The basement-levels of the Kitezan R&D facility were as ominous as they were dark; when the lights cracked on, they didn’t help make it feel any more welcoming.  Entirely lacking the stylistic attention of the upper levels, it was damp, the walls were unpolished concrete-stone, pipes were visible, and there was a room.  One, specific, strange room.  Once through two different levels of security-doors, in the middle, one would find a space that was built like a prison-cube, with thick glass walls, a thicker metal skeleton, and a single door that wouldn’t budge for anything except the proper access.


    Kourin pushed her rimless glasses up her nose a little, and – with the thin man - escorted Magistrate Regulus around to the viewing-hall; hidden behind one-way glass, he could see a rather intimidating and monstrous figure sitting inside, still as water.


    “It can’t hear through these walls?” He wondered, “You’re certain.”


    “If it can, it hasn’t responded to anything, no matter how jarring or loud.” She answered, and nudged her face in the direction of a communications button on the right vertical edge of the cell, “It’s quite the chatterbox though when you talk to it.”


    Regulus’ eyes examined every inch of the entity; what had originally been brought in as a dead Fafnir with a thin purple shell of resin-like armor covering its body, bloodless white skin, and the beginnings of rudimentary horns, had now grown to include a much-more refined-looking exterior, multiple ridged and twisting horns, and – most confusing of all – wings. Bat-like and folded neatly behind its back, though only sporting a maximum-potential wingspan of 6ft by that point, they had only continued to grow since first sprouting like little horns from the corpse’s shoulder-blades.


    The Magistrate crossed his arms anxiously, “Someone mind explaining why it’s taking that shape, of all things?”


    “He was once a Fafnir Knight, sir.” Kourin answered, “It appears to be manufacturing an exterior that resembles their armor. It might be a reflex based on the Knight’s memory and identity. The way it fought against its former allies makes us believe that, while the man himself is quite dead, the creature using his body is tapping into his knowledge and experience to make sense of its surroundings. This is further demonstrated by how the entity referred to Captain Rydell as…well, Captain, only to then attack him without hesitation.”


    “So, this thing has turned a Fafnir Knight into a combat-muppet.”


    “That’s our guess, yessir.”


    “Do we know anything else? You said it liked talking. What’s it said?”


    The thin man loaded up some information on his FlexiGlas scroll, and turned it around to show the judge. Upon its screen was the face of a member of the flagship’s crew, “To start…this man encountered the entity while trying to get to the escape-pods. It spoke to him, after massacring every other soldier who’d met it along the way, and asked if he knew where the other prisoners were located.”


    “To help them get out?”


    “No sir, it was looking for the man with ‘the sight.’ It had been mumbling to itself about that issue while tearing through the ship. It apparently got frustrated enough with its lack of success to ask someone.”


    Regulus rubbed a finger against his chin, “Lugios… It wanted someone who was afflicted.”


    “Considering they were right down the hall from one another to start with, it’s clear that – at least in the state it began in then - its senses are limited to that of a normal human.” Kourin added, “It went all the way up to the bridge, killed the flight-crew, and then went all the way back down in search of this person with ‘the sight.’ We just…have no idea what it would’ve done had it reached him.”


    “…It tore through my crew like a glass tornado and somehow, in spite of all that carnage, I managed to miss it entirely.” Regulus shook his head in disbelief, “What blind, stupid na?veté I possessed to think that the Fafnir were my only concern that entire time.”


    Kourin and her fellow were quiet.


    Regulus looked around the edges of that front glass-wall, and reached to open the intercom into the cell, “What do you want? Why did you kill everyone?”


    Scyrexianori slowly lifted its head, an eerie, subtle smile on its lips, “I didn’t kill everyone. I let that one man go.”


    Baffled, Regulus clicked the button a second time, “Why though?”


    “We had an understanding, and he gave me what I wanted, so I gave him what he wanted; to escape with his life.”


    “What are you?” Regulus asked warily, “Where did you even come from?”


    Scyrexianori lifted its head a bit further; the aura of bloody mist trailing from his eyes was relatively calm compared to the week before, “I have found myself in the unfortunate situation where I am trapped inside a dead, blind body.” It explained simply, “I seek someone with the sight to liberate me.”


    “And how did you get trapped, exactly…?”


