The Spatial Shard
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Some Say It’s the Clothes That Make the Hero

Seams and cracks, fissures and folds; Wilma made her way through all of them as she made her approach. Though the physical distance between two points was never of any great importance to an Armonyean, even a mental projection involved some sort of traveling and getting through the interference of being in Undertown took some time. But the matter was great and her heart was heavy with visions and memories, calculations, considerations and conclusions. Wilma could not shake one vision in particular. One she had not yet shared, but it was eating at her and it had to be resolved if she was going to give the others her very best.

When she found Oranzio, he was meditating and she could better understand young Gordon’s initial assumptions. There he was, a man grown out of the child she had come to know and befriend. He was in a seated position, without shirt and covered in sweat. His fighting gloves were on the floor next to his ketta-blades. They had been stacked neatly, while the gloves themselves had simply been tossed to the ground. She looked on his frame and could see imperfections in his conscious mind. There was a strong degree of rage and pain; he had exercised himself to vent the most immediate tendencies and now he meditated to purge the more seeded effects. She hoped the voice of an old friend would assist him. First she had to make a few adjustments.

“Only nine-tenths of a meter?” she asked with a smile forming on her face. “What would the High Order Patrons say?”

“That perhaps my office has too low a ceiling,” Oranzio answered, opening his eyes and flashing a bright smile. It was the perfect embrace and she knew she was more than welcome to be in his company. He unfolded his legs and drifted down to the floor. “It prevents me from displaying my true greatness.”

“I hope I have not interrupted too great an endeavor,” she said quickly.

“You have done exactly what you aimed to do,” Oranzio answered, releasing enough energy to rid his brown skin of the sweat before he donned his shirt. “You have helped me secure a strong peace… at least for the moment.

“There has been an attack on the home-world,” Oranzio explained and Wilma gasped. Scorpio was hardly the home-world, but she knew this was not the time for such a discussion. “Thirty-seven are dead, and we are left with nothing but questions. Several of the Grandmasters have already returned to the Realm to investigate the matter.”

“But the Temple must continue to function,” Wilma surmised as her eyes fell to the floor, further concluding why there was so much rage in the balance of her friend. “Where?”

“Meadowsong,” Oranzio answered with a slight tremble to his voice and the sting of his reply made Wilma shudder. “I cannot reach my parents or my sister,” he added. “But I was able to reach your father. He was confused and angry; the attack came during his evening constitution. Apparently the blast came with a pressure wave-”

“And he rode it,” Wilma said, smiling and pacified.

“Yes, he did,” Oranzio confirmed. “I appreciate the alterations to your appearance. It is closer to the truth.”

The white hair remained, it was something she had been born with, and was a point of pride for her mother, but Wilma had done away with the aged look of her face. She was well over three hundred years old, as he was, but the marks of aging were usually a sign of those who were twice their age.

“Even with the differences of our paths, Scholars are not meant to look ancient.”

“Not many young Scholars are given the respect they deserve,” Sadaga admitted. “Besides, a grandmotherly figure was needed when I met the Shard. One moment led to the next.

“But I wanted to see you and let you see me,” she continued. “Our last meeting…”

“Was our last meeting,” Oranzio said quickly. “And this meeting replaces it as the last… until the next.”

“Thou art truly a Master,” Wilma said softly. “I was wrong to say what I did and I hope-”

“If you must hope that I can or will forgive you, Sadaga, then it is I who must apologize to you, for I have clearly failed to show you what you mean to me.

“But there is such a finality I sense in your voice,” Oranzio said, standing in front of the projection of his lifelong friend.

“I have become part of something which has drawn me in so deeply that I have forgotten the troubles of our people,” Wilma replied. “And I know you will say that this is a product of my frequent strides to the Earth-side of the Nexus.”

“Obviously not as quickly as you would say it,” he pointed out and Wilma smiled.

“No, not as quickly,” Wilma agreed as she looked away from her friend.

“Oranzio, why would the Negatroix think we possess the Living Schematix?” she asked plainly.

