Panic, page 6
8
IDEOLOGY
—MELISSA—
The beep of machine rang in her ears. Twitching, Melissa slowly curled the fingers of her left hand. Three small tubes were embedded in her skin from the side of her neck, while an oxygen cap covered her nose, and a thin IV ran out from a vein in her arm. Overhead, a smooth glass shell sealed her body within the confines of an M3 rehabilitation chamber pending long term diagnosis.
A door slammed, and her violet eyes snapped open with a start. The hum of a motor stirred as the chamber’s glass disengaged. Sensing her eyes, it lifted and began to slide into a slited compartment at the foot of the bed. By the door stood a tall, dark-haired youth who watched her from across the room. His deep green gaze was unnerving. Something about it was rather familiar.
It wasn’t the first time their eyes had locked. She’d met him before. The memory was vague and distant. Tingling in the back her mind for a moment. The realization suddenly snapped into place. Wilson’s sponsored student, he was the one who’d placed his palm twice on the sphere. She recognized his face, but not his name. His hair color had also changed since the first time she’d seen him.
“You’re awake,” he said solemnly, stepping into the room. The dark door slid closed behind him.
Melissa watched him as he neared. “Who are you?”
“You don’t remember?” he asked and pressed a button on her bed.
“Not your name,” she said as the furniture shifted, sitting her up.
He looked down at her. “Alex Mullholand. That’s my name.”
Melissa touched her abdomen with a start. The damage that had been inflicted there felt like it’d been left just moments before. The spear had torn through flesh and twisted out her back in a sharp thrust, which spread in raging agony. It’d been a torment worse than the flames. It was like the weapon’s barbed edge had become a part of her, a foreign object felt by every ounce of her being. Running a hand tentatively over her stomach, she felt nothing but smooth, taut skin.
“You’re healed,” the youth said, adding a bouquet of peonies to an empty vase. “You’ve been here for a long time.”
“How long?” she asked.
“You slept for about a year.”
The room door slid open, and a doctor trailed by three nurses slipped inside.
“The savior has woken,” a nurse murmured. She shrunk back beneath the male paragon’s cold green gaze.
“Your Reverence,” the doctor said, lifting a glass clipboard from a holder on the bed. He eyed the youth as he tapped the device on. “Sitting her up hasn’t been authorized.”
“So what?” Alex said. “She’s been lying like a vegetable for over twelve months.”
The doctor sighed. “That’s not the point.”
“Then, what is it?”
The physician returned his look with a sour one. “She’s stabilized,” the man said, leafing through his device’s digital interface. “There is no nerve damage to note, her neuro processes are in the green but physical tests of her responsiveness, reflexes—”
“Why…?” Melissa trailed off, feeling a chill as all eyes turned on her. She swallowed dryly. “Why wasn’t I woken?”
The doctor nodded. “Good, speech unimpaired.”
“Your Paragon asked you a question.” Alex reminded tersely.
“The reason,” the doctor said, “doesn’t matter. You’re awake, and that’s the priority.”
“Not to me,” Melissa said.
“A patient’s health is my concern,” the man clarified, “not their problems. You can ask the nurses the fine details after I—”
Reaching out, Melissa grabbed him by his collar and jerked him downwards. “I asked you right now,” she growled and twisted, tightening the fabric around his neck. “Spit out my explanation before I pry it from your jaws.”
“Understood,” the doctor said and flinging off her hand, he straightened. Clearing his throat, he gave her an offhanded glare. “The risk was to your conduction. Even as a paragon, your titus channels can be stopped, cogged, and in this case, sacrificed. Any patient in a coma can be woken. A simple titus jolt is all it takes. For a tierless, such an arrangement is a thoughtless procedure, but the tiered are different. There was a fifty percent chance of your channels short-circuiting due to the shock to the brain. As a mage, your abilities would’ve been toasted and position forfeited. Failure would’ve cost you your title as Paragon and I, my life. Thankfully, the Keepers opted to wait for your natural revival. An outcome I am happy to see you have completed. Do you have any other inquiries for me, your Reverence?”
