To qualify as a USSDF pilot, you must be between the ages of 12 and 19. I was 12 when I volunteered to join the USSDF with parental approval. Before being accepted into the GSSDO, I would have to go through Basic Combat Training (BCT) and Paramilitary Occupational Training (POT), where we would train to be proficient in the role that we were to play within the GSSDO.
I can recall running until I got shin splints and then pushing myself to run evermore through the pain. Hyechin always loved track and field, so she was much more adept at both running speed and distance, and gauging herself than I was. However, we both struggled and made it.
The GSSDO had a different conception of human development than did most of the Occident. We considered adolescence a transitional period—a stage when you are no longer a child but have not become an adult.
For some unknown reason, the Neodei seems incapable or unwilling to cooperate with adults as pilots, but it’s hideous to the sight of virtuous men to place children into the cockpit of an eldritch titan. Therefore, we made a compromise with the monster.
We would allow adolescents, such as myself, to volunteer their lives in the service of Heaven.
The way the ASSDF accomplished this mirrored the microchimeral relationship between a mother and her children, with the cells of this giant integrated into our own flesh, and our cells into its flesh, primarily the brain. This integration of cells had a myriad of unintended effects.
The giants’ cells possessed the power of horizontal gene transference, allowing it to splice its genes into our flesh and vice versa. As a result, our physical development past the point of our initiation as pilots ceased. This left us locked in a perpetual adolescence, but in return, we received biological immortality. With bodies reprogrammed to enter a state of suspended animation when mortally wounded, and the ability to regenerate any tissue at a rate pushing the absolute limit of cellular division.
Though, before that, everyone who becomes a USSDF pilot must overcome the drowning pool, nicknamed for the liquid breathing training received there, if they aspire to be a Neodeus pilot. We donned hermetically sealed apparatuses that looked like a diving helmet wrapping around our shoulders with additional restraints, limiting how we could move our arms atop our flight suits. I was very anxious leading up to this moment. Our drill instructors had extensively briefed us on what this phase of the training would entail and why it was necessary, but being young and dumb; I didn’t fully comprehend these warnings. Then again, how many young men truly comprehend what it means to go to war before they sign up for military service?
I remember little of what the drill instructor said to us beforehand, except that the last thing he said, with a twisted glee, was simply, “Oh, y’all’ren’t going to like this.”
Suddenly, I could hear, feel, and smell the perfluorocarbon-like fluid flood into my helmet.
“W-wait!” I instinctively protested, thrashing about, and before I knew it, that tortuous concoction was in my mouth.
I couldn’t think. Almost every one of the prospective pilots flew into a blind panic. My blood was full of adrenaline, more than I’d ever experienced in my life. Heart racing in absolute terror. As the air fled the confines of my helmet, threatening to burst in my chest, it was replaced by the splashing of a monstrous potion. The only thing I could do was take in a deep breath of air through my nose before being submerged in my helmet.
Hyechin delivered a frightful howl as her helmet flooded. With a shriek of indescribable panic, she fell to the ground, violently thrashed about, tried to claw the helmet off herself, but the restraints on her arms prevented her from touching it. Of course, all this did was waste her air, and when the fluid levels passed her nose, she was among the first to hit her break point: an involuntary and spasmatic breath of a body desperate for oxygen, although what she inhaled instead was a fluid denser than water. The desperation of her thrashing about amplified for a moment. I could hear her choke, like she was drowning. That’s when I realized the restraints prevented us from denailing ourselves or breaking our own hands trying to escape. This apparatus prevented us from having the option to succumb to this universal, primal terror.
She didn’t fight for long after breathing it in, only for a few seconds before she just seemed to give up and laid still on the ground. This terrified me more than I already was. I was looking at my immediate future. No matter how I tried to rehearse the briefing in my head, I could not command my lungs to take a breath; but I still made my way to Hyechin. All the wits I admired about her were gone. All she could think about, if you could call that thinking, was escape.
She was sobbing, but her tears diluted in this solution faster than they could form. She clutched my hand and placed it on her helmet, as if imploring me to take it off her, while she desperately tried to pry it off with her other hand. I knew I could not oblige her request, and I began to tear up.
