All Light Will Fall (8 page)

This mission, it was a fool’s quest. How did it come to
this? I suppose I knew how, but I didn’t understand how. That kind of knowledge
went too far back. “ARTIKA will fully prepare you for the difficulty of this
mission,” Cambridge continued. “First, you will undergo an eight week course of
intellectual training. You will learn Hedai, the Meridian language. We will
teach you all about the planet and the Meridian culture. After stage two, you
will be briefed on the technical details of your departure. Then we will test
your physical capabilities. You will learn both armed and hand-to-hand combat.
In the simulation arena, you will learn to adapt to stimuli similar to that on
Niaysia. During the process, our MW’S will track your progress. Again, there is
no room in New Eden for those who cannot keep up. That will be all for today.
Lieutenant Cambridge signing out.”

When he disappeared, the session was over. I spent the rest
of the evening resting in my quarters. I faced the wall, looking at my
reflection. It stared at me as if it were another person. It felt like that
often, like there was someone else inside me. That person or thing, it wasn’t
natural. It felt dark, sinister.

I rolled over on my side. There was a black case propped
against the far wall. An mw had delivered it earlier. It contained twenty-four
vials of halos. From what the mw told me, I would need an injection soon.

I turned on my back. I was angry. I had no sympathy for
these humans. I wanted freedom, to know the world beyond these walls. But the
longer I thought about it, the more I realized just what was beyond these
walls—more walls. This entire world was a wall full of systems, regulations,
and boundaries. What was freedom anyway? What did it look like, and how far did
it go?

The next morning Elric met me on my way to the dining hall.
When the break room door slid open, everyone looked our way. “They’re always on
the lookout for you,” Elric said.

“It would seem so.”

“So what are you hoping for, red or green tag?” Elric asked.
He picked up a food tray and served himself. “I’m hoping to get red-tagged
actually. I don’t want to have to babysit a bunch of MW’S all day. Do you?”

“It hardly matters to me,” I said.

Elric glanced back at me. “You’re no fun at all, are you?”
he grinned.

“What fun do I need to be in this situation?”

Elric shook his head. “You’ll go crazy with that attitude,”
he said. He leaned into me and whispered. “I’ve heard stories. Sometimes the
recruits utterly lose it. After curfew, they get out of bed and ram themselves
into the wall until their heads crack and there’s nothing but brain matter
dripping to the floor.”

I looked at him. “What are you saying?”

Elric shrugged. “I’m saying, if you get those kind of
tendencies, you should take a trip to the infirmary. I know you’re probably too
prideful for it, but it’s crucial.”

“There’s no need for that,” I told him.

His eyes widened a bit. “Why not?”

“Because,” I said, “I’m perfect.”

Elric had nothing to say after that. In fact, he began to
look at me differently. He would watch me often, trying to dissect me, trying
to figure out what it was that made him inferior to me in every way.

Later that day, I was scheduled for what ARTIKA called
cerebral adaptation. It was a kind of information transfusion. The room was
full of these glassy blue booths, eight booths a row, each with its individual
psyche chair. A black hood hovered over each chair. The hoods contained what
the MW’S called piston chords. The chords would be shot straight into the brain
and begin a transfusion of messages. By the end of the session, I would know
Hedai. I would know the Meridian language.

“Celeste 2102?”

I faced the woman who had called me. “You will be seated in
row C, chair two. Please follow me.”

I followed her in silence. “Please be seated,” the woman
ordered.

I slid onto the seat then leaned back against the head rest.
Metal restraints clamped over my wrists. “You’re going to feel a small jab in
the back of your neck. Do not be alarmed and stay relaxed.” I jolted as the
piston chord pierced my spine. It was a painful experience, but I soon melted
into the chair, my vision gradually darkening.

Hours later, when my eyes opened, I could sense a new
knowledge lying dormant in my mind. “How do you feel, Celeste?” the mw asked.

I sat up. “Well,” I replied.

“Congratulations, Celeste. You are already half way through
stage one. That was much faster than expected,” she praised. “You can now retire
and replenish your nutrition levels.”

I stood from the chair, feeling a slight aftershock. As I
left, I observed the remaining forty seven recruits still under session. It was
hardly shocking. After all, I was their superior.

“Celeste 2102,” the woman called. I turned back to her. She
smiled. “We expect great things from you,” she said. I said nothing. What was
there to say to a face I would either forget or one day destroy?

The weeks passed quickly. Soon, I knew nearly every detail of
Niaysia. I was taught by Instructor Styler, an mw who had travelled to the
planet on several occasions. He always had a story to tell. They typically
ended with him in the arms of death and, by some miracle, finding an escape. I
didn’t care for his stories. They were too repetitive and dramatic for my
liking. It made me question if he ever actually visited the planet at all.

“We’ll start with the outer rim of Niaysia. I want to give
you an idea just how difficult your landing will be before you advance. First,
Niaysia is on a four hundred hour rotation, traveling at a speed of ten
thousand kilometers per hour. There’s only a ten minute window when the planet
orbits close enough to Earth for landing. Not only that, Niaysia is protected
by a very dense asteroid belt. The asteroids are like crystal and emit a sort
of bioluminescence absorbed from the planet. Now, every once in a while,
Niaysia and its satellites go dormant. Their rotations cease and the
bioluminescence dies out. It’s like a sort of hibernation, one might say. It
occurs every seventy-seven days and lasts no longer than seventy-two hours. It
is quite the phenomenon. New Eden uses this resting period to ship goods and
safely transport our MW’S to and from the planet.

