galahad the same incredulity that he was given earlier.  “I don’t trust anything the military says unless I see the results for myself,” he says.  “What about the others? Where is Osceola? Where’s Micah?”

            “Guinevere is still with us, though working under someone else.  I hear she’s been testing a non-standard prototype for field use.”

            Arthur nods.  “Good use for her.  And Micah?”

            Galahad gives a lethargic shrug.  “Last I heard, he was still with us, but I haven’t kept my ears out for him, to be honest.  I want it all behind me, too.”

            “Fair enough.”

            “If that’s all, then you can go and get some rest.  You look like hell.”

            “I’ve been better,” Arthur says.  “But, I do have one more question.

            “Quickly.”

            “Where are you taking us?”

            Galahad grunts and turns away. He stares thoughtfully at the monitors showing the cosmos around them.  “We’ll take you three to the research facility on Athens.”

            Arthur gives a nod and, out of habit and memory, salutes before leaving.  Galahad watches him go impassively, a growing fatigue settling in the slouch of his shoulders.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Chastity and the Lady are led to the medical bay and then left alone.  Their examinations are brief and note nothing that the Federation medical officers hadn’t already noted.  They order them both to rest and dim the lights on the way out.  Chastity lies on her back across a thin mattress with the white sheets pulled up around her.  The Lady sits at her side.

            The ship churns.  Chastity feels a familiar pressure around her temples that indicates the ship entering dive space.  She closes her eyes and rides out the initial pinch and then stares at the ceiling as unbidden memories take form.  She thinks of Lancelot standing above her as Achilles dived, thinks of his powerful hands seizing her body, of his cold eyes, and she recoils.

She looks at the Lady, who is staring over her at the far wall.  Her expression is no longer blank.  Her eyes glow, and there is a hint of emotion.  It is mechanical interest, an expression that is sincere yet unrefined.  A few seconds pass before the Lady realizes Chastity’s interest and returns it.  Her eyes dim in the process.  “I am learning.”

            Chastity sits up on her elbows.  “You’ve accessed the ship’s database?”

            The Lady nods.  “Yes.  It is much larger, more robust than the last, but the information here conflicts with what I found on the previous ship.”  The Lady pauses.  “Historical records differ surrounding key events.  It is unlikely.  Both sides cannot win a war.”

            Chastity laughs as she sits forward.  She hugs her knees and watches the Lady—a Guide, a real, living, speaking Guide—sitting before her.  She wishes, desperately, that her implant was still working and that she could compile information and conduct an interview.

            “We are going to Athens.”  The Lady looks away again, eyes moving as if she is reading, but there are no words in front of her.  Chastity recognizes the response.  She did the same thing when she interfaced with her A.I.  “There is a base there. A military base.  I recognize the star charts.”

“You do? From where?  The Siegfried?”

            “No,” the Lady says.  “From my personal database.”

            “Your personal database? So, you do have memories?”

            “No.  I have a purpose, but I do not know what it is.  My memories are corrupted, fragmented.  My systems feel strange.”    

            “The EMP,” Chastity says, and she rests her head on her knees.  “It damaged all of the equipment when it hit.  My implant is fried, too.  It’s honestly amazing that yours works at all.”

            “I am not equipment,” the Lady says, turning to her.

            Chastity balks. “No, no!  I didn’t mean to imply that you are.  I am so sorry!”

            “Your implant, does it hurt?”

            “No.” Chastity pauses.  She feels the metal hidden behind her left ear.  “I can get the pieces replaced easily enough.  Or, did you mean do I have it because I am hurt?”

            “Yes.”

            Chastity smiles.  “Also no.  I had it to help me compile my research.  I was a professor for a short time.  I taught, and I wrote papers.  Did they have professors in your civilization?”

            “I do not know.”

            The infirmary door slides up and reveals Arthur behind it.  He enters, smiling at the two of them in the half-light.  “How did things go? Did they find anything else?”

            Chastity shakes her head.  “We’re both fine.  How about you?”

            “I’m fine,” Arthur says, easing himself into a seat beside the bed.  “I’ve had worse injuries, and on missions, too.  I’ll survive this, I promise you that much.”

            “Good.”  Chastity hugs her knees tight and stares across at Arthur.  “Hey, I just wanted to say—Well, thank you.  For everything.  For fighting for me.”

            Arthur gives a pained grin as he adjusts his posture.  “You’re welcome, but don’t go thanking me yet.  We’re still not out.”

            “I know.  Lady says we’re going to Athens.”

            Arthur looks between them.  “And how would it know something like that?  You hacking again?”

            The Lady looks at him.  “Athens is important.”

            “It is.  There’s a science facility there and Guide ruins all over the planet.  If anyone can figure you out, they can.”

            “Ruins.  There’s something among the ruins.”

            Arthur regards her critically, his brow knitting.  “Yeah? And what’s that?”

            The Lady stares at him and shrugs.

            “Right.”  Arthur leans back in his chair, his head at rest against the softly vibrating walls of the ship.  “Then let’s ret while we can, guides and gals.  I’ve got the feeling that this whole mess is far from over.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Athens is a large, blue pearl orbiting Star Beta.  Technically, it was founded and settled as an Olympic planet, but the large number of Guide ruins scattered across the planet’s surface found it open to all governments.  This also made the planet hard to settle despite its fertile fields and rich mineral deposits.  What few settlements are there are centered around research and little else.

            The space just outside of Athens warps.  Ripples form in the light, causing waves of distortion to undulate through the empty space.  Appearing in this forming void, Agamemnon slides smoothly into place and drifts into Athens’ orbit.  Its Yggdrasil Drive purrs to a stop as the ship settles.

            Arthur, Chastity, and the Lady have been summoned to the shuttle bay.  There, they are escorted by armed Republic soldiers with Galahad at their lead.  He walks steadily in front of them, his hands folded behind his back, while the soldiers keep their assault rifles in hand but with their safeties on.

            They take a shuttle to the planet’s surface.  It is daytime where they land, and the air is warm and fresh.  The leaves are changing in early autumn at the facility, and the summer’s heat is just beginning to fade.  The changing of the seasons is so pronounced and at odds with Canaan’s dusty, arid expanse that Chastity’s finds herself momentarily rooted upon seeing it.

            Galahad leads them into a facility much larger than the one on Canaan and perhaps even better funded.  The research done here, Chastity knows, isn’t just into Guide technology.  It is a military research station interested in weapons, armors, and other secrets beneath all of that.  All of it is strictly guarded and deeply denied.

            They reach a front reception room where Galahad speaks to a secretary behind a thick, glass wall.  Their conversation is brief, and Galahad is shown inside, leaving the three with the soldiers.  Chastity watches Arthur, who waits patiently.  None of them are handcuffed, but the presence of the soldiers makes it clear that they are not free.

            Galahad returns within a few minutes, a group of scientists now following him.  They surround the Lady and examine her with clinical interest.  While the scientists work, Galahad turns his attention to Arthur and Chastity standing nearby.  “You two will return with me to the ship.  The Guide stays here.”

            Chastity looks between Arthur and Galahad.  Finding both stone-faced, she then turns her attentions to the guards.  Finally, she says, “That’s not fair!  She’s not just a test subject.  She…”

            “She is now ours,” Galahad says.  “I understand how you must feel.  This is the find of a lifetime, but with that acknowledged, you must in turn understand what she means not only to the Republic, but to all of the worlds.  She doesn’t belong to you, doctor.  Your work is done now.  Thank you for your service, now come along.”

            “No.  I can stay.  I can help.”

            “You aren’t needed.”

            “But…”  Chastity grabs ineffectually at the Lady’s hand.  A guard steps in to separate the two, blocking Chastity’s view of the Lady.  Arthur steps forward to intercept, but stops as the three remaining guards respond.  All four guards close rank, and Arthur turns to Chastity and takes her by the shoulder.

            “Sorry, kid.  We’re outnumbered.”

            She stares at him, tears in her eyes, as the Lady is led away by the gathered scientists.  By the look in the Lady’s eyes, Chastity realizes that her friend isn’t even there.  With a database like Athens’, the Lady is likely learning so much more than she could before.  Chastity sniffs.  “But Arthur…”

            Arthur nods.  “I know, but she’ll be fine.  There are proper channels we can take to solve this.  Ones that don’t involve trying to take on a whole base with just the two of us.”

            She nods and wipes her nose.  Turning, she glares at Galahad.  “Fine, then.  Let’s go and get this over with.”

            “Yes, let’s.”  Galahad leads them back out.  Arthur and Chastity follow with the four guards flanking them.

            Chastity leans in to whisper to Arthur as they are led back across the landing pad and toward Agamemnon’s shuttle.  “So, what will happen now?”

            “Most likely? We’ll be debriefed and sent back into civilian life with the expectation that we will speak nothing of this,” he whispers back.  “I know it’s rough, but it’s not a fight we can win here.  It’s best to play by their rules.  If we want to get anywhere with this, we’ll have to.”

            “But she’s not just some science experiment.  She’s a living creature, and she’s learning so quickly.”

            Arthur nods.  He is just formulating his response when siren sound.  Everyone stops.  The guards train their weapons on the duo while Galahad takes a few steps forward, searching for the trouble he knows isn’t from them.  His comm buzzes.  “Three Federation ships have been spotted in orbit and are opening fire on Agamemnon.  Repeat, three federation ships have appeared in orbit and are engaging Agamemnon.”

            Galahad turns to Arthur, who meets his gaze.  “They followed us.”

            Arthur nods.

13: Codex 006: Project Centurion

::: Project Centurion :::

From the notes of Project Head Major Gerald A. Galahad,

            It doesn’t matter what the politicians or the historians say, Project Centurion was a success.  When the project was first founded, it was not designed to build the most moral soldiers but the most deadly and the most efficient, and in that effort, we have had a success five times over.  Even as we came speeding towards doom, it was only through those successes that we were able to avert a civil war which might have destroyed our entire way of life.

            Lt. Steven Lancelot, the face of this entire debacle, is by all accounts the best soldier I have ever seen.  He is deadly efficient and lethally skilled.  Every mission given to him is completed without question and without remorse.  His is a mind which understands the weight and responsibility of the military, and his only flaw is perhaps that he is too cold or too critical.  In this case, however, he was a weapon pointed only at the wrong person.  It is not his failure but the failure of those who used him so selfishly.

            Lt. Jameson Arthur and Lt. Osceola Guinevere, much like Lancelot before them, are exemplary soldiers with perhaps more conventionally forward moral compasses, and it was their skill and teamwork which undid the plotting and planning of the politician fools who created this problem to begin with.  While not as technically skilled as Lancelot, they have shown skills far surpassing other soldiers and nearly equaling his.  These results are, of course, entirely in-line with what we have found across all five soldiers.

            In this way, the project was a success, and Lancelot the greatest success of them all.  It is politics which is trying to bury it through exposure.  Lt. Lancelot is made into a monster by some and a tragedy by others.  The death of Cpt. Gareth, promoted posthumously, is manna to the media, and Arthur and Guinevere are the heroes that they need to sell the story they’ve written. 

            Which is the problem with this world.  Project Centurion was made to address a threat.  It is being called a failure, a shadow operation, but all of the paperwork was public from the start.  No one looked because no one cared.  What little attention it drew was satirical—an army to fight space invaders who weren’t invading.  The problem is that it worked, however you look at it, and we now have five supremely dangerous weapons without a target to aim at.

            We did, however, have political dissidents and politicians with interest.  When Rep. Wagner of Asgard formally proposed succession the galaxy went cold.  The Republic scrambled for an appropriate response in the light and scrambled for a dagger in the dark.  Ours was the sharpest dagger, and so they drew it unlawfully.  Lancelot did his job.  The others did their duty, and the two opposing forces came to a head with lethal force.  They fought.  They killed.  They destroyed the skyline in the resulting chaos, and now they are being assigned mantles black and white, respectively, as the citizenry decide their worth and purpose.

            Lancelot is a good soldier.  A great soldier.  He is the best soldier.  The quality of his humanity is tertiary.  Arthur and Guinevere are perhaps better people, but that is not relevant in the military.  Good people do not always make quality soldiers, and of the three, I’ve made my recommendation clear.

            It doesn’t matter.  I should burn this after writing it.  The witch hunt has begun, and my career is on the line.  This will be the last I write of it, the last I speak of it.  After today, Project Centurion will be a strange black mark in a number of otherwise impeccable records.  We will rebuild.  By all accounts, we will benefit from it, except for Lancelot.  Look at Percival, who has already turned it into a boon.

            I fear, though, that the galaxy isn’t ready for what will come next.

14: Athens

Athens:

            Two ships appear just outside of Athens’ orbit.  Siegfried follows and leads them from the center.  After taking initial fire, Agamemnon twists slowly through space, firing back as it moves.  Their cannon muzzles flash purple as magnetic propulsion hurls large spheres of steel noiselessly through space.  The spheres glide harmlessly into the enemy shields and drift off.

            From the surface, the battle cannot be seen but imagined.  Galahad takes charge, turning his soldiers back toward the facility and dragging Arthur and Chastity after him.  He leads them back inside and stows them in a waiting room with two soldiers on guard while he returns to the facility’s interior.

            Arthur keeps a firm watch on the monitor and the doors.  Warnings flash along every screen.  Outside, he can see guards hurrying to Gigas Armors and hears the roar of their engines as they take off.  Swirling clouds of smoke drift across the asphalt in a dizzying display.

            Chastity settles against a wall and hugs herself.  Arthur kneels beside her as she begins to hyperventilate.  “Hey, don’t worry.  We’ve been through worse.  We’ll be fine.”

            “We weren’t fine on Canaan.”

            “This is different.  Athens is far better outfitted.  It’s a proper military facility, and we have both Agamemnon and Galahad here.  We’ll be okay.”

            A Federation transport crashes outside and erupts into a sphere of flame.  The soldiers inside of it die on impact.  Two Federation armors land beside it, checking the wreckage before turning their gunfire on circling Republic Hunter armors.  Arthur watches briefly before returning his attention to Chastity, putting his body between her and the door.

            “Hey, hey,” he says, squeezing her shoulders as she cries.  “You listen to me.  We survived, didn’t we? Chastity?  Chastity, look at me.”  Holding her by the chin, he looks her in the eyes.  “WE survived, didn’t we?”

            She sniffles and nods.

            “Then we’ll survive this, too.  Won’t we?”

            This time she hesitates but relents, nodding.

            “Good, thank you.  I promise you, I’ll get us out of this.  For now, do your best to think about something else.”  Arthur stands and checks outside again.  The armors have left.  Behind him, a door opens.  Galahad enters with his arms folded behind his back and his face stern and lined.

            “Arthur?”

            Arthur frowns.  “What now?”

            “Come with me,” says Galahad, and turning, he adds, “Leave the girl.”  Galahad waits for no response.

            Arthur hesitates.  Kneeling, he pulls Chastity close to him and holds her gently by the wrists.  “Chastity? Chastity, can you hear me? I’ll be back.  I promise you; I’ll be back.  You just try and be brave until then.”  He waits, and when she doesn’t respond, he pats her head.  “The Lady and I will be counting on you to hold down the fort.”  When finished, he stands and hurries after Galahad.