That’s when I noticed that Dźugi, a 14-year-old Romani girl with blue eyes and fair skin, rose to her feet. To my astonishment, she had forced herself to breathe in this hellish potion even before she saw Hyechin break and was now standing up, even if lethargically. Dźugi maintained her composure through the mind-numbing pain and unbearably labored breathing, which allowed her not only to notice but also to walk with intentionality towards us.
After eighty-seven seconds, the buildup of carbon dioxide in my blood was too much and in one last ditch prayer for a breath of life, my lungs gave their own involuntary spasmatic gasp. It was like someone lit my lungs on an invisible fire, and I too immediately fell to the ground from my knees and onto my right forearm. But instead of thrashing about, I grabbed at my chest with my left hand and choked. Compared to the air, this seemed almost impossibly heavy. This wasn’t like drowning at all. I was, in fact, drowning, but in an elixir that was tailor made to keep me alive and conscious. Hyechin would quickly stop thrashing around, too exhausted to move and caught up in too much pain to think about anything. It looked like she resigned herself to drown.
Dźugi, struggling to breathe, made her way over to the both of us, offered a hand, and said in a voice transmitted into our helmets while muffled by the density of the medium replacing air, “Come on you two, sit up.”
So, she helped Hyechin sit up.
She told her, “I know you are panicking right now.”
She grabbed me and sat me up as well.
She continued, “I know you’re in pain, but remember why you’re here and you’ll get through it.”
Hyechin and I could barely hold ourselves up, and I saw the desperation in her eyes as she peered into mine.
I struggled to tell her, “I’m here with you.”
My weaker voice muffled as well, but she understood me through her helmet’s internal headphones paired with lip reading.
Dźugi playfully informed us, motioning with her hands to her abdomen, “Did you know you can breathe through your intestines with this stuff?”
We both looked at her in clear distress, frustration, and confusion.
She elaborated, placing her left hand on her chest, “Yeah, the SDMC uses this fluid as both for IV infusions and to administer oxygen enemas when treating critical pulmonary injuries.”
Hyechin said, struggling with every syllable said, “I think I’d rather die.”
Dźugi disagreed, invoking our shared heritage as descendants of genocide survivors. Hyechin’s ancestors included survivors of both the so-called Great Leap Forward and the Arduous March. Mine came from the Rape of Nanking, and Dźugi, born from a line which survived the horrors of the Porajmos, Ustaše genocide, and 1971 Bangladesh genocide.
“Is that what your ancestors would say? No. I think we need to do what we can to survive, and if that means oxygen enemas while we wait for newly printed lungs, then that’s what we gotta do… Though, I agree that slaying monsters is a better option.”
The strength of will she showed simply talking was astounding. Even though our lungs were not evolved to breathe liquid, this damnable concoction proved better than air at oxygenating our blood. Which is where I assumed some of the energy she had come from.
Dźugi promised, “Don’t worry. I won’t let y’all quit. We’ll make it through this together.”
At this first trial, we only needed to spend five minutes in this cruel elixir and when we finally took off the helmets, our compression vests forced us to violently exhale, so that we all doubled over coughing up the substance which led to us vomiting up the copious amounts we swallowed while drowning. Yes. It hurt coming out too.
This ordeal traumatized us, and I did not know if Hyechin and I would make it through the program, but we not only did this again; we did it regularly until we became used to it.
After that first trial, Hyechin confided in me, “When my helmet flooded, it hit me. I couldn’t think about anything even before I broke… When you crawled over, I saw you there… The fact that you were with me was the only thing that kept me sane while I was breathing in that fucking fluid. If it weren’t for you and Dźugi, I would have just laid there unthinking.”
I never hear Hyechin swear, but it made sense considering what we had just been through. I would be lying if I said I didn’t piss myself in the drowning pool; almost all of us did. I could not believe that the last test would have us living in this hellish solution for two weeks, but true to her word, Dźugi helped us get through our conditioning in the drowning pool.
* * *
My story horrified Mālhlin. Her right hand covering her mouth and her left over her heart did not conceal the awe in her eyes.