“I cannot say,” Oranzio replied. “I cannot speak for the Negatroix nor did I think you could.”

“So, it has come to this passing?” Wilma thought. “A response instead of an answer.”

“There is something I must attend to, Oranzio, and I did not want our last words to be the ones I had spoken to you. You have been the calm place in the storms of my life.”

“We do that for each other quite often.”

“And with the hope of Eternal Balance, we will continue to do so,” Wilma said as she looked at Oranzio.

“If the matter is truly that great,” he said as he walked over to his weapons cabinet. “You will need this.” Oranzio reached into the cabinet and came out with his ketta-sword… a very old ketta-sword that the two of them, along with Dana, had built when they were very young and quite inexperienced. Still, the three of them had managed to find an accord between their three minds and the core of the metal, and they found the sacred ketta, the inner power of any and every plant, animal and/or mineral. From that point, the blade had only become more and more impressive. Grandmistress Pani had wielded the blade during a challenge of skill and told her students she had had few honors which exceeded holding the blade. “Though I felt the resourcefulness of the salvage-man, I doubt he has anything in his holdings to match this.”

“Your feelings are quite accurate, my friend,” Wilma said, looking upon the weapon. “And speaking of such, as you are a Master, may I ask if the name of Rannis Etim has been recorded on the logs as one trained by any of the Temples?”

“You may of course ask,” Oranzio said as he closed his eyes and let his mind find the balance of the memories of the Temple where he served, as well as the other Armonyean Temples. His brown eyes opened after a few seconds and he looked rather surprised as he set his glance on his friend. “And your answer would be yes, he was a student of this very Temple, Sadaga… over four hundred years ago! He did not reach the Point of Choice, but he excelled at the lessons of combat and mental defense. His awareness levels were also noted as… exemplary.”

“Not a word the Masters use freely,” Wilma said, trying to take it all in.

“Even less then than they do now,” Oranzio added. “Can your projection carry this?” he asked, holding up the sword, scabbard and belt. “There is little point in arguing with me, Scholar.”

“Then I will not,” Wilma smiled as he fed the weapon into her projection stream.

“Wilma!” Oranzio said, thinking aloud. “I thought she wore white and her hair was red.”

“Well, I couldn’t go about calling myself Bam-Bam,” Wilma fired back as she faded. “Do and be well, my brother!”

“So long as part of me goes with you, that I can promise,” Oranzio projected as he bowed.

Wilma opened her eyes and quickly wiped away the tears that arose as she looked at the sword in her lap. She got to her feet and smoothly secured the blade on her back. “How many can say a Master walks with them?” she thought as she walked out of her room. “Even if that Master protects a crime?”

“And this is for the game?!” Cullen said as he looked at the display table.

“You’ve yet to play Edge,” Rannis answered as he puffed on his pipe. The smoke was approaching blue and he was feeling more at ease about his prolonged health. It was his immediate health that was now in question. “The count of fatalities would be much greater without this equipment.”

“Greater?!” Cullen screamed. “People die in this game?!”

“Anyone die from Earth-side sporting games, hmmm?” Rannis asked. “Either version of football, for instance?” Milania chuckled as Cullen had no answer. Rannis walked closer to the large table.

“The skin suit is basically there to maintain your body temperature and serve as a buffer between your tender flesh and the body armor of the team uniforms,” Rannis said as he looked at the products of some pretty strenuous work. “I decided to compile the technological efforts of both sides of the Nexus. While we on this side are more concerned with direct energies, your side is preoccupied with physical impact. I married the two viewpoints in the composition of the armored suits.

“This means there are heavy sections and light sections to the armor,” Rannis explained. “Reinforced at the chest, shoulders, elbows, forearms, small of the back, hips, thighs, knees and shins; you should be able to receive and deliver more damage at these points.”

“Sounds just like what you need in playing football,” Cullen said as he leaned on the table. It took a few seconds for him to realize that doing so was a pet peeve of Rannis’, who glared at the young man’s hands on his work table. Cullen stepped back and Javier chuckled as he patted his friend on the back.

