Airo examined his surroundings with studious will.
He and his unofficial team had roamed for days. They kept a steady course, yet even so he knew distances meant little on a paraworld. He tracked the landscape carefully, wary of another spatial maze like that mountain range. So far, there had been no hints of repeating patterns. Yet there had been endless miles of snow, ice, and rocks. No signs of life, sapient or otherwise, and, of course, no trace of Ferrtau's whereabouts. Only the energy pillar towered on the horizon, coming no closer despite their constant travel in its direction.
"Have any of you been able to access the Transnet?" Airo had asked on the second day, scanning all channels and frequencies for the hundredth time.
"The Transnet?! What the fuck?" Kiana blurted, and glanced at him sideways from the pilot's seat. "Are you from the Ground Age or something? The Transhuman Order hasn't existed for centuries."
"It's called the Viirt now, Boss," Zuckeroff said.
"Viirt?" Airo asked.
"Virtual Integrated Interplanar Reality Transference," Kiana recited. "Viirt for short. Has three generic levels – mesh, network, grid. Local connection, big-ass infrastructure, or whole-system scope – you pair the terms accordingly. Real basic stuff.
"And to spare you the grand effort of asking again – nope, we haven't found any active nodes. I would've noticed instantly otherwise. And that's mighty strange, because even with this war and all between the Consortium and the Union there still should be comsats out in orbit which respond to military tightbeams. I think something planetside is fucking things up."
"I see," Airo said, making a mental note to learn more about 'this war' later. "Did your starship get shot down in combat?" he asked to keep the conversation – and information – flowing.
"It was hardly a fair battle," Zuckeroff said. "Our main cruiser was en route to a rendezvous point, when we got jumped by an entire task force!"
"Yeah, those hutters caught us with a glitch in the smartclos," Kiana added. "We... we were told to reinforce a Consortium strike fleet here in the system. When we... got to the coordinates, there were none of ours, but plenty of the Union. They pummeled us in seconds. The captain sounded the evacuation order. Me and Zuckeroff grabbed the auxiliary patrol cutter, but the hutters lanced us badly during the escape. We made a controlled crash down the gravity well. After that... we put out a distress signal, and hoped our people would find us. That's the story." She shrugged. "Instead, out of nowhere a Consortium Paladin appears, demand us to pledge undying loyalty or face halting state, and then drags us into the great unknown which is this fucking frozen rock of a planet. So here's a counter question: where are we going, and why the fuck are we traveling toward that big-ass, blinding-bright, obviously-dangerous pillar of light on the horizon?"
"For lack of better navigation," Airo replied.
"You have no idea where you're going, do you, Commander?"
"I have not," Airo nodded. "Yet I know what I am looking for."
There was a heavy pause. He knew Kiana wasn't buying his story; neither was he believing hers. It was a matter of who held the bigger secret. Airo thought he was winning easily on that front.
"What is a 'war'?" Veralla asked in the abrupt silence. Kiana and Zuckeroff shifted their attention to the dragonet, while Airo resumed his patient observation of the landscape.
At nighttime, while the party camped around the ATV, Airo practiced his fighting routines, working moves and techniques back into his muscles after seven centuries of disuse. He trained both barehanded and with the katana, remembering a host of elaborate strikes, parries, positions, and other maneuvers he had self-learned in his youth and then refined to perfection in the Starspire Academy. The power armor, despite its advanced design, hindered some of his more elaborate movements. After this activity, Airo sat down and conversed with the others, forcing himself to get to know the people who accompanied him better.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Zuckeroff was a boisterous man, who was able enough and followed orders dutifully, yet was glaringly inattentive at times. He also had a propensity for slacking and spouting shallow, rarely inventive humor. He was far from what Airo would consider soldier material, let alone an astrior or a spec ops. The fact he was an officer, too, was incomprehensible.
"Boss, do you know how many posthumans are required to change a fusion core?"
"Shut up, Zuckeroff."
"Oh, I know the answer to that one," Kiana grinned. "None! They have transcended the need for such technology!"
"Yeah, right! Ha-ha!"
"What is a 'fusion core'?" Veralla asked, eager to join in on the joke.
Kiana insisted to be addressed by her first name from the onset, though it wasn't an invitation to familiarity – far from it. She was outspoken and insolent, showing a total lack of respect toward Airo on top of her suspicion to his claims. Airo was often vexed from her attitude; yet unlike Zuckeroff, he realized Kiana had skills which compensated for her poor discipline. She was an incredible pilot, guiding the ATV effortlessly as if she was born with the controls in her hands. After the first day of travel, she also noticed his power armor was broken, and this was how Airo learned about her real talents.
"Yo, why are you walking around with this trash-quality hood like some sort of pre-Restoration nomad?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes. "Wait... is your fancy suit busted?"
"...Yes," Airo admitted.
"Damn, I thought Orion-class PPGs were fucking indestructible. Let's see what's the issue." Kiana closed her eyes, and extended her arm, hand open, toward Airo. She stayed focused for half a minute. "Huh, no energy flow whatsoever... main nanolanes seem fine... a few mil-amps should do the trick..." She lifted her other arm, and touched Airo's shoulder. Suddenly, the power armor became more flexible, and the auxiliary display sprang to life with a booting sequence. "There! Fixed now. The MEM-cell had shut down for some reason. No need to thank me, Commander."
Airo blinked in surprise. "How... how did you do this? Implants?"
Kiana crossed her arms. "I have those too. They help quite a bit, but that's not how the magic happens. You seem quite behind the times, Commander."
What do you mean by 'magic'? Airo thought in amazement. Instead he asked, "Then how?"
"I'm a Conduit," she said casually, though her voice was full of barely-restrained pride. "Technotics is my specialty. How else would I maintain my title of AVR Cyber-Security Overlord?"
"A Conduit," Airo repeated, trying to prompt her for clarification without posing it as a question.
"Duh," she said. "The Æther Age isn't called so only because it sounds fancy, or because technology got weirder. It's because of those who have access to the Æther, aka Conduits." Kiana walked away, leaving Airo to puzzle out her answer.
In that moment the power armor went fully online, and an annoying voice came from the collar speakers. "Yeoman Cloud, reporting for duty, Commander!"
Airo enabled the suit's helmet in order to have privacy. And warmth. "SAI," he said in a low voice, deconstructing the now-useless jury-rigged hood, "give me more information on the Æther Age."
Yeoman Cloud responded at once."The Æther Age is called after the ultra-region-slash-substance known as <Æther>,
The SAI also presented a few details on the nature of Conduits. Mystically inclined societies called them aethereals. Their potential and abilities varied greatly, depending on how they came into their power and how they were trained afterward. To become a Conduit, one first had to experience a profound metaphysical epiphany called Awakening. After that, the only limits – at least theoretically – were one's understanding and willpower. Myriad methods and paradigms for cultivating Conduits had been developed over the centuries, from using hyperadvanced aethertech implants to emulating Ancient magical systems from the Codex to spending decades in occult temples practicing esoteric disciplines.
Airo pondered upon the extraordinary information he received. It made him think of the fabled Magisters of his homeworld, who supposedly had ruled the land before the arrival of the Transhuman Order. Perhaps somebody had discovered the secrets of the Great Equalizing, and had made magic once more possible in this dark galaxy. He slept differently that night, his thoughts for once not focused on hate, grief, or revenge.