            Galahad walks ahead of him, keeping a brisk pace.  Arthur has to run to meet him.  They move through rushing people, the crowd thinning the farther they walk.  The base interior, Arthur finds, is a series of wide, well-lit tunnels built into the soil.  Doors line the halls.  The walls are white and largely similar.  Beyond these doors, Arthur imagines, are trillions of dollars’ worth of top-secret experiments.

            They move seamlessly through the halls, turning and walking, led by flashing lights toward an unknown destination.  Every hall looks the same to Arthur, who passes white walls, white panels, and bright lights.  The floor is reflective and glossy.  His boots echo with each step.  They stop at an elevator and enter.  Arthur watches his own reflection in the polished steel as the elevator slides smoothly downward.

            “Where are we going,” Arthur asks as the elevator vibrates gently around.

            “I was afraid that they would follow our dive trail,” Galahad says.  He picks absently at his beard.  “That Guide is as dangerous as she is revolutionary.  You are aware of the Three Party Accord, I am sure.” Arthur nods, and Galahad says, “That is why they are here.  Their attack isn’t sanctioned, but it won’t be considered a provocation if we’re found out.  We’re in deep here, Jameson, and all the intel says that the Feds have been waiting for a reason.  We’ve just went and given them one.”

            “But we won’t give her up, will we?”

            Galahad barks a humorless laugh.  “No, of course not!”  The elevator stops silently, the cessation of movement is made known only by the gentle rocking of the elevator as it halts.  The doors open to reveal a vast, underground hangar lined by platforms and Gigas Armors.  Most have been lifted to the surface.  What few remain are being manned and sent to the surface around them.  Arthur follows Galahad inside and is led to a lone, red Gigas Armor near the far wall.

            “That is the prototype,” Galahad says, Arthur staring at his side.  “P.T.G. Mars.”  They step onto the platform at Mars’ feet, and Galahad leads Arthur around to the back.  Up close, Arthur can see the armor in fine detail.  It is smaller than usual and only lightly armored, with jump-boosters on the back and a sizable energy cannon affixed to its left shoulder.  Light blades are fixed to the forearms, but from the looks of them they are not fully equipped.

            “It is untested,” Galahad says, turning now to look Arthur in the eyes.  “Unfinished but still deadly in the right hands.  You were an adequate pilot, if my memory serves me.  You could do some real damage out there.”  Galahad pulls the Gigas key from his breast pocket and holds it out to Arthur.

            Arthur eyes the key for a moment, a small bit of plastic and iron with circuitry house within.  He thinks of Chastity waiting in the foyer, alone as the world shakes around her, and he thinks of the Lady housed somewhere inside, scientists examining her, soldiers scrambling around her.  A part of him wants to turn around here to watch the battle from Chastity’s side and keep her safe.  The rest of him knows that to keep her truly safe, he will need to end the battle quickly.  He takes the key.

            “Good decision.”

            Arthur passes Galahad, pulling himself up the armor’s ladder and opening the back hatch.  He looks over his shoulder with one foot inside.  “You watch Chastity and keep herself,” he says.  “She’s been through a lot, and she needs to be protected right now.”

            “I have other priorities right now.”

            “Then so do I,” he says, hesitating inside of the open hatch, hoping his bluff will work.  To sweeten the deal, he adds, “Think of it this way, she’s one of the brightest minds of our generation.”

            Galahad gives a long stare before relenting.  He sighs and rubs his temples.  “Fine, I will babysit your friend for you, but you had better bring this to a swift end.”

            “You, of all people, should know what I can do when pressed.”  Arthur ducks into Mars’ cockpit and closes the hatch behind him.  Settling into the seat, he straps himself in and inserts the key.  The armor hums to life around him as he fills out the log, his muscles taking over for wherever his mind forgets.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            The facility shakes, and Chastity shakes with it.  Left alone by Arthur, she stays in a corner hugging herself.  Each jarring explosion sends her back to Canaan, as does each shout or stomping foot.  The lights flicker, and she is alone in a room, struggling to hide her breath as the people around her are murdered in where they stand.  Desperate, she calls out to Cipher, and she gets nothing in return.

            Canaan followed her.  It followed her onto Hector, where Lancelot beat her for information.  It followed her to Charon, where Arthur killed to keep her safe.  It followed her to Hades after that.  She had thought, aboard Sigfried, and aboard Agamemnon that the battle was over.  Arthur had convinced her that it was, but he was wrong.  It had followed her to Athens, and it was raining down on the facility as she shook.

            She thinks of the Lady.  Arthur was wrong about the war, and she feels certain that he is wrong about the Lady, too.  Everyone she worked with had died for the information that the Lady held.  Cipher had died.  Chastity was the lone survivor because she as the only person who could unlock the true potential of the Lady.  Her life was justified by her expertise, and here it was invalidated by an Admiral with grudge.

            She wonders how the Lady will be used, and she wonders how far she will be hunted.  If the Federation follows them to Athens, if they start a war, then she is sure that they will leave the world awash in nuclear fire if it got them the edge in this cold war that the two governments are fighting.  They will shoot their way through anyone and everyone.

            They will shoot their way through her, too.

            Chastity imagines the Lady laid out on a table and opened up, insides moving and glistening.  She imagines doctors standing over her impartially, their eyes glossed by science, interested only in the pieces and not in the person.  She imagines soldiers in their place, interested in even less.  To them the Lady is not a miracle but a trophy.  It makes her ill.

            She draws a breath and wipes her eyes.  Using the wall for support, she lifts herself and goes to the reception window.  The room is empty.  The building shudders again and, though frightened, Chastity glares through her fear.  She is no soldier, but she is ready to fight this way.  Reaching through the reception window, she angles her arm to the keypad below and, with few keystrokes, prompts the door open.

            Chastity sneaks through the door and into the hall.  She walks the wall and ducks into the first supply room she can find.  There, she searches for a white lab coat and does it up before entering the hall again.  She moves among the rushing people, behaving as best as she can as if she belongs. 

            The halls are crowded with researchers compiling data.  Chastity remembers this, trying to back up information or else send it out before the facility collapses.  The soldiers will pretend like they are safe, but the researchers are worried anyway.  They don’t believe anything they can’t see or quantify themselves.

            Chastity walks brusquely, like she knows where she is going.  She passes a room used for experimentation on bacteria.  She passes another holding different types of atypical flora from around the galaxy.  Across from that is another room housing atypical fauna small enough to be kept there.  She moves deeper, passing doors, slipping by with other researchers past different gates.

            The deeper she goes, the more the numbers thin.  She keeps to the back, slipping by just as doors close until she is left alone.  No one stops her.  No one knows to.  She finally meets a gate which she cannot get open and stops there.  There is a panel beside the door, one which is similar to those she had on Canaan.  Carefully, she pulls the front panel off and, after examining the circuitry closely, begins rewiring it quickly so that she does not draw notice.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            The battle has been raging for some time by Mars’ arrives at Athens’ surface.  Airborne armors whip by overhead, carried by high-powered rockets and firing on each other with abandoned.  Ground armors make a slow march toward each other, staggering as their hardened-light shields flare and fade.  Anti-air turrets keep dropships from making direct landings while soldiers sprint across the battlefield.  High in the atmosphere, Agamemnon does battle with Siegfried and the two other vessels that arrived with it.

            Before entering the battle himself, Arthur takes a moment to survey the assault.  Federation Hunter armors, known for their light armor and quick movements, lead from the front while the heavier Viking armors back them from the rear.  Conversely, lightly-armored Vanguard units of Republic meet the on-coming forces in small, short frays, focusing on hobbling, not hurting.  

            As practice, Arthur levels his shoulder-mounted energy rifle—the lone functioning weapon on the prototype—and pulls the trigger.  A blazing red-orange flash erupts from the muzzle and tears a hole through the approaching enemy forces.  Their plating is light, and their armors equally insubstantial.  Twelve of them disappear into a smeared, smoldering mess of red-hot steel and melted stone.

            Comm. chatter explodes across all frequencies at the arrival of this strange, new armor.  Arthur gets a whoop of success from his side and can imagine what his enemies are saying on their end.  He fires again, and the Repubic forces refocus their assault.  The Vanguard armors stop with their hit and run and take to cleaning up the scattered armors separating to avoid Arthur’s cannon fire.

            The army before him clears, and Arthur ignites his jump jets and slides across the battlefield.  The rockets are small and suited for experimentation.  They cannot grant him flight, but they do allow for increased lateral movement that, when paired with his dual-layered, side-mounted hardened-light shields, makes his armor into a tank.  He hovers around the battle ield, planting only long enough to squeeze off a shot before retreating back into the protection of his allies.

            The Republic forces rally behind Arthur, defending his flanks and following him from the rear.  Arthur keeps his back to the research facility to minimize collateral damage and, shouting orders over the communications, begins coordinating strike teams.  Galahad, meanwhile, watches from the facility and organizes his own airborne support for Agamemnon, which is beginning to show wear.

            The battles tide turns until static erupts over the comms.  One of his strike teams disappears in a series of explosions.  The armors behind it fold in, fearful shouts echoing into oblivion as their owners die.  Arthur looks up to see a squadron of armors disappear in the wake of a single Federation armor descending onto them.  It is thin and sleek, red like his own, with medium back-mounted thrusters and a strange, claw-like attachment built into the left armor.

            The new armor latches the claw-like appendage onto a Republic armor, and the claw flashes.  The Republic armor’s plating melts off.  The pilot boils inside until they pop.  Then, the armor is dropped to the ground before the remaining armors around it can fix their weapons on the Fed.  Their bullets fail to even mark its light-shields.

            This lone enemy armor clears a path through the Republic defenses with a series of quick flourishes.  Arthur trains his rifle and fires.  The armor shudders around him from the recoil, and his screen goes blank from the muzzle flash.  The enemy armor catches the blast to the side of its light shields, which fracture under the force and the heat.  Distance, however, had weakened the beam and left the enemy alive.

            Arthur receives a hail from the armor and opens the channel out of stupid curiosity.  Robin’s voice fills his cockpit.  “So, you’re the one, the red devil they were calling you.  Well met.”

            “Retreat while you can.”  Arthur keeps his tone firm, playing poker with his voice.

            “Ah, Arthur.  I shouldn’t be surprised.  With your background, they would be fools not to put you to good use.”

            “This battle helps no one, Robin.”

            “You have something.  You hid it from me, hid it from the worlds.  Possibly the greatest discovery in human history, and your government intends to keep it to themselves.  We are well within our rights to be here.”

            “Then petition diplomatically, if you are so concerned.  All this attack will do is start a war.”

            “We are here for a reason.  You’re a soldier.  You understand.  People have already died, and I intend to do their sacrifice justice!”

            Arthur kills communication just as the Robin fires his jets and closes distance.  He keeps low, hovering just above the ground, leaving a curtain of dust in his armor’s wake.  Arthur jumps backward and orders his allies to keep formation, using the armors as his flank.  They match his movements perfectly, the space between them an enormous gun barrel so that they always keep the vector clear.  Arthur fixes the enemy with his rifle and fires.  Another white-hot flash swallows his vision.

            Enemy armors sizzle as Robin’s support is melted away in the wake of Arthur’s attack, but Robin in his Tyr armor is missing.  It isn’t until Arthur hears screams over his comm that he realizes what has happened.  Three armors to his left erupt as Robin dances the Tyr around them and through them.  He cuts clean through two light armors with his gleaming red claw before Arthur can even respond.

            Arthur turns the Mars and readies its rifle, but his allies block his shot.  He watches the Tyr jumping from armor to armor, rending them as it makes its retreat, keeping itself deeply imbedded in the battle.  Two Vanguard armors turn on the Tyr and lunge with their hardened-light blades.  Tyr disposes of one with its claw while using its shoulder-mounted turret to fire directly into the other’s cockpit.

            The ally formation breaks as the left dissolves.  The right-side spreads to compensate, Enemy fire sails into the openings, catching Arthur and the Republic forces by surprise.  Mars’ shields flicker under the sudden strain.  The armor jerks from impact.  Arthur turns at an opening and fires again.  Five enemy armors are caught in the blast, but so are three unlucky friendlies.

            Arthur curses as shouts fill the comm channels.  A warning flashes in front of him, reminding him of that Tyr is at his back.  He fires his thrusters and sidesteps just as the Tyr closes in.  Its claw misses by inches as Mars swings around, and Arthur hesitates.

            Robin has the base at his back.  Arthur thrusts backward, pulling away from the battle and out of range of the facility.  Allies die around him as the enemy floods the surface. Tyr follows closely, killing anyone who moves to intercept.

            Arthur scans his maps, searching for a way to catch Tyr.  Robin is clearly a skilled pilot and knows the range and power of the Mars at a glance.  Arthur cannot fire on the base, and he can’t keep firing on his own forces if he is to stay alive.  The longer the battle goes on, the less strength the Republic will have to stay in it.  Above them, Agamemnon struggles in a battle against three enemy ships while the Federation ground forces are galvanizing into a hammer to scatter the Republic defense.

            Scatter.  Arthur pulls up the rifle’s parameters and reads through them while retreating blindly.  His search is haphazard but leads him where he needs to go.  Pulling up the O.S., he reprograms the rifle’s code and sets the rifle to scatter the light, diffusing the field and firing in a wider range.  The blast’s intensity will dim, but he can hit more targets at once.  Then, he turns the Mars about and sails into the Federation forces.

            Arthur fires as they swarm him, swiveling his armor and cutting a broad, red hole into the approaching enemies.  Armors explode around him in a semi-circle.  Those that survive the blast are left inoperable by it.  Moving through the field with the base to his back, Arthur cuts a path through the encroaching enemy forces.  He cannot do enough damage to stop them, nor can he cut deep enough to slow their assault, but his efforts help to level the field.  His allies, seeing his act, follow him, killing stragglers in his wake and opening his flank.

            The enemies that come to meet him head on find his shield solid.  He jumps into them before opening fire, melting away those at point blank and leaving a blossom of half-burnt armors after them.  He continues this until he sees a group of nearby allies torn apart by Tyr, who lunges after him with its claw gleaming.

            Arthur wheels Mars around and fires.  A spray of light catches Tyr in the front.  It isn’t enough to penetrate its shields, but it forces the Tyr into retreat.  Republic armors close rank around it with Arthur leading.  Now, Arthur pushes the assault, firing whenever a Federation armor falls in range.  He backs Tyr into a wall and pulls the trigger, and his rifle explodes.

            Warnings explode across his screens, announcing the heat overload just before the systems die.  Only his comm remains and enough faint light to see by.  Mars slouches, and Arthur finds himself hanging from his seat, suspended only by the seatbelts.

            He unfastens himself and climbs out the back, forcing the hatch open with a controlled explosion.  Peeking out through a haze of dark, oily smoke, he listens as the Tyr’s claw whirs to life.  He can hear the crackle of energy around it.  Then, he hears a call over the comms as an unfamiliar voice announces the fall of a Federation ship.

            Arthur and Tyr look up to find a red streak cutting through the sky, a trail of black smoke following after as the ship enters atmosphere. Tyr fires its thrusters and lifts off, racing off into the sky to help.  Over the comm, another voice cuts through.  This time it is Galahad announcing the arrival of reinforcements—Daedalus has arrived.