“Yes, your American Football was something of an inspiration for me,” Rannis agreed. “But this is the suit unpowered.”

“This is where it gets good!” Sharon whispered and Rannis cut his eyes over to her and he allowed a slight smile as she beamed at him.

“This is where we get to yield the fruits of Sharon’s labor,” Rannis added. “I’ve attached power units to the belts of the suits that will create a force grid on the inside of the armor and the outside of the skin suit. The grid is controlled by the onboard computer and will intensify in whatever area of the body it needs to.”

“Excuse me, Señor Etim,” Javier said, holding up his hand. Rannis nodded at the young man who started pointing at the body suit. “How does it know when and where to intensify?”

“Two means of doing that, Javier,” Rannis answered. “One, the helmet reads your thoughts and knows more than your senses can tell you. You might get shot in the back, but your armor will brace for you.

“The grid may be right next to your skin,” Rannis explained, “but the system uses a sensory net that extends a meter in all directions. It reacts at nearly the speed of light so all Earth-side projectile weapons are too slow, and most projected energies are just under the speed of light. Of course, if you intentionally throw yourselves in a direction, the grid will activate should that action bring you into contact with something solid. Needless to say, the energy belts that control the force grid will not be worn during Edge games.”

“Speaking of energy,” Sharon said, placing her hand on the back flanks of her hips and leaning slightly forward. “…what is the time limit on the battery driving all of this? Sounds like it’s a lot to juice.”

“Stop trying to be my favorite,” Rannis said with a chuckle. “We’ll get to power reserves in a moment, but rest assured, everything has been factored in.”

“Sorry to slow your roll,” Sharon replied with a smile, shrugging her shoulders.

“Don’t mention it, hmmm?” Rannis continued, walking over to the collection of gloves, boots, large belts and helmets. “Besides, those energy belts will be worn over the skin suit but under the uniform. There will be no need to access them physically, they will be run by the computers in your helmets… and look, here are your helmets.”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a color theme going on,” Imogene said, pointing at the abundance of black material.

“Tell me about it,” Cullen agreed. “All we need is a mask with pointy ears and a big cape.”

“We’ll talk later on how the image of a flying rat would not scare anything on the Pointe-side of the Nexus,” Rannis rebutted. “… and I seriously doubt, removed from the fictional page, that it would lift a brow Earth-side, either. Still, black, especially when presented in a group, receives attention and a measure of respect. But don’t worry, my little divas, we’ve got more color on the way.

“The gloves and boots,” Rannis explained, looking at his watch, “they function much like the armor. The force grid within them is three times the maximum strength of anywhere else on your body. Plus, your PEP feeds directly into them, so you can energize a punch or a kick.”

“Or a grab,” Sharon added.

“Exactly,” Rannis confirmed.

“Heavens abound,” Rannis thought as he smoked his pipe. “What am I creating here?”

“At best,” Wilma projected as she walked into the workshop, “I’d say this was a collaborative effort.” Rannis immediately noticed the weapon she now wore on her back and decided against the offer of weapon he had planned to make.

“You think in the future we can add that to all of the intentional impact sections of the armor?” Imogene asked, folding her arms, gazing hard on the equipment.

“Uh, I, ah… sure,” Rannis said, looking at the equipment. “No, no trouble at all to make that upgrade.”

“You know, Rannis, we haven’t been here that long,” Imogene said, still looking at the equipment and shaking her head in disbelief.

“I sleep, Genie. Luatha does not, hmmm?”

“Yikes!” she whispered.

“True,” Sharon agreed. “And good point about the armor impact.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not following,” Cullen said, looking at the young women. “Why not just punch ’em?”

“Oh, we will,” Sharon quickly answered. “But in a close-quarters fight, I’d like a little ‘umph’ added to my knee lifts and forearm bunts.”

“Not to mention what a well-placed elbow can do for you,” Imogene added.

“You do remember the beach, right?” Javier asked Cullen.

“Yeah, but that was Sharon and Gordon.”