    “The void rift, as you call it. This unfortunate man fell inside. In my effort to expel him, part of me came back with him. I’m trying to return.” It answered…and started to rise. The pair of researchers outside took a few steps back, but Regulus held his ground. Those fledgling wings cracked like knuckles as they expanded and folded back in again, and with a grand slap of one hand against the glass, the miasma trickling from its eyes gushed out with ferocity enough to send a shockwave out…


    …and knocked Kourin straight back into the rear wall with a shriek, eyes flaring with golden-white light. Her glasses shattered from the impact of falling from her nose, and she cringed, clasping at her face from the sting, “Damn it, what the Hell was that…!?”


    The Magistrate took a step back to check on her, a hand on her shoulder, “What just happened? What did it do to you?”


    “It…felt like it was flexing…?” She answered warily, and as she shook her head, the tails of light faded, and her eyes went back to normal, “…What a weird sensation… It’s like…it pushed my soul back, and it yanked my body with it.”


    Regulus rose back up to his feet and looked at the smirking entity on the other side of the glass – it had, conveniently, subdued its own optic inflection by then, “I don’t want you down here again until we understand more about what this thing wants and intends to do. Just focus on the implants I gave you.”


    “…Y-yessir…”


    .


    Seth had completely worn himself out with his nonstop delving. When Gabriel found him, he was passed-out cold on the couch he’d parked on earlier in the day. With no sight of Ren, there was only one person left to bother, and the responsibility of being the botheree fell to the Rydell teen.


    “Hey.” It started with a poke. Poke poke poke. “Hey.”


    “Mrphmr…”


    “Seth.”


    One eye blearily opened; the hazy image of the mediator came in and out of focus, “…Mr…Gabriel?”


    “I have an important mission for you.”


    “Hwehh..?”


    Gabriel hopped over the back of the couch to get in front of it, and sat beside the teen, “I just got done talking with the boss-man. There’s a lot of big, really important moving parts in Sargon right now. But I need you for a very special job.”


    Seth looked at him skeptically, and adjusted his glasses as he sat up again, “…Why do I feel like this is gonna be a big ask?”


    “I agreed to yours. You owe me.”


    “Ugh…fine. What is it?”


    “Prince Iresha is going to the College at Agartha in a month. You also happen to be a student there, and it’s my understanding that Rylen effectively plucked you from a classroom to send you to Kitez.”


    “…Yeah…?”Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Gabriel leaned against the pillows and curled his arm back around to press his knuckles to his cheek, looking rather casual, “You’ve been gone for five weeks, and that makes you at least one week late back to campus.”


    Seth’s brow crinkled, and he pulled the glasses off his face to rub his eyes, “Lord Rylen made an arrangement with the College to let me do my classes remotely while I was gone. He put in for an extension given…well, how it went.”


    “Not where I was going, but cool.” Gabriel waved his other hand at the teen, “What I mean is that, given present circumstances, you’re going to be dropped-off in Trazad tomorrow when the Aegis docks. That means you’re conveniently going to be in the general vicinity of said Prince. I need you to become his best friend.”


    That made Seth reach forward to put the palm of his hand against the mediator’s forehead, “Are you okay? Sick? You sound insane.”


    Gabriel blew twice against the limb to push him back again, “I’m entirely within my head. I’m being serious. He’s royalty in Sargon; you’re royalty within the Council. He’s a Limitless user; you’re in the market for such things. He’s going to need a support system as he leaves the nest for the first time, and you both happen to be going to same direction at roughly the same time. It’s perfect!”


    “…I guess, but…?”


    “But what?”


    “Wouldn’t it be kind of rude to expect him to be a guinnea-pig? He’s a Prince…”


    Gabriel laughed and flicked the teen’s brow, “That’s why you become besties first, ya goof. You don’t just walk up like yes, greetings, your royalest of highnesses, I’m Seth; present yourself for examination.” He put on a rather dramatic and dazzling display for emphasis, including a sarcastic seated curtsey at the end.


    Seth just grumbled and rubbed the sting away, “This is gonna take a lot of work… Befriending a guy on request isn’t easy. What if we don’t get along?”


    “It’s actually a lot easier than you’d think, especially when both parties are introduced to one another with the expectation that becoming acquainted is the intent. He’ll be getting coached by his father, no doubt, to be on his best behavior and learn how to court favor from critical potential allies. You could be that critical potential ally. Introduce him to the way we do things, make him feel welcome, et cetera.”