 

15: Codex 007: The Olympic Republic

::: The Olympic Republic :::

            It all started with the Olympic Republic.  Historically speaking, Ark Olympus was the first to open, and it was the first to establish a civilization around it.  As a result, Olympus was the first planet to achieve space travel and, after years of exploration and tracking, was the first to find another Ark and begin the process of settling the stars.

            Olympus’ capitol city, Rhea, is the foundation of civilization.  Considering itself something of a cradle, it was home to the Republic Senate and the state houses from where it was run.  A city of ambassadors and politicians, it is still quite large and thoroughly settled.  The citizenry are baroque but well-educated, having a firm grasp on not only their history but on their place in the world.  The historically significant and chronologically recent failure of the Centurion Project is something fresh to the public mind and shapes much of the discourse and politics within the city.  Patriotism within the city is high but waning, as the secession of the Asgardian Federation is seen both as a blow to the governing powers that be and a natural consequence of government overreach.

            Founded by the president Ahmad Al Saud, the Republic is made up of many planets.  Following the Asgardian succession, the government has been made smaller and more centralized.  The Republic’s parliament exercises control of these planets, wrapping their autonomy in a bureaucratic nightmare that they present as a red-taped bow.  They mask this control as the necessity of a functioning civilization, though recent history has proven this wrong.

            With the far fringes of the Republic removed, however, there has been an improvement in the quality of life across the planets.  There is, however, a darker undercurrent as the cheap costs of production exported to other planets are rising on account of such sudden and dramatic governmental changes.  The current regime paints themselves in Al Saud’s image and use his popularity to maintain their control.  Even then, their hold and their reach is absolute on the planets that have remained within the fold.

            The Republic is also known to hold the most Guide ruins.  In each secession, the Republic has negotiated at gunpoint to maintain material control over the Guide ruins, sharing only what is necessary with the other worlds out of necessity of the Three-Party Accord.  Much is publicly acknowledged as being kept back, and there is a deep public distrust for the government and the military when it comes to the Guides and to the technology that is shared.

            To maintain their image, the Republic outsources much of their work to private scientific and military organizations.  The result is that each of these private companies, while ostensibly Republic employees in practice are technically contracted.   Because of this, the government bodies leading the Republic can harvest the results of the work done by these private companies without being penalized for their dubious methods.

16: The Battle of Athens

The Battle of Athens

            Even with the support of Daedalus, Agamemnon has suffers severe damage.  Its shields hold, recharging slowly between volleys, but they are not solid enough to stop every incoming attack.  What Gigas Armors it has launched focused their attention on ground support early in the fight, while the Terran ships launched armors specifically for space combat to support Siegfried and to control the atmosphere.

            Daedalus, after sinking one Terran ship, turns to the second Terran support.  Drifting into range, it opens fire on the enemy while also launching its own armors.  Three Lancer armors—lightly armored Gigas designed for long-range assault and hit-and-run space combat—launch, led by the prototype Mercury armor.

            “Be careful out there, Guinevere.  This isn’t like last time.  This enemy is far more dangerous, and numerous.”

            Guinevere descends into the enemy ranks.  “Don’t worry, Captain LeGuin.  They won’t even know what hit them.”  Activating Mercury’s arm-mounted hardened-light blades, she slices cleanly through two armors before making a narrow circle back toward the Terran ship.

            On the surface, in the Mars armor, the audio cuts.  Arthur is left alone in the cockpit, twisting switches and trying hard to bring it back to life, but the armor remains inert.  Through the armor he can hear the explosions, and the knows that the battle is raging around him.

            He ducks under the console and pulls a switch which sets off a series of small, controlled explosions around the back hatch.  The armor rattles and fills with dark, acrid smoke.  Swiveling around in his seat, he kicks the hatch repeatedly until it groans and falls off into the Athens’ dirt.

            Arthur climbs from the armor and stands with his body partially hidden inside.  The two armies meet around him with titanic force.  The Federation armors have the Republic retreating back toward the facility, but the Republic is making them earn the ground they have. Deadalus’ arrival has slowed enemy progress.

            Releasing the rope ladder, Arthur climbs from the armor and sprints away from it, toward the facility and toward Chastity.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Chastity follows the long corridors deeper into the facility.  People do not notice her in the white coat.  They rush around her without a care, securing research or burning it.  There is fear in the air, fear of falling, fear of being caught red-handed.  Chastity knows it well, remembering it from the attack on Canaan, but she pushes past the memories, driven by her new purpose.

            She reaches the bowels of the facility and grows lost.  Even with her expertise, she can find no way forward.  She stops at a door at the back that reads “Sector 8.”  8, she assumes, is the highest clearance level, far beyond that which she had stolen.  Every hallway leads to this single point.  It is the end and not just something a person can stumble upon.  Everything funnels to this point.

            The facility lurches around her.  Outside, she can hear gunfire and explosions.  She remembers Arthur, too, out there fighting, but she trusts him to take care of himself.  The Lady, on the other hand, is passed this door.  She knows it on instinct, like they are tied together.  It is Chastity’s job to take care of her.

            She is considering her next step when the door slides open.  The Lady is there, waiting.  They exchange a quick glance, and then Chastity joins her at the threshold, even embraces her before remembering herself.  She peeks in around the Lady into the empty room.  “Where is everyone?”

            “They left me here,” the Lady says,” and went to look in on their other projects. I do not think that they were expecting me.”

            “Probably not.  No one was expecting you, at least not a you that walks, thinks, and talks.”  She looks to the open doorway.  “Did you do that?”

            The Lady nods and then looks at one of the security cameras on the wall. “I’ve been watching your progress through the facility and wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

            Chastity smiles self-consciously and tucks her hair back.  “Thanks,” she says, and she takes the Lady’s hand.  “We should go and find somewhere safe.”

            “We are safest here.”

            “But the facility is under attack.”

            The Lady turns away from Chastity.  “We need to go deeper.”

            “But what if the facility collapses? Wouldn’t we be better near the escape shuttles?”  Chastity tries to hold the Lady in place but finds that holding her is like trying to hold a truck.  “You know where those are, right?”

            “I do.”  The Lady takes one step, and then another, and soon Chastity is being pulled along after her.

            Chastity stumbles and loses her grip.  She steadies against the wall and finds the Lady leaving the room through a small, oval door in the far wall.  Chastity follows and enters a white room with an open floor plan and desks against the walls.  Chastity looks around and appraises the room.  “Where are you going?”

            “Deeper. There is something here.”

            “What?”

            “I do not know, but it is something important.”

            Chastity follows the Lady through a series of rooms and feels increasingly out of place.  At first, she simply assumes that the situation has her nervous, but the longer she is there, she comes to realize that it is the quiet that puts her at unease.  The deeper they go, the farther away the warfare becomes.  When she cannot even hear a gunshot, she also realizes that there are no other people around.

            They reach a final door at the back of the facility that has a large 9 painted across it.  There, the Lady stops.  Eyes closed beside a terminal, the Lady stands quietly until the door slides open.  Beyond the door is impenetrable darkness.  The Lady stepped into the darkness, but Chastity waits at the door.

            She peeks into the interior, spying shapes in the shadows.  The room beyond the door is smooth, with dark walls and floors composed of a rare, slightly glossy material.  There are terminals inside, similar to something she has seen before.  It takes her a while to recognize where she has seen it, but searching her memories she finds it, hidden behind the trauma and fear, and she recognizes the design aesthetic.  The Guides.

            Chastity enters the room and follows the Lady deeper inside.  Her footsteps make the same clicks as they did on Canaan, and it takes her back to better times, but only briefly.  She stays close to the Lady because the darkness brings demons with it.  “Where are we?”

            Lady pauses and surveys the long room.  It is empty inside and gently domed at the top.  The dark steel used in its construction seems to swallow the light that spills inside.  Chastity follows the Lady’s gaze around the room.  “And how did you know it was here?”

            “I remembered it.”

            Chastity makes eye contact by finding the Lady’s glowing eyes.  “Do you remember anything else?”

            The Lady shifts in the darkness, as if searching for something.  There is a flicker in the light cast by the Lady’s eyes, as if she is blinking.  “Naphtali.”

            “What is Naphtali?”

            “The ship’s name,” the Lady says before moving on without another word.  Chastity trails after.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            “Looks like the enemy’s commander is on the field.”  There is a buzz in LeGuin’s voice as Guinevere dives under an enemy armor and slices it in half with one of Mercury’s hardened-light blades.  The severed armor explodes after her like the birth of a small star, but she has already rocketed away, the inertia of her movements pinning her to her seat.  Her toes are beginning to feel numb as the blood goes rushing to her head.

            “Do you know which one it is?”

            “Reports are saying that it’s not a traditional armor.  He is piloting a prototype armor, a red thing.”

            Guinvere levels her armor and slows inside Athens’ atmosphere.  The G-forces her armor produces are sharp, even with her time spent in the cockpit acclimating her to the strain.  She checks her sensors, scanning around the surface for a hint of red.  She finds an armor in her periphery and moves to hover above it, and though the armor is red, it is also broken, with a large cannon smoldering on its shoulder.

            “I don’t think that’s him, unless he’s already been accounted for.”

            “He hasn’t.  Reports say he is leading a charge toward the base.”

            “Roger.  Will engage.”

            Guinevere turns toward the base and puts Mercury at forty percent max speed.  She is thrown into her seat as the thrust forces the air from her lungs.  In short time, she is approaching Tyr from above and behind, and she drops to engage.  On the way, she parts two enemy armors, leaving them as smoking plates and bars of steel sizzling in her wake.

            She lines up with Tyr and loses distance. Her blade is just about to land when Tyr turns on her.  It flashes hardened-light shields, which the blade slides off of in a spray of light.  The armors face each other as they sail through the air toward the military base, the war-blackened earth rushing by beneath them.  Mercury separates first, lifting off into the air, and Tyr takes off after it. Guinevere grits her teeth as she retreats.

            “Found the enemy armor and have engaged.”  She checks her radar and smiles.  “It’s giving chase to me right now.  I’ve led it away from the base.”

            “Then we’ll try to press our advantage.”

            “Aye, aye, sir.”

            Guinevere takes Tyr away from the battle and toward mountains in the east.  Just before reaching them, she slows.  The straps of her seat are dug tight into her shoulders.  She has to flex her hands to keep the blood in her fingers.  She flips her armor around and, increasing back to forty, makes an attack on Tyr.

            The two armors meet in a flash of light.  Tyr’s shields flicker as it lurches forward, lunging at Mercury with a large claw.  Waves of heat distort the air around the claw as it drifts by her.  Guinevere, breathless and sweating, feels her vision blur as she separates from him again, making a wide circle before closing distance for another strike.

            The Tyr armor tries to follow Mercury’s retreat but lacks the speed.  Instead, it picks a spot in the air and waits.  When Mercury returns, Tyr lunges but cannot land a hit.  Instead, it has its left shield generator punctured, giving Guinevere a new opening to exploit.  Spiraling in the air, she drops with her blade aimed for Tyr’s left shoulder.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            The battle is far above Chastity and the Lady, who feel it only in vague rumbling in the walls.  Chastity follows the Lady through rooms that, increasingly, all look the same to her.  The walls are sleek and dark, save for small green lights suspended from them to light the way.  Each explosion that rocks the facility causes the lights to flicker.

            They take a ramp down a few floors.  Lady moves purposefully, staring straight ahead, her footsteps echoing as they go.  Chastity trails after her, eyes fixed on the Lady’s glowing eyes, heart hammering in her chest.  The empty darkness of the facility is accompanied by an alien eeriness that prickles the back of her neck.  These rooms were not designed for humans, and even after months of researching Guide ships, Chastity knows so little about them.

            After an eternity of walking they reach a large room at the bottom, so deep that even the combat can no longer be heard.  The walls of this room are gently curved, and they stand atop a bridge with a long, silver ramp leading from it.  Pylons tower over them, evenly spaced, six in total.  The farthest one has what looks like a Gigas Armor next to it, though upon closer inspection Chastity realizes it to be nearly twice the normal size.

            The lady goes down the ramp and crosses the empty, leaving the flat green light behind them.  Chastity follows, eyes fixed on the glow of the Lady’s eyes.  They stop beside the massive armor, which towers over them, mechanical shoulders slouched, inert.  The armor’s plating gleams when it catches the glow of the Lady’s eyes.  Its design is both familiar and foreign.

            Chastity puts a hand upon one of the semi-translucent plates and finds it cool to her touch and smoother than steel.  “A Gigas?”

            “No, that is not the word.”  The Lady stands before the armor and stares into what might be its face.

            “It looks like one.”  Chastity stops by the Lady’s side.  “Which makes sense.  Much of our technology, especially the Gigas Armors, are based off of Guide technology.”  Chastity examines the armor as well as she can in the darkness.  She can make out the rounded shape of the plating, as well as the finely detailed joints where its arms are.  “We made design changes, though, to make ours smaller, more compact.”

            “For one pilot,” the Lady says, approaching the nearby pylon.  She touches it, and it glows to light.  Chastity rubs her eyes as the light fades and watches the armor open at the top.  A hatch slides back, revealing two seats inside, one resting just above the other.  The Lady mounts it and stares down at Chastity.  “Get in.”

            Chastity stares back at the Lady from the floor.  “What? No, no, no, I’m no pilot.  I’m a scientist.” She waves her hands in front of her as if to accentuate her point.

            “I will pilot,” the Lady says.  “Get in.”

            “But I’m not a soldier, either.”

            “You will be safest with me.”  The lady climbs into the back seat of the large armor and then glances at the pylon, which glows afterward.  The ship rumbles around them.  Above them, the ceiling comes open, releasing sand and stone to fall in on them.  The Lady then meets Chastity’s gaze.  “We do not have much time.  Please, hurry.”

            “What are you doing?”

            “Serving my function.”

            Chastity scrambles in after the Lady and settles into the front seat.  She rests her hands on the controls and feels entirely out of place.  Not only is she not a pilot or a soldier, but she is also not a Guide, and the armor is not designed for her.  The Lady sits back with closed eyes, and Chastity only notices the absence of the Lady’s glow when she turns back to speak.  The armor hums to life around her, distracting her enough to keep her silent.  The consoles before her begin to shine.

            Naphtali’s canopy slides open and the armor stands against the entering soil falling over it like a waterfall.  On its back a shield generator rises, forming a spherical shell of hardened light around it as the debris continues to rain down.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            There is no warning, only a low, heavy growl followed by the parting of stone.  Soldiers and armors alike scramble as the earth sunders, and then they all become flailing bodies as they tumble into the darkness.  Arthur is partway to the base when he sees the dust rising in the distance.  The earth shudders beneath him, shifting under his feet, and Arthur chooses to move with it.

            Retreating, he watches the rending earth over his shoulder as he sprints.  Armors stomp after him, away from the growing maw and swelling dust storm, and they are swallowed.  Arthur leaps as the ground comes to a stop and lands inches from the open jaws of Athens and slides to a stop in the dirt.  The cloud swirls and disperses.  Arthur coughs and stares into its center.  There is a soft hum inside, growing and rising overhead.  Watching for it, he spies streaks of silver and white cut through the haze.

            An armor crests, breaking the miasma of dirt and dust and hovering just above, giving off a light of its own.  It glows with a halo and wings and then surges forward, gliding on the air like a boat might on the sea.  It moves more smoothly than any armor Arthur has ever seen, more gracefully in the air than even a bird, and disappears into the sky.