“Not anymore.”
“Wonderful. Now as for the tests—”
“Do it tomorrow,” Alex said.
“Today would be more practical—”
“Then, do them later.”
The doctor clutched his device with an irritated expression. “My patient just woke up. It would be more congruent to execute the tests now.”
Alex gave him a look. “I didn’t give you a request, I stated an order. After I and the golden paragon finish our conversation, then you’re permitted to accomplish what you walked in here to do. Am I understood?”
The physician bowed his head, stiffly. “Completely, your Reverence.”
“Now get out,” Alex said, waving his hand as if he were shooing away a fly. Walking out without another word, the physician was followed by his shuffling trio of nurses. Alone again in a room with pale-colored walls and sparse furniture, a painful silence stretched between the two Paragons.
Turning her gaze out the paneled window, Melissa stared at the night sky. “A full year…” she said, taking it in. “What’s happened since I went under?”
“I filled your position,” Alex said coolly, taking a seat beside the bed. “I underwent intensive training, gave speeches, and was bestowed with the title of honorary royalty, same as you. Currently, Kaiga is at war.”
“That’s not a surprise,” she said.
He appraised her with flat eyes. “Corpus was.”
Melissa shifted uncomfortably. “What happened to the school?”
“Corpus Academy is no more,” Alex said. “Other than those of us who were extracted by a copter, only one other student survived.”
She stared at him.
“Shocking, isn’t it?” he said. “The Victashia’s ruthless cruelty. They’re understandable, in a way. Intelligent. Two red ravens decimated the entirety of Kaiga’s future military leadership, putting the federation back by three year’s worth of high-level personnel. Nine-hundred pre-elite students, nearly a thousand future commanders for the line—wiped out. They say most died by Altramex’s hands.”
“Altramex,” Melissa said quietly. “Is that his name? The one who stabbed me?”
“He staked you,” Alex said, “and afterwards, laid waste to your so-called guards.” He went silent for a moment. “He threw a woman across the room.”
The blonde girl looked down. “How did I survive?”
“I—” Alex said, then shook his head. “No. It wasn’t my choice to save you. My sand acted on its own. On my part, it was involuntary.”
“Thank you, anyway,” Melissa said with a dry swallow. “I would be another dead student otherwise.”
Alex’s expression didn’t change, and after a moment, Melissa turned her gaze back to the window. The young man rose.
“Get some sleep,” he said, heading for the door. “I’ll turn your doctor away.”
“I just woke up,” she protested.
Looking back at her, he put a palm to the door, soliciting it to open. “Then think on why you’re alive and the others gone.”
The bronze door opened and escorted in by Alex’s side, Melissa hovered into the expanse chamber of the grand assembly. Passing by a wall lined by guards, she turned her air-chair through a curving row of red chairs. Seated at the center of ten enwrapping rows, were two women atop a circular raised white dais. Around the head of each was a circlet, one white and one red, respectively, the colors of Kaiga.
“That’s close enough,” said a woman with curled black hair. Putting a hand on her chair, Alex stopped Melissa at the foot of the front row.
“So… who are we speaking with?” the other keeper asked, peering over ornamental spectacles. “Light or Shadow?”
“Take a guess,” Melissa said, leaning back with a wolfish smile.
“Answer the question, Paragon,” the keeper said.
“How about a story?” Melissa suggested, clearing her throat. “Once upon a time, there were two old fools who split a girl’s consciousness. One day, she almost died on the end of a spear. Somehow, she survived, and the technology which kept her enslaved was removed by unknown means. However, when she woke up, the two old fools, concerned, summoned her to an audience and—”
“That’s enough, Shadow.”
“Wrong,” Melissa said. “I’m not my extremes anymore. Just myself, binded. Two halves now whole.”
The keepers exchanged glances.