“Gordon’s Mom is Genie’s Mom, too,” Javier explained. “Let’s face it, man… you and me, we’re bringing up the rear on this one.”

“Which moves us on to the helmets,” Rannis interjected in a slightly elevated volume. When he was assured he had everyone’s attention, he lowered his voice to normal. “The second most fortified piece of armor you’ll be using. Three layers of armor will make sure your tender little noodles don’t get overcooked. You of course have your onboard computers, but we’ll come back to that. Next we have your weapons belts. You have blasters with quick-charge holsters and housings for other weapons configurations… for future use.”

“Looks like you get to play two-gun, Shar,” Imogene said, taking the gun on her belt and moving it to Sharon’s pile. She noticed there was another small device on Sharon’s weapons belt already.

“No weapons?” Sharon asked. “You think that’s a good move?”

“I’ll have the PEP,” Imogene answered. “But you’re the only one here trained on how to use a gun. These blasters are ugly and a miss could kill someone.”

“You don’t know what you just did for my heart, Genie,” Rannis said as he put his hand on Imogene’s shoulder. He then reached and returned her blaster to her belt. “But these weapons are programmed into your heads-up displays. The moment the gun is lined up with the target you have chosen, your eye cursor will flash white. The targeting system has a ratio of plus-minus ten centimeters for every one hundred meters between your weapon and your target… and that is for quick shots, hmmm? The longer you aim and keep the cursor white, the more sure your shot will be. The red cursor will tell you where the guns are pointed.

“I am concerned about innocents too, Genie,” he whispered into Imogene’s ear. “I do not make weapons lightly, my dear. In fact, it’s been years since I made one that could do more than a PEP.”

Imogene looked into Rannis’ eyes as she put her hand on top of his, giving it a gentle caress. “We’ll be careful or you’ll pull the plug,” she whispered back, knowing Sharon could read her lips. Rannis’ eyes became glassy as he held back the tears and nodded as he walked back to the worktable. They both noticed Sharon give a subtle thumbs-up signal.

“You’ll also have your own onboard PEP units. They will have an over-under forearm configuration. Flex your fist down, the over-mount fires. Flex your fist up and the under-mount fires. Hold your palm flat, as in a chopping form, and both mounts will fire. The green cursors, circle for right and square for left, will tell you where the PEPs are pointing.”

“Where have I seen that before?” Milania asked.

“Playstation!” everyone, including Wilma and Rannis, replied in unison before looking at each other and laughing. Rannis held up his hand to continue.

“You will have the full range of the PEP on this run, and that will include the force-line configuration. Just like a force beam, but it acts like a cable and takes less power to maintain. The boots and gloves can also generate a localized field of gravity to keep you on your boards.

“Does the field only work on the board?” Cullen asked.

“No, it should work with any surface,” Rannis answered, curious as to his interest.

“Does this remind you of anyone, guys?!” Cullen said excitedly. “Cables from the arms and clinging to any surface?! This is too sweet, Rannis!”

“While you’re living that hero fantasy, Wannabe Pete,” Sharon said sharply, “you better hope some nasty Goblin doesn’t come along and blow half your helmet off, because the guy you’re thinking about was super without the suit.

“I can’t say it enough, people,” Sharon said as she began to walk around the table, channeling one of the strongest speeches she ever received from Alan Thaxton. “These are some pretty nice goodies, there’s no questioning it. Genghis Khan created an empire on the back of advent of the bow and arrow. I’d say we’re a far cry bigger, badder and better than that.

“But if you lose your grip on your first and best weapon,” she continued, “you’re part of the problem, not the solution!”

“Is this where you say, ’there is no ‘I’ in team’?” Cullen quipped.

“She’s talking about your mind,” Javier quickly said as Sharon stepped toward Cullen. “Your mind is the first weapon you get and the best weapon you’ve got. We have to keep our heads, man! We can have fun with these toys later. We’ve got a job to do.”

“Can I ask you one question?” Cullen asked, jabbing his finger into Javier’s chest. “You’re not even from Diego! Why are you in such a flaming hurry to do this?”