            Climbing higher and higher, the armor, twice the size of a conventional gigas armor, breaks the cloud line and sails out of the atmosphere.  It passes between two ships, one Federation and one Republic, firing on each other and pauses briefly.  Wings expanding, its body warps space and time around itself, and then it disappears, leaving only a blur of a blur in its wake.

17: Codex 008: The Three Party Accord

::: The Three Party Accord :::

            Mankind left their home to travel the stars on massive Arks meant to preserve them and carry them into the future.  When the Arks landed, humanity was freed from their frozen sleep to colonize new planets and to build a new future for themselves from the resources they found.  What they found, however, was not uninhabited planets with unknown flora and fauna.  Instead, they found the ruins of another civilization that came before them, a civilization that they would in time come to call, “The Guides.”

            Guide ruins became an integral part to the progress of mankind.  Using the hyper-advanced Guide technology as a blueprint, mankind came to populate not only the planets which they had landed on, but other planets found in nearby star systems.  The Olympic Republic, the largest and oldest of the three space governments that have been formed, also has the deepest reservoir of Guide technology and ruins to draw on.  To account for this, and to promote the equal distribution of Guide technology and thus the equal pursuit of human life and happiness, Guide ruins were recognized as a right that all governments have access to, and so the Three-Party Accord was formed.

            Brought about by the sudden shift in power that was created when the Federation left the Republic, the Accord was a way for the Republic to maintain their grip on the galaxy.  Recognizing that, in the vacuum left in the Federation’s absence, they could not adequately fight a war on two fronts, they could, however, horde the technology that they already had while also hobbling their opponents in their own acquisition.  The Accord, as it is written, allows the Republic to keep whatever developments they made before the Accord happened but also entitles them to access to any new findings made after the Accord had been signed.

            As for the other two governments, they were forced to sign the Accord to remain competitive.  While more and more Guide ruins are being found every year, the original few that were found, recognized, and researched were done so by Olympic scientists.  When the schisms happened between the Asgardian Federation and the Olympic Republic, the newfound Federation would have struggled to maintain relevancy in a world of Gigas Armors.  The Alliance, which was finding and developing its own Guide rich planets, signed to maintain the balance of power between the three.

            The Accord, while imperfect, has been publicly valuable, even if it is secretly ignored.  Many governments hire private contractors to do their research for them now, freeing them from the responsibility of lying while also allowing them to benefit from what is found.

18: Naphtali Revealed

Naphtali Revealed

            The battle for Athens is all but over.  Around him, Arthur watches both armies struggling for composure as they retreat to their distinct sides.  Both lines, offensive and defensive, are fractured, and even the sky battle above grinds slowly to a halt as the flagships recall their forces.

            Arthur sprints across the battlefield, back toward the research facility.  On the way, he notices Federation dropships hovering just above the ground, picking up their soldiers as Republic soldiers ignore open shots and retreat alongside him.  The battle is over, he thinks at first, but looking up at the sky he realizes the truth.  Nothing has ended.  It is just relocating.

            By the time he reaches the research facility, Siegfried has already left orbit.  Reports confirm that the Federation forces have followed the unknown armor’s dive signature.  Arthur finds Galahad standing among his soldiers, listening to oral reports while reading those reports that are written.  He assigns duties to those waiting commands and hurry to relay them to their own men.

            A researcher approaches Galahad with a radio in hand.  “Sir, we’ve hailed Agamemnon.”

            Galahad takes the radio.  “Agamemnon, status.”

            “Damage is significant. The Yggdrasil Drive has been knocked off-line, and we’re using reserve power to maintain the shields.  We cannot make pursuit at this time.  Repeat, we cannot pursue.”

            Galahad frowns.  “Understood.  Focus on the drive.  We cannot lose this.  Understood?”

            “Aye, sir.”

            The research approaches again and whispers to Galahad..  “Sir, we have a message from Daedalus, channel 2-34.”

            Galahad nods curtly and adjusts the radio.  “Daedalus, this is Galahad.”

            “Admiral, this is Captain LeGuin, commanding officer aboard Daedalus.  We heard that the flagship is nursing some hurt, and we’re seeking permission to pursue the Feds ourselves.”

            “What’s your ship’s make, captain?”

            “Simple cruiser, holds four armors comfortably and six in a crunch.  We’ve got a prototype with us, sir, the Mercury Armor.  You saw it in the sky, I imagine.”

            “Indeed, I did.  And you’re fit for combat?”

            “Fit for pursuit.  Fit enough to slow them down for you, at least.”

            “That may be good enough.  We’ll get you supplied and refueled, captain.  Have your armors dock with us for check-up and repairs while we can, and keep your drive warm until then.  I’ll be in touch.”

            “Aye, sir.”

            Arthur approaches as Galahad hands off the radio.  He finds the old man leaning over a table and reviewing battle records, accounting for losses, damages, and assessing the strength of his remaining numbers against the skill of their eligible pilots.  When Arthur stops at his side, Galahad barely grunts.

            “Sir?”

            “Arthur.  Good job throwing away one of our prototypes.”  Galahad moves some papers but makes no effort to meet Arthur’s gaze.

            “To be fair, I wasn’t the only one playing with new toys out there.”

            “Yes, just the only one out there breaking them.”

            “Fine, say whatever you like.  I did what you asked me to do, and I bought you time.”

            Galahad gives another grunt.

            “Where are Chastity and the Lady?”

            “Don’t know.  Don’t care.  I have a mess to clean up and, for now at least, they’re not part of it.”

            “They’re all of it.,” Arthur says.  “The Lady is a Guide, the only living one we’ve found.  If that’s not important…”

            “It was important, until Athens tore open and revealed itself to be hiding a Guide ruin underneath.  Now, she’s a liability, and one I’ll be glad to be rid of.”

            “Rid of?  What do you mean?”

            Galahad jams the report into Arthur’s hands before turning his back again.  “Don’t go asking if you can join the away team because you can’t.  You’re a civilian now, Jameson, not a soldier.”

            Arthur looks over the report, which says that the Guide and civilian scientist were seen at the back of the ruins, around the Guide ship.  It also says that they are thought to have been on the previously inoperative Guide Gigas Armor when it took off.  “They…”  Arthur begins speaking, but when he looks up, he finds no one there to hear him.  He closes the report and sets it aside.

            Outside, Mercury docks and begins refueling.  Guinevere climbs from the cockpit and comes inside for a checkup and rations before returning to battle.  When Arthur sees her, he watches her movements, checking her for injury at first and then for changes.  She sees him, too, and they stop together, eyes locked.

            Suddenly, Arthur isn’t there.  Instead, he is in another lifetime, standing in an open office building, the furniture scattered by Gigas fire.  The windows are broken in, and a politician kneels at Lancelot’s feet.  Guns are drawn, and Guinevere stands at Arthur’s side, her weapon trained on the enemy.  There are shouts and gunfire.

            No one died, but Project Centurion came crashing down around them.

            “I thought I saw you out there,” is the first thing she says to him in over a decade.  She has a protein block in one hand and a bottle of purified water in the other.  She takes turns consuming them.  Her dark hair is tied back into an economical bun.  It looks good on her, though Arthur also liked when she kept her head shaved.  “You still fight the same way, at the center of the storm, always drawing enemy fire to yourself.”

            “I didn’t recognize you at all.”  Arthur looks at the Mercury armor.  Even from a distance, he can see the thin, brittle form of the armor and the lightness of the frame.  The engines are the heaviest part about it.  “But, then, I could barely see you at all.”

            Guinevere gives a humorless grin.  “What are you doing here? I thought you left the military.”

            “I did, but the military rarely leaves you.”  He sighs and puts his hands into his pockets as he meets her gaze again.  “I had trouble finding work, normal work.  I was a hero on paper, but in person, I was just another unqualified guy.  I ended up in private security, which got me on Canaan, which ended up bringing me here.”

            “Canaan?”  Guinevere’s jaw tightens, and it looks to Arthur like she hasn’t aged a day. “And when Galahad saw you here, he asked you to help out.”

            Arthur nods.  “Yup.  I’m here with the girl—girls—who caused all of this trouble.”

            “Always at the center of the storm.”

            Arthur grins.  “Always fighting my way toward the eye.”

            “But never making it.”

            Arthur laughs.  “It feels like it sometimes.”  He continues smiling, pretending like they are comfortable with each other, but they both know the truth.  To her, he is a memory of something best left forgotten, an old hurt that is tearing itself open with every word.  His face tightens and his demeanor sobers.  “Osceola, I need a favor.”

            “You always do.”

            “I need on your ship.  I need to save them, the girls, from whatever they’re doing or wherever they’re going.  I just need to be there.”

            “And you’re asking me because Galahad already said no.”

            “Wouldn’t be the first time we went against his orders.”  Arthur gives a hollow smile.  “The last time there were medals.”

            “No.”  Her tone is flat and her eyes hard.  “You may not be military, but I am, and I won’t risk it.  He already has a grudge.”

            “Fair enough, but think of it this way, you’re going up against an enemy that out guns you one-hundred to one.  There’s only one type of person who can win against those odds.”

            “It isn’t that bad.”

            “It’s a job I’m qualified for.”

            She frowns at him, precise, perfectly, and as always, perfectly trained.

            “Please,” Arthur says.  “I can’t let them get hurt.”

            She watches him a moment longer, and then she sighs.  “Fine, before I leave, I’ll sneak you into the cockpit and onboard Daedalus, but you better be in top form, otherwise this is a waste.”

            “I promise you, I won’t disappoint you.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Daedalus waits in Athens’ atmosphere with its Yggdrasil Drive primed and purring.  Athens sends supplies, including fresh armors and ammo.  The Mercury armor is last to arrive, landing lightly in the ship’s dock, its back canopying once it is situated.  Arthur climbs out, with Guinevere shoving her way out after him.

            LeGuin meets them on the deck, eying Arthur suspiciously before turning his attention to Guinevere.  “Who is he, lieutenant, and what is he doing here?”

            “He,” Guinevere speaks while eying Arthur carefully, “is an old soldier I’ve known for a long time.  He’s good in a fight, and he asked to help us take care of our problem on Canaan.”

            LeGuin looks between them, a frown creasing his face.  “Are you sure about this, Osceola?” Guinevere nods, and LeGuin lifts his cap and rubs his balding head.  “Fine,” he says, returning his hat in a harassed manner.  He leans forward with both hands on the safety railing.  “I guess we can’t pick and choose our allies in situations like this, and if you can vouch for him, that says something.”  He looks back at Arthur.  “You’ll have an armor when we get there, but I expect you to follow orders.”

            “Sir.”  Arthur salutes.

            LeGuin stands straight and returns the salute.  “Get rest while you can.  We’ll dive soon, and when we surface, I expect to be in the thick of it.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Guinevere leads the way to the mess.  Daedalus, though a small ship, is well-built.  The interior is sleek and narrow, meant to accommodate a small crew, and the two of them meet no one on the way.  Arthur knows that all of the other soldiers, veterans and novices alike, are waiting in their armors.  Only the Centurions are out, and only because battle no longer frightens them.

            He eats with Guinevere.  They sit opposite each other at a long table—one of four in the room—and eat protein bars.  The ship hums gently around them as it falls into dive.  The air shifts subtly and his hair stands on end, like there is a static charge in the air.  The hull shudders as dive is accomplished.

            Staring at his protein bar, he says, “Working together after so many years.  It feels strange.”

            “What’s strange is that you would go into this kind of work considering everything you said back then.”

            “What’s strange is that you stayed to begin with.”

            They make eye contact.  “Do you really find that so strange?”

            Arthur smiles.  “No,” he says, “Not really.  You were always a military woman, through and through.”

            Guinevere chews and swallows her food.  “We were all lifetime military,” she says after some thought, and she stares off at the far wall.  “But after everything that happened to us, it wasn’t the right fit anymore.  Centurion.  We were trained for a single purpose, for an enemy that never came.”

            “They found enemies for us,” he says, and they both fall silent.  He remembers their team, trained under Galahad, and he remembers Lancelot as a whirlwind of violence.  He also remembers Guinevere’s precision and Percival’s keen intuition.  What he remembers most of all was the fallout.  His grin hardens into a thin line across his face.  “I don’t think any of us were ready for what we became.”

            “But just because the system is flawed doesn’t mean we should throw it away.”

            Arthur shrugs.

            “I guess the others agreed with you, though.”

            “How do you mean?”

            Guinevere looks him in the eyes again.  “After our last mission, it all fell apart, didn’t it? We scattered.  You went into the private sector, while Galahad, through luck or rhetoric, moved up the ranks.”  She laughs, empty and breathless.  “Figures.”

            “Figures,” Arthur repeats.

            “And Percival and Lancelot just up and disappeared.”

            Lancelot was on Achilles, Arthur remembers, leading the charge on Canaan, killing innocent people.  Thinking on it now, it should have been no surprise considering Lancelot’s history.  He stares at Guinevere, who is eating quietly in small, measured bites, and considers telling her.  After a long pause, he says, “I saw him.”  Another long silence follows as she meets his gaze.  “Lancealot.  Steven.  I saw him.  He attacked us on Canaan, and he took me and the girl hostage.  He was leading the operation, I think.”

            “So, that was him.”  Guinevere folds the packaging around her protein bar and sets it on the table.  “I was there, too, at Canaan.  Just after the attack.  We tried to intercept the ship, but it made dive before we could.  I fought someone.  I was in an armor, and they were outside of it.”  She holds his gaze.  “It must have been him.  What happened to him?”

            “Robin, the commander of the enemy ship, killed him.”  Arthur’s thin line turns to a frown.

            “Then, we kill him.”

            Arthur thinks back to Jupiter hovering over him, Achilles just behind it.  He remembers the explosion that rocked the bridge.  If Robin hadn’t interfered, then Arthur would have died.  He knows this, but he nods anyway.  Some things are beyond logic.  Guinevere holds up a glass.

            “To Lancelot, and to Percival, wherever he is.”

            Arthur lifts his own glass to meet hers, and they drink.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Daedalus drops out of dive just outside of Canaan’s orbit.  The planet glows brightly in the distance, a dark bead of dirt and cloud drifting through the emptiness of space.  Hovering in atmosphere, Seigfried’s hull gleams red as it catches the sunlight, showing minor damage and open docks as it releases armors and shuttles for the planet’s surface.  The Guide armor is nowhere to be seen.

            LeGuin watches from the deck, leaning onto the rail as he issues orders.  His officers work around him, giving figures and echoing directions.  “Keep a steady course,” LeGuin shouts over the maelstrom, and he gives him helmsman a grim stare.  “We’re attacking from the side.  Plan our course and punch it.”

            “Aye, sir!”

            LeGuin goes to his comms officer and asks for a ship-wide channel.  She programs one before giving him the radio.  “Crew. We’re entering into Canaan’s atmosphere now and will engage the enemy.  We’re outgunned and outmanned.  Fight smart, fight hard, and make them earn every inch until back-up arrives.”  Returning the radio, he adds, “Contact Admiral Galahad and inform him of our arrival.”

            “Aye, sir,” she says before he returns to his command.