I tried to reassure her, “Admittedly, it’s not for the faint of heart, but what you have to do to become a Warmaster is even more harrowing. And on the bright side, I guess I can withstand being waterboarded now.”
Mālhlin stammered, “I… If you say so…”
Motioning to her with my right hand, I probed, “I wager that hearing my story is not the only reason you invited me to your lair.”
Mālhlin tried to compose herself and confirmed, “Your suspicion is well founded.”
She explained, “Prior to Zleŋ’s displacement of my countrymen across the vast expanse of space and time, my esteemed father, in his loving wisdom, orchestrated a matrimonial union between myself and a most admirable gentleman... alas, this was not to be. For my eyes beheld the horrible sight of my betrothed’s countenance annihilated by a shot discharged from a hand cannon.”
You could tell by her face that she was deeply hurt by this recollection as she stoically reported, “He was a man of heroic character, whose ardent affection he bestowed upon me, and who gallantly sacrificed his life in defense of both my personage and the sacred throne. He taught me a myriad of things about the practice of magic. Things which neither my esteemed father nor the revered sri-paɡs (師傅) could teach.”
I did not know that Mālhlin’s father tried to arrange her marriage, but it made sense. The Blue Rose Empire was a premodern country and their views on relationships differed from those of the modern world.
In their culture, it wasn’t uncommon for noble women to marry quite young, though the normal age of marriage was still between 14 and 20 years of age for most women, depending on the province. Normally a husband was noticeably older than his wife, as the role of the husband was to provide stability and security for his wife: something much easier for men to provide as they get older and accrue resources, form ties, and develop in maturity.
Hecatean women cultivated their beauty by preserving and emphasizing signifiers of youth and fertility. Their role was to bear children and beautify life. This explained the age disparity given that the most fertile years in a woman’s life are her late teens and early twenties.
I listened intently as she reminisced with pathos at his passing, “Our intention was to walk the Immortal Path together, that we might jointly serve as battlefield physicians within the esteemed Sovereign Military Guild, whilst nurturing a spirit of universal love (兼愛) and devotion (信爱) for as long as Heaven allowed.”
Stolen story; please report.
This made some sense to me. After all, the Mohists of Earth were well renowned as experts in fortification and defensive warfare. Historically coming to the aid of smaller states when larger ones would threaten to absorb them. That was, before the fragmentation of Mohists into various factions lead to their ultimate extinction, something which did not occur on Hecate.
The bit that confused me was when she revealed her intention to walk the Immortal Path, which is a Daoist magician’s path.
I asked her, “You said you wanted to walk the Immortal Path? I thought you were a mohist?”
She reminded me, “The correlation betwixt religion and philosophy in the Blue Rose Empire differs from that within the Occident.”
Explaining, “You are indeed accurate in your assumption that I adhere to the teachings of Mohism (墨教). Although, it is worth noting that, as in Buddhism, there are distinct sects. I adhere to the Peripatetic school, an harmonious syncretism of Aristotelian philosophy and Mohist doctrine. Although, as a magician, my chosen path is that of Sen-lū‘ (仙道), or ‘xiāndào’ in the Mandarin tongue. I have chosen this path, for as an Immortal, I may be bestowed with greater means to service Heaven.”
I conceded, “Oh, I guess that makes sense.”
It was then that she made her purpose for inviting me clear, “Ms. Bunchûai, I humbly proffer a proposal of marriage.”
My brain couldn’t process this request. I thought she might be joking until I realized, by the look in her eyes, that she was being completely earnest.
I stammered, “Excuse me?”
Mālhlin explained, “I do not propose anything immediate. I merely beseech you to earnestly contemplate whether I possess the qualities befitting a suitable spouse and mother to your children. I shall patiently await your response.”
My face was quite flush by this point, and I asked her, “What brought this on?”
She made a simple request, “Allow me the opportunity to present the rationale behind my proposition.”
I deigned to listen, “Okay?”
She made her case point by point. “From what I understand, as a pilot of the USSDF, you shall forever be spared the deleterious effects of senescence. While ordinary men and women, not possessing a bond with a neodeus, shall succumb to the hands of time and age, you shall remain perennially unscathed.”