    “I dunno…”


    “Seth, it’s a political partnership, not an arranged marriage.” Gabriel puffed, “You two are close to the same age. You’re bound to have better luck than I did. You’re just there to guide him during downtime, not beat him into submission. Be someone he can relate to, and answer any of his questions.”


    “…Fine.”


    Gabriel beamed, and as he pushed to stand up, he turned to ruffle the teen’s hair with both hands, “And that’s how negotiations are done.” He said with an immature tone in his voice.


    Seth swatted him away, “Feels like the back-end of a quid pro quo.”


    “Eyyy you’re learning!” The mediator laughed, “Tell you what… When we get to Trazad tomorrow, and the flood-gates are opened to let us out, I’ll treat you to something nice. You wanted to spend some more time with Ren anyway, so it works out.”


    “…I get to pick, then?”


    “Yeah, naturally. Whatever you want.”


    Seth crossed his arms, “You have to agree that it’s not just resetting the quid ahead of another pro quo. This is purely voluntary on your part and comes with no strings.”


    “No strings. Negotiator’s honor.”


    .


    “I can’t decide between the BajaBlue and the RoseFire.” Ren grumbled, swiping left and then right and then left again as a nanotech augment on her hair-color swapped the black for a lava-lamp-effect of colors. On the one hand, was a dark blue veined with glowing green and seafoam, but on the other, it was a deep scarlet base with glowing orange, yellow, and pink; each had matching make-up to go with it. She pulled the wide neck of her T-shirt up a bit higher over one shoulder as she turned around, and faced towards where Furion was lounging back on her couch, a hot drink in his hand, “Thoughts?”


    “Are you going to a rave or dinner?” He mused into the sweet smell of coffee, whiskey, and sweetfoam.


    “Aw c’mon, I haven’t gotten to have fun out in like…six months.” Ren whined piteously, “But if I’m being dragged into the quagmire of listening to Jense detail the pros and cons of every item on that menu, I’m gonna look good while doing it.”


    “You already look good though.” Furion retorted, and set his drink down as the woman sauntered closer with nought but that baggy T-shirt and a pair of boy-shorts clinging to her slim frame. He held a hand out and guided her closer, and she set her fingers onto his, until she lowered down to sit straddled over the middle of his lap, “What’s the matter? You got oddly quiet over a hairdo.”


    Ren lowered her hand down to idly play with the strings hanging off the front of the man’s grey shirt. After a moment, she waved that hand up dismissively and her vibrant new colors vanished, leaving her looking rather sadly normal again, “…I’m just…trying to distract from my handicap. I didn’t know how frustrating it would be to be one-handed. The best microsurgeons in the world, and six hours of therapy every morning can’t change how fast I heal…”


    Furion gave a sympathetic look, “You’ve been doing this for less than a week. You can’t rush it.”


    “I know…” She sighed, and after a moment of consideration, reached over to pull the sling over her head, and let her offending arm hang prone into their laps. Fingers reached around to rub into the gel-sleeve that had covered the entire thing, “I still don’t know what it looks like under here either.”


    “Do you want to?”


    “Would it be weird to say yes?”


    “I don’t think so.”


    “…You’d actually let me?”


    “I’m right here with you. I can help you put it back. It was only above the elbow anyway.” He explained, and moved his hands from her waist, into the cushions underneath himself, so he could push to sit a bit higher. He pulled his right leg off the top of the table to put that foot on the floor, and gave a reassuring gentle pinch to her chin before he started to work at the sleeve.


    It was cool to the touch, and on the inside aspect, had a number of flat, circular pads, creating a low-level electrical field to help stimulate fusion of the reimplanted bone. The skin itself hardly looked marred, but for the subtle lines dividing her original arm from the paler new addition.


    Furion traced his fingertips gently along that divide, “Hardly any swelling. These sleeves work wonders.”


    Ren sucked in a tense breath, and moved her own hand over his, and pressed the man’s palm to that wounded arm, “…Could I ever be useful again if I came back…? Lord Rylen and you have both gotten my hopes up, but it could take months to get my strength back, and probably longer to get all the sensation… I can’t be good at much with a bum left arm.”


    “You’ll be fine.” He answered easily, but he could see and feel her doubts. A thought occurred to him, “…I know how much you hate to think about the fail-safe protocol, but…”


    “But?” She asked dubiously.