            In the armor bay, soldiers rush by to get ready.  Guinevere fastens her silver flight suit before storing her helmet under one arm.  Arthur approaches in black, also with his helmet at rest in the crook of his arm.  The other soldiers move around them, looking sick or otherwise out of place.  The two of them walk calmly in the chaos, the eye of the storm, and stop at the end of the dock.  They stand between their two armors, one a simple Republic Archer and the other the prototype Mercury.

            Arthur regards her with a grin.  “Just like old times.”

            She stares back at him sternly.  “Not entirely.”

            “Not entirely.  Good luck out there.”

            She nods.  “You, too.”

            They linger, remembering each other, committing each other to memory should the unfortunate happen.  Ten years ago, they parted never expecting to see each other again as they returned to the real world.  This time, they expect the same thing but secretly hope for something different.  When they part, Guinevere goes to Mercury and Arthur to the Archer.

            Shortly after, the canopy on the docking bay opens and the armor platforms lift, slowly, to the surface.  Their armors face each other, staring into each other as they fasten their helmets.  They can see each other on screen.  Mercury takes off first, departing in a blinding haze of light as it sails off into the distance.  Arthur launches just after, following in his own armor.

 

P.S.

 

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19: Codex 009: Athens

::: Athens :::

 

            Athens is one of the oldest planets settled by the Republic.  A planet very much in the same fashion as Canaan, Athens was first settled for use as a military research platform.  Building a research facility among the flatlands between deep, mountainous crags, what is known of the planet is mostly known for the experimental technology that can be found there.  Also worthy of noting are the Guide ruins that dot the planet’s surface.

            Unbeknownst to the world, however, is the buried Guide ship on which the largest of the Athens’ military bases held by the Republic has been erected.  Those in the know keep it a tightly guarded secret to avoid the repercussions of the Three-Party Accord.  However, the planet is popularly known for its government secrets and experimental armors.

            To stave off public interest, many of the well-known Guide ruins have been excavated and moved off planet, leaving only husks and shells behind in their wake.  Moved to neutral planets for research by all parties, this was seen as an act of good will by the Republic, though there are some who question the motives of the action, suggesting that it was done to ward off further interest by those who would reprimand them.  They say that there are things beneath the surface of the planet which they do not want seen.

            All-in-all, very little of substance is known of Athens.  There are many rumors which might be carried across the Galactic Network, and nearly everyone has heard at least one of them, but none have any real evidence or value.  What little is known is that whatever the Republic has hidden there, they want to keep it to themselves.

 

Updated: Athens is the planet where retired Lt. Jameson Arthur and Dr. Chastity Clarke were taken following their return to the Republic military forces after the battle on Hades.  Their current status is unknown.

20: Return to Canaan

The Return to Canaan

 

            Hours before the arrival of Daedalus, or even Siegfred, the ancient armor Gabriel surfaces from dive just outside of Canaan’s atmosphere.  It gleams from the light of the distant star as it cuts a sharp curve through space and into the planet’s orbit.  Friction warms the outside while the inside remains unchanged.

            Chastity watches the skyline appear through the monitors, holding the controls tight as the armor rocks and rumbles around her.  It isn’t her first time entering a planet’s atmosphere, but it is the first time she had done so in an armor, and the experience makes her nauseous.  Behind her, the Lady sits at rest, eyes closed, still. 

            It takes the dusty surface of the planet to inform Chastity as to their location.  She sees the darkened facility far below them, swelling into view.  The asphalt is marred by wrecked armors and broken bodies decayed and exposed.  “Canaan,” she whispers, her empty words echoing in the silence.  She glances back at the Lady.  “Why are we here?”

            “The answer is here.”  The Lady’s voice comes from all around Chastity, who is beginning to believe that the Guide and the machine are now one.

            Gabriel makes a sharp descent towards the surface.  Inertia pins Chastity to her seat and leaves her light-headed.  Her limbs tingle and prickle as her blood gathers in her head.  Then, the armor stops with sudden buoyancy, bouncing in the air before landing amidst a cloud of dust.  The top hatch hisses as its slides open, and Chastity unbuckles herself.

            The Lady climbs out first, surveying the area.  Chastity climbs out afterward, peeking between the Guide’s ankles.  “Is it safe to be here?”  Memories of the battle replay in her mind.  For her, it was little more than a darkened room stinking of blood.  Flashes of Lancelot fill her mind.  His cold eyes make her stomach twist.

            The Lady leaps from the armor’s shoulder before looking back up at Chastity from the bullet-eaten asphalt.  “Come with me.  There is no one else here.”

            “What about the armor?”

            “Only we can pilot it,” the Lady says.  “Without me, it will not operate.”

            Chastity glances back at the inert controls, lifeless and dim, before climbing out.  She moves slowly and carefully, the armor having no ladders to help her down.  Her landing is a graceless fall into the dust that has gathered around them.  The Lady helps her up and waits as Chastity dusts the sand from her rear.  Ahead lies the fresh ruins of the Canaan research facility.  Up until now, Chastity hasn’t seen the full scale of the battle with her own eyes.  What she finds makes her wonder how they ever survived so long during the attack.

            “Come.”  The Lady marches resolutely head, and Chastity stumbles after her.

            “This is the last place I expected to be.”

            “I understand,” says the Lady in a tone that indicates genuine understanding buried beneath absolute certainty.  “But this is the only place for me.  This was my birth, my home, and it will tell me what I am.  I am sure of it.”

            Chastity draws a deep breath as they approach the facility.  At the doorway, she releases it.  “Then let’s do this.”

            Together, they enter the facility.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Robin watches from Siegfried’s helm as the ship surfaces outside of Canaan.  Space ripples around them as he orders the ship closer, into Canaan’s orbit.  The helmsman synchs orbit with the research facility, and Robin stares down at the dusty planet through the monitor, knowing that this is where it began and determined to see that it ends here, too.

            “Sir, we’re in synchronous orbit,” says his helmsman, glancing back at him.

            Robin nods.  “Good.  Lunch shuttles.  I want infantry on the ground searching the interior for the girls.  Have two platoons of armors secure the exterior and one more to watch the unknown armor.  I will lead another platoon in forming a defensive barrier around the atmosphere.  The Republic forces will be following us shortly, I am sure.”

            “Yes, sir,” says the helmsman, and the comms officer relays the information throughout the ship.  Robin, meanwhile, goes to the armor bay to change and prepare for combat.  He pulls on a red, military grade flight suit and fastens his helmet before going to his prototype Gigas Armor, Tyr.  Stopping to stare at it before battle, as he always does, he draws a deep breath and closer the visor on his helmet before climbing in.

            The bay opens shortly after and launches shuttles first.  They make slow progress into atmosphere with an escort of Hunter armors surrounding them.  As these ships touch ground the bay reloads and launches its second wave.  These armors follow the first wave down, securing the landing pad and the area around the facility.  Robin waits patiently inside of the Tyr, head down, eyes closed, breathing steadily.

            Finally, he launches.  His armor jerks at the catapult flings him from the ship, and then he is weightless in space.  Other armors join him and take off as he simply drifts in space, enjoying the calm before the battle.  Then, initiating his thrusters, he directs himself toward the planet and hovers just outside of its upper atmosphere, making sure not to drop inside but staying close enough for entry in a pinch.

            Space warps in the distance, and Daedalus surfaces. Robin recognizes it, vaguely, from the battle above Athens.  Judging from its size, he knows that it won’t carry many armors, but he expects that it still has the silver prototype which had so quickly devastated his forces the last time.  Robin flips his comms.  “Look sharp, people, we have enemy incoming.  Light cruiser, won’t have many armors, but it will have refueled and restocked.  Be careful.”

            “Sir, yes, sir,” is chorused back.  Beside his armor, Seigfried makes a slow turn to meet the attack while Daedalus, smaller and swifter, has already launched armors and moved to meet them.  “Air, spread out and cover Siegfried’s flank until we can return fire.  Ground forces, dig in and prepare for enemy attack.  Hunter one, hunter two, with me.  We’ll meet the forces head-on!”

            “Sir!”

            Before Tyr can move, cannon fire comes sailing in, slamming Siegfried hard in the side and bulging its magnetic shields under the force.  Robin is forced into his seat as Tyr rockets forward, claw ready and two allied armors trailing after.  Here, the battle for Canaan truly begins.

 

-Stargazers, Part 1-

 

            Mercury leads with six armors trailing.  They follow her in an evenly spaced v with their weapons ready. Deadalus follows after with its cannons trained on the slowly turning hull of Siegfried, ready to open fire once in range.

            LeGuin’s voice cuts through the rumble of the armors on their approach.  “Follow Guinevere’s lead.  Defer to her judgement but avoid grouping up.  They get you together, they can use a ship to take you down.  Watch each other’s backs.  Retreat to Deadalus for support. We’re outgunned, but if we’re clever, then we can keep them outwitted.”

            A chorus of confirmations follow his speech.  Guinevere watches her instruments as she closes in.  Once within firing range of enemy armors, she pushes her thrusters to thirty-percent and feels her body tighten into the seat.  Mercury jumps farther ahead of the following armors, who drift apart as their leader runs.

            At close range, Guinevere activates Mercury’s hardened-light blades and wades into the fray.  Armors part around her as she cuts a path through enemy squadrons.  Daedalus sales between the wreckage, watching Mercury’s approach to the port side of Siegfried, where Guinevere leaves a shallow gash across its outer shell, taking a few turrets in her assault.

            Arthur breaks off and enters atmosphere.  His armor rattles around him as friction builds.  Soon, he breaks the outer layer of the atmosphere and falls into the cloud line.  Diving below, he turns toward the research facility and dives headlong into enemy forces.  A few federation armors meet him in the sky, intercepting his path toward the landing pad.  He uses the Archer’s right arm turret to quickly dispatch of them without changing his trajectory.  They blaze and smolder as their husks drop rapidly through the air, descending beside him.

            Enemy armors open fire on him from the ground.  Arthur flies a lazy spiral around them, slowing to return fire and check his bearing.  The federation have bunkered around the facility, forming tight rows of armors aiming for the sky.  Combat will be too time consuming, and he can see the unknown gigas from Athens at rest on the asphalt, open but already captured, and assumes the Lady and Chastity to be inside of the facility.

            Going full speed, he rockets toward the facility without returning fire, relying on his evasive maneuvers and his hardened-light shields to see him to the front door, and zips past the canopy before turning to prepare for landing.  His sensors wail, and he slows as a short-range missile gives a short chase and catches him in the shoulder.  An explosion rocks the armor, separating the armor at the left arm and sending the torso crashing to the ground.  It skids to a halt, digging up asphalt around it.

            Arthur groans, hanging from his seat.  His last sight is of his cracked screens blurring before he passes out.

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

            The assault of Siegfried leaves its stern scarred.  Fragments of steel and fiber glass float through space, catching the light and glittering like stars.  Some pieces continue to glow orange with residual heat as they drift gently in the void. Magnetic bullets are hurled through space as Deadalus continues its assault, stopping only long enough to reorient for attack.  It glides slowly toward Seigfried’s starboard to remain out of the enemy’s line of fire.  So far, it has avoided any damage.  All incoming enemy armors have met with anti-armor fire or been intercepted on approach.

            The core of the Republic offense is the prototype armor Mercury.  Guinevere pushes her armor to thirty-eight percent of its max speed and can feel the strain on her body from it.  She breathes through the discomfort, keeping her eyes steady and focused on the monitor in front of her.  It is her vision, and she is the armor’s brain.  If she dies, it dies.

            Enemy armors rupture around her.  She parts them with wide, deep dives through space, each leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.  A haze of smoke lingers around pitted armors, scattered among pearls of oil and blood.  Burnt bodies drift in the vacuum.

            “Guinevere,” LeGuin’s voice calls over the comm, “How are you holding up?”  He watches from Daedalus, happy to see the damage they’ve done.  Siegfried takes a sharp turn, spinning into position.  Soon, it will line up and open fire, but LeGuin intends to have them limping before that can happen.

            “Fine, sir.  Mercury is running optimally.”

            “Do you need to return and rest?”

            “I’m. Fine.”

            LeGuin checks her vitals and rubs his goatee.  “If you’re sure,” he says after a long, careful pause.

            “I’ll hold,” she says.  “At least until Arthur returns.  At least that long, I’ll hold.  I have to.”

            LeGuin sighs.  “And we’ll support you.  Everyone, tighten the noose.  The enemy is already down by half.  Let’s clean up and enter atmo.”

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

            “Art…ter…Arter…Arthur…Arthur!  I repeat, Arthur, come in!”

            Arthur opens his eyes, breathing deeply, gasping as his head rings.  His limbs feel limp and prickly, and he finds himself hanging from his seat with broken monitors buzzing and sparking around him.  The comm hangs inches from the ground, spinning slowly.  His fingers are numb.  Most of him is numb.  What isn’t hurts.

            He grabs clumsily at the comm.  “I’m here.  I’m here!”

            “Arthur!”  It is LeGuin’s voice, Arthur realizes.  “We saw that you were shot down.  Glad to hear your voice.  Report.”

            Arthur lifts his arms and flexes his fingers, slowly returning sensation to them.  Pinpricks replace the numbness.  Looking down his body, he finds no obvious injuries, but he groans all the same with each movement.  “I’m okay.”

            “Will you require pick-up or support?  I might be able to spare an armor or two with Guinevere up here.”

            “No.  They’ve got the surface locked down.”  Arthur checks the radar, smacks it with his open palm.  The screen flickers, flashing long enough to reveal approaching enemy armors.  They have him surrounded and are tightening the noose.  Arthur checks his system diagnostics next, and his stomach goes cold.  “I’ll continue on foot alone.”

            “What? Are you crazy? Permission denied, Arthur.  I’m sending reinforcements.”

            “I’ll be fine,” Arthur shouts back.  “You’re Osceola’s captain, right? So, you’ve seen her records.”

            “I have.”

            “Even the confidential ones,” Arthur asks, and a pause follows.  “I’ll just imagine that you know them.” Arthur feels around his seat and finds a button.  Pressing it, he parts the harness and falls forward, landing heavily against the front of his armor.  “I’m a Centurion, too.”

            LeGuin goes quiet for a time as Arthur checks himself a second time.  His body aches, and he has bruises, but he can find nothing broken beyond use.  “Understood,” LeGuin says.  “Contact me again when you can.”

            “Copy.”  Arthur drops the comm and reaches for the pistol harnessed to his seat.  He pulls it out and checks the clip.  Then, he reaches into the back and grabs a handful of clips, which he fastens to his suit.  Then, slapping the radar one last time, he sighs.  “It’s been a while since I’ve been up against odds like this.”  Standing, he grabs hold of the hatch.  “Feels like coming home.”

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

            The Lady leads Chastity through the abandoned hallways of the facility.  The walls shudder as combat rages outside.  Dust stirs, falling from the ceiling and forming moats in the fragmented light.  The rooms smell sharply of rot and decay.  Shadows cling where stray light cannot touch them.

            Chastity stays close, so close that she nearly steps on the Lady’s heels, and she holds her nose and squints in the darkness as she follows.  Each new room finds her searching the floor for familiar faces.  She hopes she doesn’t see them, but she cannot keep from looking.  The Lady walks straight toward the laboratory, towards familiar ground.

            They stop in the lab, at the pod where the Lady was found.  The lady kneels down and touches the floor.  “They covered it.”