“As a practitioner of Sen-lū‘ (仙道), I too shall defy the clutches of senescence. Thus, I can accompany you through centuries or even millennia.
“Furthermore, I sought the aid of an ASSDF magician to modify my tattoos.”
She stood up, turned around and removed her shirt, exposing the tattoos of her toned back and said, “This, my dear, is an insurance policy bestowed upon all Kyanonesians born or raised within the protection of your GSSDO.”
She pointed to a specific element of that complex array and explained, “These novel tattoos ensure that if, perchance, I were to face a grievous wound that would otherwise claim my life, I shall instead enter a ‘sleep like death’, repelling any scavengers. Hence, even in the event of decapitation, I could be resuscitated by means of the remarkable medical superscience of the MSSDF.”
Without putting her shirt back on, apparently assuming because I had feminine secondary sexual characteristics I wouldn’t mind, she sat back down in her seat.
It was only then that I could see that she was wearing a necklace ornate with a jade stone carved into the shape of a coin, with a square hole in the center. I understood that this ornamentation was a spirit stone (靈石). A jewel which is enchanted to channel and store magical power in a manner like a remote battery.
Spirit stones were one of the many varieties of rdưn (塵), naturally enchanted crystals with elemental properties found in the geology of Hecate. The variety she possessed was called quintemāteria, the easiest form of rdưn to synthesize. It was associated with the quintessence which Hecateans believed was the source of their powers.
She moved on to her second point, “As we have discovered through the earthly adoption of Zleŋ’ and Her Majesty, should you accept my proposal, our children shall inherit both the gift of magic and ‘superpowers’ as their birthright.”
She was referring to Queen Rue and Zleŋ‘, both of whom arrived years prior to the rest of the Hecatean refugees. This taught us of the complementary natures of our power systems, as they both inherited Hecatean magic through their bloodline and individualized potēns by their adoption and being raised by earthly metahumans.
She continued, “In addition, as elucidated by the medical research you, yourself, authorized for release, your unique sexual nature can only be propagated through sexual union with a woman. And this distinctive nature of yours, akin to that of conventional humans and Hecateans, is indeed worthy of propagation. Which would present an expanded pool of potential eligible suitors for our offspring.”
She pointed out, “As a devotee of the Immortal Path, I remain subject to the very same biological clock as those hailing from Earth. By the age of thirty, my ovarian reserve shall dwindle to a mere twelve percent, diminishing further to a mere three percent by the time I reach forty.”
“As a Mohist, I firmly believe that larger families bestow great benefits upon society, aligning harmoniously with the will of Heaven. Therefore, it is my earnest desire to partake in matrimony prior to my twentieth year. Thereby utilizing my most fertile years to maximize the number of cherished children we may conceive.
“Children who shall aid us in the care of our ageing mortal parents while we steadfastly defend our cherished homeworlds.”
I grew up in a small family, only one of five, not because of any desire of my parents to have a smaller family, but because my father died in an accident when I was young. I always wanted a larger family like Hyechin, who was the youngest of ten siblings. My Mother, understandably, has not deigned to get remarried', but I do not doubt she would be ecstatic to one day have grandchildren. The more the merrier, in fact.
She pointed out, “Since we hail from divergent celestial spheres, our respective histocompatibility complexes are endowed with a complementary nature. Imparting our potential offspring with a heightened resilience against unforeseen pandemics. It seems you intuitively comprehend this, evident through your discernible fondness for my esteemed sisters.”
I felt a small sense of embarrassed panic with that observation, but she ended with, “Finally, considering your upbringing within the distinguished ranks of the GSSDO, it is reasonable to assume your preference for larger families...”
She flirtatiously reminded me, “and we mohists are prolific pronatalists.”
Mālhlin was quite pragmatic about her reasoning, concluding with, “My proposition is not out of a transient passion, but rather as a calculated stratagem to secure our mutual advantage. Permit me to express that I have observed you from afar, and with unwavering conviction, I believe that you shall emerge as an exceptional father. Likewise, I hold the utmost certainty that I, among all others, am the optimal choice to become your cherished wife.
I would be lying if I were to say that her argument wasn’t persuasive. She was a dazzling darling, an eloquent artisan, and a noblewoman whose fang-like canines and athletic form concealed a real danger that made her more attractive.