“Because the man who saved me and my sister does live there!” Javier shouted. “We’ve hung out for a minute, CJ, but you don’t know me! You don’t know how I came to the States, and the girls and Gordon have been good enough not to go spreading my business around. But to shut you up, Milania and I were bought and sold! One night we go to sleep in our homes and the next morning we wake up on a farm in the middle of Nowhere, America. But the Sisters had taught me, Milania and few of the other kids of the barrio. We knew English, so we knew what they were saying when they weren’t screaming at us in Spanish and Portuguese. Nearly every person I met in America is not worth the time and energy it takes to remember to hate them. But one man was different and he got a lot of us out of that situation.

“Oh yeah, before I forget,” Javier added, “he did this while they were shooting at him and the rest of us!”

“What?!” Imogene gasped. She had known the circumstances, but not the specifics.

“Easy, Genie,” Sharon said softly. “He’s keeping it PG-rated right now. My Dad sometimes went with your Mom and then your Uncle Frank after she passed away. A few of those runs were ugly.”

“Just your Dad went with my Mom?” Imogene asked.

“Yeah,” Sharon nodded. “But I tagged a couple of times with Frank. Dad told me I didn’t have a head for the job.”

“You lost your head?!”

“The objective was to use gunfire to drive people off,” Sharon said. “I figured a newly pierced ear or a missing finger would scare them a helluva lot more than a close ricochet.”

“And you were right!” Javier asserted.

“Yeah,” Sharon said with no pride, “but my father doesn’t work with loose cannons.” Sharon membered how she had put herself ahead of the mission, and how that had disappointed her father. She had been right, but at the same time she had been very wrong. She saw far too much of the same lack of discipline in Cullen, but she was unsure of how to handle it without messing up Imogene’s head. Genie had to be clear for this, more than anyone else. Sharon would try to keep an eye on Cullen and make more specific arrangements with Rannis before they left.

“Any more questions?” Rannis asked, trying to bring them back to the moment. He could feel Sharon’s thought and he breathed easier. He would kick himself later for putting such a burden on the shoulders of a child… but at the same time he could not get over how well she wore it. It seemed more like epaulettes on a dress uniform, proudly clarifying her rank. “Were you done, Sharon?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Thank you.”

“Good,” Rannis continued as he nodded. “To finish up on the PEP units, I’ve worked the inertial anchors through the helmets. So you’ll decide when you want to pull and when you want to be pulled.

“Well, that leaves just one more item, and those await us in the hangar.”

“These are your blastboards,” Rannis announced as he walked into the hangar. Each of them walked in to the area to see eight floating boards attached to powering units. “I believe the phrase from your side of the Nexus is ‘coup de grâce’, hmmm?”

“Rannis!” Imogene said at just above a whisper. None of them knew how to take the first step.

In the moment of silence, Gordon counted more than four boards and made silent assumptions as he jumped on one of them. It fell a few centimeters before resuming its normal floating height. He started to scream for joy when the board tilted to the side and he fell off.

“And that is exactly what will happen to anyone, not synched up to the board computer, who tries to ride a board,” Rannis said, fixing his pipe for a fresh smoke. “Sorry about that, Gordon, but you made a lovely example.”

“Anything I can do to help,” Gordon groaned from the floor as he crawled away from the boards.

“And how do we… what did you say?” Imogene asked.

“Synch-up. Consider it a personal lock and key to your board,” Rannis said with a warm smile. If he had done well in the eyes of Imogene Schultz, he had no more questions about his talent.

“What’s with the handles sticking out of the side?” Javier asked as he stepped closer.

“Oh, that’s one of the four configurations of the board; two locomotive, and two that are more aggressive,” Rannis answered. “In this particular mode they’re faster and you lay down on them. There’s a gravity field generated by the board to keep you on it.”

“Paddle Configuration,” Imogene said to Sharon who smiled and nodded.

“And the other configurations?” Cullen asked.

“Well, Paddle, as it were, is one of the locomotive configurations. The other is when you…”

“Pop up,” Imogene and Gordon said simultaneously.