            Chastity’s brow knits as she peers over the Lady’s shoulder at the dented floor panel.  “They covered what?”

            “Dinah,” the Lady says.  The steel tears as the Lady forces her fingers through it. With a jerk she opens the floor, the panel comes up in pieces, fragments of it bouncing off the walls as it is discarded.  The Lady skins the floor in this way and leaves it in curled chunks to the side.  Beneath they find darkness.

            Chastity swallows nervously.  “Dinah?”

            “Here, I will learn what I am for.”  The Lady dropped from view, disappearing into darkness.  Below, Chastity hears a hallow ringing as the Guide lands and the sound of foot falls following, reminiscent of the Guide ship below Athens.  Chastity, using the floor for support, drops down and trails after the Lady.  She can see the vague form of another ship as her eyes adjust to the deeper darkness.

            “And what does that mean? What exactly do you expect to find?”

            “I do not know,” the Lady said, eyes glowing in the darkness.  “But I know it is here.  It is in my brain.  I can feel it.

            “Feel it?”

            The Lady stops and looks at Chastity with those glowing eyes.  They are all that Chastity can see by in the darkness.  “It is a memory, but it is fragmented.  I need to complete it.  Here, I will find the answer to all of your questions, and mine, too.”

            Chastity stares for a moment.  Canaan had become only a place of death for her, but now she can find something good for it.  She feels the place where her implant is and nods.  Then, drawing a deep breath of stale air, fresh without the scent of death, she says, “Then, lead the way.”

 

-Stargazers, part 1-

 

            Arthur tests his armor one last time before pulling the emergency hatch.  When he finds it unresponsive, he climbs onto the back of the seat and pops the hatch open.  It sighs and then groans as he pushes it up and off.  Sliding lethargically, it falls from the armor, landing dull against the sand.

            Federation soldiers stop at a distance and train their weapons on the armor as Arthur climbs from it.  He descends its back carefully and lands behind its prone, metal body.  There, he presses his back to the armor and closes his eyes.  He draws a deep breathe, inhaling the dry Canaan air.  It sucks the moisture from his throat and his tongue, but it also focuses his mind.  Another breath, and he moves past his own pain.  A third, and he is focused only on the task at hand.

            A fourth breath, and he rises, and he fires.  Bullets ricochet off of the armor around him, punching dents into the plating but unable to part the steel.  One of the Federation soldiers falls with a two holes in him, one in the chest and the other the head.  Another clutches his knee cap as he falls to the ground, blood gushing from his wound.  His screams unnerve his allies enough to draw their attention from the enemy.

            Three soldiers remain, and they unload their assault rifles on the armor.  Its helm tears, its visor fractures.  Optics shatter and sprinkle glass in tear-drop shards.  Arthur listens on the other side of the armor, breathing through his pain, through his anxiety, and through his gut-twisting fear.  The armor hums under the rain of bullets.

            One soldier runs dries and fumbles changing his clip, dropping it to the ground and scrambling to pick it up as another runs out of ammo.  The third stops firing to survey the results of their attack and catches a bullet in his right eye.  His right shoulder pops immediately afterward.  Behind him, the first soldier is already flailing, collapsed to the ground as the second soldier drops his ammo and wets himself.

            Arthur finishes them quickly.  He leaves an extra bullet in each head and gathers their clips.  Searching their bodies, he also takes field rations that are on them, any extra clips he can find a place for on his uniform, and one assault rifle.  He holsters his pistol and checks the rifle, removing the spent clip and reloading with a fresh one.  Then, he looks down the sights.

            The facility awaits him, armors marching around it and drop ships landing with fresh troops.  Arthur ducks among the bodies and moves forward in a crawl.  He isn’t afraid of dying, but he is worried about everyone else who will die on the way.

 

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21: Codex 010: The Hardened Light Phenomenon

::: The Hardened Light Phenomenon :::

 

            Speaking in a layman’s terms, the hardened light phenomena is best described as the inverse or opposite of the assumed dark matter which makes up the universe.  Where dark matter is an inobservable material which is implied to exist within the galaxy to explain its functioning, hardened light is a visible energy projection which appears in the form of a physical light.  Dark matter is invisible to the eye and unable to interact with atomic particles, where hardened light is visible and audible, making a subtle hum, and can deflect or redirect incoming particles for a number of uses.

            Hardened light generators were originally found in Guide ruins.  Retrofitted for military use as shields and sometimes even weapons (such as the hardened light bayonets mounted on the arms of Gigas Armors, now popularly called Hardened Light Blades), it has recently seen been application in domestic and civilian use.  Most popularly, hardened light bridges and canopies are used in richer parts of cities as a show of affluence more than anything else, while rich citizenry sometimes enjoy doorways or windows that might be activated by rain fall or moisture.

            The earliest application in civilian life of hardened light were by deep space traders and shuttling services.  It is important to remember as we discuss this the inherent dangers of space travel.  Situations such as the well-known destruction of ships like Icarus are not as uncommon as they should be and hardened light shields can do a lot to prevent such tragedies from happening again.

            Military production has seen the generators made smaller and lighter, though the Guide design is still far too complex for us to mimic perfectly.  Solar batteries are popular, though often times quite large.  There is one famous house found on Uruk which was built entirely of hardened light, though it is uninhabitable for the noise and the lack of rooms inside of it.  Another famous tourist attraction is the Great Light Bridge of Rhea, which spans the width of the Remian Channel that splits the city.

22: Dinah

Dinah

 

            The ship’s interior is dark, save for the faint green glow of the Lady’s eyes lighting the way.  The rooms bleed and blend in the darkness, and soon Chastity cannot remember the way they came or predict the way they are going.  She traces her hand along the walls, unable to see the form but feeling the smooth contours and endless steel.  The walls are long and curved, the steel faintly warm to the touch, reminding her more of flesh than metal.  The design is natural, almost organic in her mind.

            Hand on the walls, Chastity stares into the darkness, following the Lady’s eyes, and she speaks aloud, “I worked here, and I didn’t even know that this was here.”

            “There are many secrets here,” the Lady says, approaching another wall which slides apart seamlessly for her.  Chastity follows the Lady into the room.

            “Secrets? What secrets are you talking about?”

            “There are things here.  Shades and Eidolons.  Entire life forms have lived here, from birth to death, from creation to decay.  I can feel them here, following me, flowing into me.  They become me, and I become them.”  The Lady pauses and touches the wall.  It is different from Chastity’s touch.  Tracing her long, slender fingers along the delicate grooves of the wall, the Lady touches the ship like a mother might touch a child.  “Dinah.”

            Chastity squints into the darkness.  “Dinah?”

            “That is the ship.”  There is a warmth in the Lady’s voice, a smile in the darkness.  The Lady speaks of the ship like it is home.  “She is Dinah.”

            “I think we found you here, found you in Dinah,” Chastity says.  “Were you part of her crew?  Did you live here?”

            “No.  I never truly lived anyway, but I did sleep here.”  The words are cold and empty again, devoid of human emotion.  The Lady looks back at Chastity with empty, glowing eyes.  “There are memories I have, they are not my memories, but I am carrying them anyway.”  Then, turning, the Lady moves forward, hand at rest on the wall.  “They have no value to me.”

            Chastity follows, her hand also against the wall.  She staggers after the Lady and braces against the wall, using it for balance and envying the Lady’s seemingly perfect grace.  “That sounds a little sad,” she says.

            “It is not sad,” says the Lady.  “It is function.”  At a touch, another wall opens, and the Lady passes through it with Chastity following close.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Arthur reaches the facility under the cover a stirring of dust and enters the facility through the bridge, breaking a window with the butt of his rifle and climbing through.  There, he rests in the dusty interior.  His breaths come hard and deep; his lungs burn.  Ten years ago, he wouldn’t have been winded so easily, but then again, ten years ago seemed like a lifetime to him.

            His knee ached in anticipation and in memory.

            After catching his breath, he moves, crouched against the interior walls and with his rifle up.  He keeps his finger off the trigger, pinned flat against the side of the rifle, but with the safety off.  Every death that follows him today will be intentional, he is certain of that.

            Ahead, he hears voices echoing in the darkness, mingling with footsteps.  “They say that a lone soldier took out an entire squad,” says one voice, deep, rumbling.  “And they say that he’s on his way.”

            “A lone soldier? Bullshit,” says the other voice, higher and harsher, a smoker’s voice.

            “No.  Really.  They say he survived an armor crash and came out guns blazing.”

            “Bull. Shit.”

            “Hey, I’m just telling you what the reports are saying,” says the deep voice, carrying down the hall.

            “I know you are.  I’m getting the same goddamn reports, and I’m saying that they’re all bullshit.”

            “Fine.  But if they are, why are they saying it?”

            “Because everyone is afraid to die on the battlefield, but if they have to, they’d rather it be the boogeyman than circumstance or dumb fucking luck.”  The two soldiers pass him by, staring straight ahead.  The one farther from him is talking.

            “But, if we die, it ain’t going to be some lone super soldier making a marathon massacre through the entire fucking army.  It’s going to be overwhelming odds and bigger guns.”

            “Well, isn’t that just inspiring.”

            “Just saying.”

            Arthur watches them make their way down the hall, considers following them, killing them.  He thinks of their ammo, perhaps of their body armor, and he decides against it.  They will die someday anyway, perhaps even in the battle with their sort of attentiveness.  They don’t need him to do it.

            Turning the corner, he goes the other way, making his way toward Chastity’s lab and the Lady’s pod.  He knows if they are anywhere here, that is the best place to look.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Together, Mercury and Daedalus’ united front form a line.  Siegfried still has armor, still holds the superior numbers, but they are struggling to keep their advantage against superior tactics.  It is also to their advantage that the goal isn’t to defeat the enemy but to endure them.

            Guinevere uses Mercury to cut long, deep wounds into the enemy’s lines. Each time the Federation forces find formation, she quickly scatters them, using her superior speed to make precise, scalpel-like strikes at their core to open them up.

            The strain of it, however, is showing.  Some blows miss wide.  She flies by enemy armors without even making contact.  The psychological effect is mixed.  Some enemy soldiers make note of their lighter losses while others take it as a taunt.

            Guinevere, herself, is gripping tightly to her controls and sweating.  Her head feels heavy while her limbs feel numb.  The longer she pushes herself, the harder she pushes herself, the more difficult the charges become.  An alert goes off as one of her allies is caught in fire and has to make a retreat back to Daedalus.

            “All units, close rank.  Form a protective barrier around Deadalus.  That includes you, Guinevere,” LeGuin says through the com.

            Guinevere groans. “No, I am at my best out here.  Let me work.”

            “You’re showing strain, and God knows the armor is, too.  It’s still a prototype, Lieutenant.  Return.  We can hold here until Arthur secures the targets or support arrives.”

            “We don’t need to.”

            Her radar pings.  Behind them, in the distance, gravity shifts.  Another ship rises from dive space.

            “What did I tell you,” LeGuin says, a smile in his voice.  Then, he chokes.  “No.”

            Sigurd, an enemy carrier, appears behind Daedalus and approaches quickly, not even slowing to reorient.  As soon as it leaves the gravity well its ports open and a flood of armors join the fray.  Enemy fire follows shortly after, and Daedalus turns sharply to meet it.

            “Guinevere!”

            “I’m on it, commander.”  Guinevere fingers the controls, driving Mercury’s output to forty percent.  Her body sinks into the seat as inertia pulls her back.  She feels the blood in her limbs draining, pool into her head as she struggles to keep hold.

            “No, pull it back.  You’ll kill yourself.”

            Mercury meets the enemy armors and parts them like a sea.  A thin line of explosions appear in the new line before the enemy has time to consider it.  They begin scrambling to find this new threat and neutralize it.

            Before they can rally more gravity shifts appear on the radar, two this time.  Guinevere’s heart begins to sink when she gets the IFF signal—friends.  Icarus and Heracles join the battle, locking on and firing into the enemy rear.

            Guinevere simply smiles.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

           

            Tyr launches and meets the enemies head-on.  Announcement of the new, red armor pass through the comms and when Guinevere hears, she knows what to do.  Turning her back on Daedalus and ignores LeGuin’s orders to return, she rockets back into the main battle and seeks out the single clawed armor in the vastness of space.

            She finds him by following the death of her allies and meets him in the center of the fray, clutching an allied armor in his claw.  Heat and energy radiate from its palm and pulse into the frame.  It warps the armor, bending it, bulging it, and eventually parting it like an overcooked potato.

            Tyr release the armor to drift and catches another.  Mercury moves quickly, lashing out with its blade but being deflected by Tyr’s shield.  Tyr wheels around in the air, still holding the Archer armor by the shoulder.  The generators on Tyr’s shoulder whir and energy crackles along its fingers.

            Guinevere screams, pushes her assault.  She becomes a flurry of motion, spinning and swiping wherever she can and missing wildly with most blows.  Finally, rather than aiming for Tyr, she aims for the armor and cuts it off at the shoulder where its shell began to warp.

            The armor drifts away and she pushes passed.  She lunges and Tyr is gone.  Guinevere blinks, her vision drifting in an out.  She feels heavy, her head throbbing and warm.  The frame shakes as gunfire bounces across her back, and she jumps up over it and brings herself back down for an assault.

            Her ears ring as her comms kick on.  “Lt. Guinevere.  I ordered you back to the ship.  You can’t keep doing this.”

            “I cannot follow those orders, sir.”  That is what Guinevere means to say, but she is not so sure those words leave her mouth.  Her lips pulse.  Every vain in her face feels bloated, painful.  Her eyes close, her head lulls, and then she jerks back up.

            “You’ll die, Osceola!”

            “Not. Before. Him!”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Arthur passes through the facility and the airfield.  The long tube connecting lab to everything else has been blown apart.  Shards of glass lie scattered across the asphalt with former allies and friends rotting among them.  It is enough to sadden him but not enough to slow him.

            Arthur keeps his rifle up and his head down.  He keeps his back straight and his hands ready, looking always down the sights of the rifle but keeping his finger from the trigger.  Before trying to cross the open area to the other side, he peeks around one of the busted panes.

            The airfield greets him.  It is damaged by conflict but enduring.  Standing at its center is a damaged Hunter armor, the one he had shot down earlier, he imagines.  The thrusts were damaged from gunfire while the armor was hurt in the fall, but it still seems to be moving.

            Arthur kneels down behind the glass and curses quietly to himself.  He does not want to fight an armor, not on foot and not alone.  During Centurion training they ran simulations of all sorts, but never a one-on-one battle with an Gigas Armor.  The closest was a group battle, and back then he had Lancelot and Guinevere.

            Now, he is alone on the battlefield, without proper equipment, and without the training required.  He slouches but has no out.  Even can he escape, he can’t leave Chastity and they Lady behind to be captured again.  The war, he fears, is going to come either way, but the collateral may not.

            He checks his gun again, for something to do with his hands.  Then, he reminds himself that a Centurion is meant to be equivalent to one hundred soldiers on the battlefield and hopes that at least one of them can do this.

            He peeks again and finds the armor turned away from him.  Taking a deep breath, he sprints out into the open.  He is halfway there when the armor finds him.  It wheels around, clumsily, its legs jerky, the frame bent.  Then, it opens fire.

