The Armor of God (31 page)

“Want to join us?” Garros asked.

“Thank you, but I can’t. I have a date with the medical wing to treat these,” he said in a miserable voice and motioned to the burns on his neck. “If you hear my screams, don’t worry—it doesn’t really hurt that much.”

Garros and Ezra both watched as Jed walked away.

The large man scratched his beard. “Y’know, I like Jed but he’s a giant bummer. Burn treatment hurts like hell, though. Can’t imagine what he’s going through,” he said. “So, Blanchard. You’ve stacked at least three points in your first three battles. You think you might go for the Golden String?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” said Ezra, finishing up his meal. “What points?”

“Seriously, Ezra, I’m
this
close to assigning you some really heavy reading after each class,” said Erin, and she didn’t appear to be joking. “We went through this in
two
different Entry Lectures when you got here.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I forget some of the stuff. I’m good at other things.”

He hated to say that phrase, which he had said to his sisters too many times.

Garros laughed and slammed his hand on Ezra’s back. “He’s learning, give him a break. Look, in combat-oriented operations, each kill or assist you do has a numerical value depending on the Fleck type you take down. Your three kills of the Trooper Flecks in your first two operations sum six points, one for each. Your assist of the Titan today adds four more. These go into your operation reports—it’s a way to quantify your individual performances.”

“The Golden String is an achievement we made up two years ago, when I got here: it refers to a string of ten
consecutive
operations in which you get more than three points. So far, no one’s been able to do it,” added Erin.

“Has anyone come close?” asked Jena.

“Seven is the number to beat,” said Garros. “I got to seven last year, then failed during a very,
very
simple operation. I still blame Tessa; so get this: I was getting ready to take down a—”

“
Dammit
, Garros, get over it already,” said Erin, looking over at Tessa who ate her dinner alone at another table, reading from a notebook.

Garros grumbled. “Fine. I lost my streak because of Tessa. Jed lost a streak of six the day Nebula overheated, I’m sure it happened because he was desperate to get those damn points. Alice was also at six when . . . well, you know.”

“Even Milos Ravana failed to collect three points during the last mission—killing Carriers is useless to this end, and that’s the job a lot of the time; it’s also a matter of luck.”

“And I’m at three? I need seven more?” Ezra asked.

“It’s cute that you think you’ll do it in your first ten operations; it’s much harder than it sounds,” said Erin.

Ezra didn’t say it out loud, but he accepted her challenge.

“One: I am not my Creux. Two: My body is not in danger of infection or death. Three: I am not a killer: the laani is not a creature of the Earth; Four: I am fighting for humanity’s future, and I’m both its first and last lines of defense. Five: This is what I was born to do; for every body a soul, and for every Creux a pilot.”

The fourth and fifth operations were considered successful thanks to a newly designed strategy that Erin had been working on that would accentuate on the combined powers of Besoe Nandi, Rose Xibalba, and Jade Arjuna.

As they had been for most of their operations, they were put in the lungs of a dead patient. When a Flash of at least twenty Trooper types and no fewer than ten Tunnelers emerged from a mound, the trio got in position.

And it was not, in any way, a graceful position.

Ezra heard Nandi’s protests as Jade Arjuna climbed onto its back like a child, locking its legs around the Minotaur’s waist.

What the hell is she doing? Get her off me.

Wait.

Once Jade was firmly in place, Rose stood behind them and released its protective blanket around the trio.

He could hear Garros and Akiva laughing. Nandi wasn’t flexible enough for Ezra to see, but he was sure they looked ridiculous.

Get her off me!

“I’m gonna need you to always look ahead, Ezra—Nandi’s horns are right on my face. I don’t want to—”

“Go!” screamed Erin.

Ezra began to charge, keeping all the energy in the space between his horns, never transferring it to his arms. He began to see thick, powerful arrows shot from above his head.

They were infinitely more powerful than their separate powers could ever be. Every Fleck they hit all but disappeared, consumed by the energy. Any attempts for a Fleck to attack them would hurt them in turn, as Rose’s blanket proved an all but impermeable shield.

Jena kept cursing every time she missed a target, which was often—she had neglected a lot of the bow-and-arrow training she’d have to extrapolate into Jade’s technomantic power.

“Get closer!” Jena ordered, and it was an agreement that she would have to steer him like a horse. Moving was trickier, as it required much more of Nandi’s strength, which Ezra had barely begun to command. His feet dug into the dry flesh with every step, but his strides were confident. Jena kept shooting through the veil of energy between Nandi’s horns, every arrow a death sentence without a name.

The powerful blood thirst took over him again throughout the operation, but Jena and Poole’s presence helped him remain in complete control; he was part of something, and he wasn’t alone.

One week later, when he emerged from their sixth operation, he was still on his way to achieve the Golden String—the first one ever to get so far so soon into training.

Chapter 17

The Shattering

Ezra looked down at large hands
Ezra looked down at large red hands over a backdrop of dry red flesh. Moving these hands was not unlike wearing gloves; the movements felt all too natural now. He clenched and unclenched the powerful fists, knowing what they were capable of, knowing they could tear a monster in half, and that their strength was his to wield.

Know who you are. Know your power.

It was his seventh in a golden string of successful operations, and things looked to be in his favor. This operation was standard, he knew the terrain, and the two Flashes he was about to engage would offer more than enough meat to join Garros and Alice in their glory—maybe even beat them. He’d be the first one to do it so soon, and he’d get the Golden String. He’d be remembered forever.

Even if he died.

Ezra looked up through Nandi’s eyes. Dr. Mustang, Sergeant Barnes, they had both said so: “It’s like you’re becoming Nandi.” He was wearing the Creux like a new skin, synchronizing almost as well as the veterans and Akiva, entirely transforming himself into his Creux.