“Yes,” Rannis said quickly, activating the controls on his wrist computer. “Thank you both,” he said, walking over to the boards. “The handles, as you can see, recede into the main body that elongates slightly with the gravity field maintained by your boots. While Paddle is faster, Pop-up allows for greater agility.

“The more aggressive formats can be applied to both locomotive configurations; that is Bladed! You have your choice of port, starboard and/or ventral. I won’t bore you with the details of the composition of the blades, but they are extremely sharp and are also made to conduct energy as well as disrupt energy flow. Since the main power cell is inside the board, contact with the board will keep the suits at full power. As hard as your helmets are, the blast boards could crush them easily, so be careful of that.”

“But good to know!” Cullen said as he touched the side of one of the blast boards. “Where have I seen this before?”

“I took the body armor off the ground vehicle Sharon and Genie drove from Earth and integrated that with the original shells of the blastboards,” Rannis said. “It’s harder and lighter. Also, the boards are able to recharge from a direct feed of electricity, friction or the solar cells I’ve installed.”

“And we’re going to California,” Cullen said.

“Before noon,” Javier added.

“Somebody’s in trouble and it’s not us!” Cullen cheered.

“Very well,” Rannis said loudly, “it’s time to get suited up. I’ve got to talk to Sharon about her rifle and a few other surprises. I’ve set up partitions for privacy in the back. Gordon and Milania, help them get their equipment to their sections.”

“You don’t need to talk to me,” Sharon said as she picked up the rifle. “You turned this into one serious sniper rifle! How many shots?”

“Seven in the battery clip,” Rannis answered. “There’s a second clip in the back of your weapons belt. A full recharge takes sixty seconds off the board, fifteen seconds on.”

“I have something for you,” Wilma said softly, offering Sharon a small wooden box.

“Thank you,” Sharon said with a slight smile. She opened the box and saw a combat knife much like the kind she was trained by her father to use. “Thank you very much!” She took the knife out of the box and started to get a feel for it. By the time she started flipping the weapon around her hand, Rannis had taken a good step back.

Wilma did not move, she simply smiled as she watched the young woman present herself to the weapon. It was a ketta-knife, but it had never had a user. As Sharon stopped to get her best grip of the weapon, the blade turned black.

“Did I do something wrong?” Sharon asked.

“Quite the opposite,” Wilma explained. “I think it likes you.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual! Thanks again.”

“Thank you, sweet child,” Wilma smiled. “And be sure to keep the box, too.”

“No doubt!” Sharon looked at Rannis before turning to get her suit and uniform on.

“I take it you were going to use it before you received that sword,” Rannis said softly.

“I had it in my mind,” Wilma replied. “But I’ve never been fond of the short blade, and I think it’s found a much better home.

“And I have to say,” Wilma continued, looking at the blastboards. “…

you’ve outdone yourself, Rannis.”

“Thank you,” he said as he started for the door. There was one other item that had to be secured in order for this to be a successful mission.

“I suppose I shouldn’t mention how many Techs know how to rig a mechanism, of these power levels, that will actually work on the other side of the Nexus. I think the licensed count is three, and you’re not one of them.”

“I was never one for licenses,” Rannis answered without stopping.

“And I’ve never been one for telling secrets,” Wilma replied.

“That is mighty un-scholarly of you, Armonyean.”

“It is the least I can do for a fellow student,” she said and Rannis stopped. He sighed but he did not turn around.

“One day, when I know you better, we will share one adventurous cup of tea.”

“Two lumps, if you please,” Wilma said as she turned to assist the girls with their first fitting of so much equipment. She had formed a very special bond with both of them, much like she had done with Gordon.

The Armonyean Scholar smiled at how each of those bonds was different. Each seed had been put to the soil for different reasons; a sympathetic mentoring of Imogene, a prideful hope for Gordon and the touching of Ji-Ton between herself and Sharon. Each opportunity for procreation had come and gone for Sadaga, but the flow of life had still provided her with three wonderful children. At the moment, her daughters needed her more than her son… at the moment!

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