            Arthur rolls to a halt and trains his weapon on the armor.  At first, he aims for the chest, hoping to get lucky and puncture a weakened armor point.  Then, he lifts the rifle and pulls.  A short string of bullets jump from the barrel in a jarring flash and the armor’s optics shatter.

            The armor continues firing but misses wide.  Its focus is on where Arthur was but it cannot find where he is.  He runs a wide circle around the armor, approaching its back with a grenade ready, the ring already pulled.  Once within twenty feet, he waits.

            The armor fires for a few more seconds and then purrs to a stop.  Then, the back hatch unlatches.  Arthur readies his rifle, lifting it into view and holds his arm back for the throw.  Once the hatch opens, he chucks the grenade inside and secures his gun with both hands.  He fires until the pilot ducks back into the suit and then ducks down himself.

            The armor’s interior explodes.  The force of the blast ruptures the outsides, tearing thin slits into the body of the armor and tossing its left arm to the side.  Smoke, black and acrid, pours from the interior while the armor sways and then falls, spilling body parts across the pavement.

            Arthur sighs and sits.  His lungs burn.  His limbs are scuffed from his jumps, beaded with shards of glass, but he is, on the whole, alive.  He checks his rifle and clip.  It is nearly spent, with only a handful more bullets left.  Not enough for another fight.

            He rises, takes another deep breath, swallowing it despite the taste and smell of it.  Then, he lifts his rifle and resumes his approach.

 

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23: Codex 011: Canaan

::: Canaan :::

 

Private Military Report:

 

            Canaan is a planet privately owned and mined by the Olympic Republic.  An uninhabited and isolated planet existing close to the Theta Star, its breathable atmosphere but high heat make it ideal for military testing and mining operations.  Originally, military bases were built on the far poles, and underground, in cooler areas of the planet to offset the heat.  The finding of Guide ruins on the service, however, found research moving closer to the planet’s equator.

            Many of the facilities which have been built are not made to last.  That, and the natural dry heat of the area, leave many of the facilities found in the planet’s major, central desert to be hot despite the power cooling systems used.  The finding of a Guide Ship, named Electra by the crew who attempted to excavate, has drawn military and political interest to the planet.

            Most of the work done on the Guide ruins in the area is done by proxy.  Private paramilitary and scientific companies are given permission to explore the planet under the agreement that all data found there would be turned over to the Republic governing and military bodies for ‘review.’  In reality, they are secretly funded by the government through ‘donations’ and all research done is done under government approval.

            Perhaps the greatest discovery of our spacefaring lives was found within the crashed remains of Electra—a complete Guide.  While the body was inert, it did give us a better understanding of what the Guides were.  Humanoid in design and not at all anatomically different from the average woman, the Guide appeared to be a human female, though she was entirely synthetic based upon scans.  Care has been taken to avoid any form of invasive research on its body.

            There have been efforts taken to find other ruins after the discovery of Electra, though none have produced anything.  As interest in exploration wanes, the Olympic scientific community has turned its efforts toward waking the Guide or otherwise understanding its programming and purpose.  That is why Dr. Chastity Clarke, the creator of the galaxy’s first fully functioning and learning smart A.I. program, was brought in to apply her expertise.  It is she who decided to name the Guide Lady, after the Lady of the Lake from Arthurian Legend.

 

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24: Victory at Canaan

Gabriel’s Flight and the Victory at Canaan

 

            Chastity isn’t sure how long she follows the Lady in the darkness.  She isn’t sure where they have gone inside of the ship or where they are going.  They’ve climbed staircases and descended others.  They’ve turned a few times, though Chastity cannot remember how many times.  Everything about the journey has been made in darkness, and they have been traveling so long that Chastity has little idea of her bearings.

            They stop at a large door, visible to Chastity only through the dim glow of the Lady’s eyes.  Its presence is more inferred than directly seen, though, and she bumps into the Lady’s back before coming to a stop.  They stand together, staring ahead at the door and, in the darkness, the Lady says, “Here,” before stepping back and touching the wall.

            Light fills the interior.  It appears in small diodes, forming a semi-circle around the door’s frame.  Lines of light run along the wall in opulent stripes.  The interior glows with prismatic brilliance, pushing back the darkness and blinding Chastity in its appearance.

            The Lady seems to glow, too, centered in rolling storm of light.  The glow of the Lady’s eyes brightens and changes color.  Body still and unmoving, the light passes over the Lady and then, as quickly as the light appear, it disappeared.  The ship goes inert, leaving the two of them in darkness.

            The Lady turns to Chastity, eyes glowing brighter in the darkness.  From this limited light to see by, Chastity can see the Lady frowning.  “I’m sorry,” the Lady says in a soft whisper.  “I am so sorry for this, for everything.”

            “What do you mean? What are you sorry about?”

            The Lady looks to the floor, to their feet, and the glow dims again.  “I remembered,” the Lady says, “I remembered everything.  All of it. Who I am.  What I am.  What I should do.”  The glow returned as their eyes met again.  “None of this was supposed to happen, what happened to you, what happened to us.  It is my failure, and it is my weakness.  For that, I am sorry.”

            “Lady, I don’t understand.  What do you mean?”

            “No.  Not Lady,” the Lady says, head shaking.  Chastity has her hand taken and watches the light fade from the Lady’s eyes.  They make eye contact, but Chastity watches the Lady fade.  “I’m sorry, Chastity, but it will get worse before it gets better.”

            The Lady weakens and then falls.  Chastity is pulled to the floor and lands heavily atop the sleeping form of the Guide.  The light is nearly gone now, being nothing more than a soft glimmer behind the iris.  “Lady? Lady! What is going on?”

            Reaching up, the Lady touches Chastity’s temple, where her implant is.  “My purpose,” says the Lady.  “My burden.  Metempsychosis.”

            “What?”

            “Carry me for a while, will you,” the Lady asks, and then her eyes go blank.  Chastity stares into them and finds hollow beads staring back.  The Lady is heavy, and Chastity struggles out of its grasp.  Its bones, synthetic and weighted, are bound to the floor.  Cupping the Lady’s head, Chastity weeps over her.

            “Lady?  Lady.  Lady!”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            High above the ruins, a battle rages in Canaan’s orbit.  Republic forces work hard to break the Federation line, but without Mercury serving as the spear point the Federation has regrouped and formed a defensive ring around the planet.  The two sides meet head-on, creating a spreading swath of chaos just outside of the planet’s atmosphere.

            Inside of the atmosphere, Tyr and Mercury are still at odds.  Where Mercury has the advantage in speed, its frame is still thin and in development, and its weapons are few.  Tyr can keep Mercury at a distant with small arms fire from the turrets mounted on its shoulder.  Should Mercury break through and land a hit, Tyr’s superior shielding deflects or absorbs each blow.

            Guinevere, meanwhile, cannot feel her legs.  Her vision is a blurry haze, and that is only when she can see at all.  Periodic blackouts have hobbled her, left her unable to evade certain attacks.  Her armor is holding together, the hull suffering only minimal damage.  One of her hardened light blades has been rendered useless after its generator was hit.

            She switched her comm off to keep LeGuin quiet.  His commands were interfering with her focus, and if she is to beat Tyr, then she will need to be focused.  Rather than assault him directly, she takes to dancing around him, hoping to catch him from behind, to slip in and slip out before he has time to recover.  By her estimations, his shields should die on him soon.

            A continued, sustained assault, however, is becoming difficult.  As the battle wears on, her vision begins to do strange, new things.  She isn’t sure what is real and what isn’t anymore.  The world feels weightless, and reality has become a lurid dream.  She swoops low over a mountain, rises and spirals, ending in a drop down and trying to strike him from above.

            Tyr stays rooted, hovering in place between steep mountain points, firing on Mercury while stationary.  Bullets zip past Mercury, trailing it as Guinevere flies a tight spiral and closes distance.  When in range, she swings, trying to drag her blade along Tyr’s armor, but she has slowed her armor and Tyr reaches out, catching her and holding Mercury in place.

            Guinevere jerks, her body aching as the seatbelts dig into her skin.  The cockpit rattles as the momentum tears Mercury’s arm from its socket, leaving it sparking and jagged.  Guinevere tumbles in the cockpit as Mercury spirals off, wheeling and flipping as it plummets. Cursing, Guinevere seizes the controls tight and takes off.  The G-forces hit her hard, knotting her stomach and then sending it into her throat.  Her head feels tight as she manages to right her armor just before making contact with the rockface.  Snow dances around her as the armor’s jets stirs and melts it.

            Floating, Guinevere draws a deep breath.  Her head throbs and her digits tingle.  Mercury is down one arm and missing its only other weapon on the other side.  Without any offensive capabilities and trapped in an armor that is slowly killing her, she isn’t given time to contemplate her situation as a hail of bullets pepper the mountainside.  The snow, now dislodged, roars as it comes sliding down, catching Mercury and dragging it down.

            Guinevere is just able to pull out of the snow as more bullets rain down on her.  She feels a few make contact and rattle her armor.  Reacting on instinct, she pulls away and flies deeper into the mountains with Tyr trailing after.  She needs to get back to Daedalus, and they both know it.  Flipping the comm on, she shouts for support but gets static in return.  While darting between mountain passages, she checks her radar.  Tyr is giving chase, as she assumed he would, but his turret allows him to fire from a distance.  Sprays of dust and snow remind her of the danger of her situation.

            She slows and takes the turns with blood rushing to her head.  Gritting her teeth, she turns her attention toward escaping her pursuing enemy.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Arthur works his way through the facility, moving low and breathing shallowly.  He follows the walls, hugging them close to keep himself safe.  Chastity’s lab is on the far west side of the facility, and Arthur stops a room away with his weapon ready.  He checks the corners before ducking into the open laboratory door.  Inside, the room is dark, and he pauses to let his eyes adjust before moving deeper.

            He finds another room at the back of the lab, a hole in the wall which leads into deeper darkness.  Entering, he finds a small drop.  He lands lightly and lets the reverberation of his landing move through the steel beneath him before continuing forward.  Outside, he can hear the heavy foot falls of armors stomping on the surface.  The battle is far off, but there are still soldiers nearby.  His own arrival was testament to his skill, but his escape might depend on his luck.  He turns on the light on his rifle and uses it to see by.

            Arthur follows a long trail of open doors deeper into the facility.  As he explores, he begins to recognize the general shape of the rooms he is inside.  The contours are strange and foreign to him, but the general shape is unmistakable.  He is inside of a ship, and he is moving gradually towards its center the farther he goes.  His movements remain measured and careful, and at the end of his journey, he finds Chastity hunched over the Lady’s pale, lifeless body.  He approaches with his weapon ready but the safety on.

            “Chastity,” he whispers, kneeling beside her. He keeps his weapon trained on the wall, holding it steady with one hand while using his other hand to tap her shoulder.  She looks at him, tears in her eyes.  “Chastity, what happened?”

            “She just—she faded.”  Chastity hugs the Lady close, one hand on the Lady’s shoulder and seeming to struggle to support the Guide’s lifeless body.  “She said that she was sorry, and then she just turned off.”

            Arthur pauses.  Death is never easy, even for a soldier, and Chastity had dedicated months of her life to studying the Lady.  He rests his hand on her shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze.  “I’m sorry.”

            Chastity sobs quietly beside him.

            Arthur checks behind him.  The halls are empty but dark, and the shadows seem to move more the longer her stares.  “Listen,” he says, his hand still on her, “I know it’s hard, but the enemy is coming.  They will find us, and they will hurt us.  We need to move.  Now.”

            Chastity continues to cry, but she wipes her eyes and her nose.  Gathering her breath, she swallows her tears and pulls herself out from under the Lady.  Before standing, she stops to close the Lady’s eyes, a gesture that feels empty to Arthur but seems to bring Chastity comfort.  Arthur stands with Chastity and fixes both of his hands on his rifle.  “You ready,” he asks, his eyes trained on the door.

            Chastity nods and puts her hand on his shoulder.  “Let’s go.”  As they leave, she looks back and whispers a soft farewell to the Lady’s lifeless body.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            They reach the surface within an hour. Arthur leads with Chastity following, her hand at first on his shoulder before wrapping tightly around the belt about his waist.  They exit the lab and stop to let their eyes adjust to the dusty light.  The wind stirs the sand around them.  The asphalt dances in the sun.  Arthur, with his weapon up, leans back to Chastity and whispers, “Where did you two leave the ancient armor you left in?”

            Chastity points.  “It’s off toward the east.”

            “Can you lead me there?”

            Speaking distantly with her shoulders slouched and her voice empty, “Why?”

            “We need a way to get off planet, and we need it fast.  Not only are we outnumbered on the ground, but I’m not so sure that Daedalus can hold out long enough for reinforcements to come.  Hell, I’m not even sure that it’s survived this long.”

            Chastity takes a deep breath.  “I can lead you there,” she says, and she sighs.  “But it’s useless.  Only a Guide can pilot it.”

            “Fine.  We’ll figure that out when we get there, but that at least gives us somewhere to go.”  Arthur rises into a crouch and starts moving with Chastity in front of him now.  She hesitates, her hands against the hot exterior panels of the research facility.  Arthur rests his hand against her back.  “Don’t worry.  I’ve got you.”

            “I’m not worried,” she whispers back, looking at him over her shoulder.  She feels tears in her eyes, but she wipes them away quickly.  Her voice is as empty as the Lady’s eyes had been.  “The Lady told me herself.  It won’t work without a Guide.”

            “And I told you: we’ll figure that problem out when we get there.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a bad option when it’s the only option we’ve got.  We won’t get ahold of an enemy armor, not with the damage I would have to do to secure one to begin with, and that is even assuming I can secure one.  Even then, even if we could fly it with severe hull damage or worse, an armor won’t fit two people.  Worse still, we have no way of contacting our allies, and they have no way of getting to us if we did.  So, the ancient armor is all we’ve got.”

            Chastity gives another sigh, her body seeming to sink into itself.  She winces as a burning pain buzzes through her head.  “This is crazy,” she says after a lengthy pause.  “Are things always like this on a battlefield?  How do you even have time to think at a time like this?”

            “It’s only like this if you’re lucky enough to be alive, and right now we’re lucky,” he says, knotting his hand in the loose fabric of her shirt and keeping his weapon trained ahead, passed her shoulder.    “Be ready to drop at my command.  Got it?”

            Chastity nods.

            “And save your tears for later while you can.”  He gives her a smile.  “Only the living get to mourn the dead. So, you’ve got to stay alive if you want to do it properly.”

            Chastity sniffs and wipes her nose.  “I’ll do my best.”

            “Good.  That’s all I can ask.”  Arthur pushes her gently forward and is glad to feel her move.  “Then, let’s go.”

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Mercury darts between rock formations, sailing close to the canyon walls, the heat of its engines leaving darkened stone in its wake.  Clouds of dust trail it, stirred by the force of the thrusts as the armor rockets by.  Dipping in and out of the clouds in short jumps is Tyr.  It cannot move as quickly, but it follows closely, its reaction timing perfect.

            Guinevere feels numb in her seat.  Her vision is spotted and blurred, and the color has drained entirely from her world like the blood from her digits.  Periodically, she has to glance at her fingers to make sure that they are still attached.  She clips the canyon wall during one such check, dislodging a fragment of armor and sending her skidding off in another direction.