I asked her, “What’s your ultimate end in following the Immortal Path?”
Mālhlin revealed, “I seek the secrets of Immortal Cultivation for the glorification of Heaven. I intend to contribute to the noble work of Aquinas, Al-Ghazali, and Udayanācārya, not only in dismantling the nirīśvaravāda (निरीश्वरवाद) of the Hecate but also of Earth. In doing so, I hope all worlds will know Heaven’s universal love.”
Nirīśvaravāda was a Sanskrit word I had heard before, used by the Hindus within the GSSDO, to refer to the disbelief in the kind of Maximally Great Being or Actus Purus posited in Classical Theism and Theistic personalism, but not necessarily disbelief in lesser divinities like Jain devas and tīrthaṅkaras. It’s a word that not only encompassed atheists, such as Objectivists following in the traditions of Ayn Rand, but Buddhists such as me as well.
I asked her, “You are aware that I am a Buddhist, are you not?”
She gave a devious smile that I couldn’t help but find foxy, and challenged, “I am well aware of this fact, and I perceive no issue with it. After all, it is through the interplay of strength that we refine our own mettle. Steel sharpens steel, after all.”
Again, she leaned into that assertiveness that I found so fascinating about her. It was one of the many modes that displayed her paradoxical nature: small yet astoundingly strong, well-educated though naïve, reserved, albeit assertive, as well as a literal alien yet totally human.
There was an impulse for competition, as well as a confidence in her eyes. It’s not like I haven’t seen her use her magically augmented martial arts to perform utterly mind-blowing feats of athleticism, use her cultivated cunning to set up advanced plays in combinatorial strategy games, or eloquently demonstrate a point in a debate.
This made sense as she was a Shrādtēgsrids raised by a Bālrālmư̄n. Two of the elvish castes that were born out of over sixty thousand years strictly imposed intracaste endogamy. An ancient selective breeding program that transmuted mere castes into distinct lineages, with the Shrādtēgsrids caste’s directed evolution making them supremely suited for combat. Selecting for specific genes relating to muscle development, bone density, red blood cell production, lactic acid suppression, sociopathy, etc.
The Bālrālmư̄n, on the other hand, were the ruling caste. Bred to fulfill the priestly, academic, and mystical roles in their society.
I interrogated, “You observed that I will never physically change because of the way my biochemistry had to be modified to be compatible with piloting a Neodeus. Are you sure that, when you are twenty, that you will be okay with that?”
She assured me, “I am concerned with reality, not appearances. Essence takes primacy over accidents.”
Mālhlin explained, “The telos of matrimony is unmistakable: procreation and pair-bonding. You embody all the prerequisites of an ideal suitor: one can reasonably presume your fertility, your desire to have children of your own, and that you possess your rational faculties. And as a trained warrior, you have cultivated virtues such as loyalty and self-sacrifice, along with a lifestyle that ensures the provision for a family. If we enjoy the gift of marriage while we are young adults, we can form our personalities more fully with each other. Our characters shall intertwine and flourish harmoniously.”
I wasn’t completely dismissive of the idea. Rather, I had always been conscious of my heteromorphic powers and how they have twisted my body into something novel. I saw how it caused confusion among my peers. How people often saw it as freakish, being the cause of disgust or the subject of fascination, when all I wanted was someone to see me as simply me.
Who else could I have asked for such a thing? Hyechin came to mind. Considering we grew up together, she knew me as simply me since kindergarten, and we were generally inseparable. If Hyechin had asked me this, I would probably say “yes” simply because of how well we knew each other. But she never even thought to ask. Neither did I, now that I think about it.
And now Mālhlin was offering me this kind of love.
I sighed, “Yup. Very peripatetic indeed.”
She stood up, and I followed suit as she put her shirt back on. Then she walked over to me, grabbed my hand, placed the interspatial ring on my ring finger, and we were now in her room.
I looked around and observed that there was a minimalistic beauty in her living arrangement, with a mountain of annotated texts on her shelves. While I was still registering the change in location, she took advantage of the fact that my visor was up, stood on the balls of her feet, and kissed me on the right cheek, while gently removing the interspatial ring from my hand. Leaving me befuddled and flushed as I pulled away, touching my left hand to where she kissed me.