    “It works both ways. The system that lets a Captain take control of someone else’s armor is the same system that gives each Knight enhanced strength and stamina. Even a powered-down suit still synchronizes with its wearer to give the-“


    “…The 30% enhancement…” She finished, her brows crinkled as she considered it, “…I thought it just worked by putting a boost behind each movement, not that it…”


    Furion shook his head, “It’s so much more than that. It’s a perfectly-tuned exoskeleton. Your thoughts become commands for the armor, as if it was an extension of your own body. If you want to move your left hand like you used to…you can. Temporarily, anyway.”


    “…Don’t tease me like this…”


    “Oh, it’s not a tease. …Let’s go flying.”


    .


    The Aegis had two hangars; one for the usual needs of a flying fortress, but the other was a private launch-pad for the Fafnir themselves. Within, the walls were lined with docking-capsules, each one containing the power-armor of each individual Knight. Furion went around to the singular capsule at the head of the room, and in response to the presence of his nanotech ID, his own pod hissed, smoked, and its door rose up. Within was his own armor, facing the back of the pod, and opened at the back like an onion. From ankle to elbow, it was splayed and ready in its normal standing position. Before stepping into it though, Furion went with Ren to the next-nearest capsule; the docking-station for Wing Commander One. It still had her rank and name emblazoned on the door, and she dared to approach it, seeing that dormant light go green as it sensed her presence and began the opening protocol. It hissed, clicked, and smoke poured out from the broken seams…and moved out of the way, revealing that scarlet beast within.


    “I never thought I’d see it again… But here it is…” She commented quietly, tears forming in her eyes as she reached a hand forward.


    “If you’re ready, just step inside.” Furion encouraged, standing-by beside her, a hand resting on the open door.


    Ren practically bounced on the balls of her feet with excitement, and quickly nudged her sneakers off, “Quick, quick, stick my hair down the back of my T-shirt!” She insisted eagerly, moving the rest over her ears as he laughed and did as she asked. The need for a proper flight-suit was irrelevant for such an impromptu departure, and she stepped bare-footed into those well-known boots. Furion slipped in behind her just long enough to gently glide her left arm into the open gauntlet, and pet her back as he stepped out again and let the armor close around her. It clicked and folded itself around her – and the helmet came down over her head - and with speed, it connected, and she stepped back.


    Primarily a deep, scarlet red, the armor was trimmed in gold and based on a field of black. Ren turned around and took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let herself feel everything coming alive all around her. The wing-arms on her back flexed and stretched, and she looked down to her left side…and moved her arm.


    “…It’s…it’s like I’m not even hurt.” She commented breathlessly, turning her hand over several times and flexing every one of her fingers individually, making a fist, extending them, flapping the wrist, all as if it was all normal inside.


    Furion reached forward to take that hand and wrist into his palms, “Careful, love. You’re not recovered in there just yet. You can still do damage. Just take it easy and move slow.”


    “Go get yours on! I can’t stand it!” She laughed, and shooed him off with both arms.


    He was back with her merely seconds later, and kicked his feet out as he adjusted where it sat on him, “Stay within the shield’s boundaries and no one will be alerted that we’ve left the ship. Shall we?”


    “Wing optics engage.”


    Furion’s bright white double-set flashed on, and Ren could see the subtle volcanic hue of her own dancing on the deck-floor, like lights shining through the surface of water. She didn’t even give the man a chance to look her over properly before she took off, toes treading millimeters above the metal of the hangar as she blasted her way towards the exit. At the last second, she flipped over backwards and waved gleefully with both hands as she went careening off the edge and into the night sky, plummeting at breakneck speeds.


    “R-Ren! The shield!”


    “I don’t care! I need this! Let them all come if they want!”


    Furion shook his head but laughed anyway, and followed after her, tapping a toe down on the ledge as he stepped-off to join in the dive. To hear her whooping and hollering with such excitement was a dream, but he knew they had five minutes – tops – before everyone else would be blitzing off the ship after them. He knew the words ‘Wing Commander One has departed’ would be flashing on the monitors of the bridge, and every Fafnir aboard would get a stand-by alert, followed promptly by ‘Captain has departed.’ Ren leveled-out her dive until she was parallel with the waters of a massive fjord. Mist flew behind her as a wake rippled out, and she reached down to touch her fingers to the surface.


    This was bliss. This…was Heaven.