“Be that as it may,” Raya said, pushing up her spectacles, “you’re no longer the strongest mage Kagia has in their arsenal. The oddity beside you, is, in fact, a Paragon.”
Oddity? Melissa thought, shifting her eyes to Alex. He’s not Kaigan.
“Yes,” said Valorie, echoing the other keeper’s words. “You no longer stand as the federation’s most prized possession, Melissa. Therefore, your identity no longer matters. Be you Shadow or Light, you can still be controlled. Piercing your consciousness makes you no less mortal.”
“In other words,” Melissa said flatly, “I can be killed.”
Valorie nodded. “Precisely.”
The blonde girl crossed her arms. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact,” Raya droned. “One which will be exercised if your loyalty is found to be suspect.”
“I have nowhere else to go but Kaiga,” Melissa retorted. “Where else do you think my loyalty could be found? Unlike your oddity, I was born a true Kaigan.”
“You were cultivated in a lab,” the older woman said, brushing back dull copper hair. “Even with Light, it was well known you harbored bitter feelings towards your birth.”
“Children often disagree with how they’re raised,” Melissa said, “it doesn’t mean they don’t love their parents any less. It is the same for me with Kaiga. The federation has taught and given me all I know. My fractured consciousness could only focus on half the picture.”
“And now that you see the whole?” Raya pressed. “What do you see? How does the nation look, in your whole eyes?”
“Glorious. Never did I realize how blessed I was to be born in such a powerful nation. I feel privileged and proud to count myself as one of its paragons.”
“Sadly,” Valorie said, pointing up with a finger. “We both know all you’ve said is a lie.” Tilting her head back, Melissa followed the direction of the keeper’s finger. Directly above her, attached to the ceiling, was a black circular device. Flashing red in quick succession, the lie detector exploited her falsehoods. The girl turned her gaze back to the keepers with cast eyes.
“So,” she said, “what now? Are you going to torture me?”
“In light of your…recent awakening,” Raya said, “we are willing to overlook your misguided words. As with Light, we believe you simply require the proper direction to remember what it means to be a Paragon of our great nation.”
“Thank you for your understanding,” Melissa said and glanced at Alex. “And how do you know he’s on your side again?”
Valorie smiled. “We already know his motives.”
“Did you do to him what was done to me?”
Raya’s eyes narrowed. “We ask the questions here, Melissa.”
“If I may,” Alex said, raising his hand.
“You may speak,” Valorie said with a gesture. “Avail your fellow Paragon to what true loyalty means.”
“In Kaiga, I have the power to change things in a way I was never able to in my previous world and country. Nations fought one another in a never-ending circle of conquering, collapse, and re-creation. This futile pattern of societal birth and decay repeated endlessly. Traveling from one century to the next. Here, I believe I have the chance to end that cycle.”
“How?” Melissa asked. “Peace treaties?”
“No,” Alex said, looking down on her. “It needs a guiding hand, one undisputed governing body which will force it to first mature, then prosper. Kagia is undoubtedly, that hand. Only our federation has the capacity to rule. We are not ruthless savages like Victashia. We do not trespass into schools and slaughter teenagers. Civility is the calling of a Kaigan. The morals of order and regulation for a people and a nation are our guiding principles. Led by the king’s hand, sustained peace will one day reign over this world.”
Melissa stared at him while the keepers applauded.
He’s a brainwashed drone, she thought. All that ignorant innocence, gone, replaced by a warped mind. He’s as crazy as the rest of them.
“Melissa…” Raya queried, “do you remember Kevin?”
Melissa gave the woman a cold look.
“Alex will be your new Kevin. Trust him as your guide. Waver from your duties, and he’ll decapitate you where you stand.”
9
TATCHAR
—ALEX—
The fading roar of plasma-copters and hyper-jets reverberated in the air as they rocketed off into the distance, leaving streaks of light behind. Turning his eyes from the sky, Alex shifted his gaze across the half-acre sparring arena. Boarded off by high walls, its flat dirt ground was one of many optional terrains.