            When she looks up, she finds another canyon wall closing distance as she is forced toward it.  She makes a quick turn, dipping deeper into the canyon, spiraling briefly, the momentum of her turn throwing and turning her stomach.  She cuts hard, forced into her seat belt, feeling her skin swell and bruise from the pressure.

            Her face tingles as blood vessels pop under the surface.  Her vision goes red in one eye and then black in both.  She winces, cursing, and angles her armor up.   She slows to regain control, and Tyr descends at that moment, capturing her with its claw and dragging her down onto a mountainous pillar.  Blinking her way back into sight, Guinevere pushed Mercury harder and drags Tyr along with her.

            The two of them take off in an explosion of stone and dirt. Dust explodes around them in a cloud which they part and spiral out of together, leaving a thin brown contrail.  Her left thrust groans and bends.  The wing breaks under the weight, and Tyr falls away as Mercury’s left side explodes in a quick fan of fire and smoke.  The cockpit rattles forcefully around Guinevere.

            Cursing again and holding the controls tighter, Guinevere steadies her armor and slows it.  Mercury sags, struggling to maintain altitude without a wing and with a broken rocket.  She falls into a series of slow circles and, in her fatigue, drifts lazily as she struggles to find a rhythm that will carry her to the ground.  She will crash, but if he does it right, she will survive.

            The ground swells into view.  Her descent is sharp but precise.  She will not be injured, but she will live through the injury.  That is, she could have if she landed.  Tyr intercepts her, though, fixing its claw about Mercury’s midsection and sending microwaves through it.  The cockpit begins to swelter and pop around her as her exposed skin boils.

            She reaches out with her armor, grabbing hold of Tyr’s arm and holding it in place before it can retreat.  The cockpit lets out a siren as the screens shatter.  The plastic of her consoles melts as her body blackens and burns.  Looking back on her life, Guinevere sees herself as a soldier, hard, disciplined, and lonely.  She sees missions and sacrifices, and she sees all the work she did, both good and bad.  She thinks briefly of Lancelot and the life he lost, and she thinks of Arthur, too, and of his survival.  For years, she was angry with them both.  Now, as she dies, she just wonders who was happier.

            She whispers a final apology, the tears in her eyes boiling as she sheds them. Then, she releases the controls and dies.  The Mercury armor explodes shortly after, taking a portion of Tyr with it.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Peeking between broken walls, Arthur sees Mercury and Tyr collide.  He follows the battle in his periphery, stealing glances where he can, watching a cloud of dust form around them, watching Mercury rise.  He watches the explosion and knows in his heart what happened.  Coming to a stop, limbs shaking, he leans against a nearby wall and holds his breathe to keep from screaming.  Chastity notices and stops beside him, touching him gently on the shoulder.  “Arthur, are you okay?”

            He breathes, slowly and deeply, with his rifle aimed at the ground.  With tears in his eyes, he stares ahead, avoiding the sight of Mercury disappearing into the distant mountains, the frame descending like a shooting star.  Tyr survives but only just barely, taking off back into the atmosphere and disappearing from view.

            Another deep breath and Arthur settles his shaking hands.  He looks at Chastity, but he sees Guinevere, and Lanacelot, and Percival, and Gawain, each of them missing or dead.  He always considered himself the worst of the Centurion, lucky to have been chosen to stand among them.  Now, he is the last of them to still be standing.

            A final breath, this one deep and accompanied by the wiping of his eyes.  Standing, he knots his fist in Chastity’s shirt again and guides her gently forward.  With his weapon ready, he whispers, “Go on.”

            They move together, approaching a large, sleek armor in the distance.  It is bigger than the average gigas, standing at least half-again as tall as a normal, conventional armor.  The interior is exposed though left unattended.  Based on Chastity’s warning, the enemy likely found the armor but couldn’t figure out how to move it and so left it.  Lowering his weapon, he lifts Chastity’s tiny body inside of the armor, and she climbs into the backseat where Arthur imagines the navigator would go.  Then, he climbs in after her, positioning himself where the pilot should be.

            “We’re here,” she says, “But I’ve already told you, it won’t work…”  She stops speaking as the canopy slides shut and the screens around her come to life.

            Arthur looks back at her over his shoulder.  “Won’t work, huh?”  He feels flimsy and tired, but he settles his hands on what he imagines to be the controls and flexes his fingers around them.  Gigas armors were designed after these ancient armors that are sometimes found in Guide ruins, and so the controls aren’t completely different or foreign to him.  He guides the armor in the same way that he would a normal gigas armor, and he finds it similarly responsive to his puppetry.

            The armor shifts its weight, standing and towering.  It moves lightly, though, despite its size.  In fact, it moves more smoothly than any armor he has ever piloted.  The armor seems to know his desires and moves to meet them with little suggestion.  Tapping a few buttons, he is able to find Tyr’s signature and recognizes that it is damaged and yet to make it back to safety.

            “Chastity,” he whispers, his voice low and heavy.  “I have a favor I have to ask of you.”

            Chastity leans forward, holding the back of his seat as she stares down at him. “What is it?”

            “I,” his voice shakes, “We could escape right now,” he says.  “But there is something I have to do.  You may not understand it, but I’ve lost someone.  I’ve lost a lot of people, actually, and I—I should walk away from this, but I can’t.  I don’t know that I want to.”  He takes another deep breath after realizing how tight his jaw is, and he frowns at the readings on the ships rounded, bulb-like consoles.  “I know you don’t like violence—and you shouldn’t—but I am a soldier, and I have to do this.”  He looks back at her.  “Please, let me do this.”

            Chastity stares.  “This won’t save any lives,” she says.  “Not really.”

            “No, it won’t,” he says.

            Chastity stares at him, seeing how tired and old he is.  He was a soldier, once, taught only how to fight and how to kill.  He used those skills to protect people, but now he has nothing to protect.  She leans back in her chair, her hands gripping the arm rests tightly.  “If you know, then don’t ask permission.”

            Arthur’s jaw tightens again.  Looking forward, he rests his hands on the controls a second time.  “I’m sorry,” he says, and he pulls the ancient armor up into the air.  In short time, they are gliding smoothly through the sky, the armor around them hardly seeming to hum despite the speed.

            The ancient armor seems to sail through the empty air as if it is the wind itself.  It reacts immediately to Arthur’s every subtle movement.  Its controls are intuitive and deeply human to the touch.  In all of his years, his training included, Arthur has never piloted anything like it, and he is disappointed to realize how his anger and grief are preventing him from enjoying it.

            They intercept Tyr in the sky.  Attacking from behind, Arthur doesn’t waste weapons or ammo.  Tyr notices his approach and turns to fire on him, bullets erupting from its shoulder-mounted turrets, but the bullets bounce off harmlessly as they come in contact with a sphere of hardened light that forms around the ancient armor when attack.

            Jaw tightening again, teeth clenched so tight that they hurt, Arthur flies faster.  He closes distance on Tyr and grabs hold of its single remaining rocket.  Stopping abruptly, Arthur removes the rocket from Tyr’s back and sends the enemy armor plummeting to the ground with the ancient armor following it down.  Catching Tyr in the air, Arthur uses one hand to pry Tyr open and then a foot to shatter Tyr entirely.

            In his monitor, Arthur watches Robin drifting through the sky.  He stops the ancient armor and hovers, a cocoon of hardened light there to protect him as he watches Robin’s death.  Robin lands anti-climactically, his body reduced to a sack of meat and blood.  He appears to Arthur almost like a squashed grape as he hits the sand.

            Chastity stares at her feet and at her hands.  She releases a deep breathe that she hadn’t even realized that she was holding.  “Can we go now?”

            Arthur draws a deep breath, too, and nods.  “Yes,” he says, turning the ancient armor toward the atmosphere and flying away.  High above them, as the clouds fall away and the freckled darkness of space comes into view, Arthur watches an allied ship form in space-time.  Agamemnon arrives and quickly opens fire.

 

-Stargazers part 1-

 

            Arthur flies to Agamemnon and docks there.  Without their leader, the Federation ships make a hasty retreat while Daedalus and its crew lick their wounds.  The ground forces are either captured or allowed to return, if they have the tools to return.  Meanwhile, Arthur and Chastity are kept locked up until they can be questioned.  Afterward, they are each given proper medical treatment and returned to civilian life with the understanding that they know nothing about any short-lived war that may have transpired.

            Agamemnon transfers them to Nestor, which takes them to the planet Olympus.  There, private ships are chartered at Republic expense to take them wherever they want to go, so long as they understand that they should not contact each other again.

            The ride to Olympus is quiet and somber.  They avoid eye contact and do not speak.  Even if they had tried, they wouldn’t know what to say.  Chastity spends the ride thinking of the Lady, of the Guide ruins, and of her life’s work dissolving in her head.  Everything she was or had achieved was taken from her within a matter of days.

            Arthur, meanwhile, does his best to think of nothing at all.  He meditates where he can and sleeps the rest of the time.  When at rest, old memories haunt him.  He remembers boot camp, and he remembers war.  The doctors had checked his knee and asked why he hadn’t gotten a prosthetic.  He told them that he preferred the plate, that it didn’t undue the damage he sustained for his government and for his people.

            He wasn’t sure that he believed his own words, anymore, though.

            Nestor docks at an orbiting space station around Olympus where they are expected to part ways.  The soldiers walk them off the ship and stand there watching as Arthur and Chastity stop to examine the crowd.  The station is busy, and once they enter this flowing river of people, they are both certain that the other will disappear entirely.

            Chastity is bandaged and bruised, but the bulk of her damage is psychological.  She is given the information for a therapist and little else.  Holding a bag of clothes given to her to wear—all of them are too big for her—she looks at Arthur and finds him standing with his hands in his pockets.  “Where will you go now,” he asks without looking at her.

            Chastity shrugs and stares out at the people, too.  “Away from here,” she says.  “As far away from the Republic as I can get.”

            “That’s probably for the best,” he says.  “The only problem is that the Republic won’t allow it.”  He meets her gaze.  “They won’t just let you go, Chastity, not after everything that happened.”

            “Which is exactly why I have to leave,” she says.  “I’ll go live on the fringes of space and, when they’re done watching me, then maybe I can come back.  Until then, I think I’ll try the Alliance. I hear they have more freedom, anyway.”

            Arthur nods his head. 

            “What about you?”

            He shrugs.  “Defense work again,” he says, and he laughs at her surprise.  “It’s the only skill I have, and it makes me feel better about myself.  I’d much rather protect people than kill them,” he says.  “This is all I’ll ever be good for, though.”

            Chastity wrings her hands.  “I don’t agree with that, but I understand.”  She shrugs.  “Probably for the best.  Be careful, though, and do try to find something less dangerous to retire into.”

            They shake hands, and he pulls her into a hug.  “Be careful.”

            Chastity, initially surprised, hugs him back.  “You, too.”

            “Thanks.”  He steps away from her but holds her by the shoulders still.  “And good luck to you.”

            “You, too,” she says, slipping from his grasp, and she disappears into the crowd.  Arthur watches her head weaving between bodies until he cannot see her anymore.  He imagines a long life ahead of her, first with the government watching, and then he imagines her free.  He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding and, for a moment, he feels guilty for having saved her only to put her through all of the chaos.

            Then he reminds himself that he did save her and tells himself that is enough.

            Turning, he walks in the opposite direction, away from where Chastity went.  It is crowded, and people don’t part for him so much as they just flow around him.  It is rare for a man to be given so many second chances, but today is the day where he will finally use this one right and build himself a life worth living well.

 

P.S.

 

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25: Codex 012: The One Battle War

::: The One Battle War :::

 

            Tensions between the Republic and Federation exploded into a full-scale military operation in what many came to call, “The One Battle War.”  After finding Guide ruins buried beneath a privately owned but military funded research facility on Canaan—a planet well within Republic space—Federation forces engaged Republic forces in the planet’s atmosphere.  The battle lasted only a few hours, but this short-lived engagement was enough to ignite fears that continued conflict was likely moving forward.

            Republic representatives came forward afterward saying that the Guide ruins were privately held and funded by unknown backers.  They blamed the private companies for their work and for their secrets and denied all responsibility for the battle, arguing that they were merely protecting Republic soil.  The companies, in turn, began pointing fingers at each other.

            The Federation refused Republic outcry and ignorance, arguing that the companies found on Canaan are frequent government collaborators or are owned and support by government representatives.  Meanwhile, the Alliance have expressed that regardless of fault, the mistake was a beach of the Three-Party Accord and suggested that something be done by the Republic parliament to rectify the error.  There is also a call for the immediate de-armament of the area and an opening of the planet to outside research.

            Losses on both sides of the battle were minimal but important.  Many are called for a release of names which could have led either to condemnation or mourning, but names never followed.  They argued that anonymity is important to maintain in situations like this, while people on both sides demanded information.

            Rumors that the battle began on Athens were found to be false, as were rumors of the existence of a living Guide found in the Canaan ruins.  No news reports were able to corroborate such stories either way.

 

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26: Troy Station

Troy Station:

 

Asimov sits alone in the darkness of Troy Station.  A window running the length of his room is all that separates him from the endless vacuum of space.  Stars, near and far, glitter like diamonds, drifting gracefully as the station spirals.  He drinks in the darkness, taking delicate sips of red wine.  A glossy black desk behind him captures the dim light of the stars, their light appearing in its in distorted reflections.  He turns and presses a button underneath the desk, and a screen rises from another part of it.

The holographic screen casts a blue light.  It illuminates his form as he examines the images projected on its surface.  Pictures and profiles of Arthur, of Chastity, of the Naphtali and the Dinah and the coverage of the Battle of Canaan are displayed.  They are meticulously detailed, showing restricted military reports, casualty lists on both sides, and all known information on both the Lady and the Guides are large.  His door buzzes, and he sets his cabernet down and the desk molds, shifting and forming around the base to hold it in place.

Pressing another button beside the first, he opens the door on the far wall.  The wall folds open, sliding sideways and casting a faint light from the exterior hall into the room.  Lancelot enters obscured by hard shadows.  The door closes, and he appears in finer detail in the shadows.  He moves slowly, as if uncomfortable with his body.  Most of him has been reconstructed, steel grafted to flesh, wires latched to nerves.  A carapace has been constructed to protect exposed wires, but he is not wearing it right now.

He stops with military precision at the other side of Asimov’s desk.  Folding his arms behind his back, he stands straight.  His left eye glows a faint red in the darkness of the room.  “Sir, I have been given leave by the medical staff and am ready for duty.”

“Physically,” says Asimov, glancing Lancelot over.  He sees scar tissue and steel.  He fixes his own faintly glowing eyes on Lancelot’s.  “But how are you emotionally?”

Lancelot frowns visibly in the darkness, and Asimov grins.

“Either way, we have time to rest.”  He leans back and sideways, resting his face on his balled fist in a languid display of comfort.  “She didn’t mean to, but she helped us all along, the Lady.”

Lancelot’s brow knits.  “Sir?”

“She set everything into motion, Lancelot.”  Asimov stares at the chess board on his desk, and pauses to move one physical ivory piece.  He takes none of the black holographic pieces that his opponent plays, but he is beginning to see the game, and he is moving himself into position to check the king.  Afterwards, he turns in his chair to stare out at the stars.  He recognizes them all, and they have been his companions across multiple lifetimes.  “Soon, very soon, everything will change.”

 

Part 1

End

 

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