Don’t fall into our trap,
Nandi said.

“We’re expecting a large Flash of mostly Trooper types. They are moving from this direction,” Erin said and flashed a thin laser to the unit’s right (there were no cardinal locations down there). “The swelling over there will probably call their attention, but as I said in the briefing session, this Flash is behaving strangely. We’ll observe first.”

There were eight Creuxen deployed for this operation, more than he had seen together before, all standing before Erin. They were all the same down there; there were no ranks in this half-moon; he was as strong and as competent as the others.

Maybe more,
he thought.

From left to right: Quantum Ares, Rose Xibalba, Jade Arjuna, Besoe Nandi, Isis Nineteen, Iron Seraphim, and Milos Ravana. The entire group of iron giants looked towards the light shot from Phoenix Atlas’ shoulder.

“I see something,” said Jena. “There’s a large mound a good ways away.”

“Those are the swellings,” explained Erin. “The Flash might have an interest in the larger one, and its integrity is our priority in this operation. Tell me if they begin moving towards it.”

“There’s movement. I see something is approaching—no, a lot of . . . things. My word. It’s the Flash, ma’am.”

“All right. Assume a Line formation; I’m on the Left end; Quantum Ares takes right,” said Erin, and positioned Phoenix Atlas to face the horizon from where the Flash was coming. The rest of the Creux began to assume their respective positions.

“Ezra, can you hear me?” said Barnes through a direct link, speaking in an unusually agitated voice. “There was a blip in the direct line to Phoenix Atlas—Erin can’t hear her crew. Can you convey a message?”

“Yes, of course,” said Ezra. “Is everything all right?”

What is it?

“Ezra? Who are you talking to?” asked Garros.

“Tell her the computers misread the Flash. It’s much bigger than we were told. Tell her to approach carefully; these Flecks really aren’t moving like they usually do and they’re going to be hard to predict, and maybe much harder to fight. Tell her to abort if necessary. There might be something wrong,” he said. “You . . . you be careful, please. I know you care about the Golden String, but you’ll have plenty of chances to—

An aborted mission would break his streak, and for no good reason—just bad luck. It took all of his will to convey Barnes’ message to the unit.

“That explains why there’s silence on my end.
Dammit
. Phoenix’s comms
suck
,” said Erin. “Stay put. We’ll let them come closer and see what they’re doing. Jena, what do you see?”

“I don’t know ma’am; either there’s something wrong with my Creux’s field vision, or we’re in trouble. There’s far too much movement for it to be a normal Flash. The entire horizon is crawling.”

“How many are there—if you had to guess?”

“I can’t count them. It’s a crowd—at least two hundred?”

“All right,” Erin said. She had a way to make Ezra feel calm in situations that would normally scare him, but that trait didn’t help when he finally saw what Jena could see. The dark horizon was jagged with shadows that wouldn’t sit still. It was an ocean of Flecks, enough to destroy the entire unit—

“Ma’am. Milos Ravana can initiate Galaxy Cluster at your command,” Akiva offered, and his voice sounded as calm and confident as Erin’s. Why weren’t they frightened, and what the hell was
Galaxy Cluster
? It sounded like an attack protocol, but Akiva had barely shared the details of his Creux’s abilities—they were mostly a secret, even from the other pilots.

“Hold on,” said Erin. “Let them come first. I want to know what they’re about. Let’s approach. Milos Ravana—you stay back here in case you need to do your thing. Someone else stay behind with him—Ezra?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and took a position next to Milos Ravana.

Phoenix Atlas led the way for the others, approaching the hemispheric swelling the Flecks were supposed to attack.

“What’s Galaxy Cluster?” asked Ezra, looking at Milos Ravana, feeling a level of delight in being as large as Akiva, at least in this form.

“You’ll see,” he said, and his Creux began to roll its palms, as if warming them up for use. “It’s a whole thing I would like you to see. You’re not going to forget it.”

“Do not use it unless I tell you to,” Erin said. “Hold on, something’s really strange. They’re still moving, away from us. They haven’t even looked at the—at the swelling. They’re not even looking at us. What the hell are they doing?”

“They’re
Flecks
!” yelled Felix Goodwin, pilot of Iron Seraphim, in his brusque voice that evidenced his seniority and temper. “Who cares how they behave, we’re here to kill them.”

“We’re here to know what they’re doing,” said Erin. “Nobody move a damn muscle. They’re carrying—they’re carrying something, aren’t they? Jena?”

“Yes, they all seem to be Trooper types but there are Carriers on their backs. They’re transporting the laani strain elsewhere,” said Jena. “Ma’am, why are they so quiet? Why aren’t they attacking us, or the swelling? It almost looks like they’re protecting the Carriers.”

The enormous procession of Flecks began to pass by Ezra and Akiva. As Jena had described, the heterogeneous monsters of varying sizes and shapes were all transporting huge amounts of Carriers—the weak Flecks that actually carried the disease. It was like an army marching towards its final battle, one they didn’t expect to win.

“Oh—Oh no,” Erin said, and her voice began to reflect the panic Ezra would expect. “Akiva! Akiva, can you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m ready,” he said.

“Do it. The Galaxy Cluster—do it!”

“Ezra, can you hear me? It’s Barnes. Something’s really wrong; you need to tell Erin!”

Milos Ravana began to approach the procession of Flecks, leaving him to wait on the sidelines. The passing crowd of parasites ignored the silver Creux, merely taking a step to the side to avoid him, and continuing on their lifeless tread through the dead world.

Don’t trust him! Stay away from him!

Ezra took several steps back.

Milos raised his arm and began to move it in circles. Sparks began to form on his fingertips. The sparks multiplied in size and suddenly Milos Ravana was weaving a whirlpool of light from the darkness.