He was back on the grounds of Tatchar, the ground base headquarters of the Titus Task Force, the combative branch for the Titus Association. Covering over 2,000 acres of land, the military compound resided within the heart of Kiko, the federation’s capital province. Ranged thirty miles out from Irane, the capital’s royal garrison was stationed adjacent to the Helion Palace. The headquarters defended the King’s principal residence as a prime en-route support group. The most heavily armed base in Kagia, Tatchar, was the association’s de-facto post-site for training command. Harboring a focused specialty in immediate ground support and mobility, the base was enclosed by a multi-layered hapan-shield backed by shifting blaster-cannons, 24-hour air-unit fliers, ground drones, and T-mech fleets. The compound reigned a close second for substantial long-range defense, melee offense, and airfare response.
Stepping from the group, Katelyn curled the straight metallic band of her vision screen around an arm and reached into her pockets. She pulled out two large weighted balls and tossed them up. An aura of grey titus encased them, and they snapped out into long gleaming knives. Without looking up, she caught them and glanced over her shoulder, popping a dark bubble of gum over her mouth.
“Are you just going to stand there, Melissa?” she asked, her eyes flat.
The blonde walked away from Alex and the rest with a smile. “I take my time.”
“That sounds like something losers do,” Katelyn retorted.
“The weak always squawk before they fall,” Melissa said, squaring up. “Before me, you’ll go down just like any other.”
Katelyn’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see who’s screaming when you’re dead.”
“Mock battle,” Aaron interjected with a dark look. “It ends when one of you is forced to yield and no further. Is that understood?”
Katelyn waved a hand in assent. Melissa offered a thumbs up.
“We only carry off the bodies of allies when they’re killed on the field,” Alex corrected.
Aaron gave him a look. “What are you suggesting?”
Alex shrugged. “Let them fight until one dies.”
“You’d sacrifice one of our best mages? Are you insane? And you call yourself a Paragon?”
“The victor needs a taste of war. To feel their blood run cold when they feel death’s breath.”
“And what do you know of war?”
Alex smiled. “Enough to know who dies.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Aaron challenged. “Kagians are weak? Clarify.”
“Everyone is weak compared to a Paragon.”
“I’d like to see a Red Raven change your mind. They’d mop the floor with you.”
Alex snorted. “Like you’ve met one.”
Katelyn spit out her gum. “Hey! You gonna start us or what?”
Her sour patch expression appeared to be stuck in a permanent scowl. Tinged by dark purple coloring, her choppy black hair matched her crude personality. Formerly long, she hacked her locks to shoulder length. She had a dark look about her. The sharp-tongued, stone-faced facade that had once been her innocence had washed away, becoming a sullen, brooding angst. It was a testament to the spilled blood of her brother in the Fall of Corpus. Tense pain festered behind her hooded grey eyes and an uptight rigidity reflected in her posture. Her stark beauty was marred by the undertone of dark circles. She was thinner, perhaps a bit haggard, but beneath a swath of side bangs, her stormy gaze was proud.
“This is a bad idea,” Jarel said, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. Startled, the two elites looked at their silent companion. Indifferent and unassuming, he was so quiet. Alex had almost forgotten he was there.
There was a distant chill to the nineteen-year-old’s reserved demeanor. Sardonic and cool, he more than matched the young facade of tall, dark, and handsome. Dark discerning eyes, a rich mahogany, looked out over the area with calm serenity while muscled arms rippled beneath a palate of dark bronze skin. His curled black hair was cut short and cropped close at the hairline in the military fashion. Unpretentious and perceptive with a quiet charm, his inhibited nature harbored a deep underlying complexity.
“She’s been on base three months,” Alex said.
Jarel shifted his gaze. “Melissa’s not ready for a mock battle.”
“They both agreed to it,” Aaron interjected. “Medical’s long since cleared her.”