“There is also another hazard. Niaysia has several moons,
suns, and planets around it emitting strong gravitational pulls. These forces
are unpredictable and can send you drifting off course, or worse, crashing into
one of the asteroids. As you might have guessed, the landing is the most
dangerous part of this mission. It’s very risky business. For unknown reasons,
we’ve found departing from Niaysia much simpler than landing on it. We believe
the force field acts as a sort of security feat for foreign invaders. Difficult
to check in. Easy to check out.

“Once you land, you’ll discover some quite unusual features
about the planet. Before I get to that, I’ll explain a few other things. First,
there are what we believe to be eight hundred and sixty-four days to our one
year on Earth. Our MW’S who return find that a lot of time has passed compared
to the time spent on Niaysia. There’s also the trouble of the landing location.
Niaysia is about twenty-four thousand miles in diameter. That’s about three
times the size of the earth. ARTIKA hasn’t even charted a fourth of the planet.
I’m warning you to never leave the charted areas. If you do, you may never find
your way back. For reasons unknown, however, arsenals generally land in the
same area, a rather large island off the Vatierian mainland. The Meridians call
it Isaya.

“Now, before you reach the island, there are several
atmospheric layers you will travel through. Niaysia’s atmosphere is similar to
Earth’s except for several facts. One, vegetation on Niaysia can extend
thousands of feet into the mesosphere. That’s anywhere from seventy to eighty
miles high. I’m telling you this because we’ve had arsenals land in the
mesosphere thinking they’ve reached land who end up falling to their deaths.
It’s very dangerous business.

“Another fact, Niaysia’s atmospheric makeup is the exact
opposite of Earth. It consists of eighty percent oxygen and twenty percent
nitrogen. ARTIKA has designed you to physically adapt to this environment.
However, our MW’S will need constant protection to make sure their exo-suits
are not damaged during field duty. For all green-tags, that is your mission.”

As Styler spoke, the image of a thick jungle lit the
projection board. “Ninety percent of the island is covered in extremely dense
vegetation. Twenty percent of our recruits die within the first twenty-two
hours. Often enough, they’re separated from the group and picked off by
predators.”

The image changed. “Finally, there’s the New Eden
headquarters. The base is located sixty miles from the initial landing point.
ARTIKA built a secure station deep underground. The Meridians call it the Ohaw.
The Ohaw is a spiritual sanctuary. The only Meridians permitted to enter are
the
Taiya
, the planet’s holy elders. I have to warn you about our
zone-watchers though. Anyone hovering around the green-zone without proper
clearance will be shot. It’s very ugly business,” he said again. “I wouldn’t
risk it if I were you.”

Following his introduction, Styler showed us image after
image of the island’s wildlife and geographic landscapes. We learned all the
different nations and civilizations across the mainland. Every now and then he
told us one of his epic tales which was usually followed by some dramatic and
historic quote. It took hours.

The following day, Instructor Kane took us to sector 6 of
Pilot. The sector was a storage space for robotic fly suits. “This is your way
to Niaysia,” Kane said. “The halos-suit IG. Welcome to the greatest place on
Earth.”

The halos-suit was difficult to maneuver. The mechanics were
nerve ending sensitive, making the robotics shift at the slightest movement.
“The halos-suit is all manual,” Styler explained. “The field around Niaysia
absorbs the power of any energized technology within a twenty kilometer radius.
You’ll travel alone. It makes piloting through the asteroid belt less of a
hazard. Any craft larger than the halos-suit is a cause for collision.

“When you’re in flight, keep the body vertical. Second, stay
relaxed. Let your body do the steering, not the suit. When you first enter the
suit, it will be difficult to breath. The air tank is full of nitrogen to help
you adjust to the planet’s atmosphere before landing.”

It took a complete five hours to get accustomed to the
halos-suit. I finished the session early and returned to my quarters. I was
unusually tired. It must have been Proloxy 7. There was no other explanation.

When I woke the next morning, things felt out of place. I
went to the mirror and looked at myself. There was something on my forehead. I
pulled my hair back to get a look. It was a bruise, a thick gash running from
my hairline to the top of my brow. I searched the walls and found it. There was
a deep crater in the wall, right above the message board.

I looked to the mirror again. And when I saw myself, I
jumped back in horror. My right eye was completely black. I couldn’t see from
it. What was happening? I slid the halos from under the bed and stuck myself
with a vial.

A sharp pain struck my body. I steadied myself against the
bedpost. The metal bent forward at the vice of my grip. When the pain softened,
I could see again. I took a few breaths then looked to the mirror. All was
normal, but it wasn’t the end.

I would have to endure this. ARTIKA would make me endure
this. It was they who bred me. It was they who cursed me. They did it for survival.
They did it for control. My birth, it was not an offering of life. It was a
ritual for ruin.

“You look different,” Elric said.