Mālhlin told me, “It is customary on Hecate for parents to arrange matrimony for their children, taking into account the welfare of their daughters. I hold firm conviction that I can present my case with utmost persuasiveness, and secure my father’s wholehearted acceptance of our union. I beseech you for the opportunity to meet your mother, to advocate my merits as an exemplary daughter-in-law.”
I asked her, “How are you going to do that?”
She told me, “Simple. I will tell her the truth, as I did with you.”
I told her, “I’m pretty sure she’s going to say I’m too young to get married.”
She explained, “Once more, I am patient. My father imparted upon me the wisdom of formulating plans spanning decades. All I request is that you hold my proposition in thoughtful contemplation.”
I asked her, “What if she doesn’t bless your proposal?”
She told me, “Luckily for me, this is merely a formality on Earth. The ultimate decision lies with you to either accept my proposal or reject it.”
After a moment of silence, I promised her, “I’ll think about it.”
She said, “That is the sum of my entreaty.”
She walked me to the front door, where two more of her sisters and one of her brothers briefly greeted me. I bid farewell to her lovely parents. After we exited the house and closed the door, she pulled a ring out of her pocket with her right hand and showed me it.
Promising, “This band shall bestow upon you an exclusive domain, or serve as a conduit to reunite with a cherished soul. Keep it, irrespective of your acceptance of my hand in marriage. You may find it to be a veritable lifesaver in times unforeseen.”
The noblewoman touched the edges of the ring with her index fingers, and expanded it into an open band she guided to close around my neck while explaining, “Worry not, for you may part with it at will, through the power of volition. My placement is solely intended to provide assurance that even in the event of an unfortunate loss of limb, this ring shall safeguard you. And should it ever stray from your possession, destiny shall guide its return.”
Mālhlin made a parting request as she grabbed my hands. “Do not be a stranger, my love. I have some Hecatean costumes that I would love to see adorn your neotenous beauty.”
My face flushed, and I told her, “Sure… Next time, perhaps?”
We parted ways. She went back into her home, and I walked back to my quarters. I couldn’t help feeling ambivalent about this situation: at once I was giddy at being kissed by such a beautiful young woman, though, at the same time, this was all too much too fast.
When I got home, I announced, “I’m home, mother!”
Mother greeted me from the couch watching a video streaming service, “Welcome home, Elden. Have you had anything to eat, sweetie?”
I politely informed her, “No. Not yet.”
Because of the nature of my uniform, I had no shoes to remove. So, I grabbed two plastic booties from the table next to the front door and placed them around my feet to not track dirt and dust into the home.
Mother, seeing my face, approached me and asked, “Why are you so flushed, Elden? And what is that around your neck?”
I deflected, removing my helmet, “No reason, mother.”
Mother probed, “Oh, no. I recognize that face. Is it a boy? Perhaps a girl?”
I respectfully declined, “Mother, I’ll tell you about it, but I’d like to ask for some time to think.”
Mother allowed me to leave to my room, reminding me, “Oh, well, just remember that I’ll always be here to talk, my litter soldier.”
Before entering my room, I reminded her, “Mom. We’re’n’t soldiers. We’re warriors.”
Mother, just let me have this one with, “Okay, baby.”
I locked the door, stripped down, put on something more comfortable: a silk skirt over shorts, and a t-shirt, then folded my uniform and placed it into a clothes bin. As Mālhlin promised, when I placed my hands on that red band, it released at the back and closed when removed from my neck. I tried to engage in mindfulness to clear my head, but the ringing of my cellphone thwarted that plan.
I reluctantly answered it when I recognized Hyechin’s K-pop ringtone.
“Hey, Hyechin.” I answered.
Hyechin immediately saw the lipstick marks on my cheeks and squealed with vicarious romantic delight, “I knew it! What happened? Tell me everything!”
I thought for a bit before I told her, “Mālhlin asked me to marry her…”
Hyechin paused for a moment before commenting, “That was fast…”
I leaned my back against the wall, my phone on my crossed legs. “Yeah, it was.”