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Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (158/?)
🕑 Added 2026-01-11 19:37:32 +0000 UTCEarth - Atlantic Ocean - Special Administrative Zone under requisition by the United Nations Science Advisory - Institute of Anomalous Studies (IAS) Pilot Research Facility Codename: ATLANTIS II. R&D Wing. Local Time: 2345 Hours.
Dr. Ivo Mekis (Head of the Applied Exoreality Studies Department)
Four thousand meters of water might as well have been forty thousand meters of vacuum for how isolated the depths can be.
Not since my brief stint on Titan had I observed this sort of solitude, this type of isolation, this distance between myself and the beating — or at times fibrillitic — heart of civilization.
And this was just the way I preferred it.
Yet peace did not come from distance and isolation alone.
The calm of true silence only dawned after dusk had settled, especially in the midst of what would otherwise be the most active and bustling section of this facility.
Desks upon desks, interspersed between workstations and workbenches, lay dormant beneath my alcove of an office. What would otherwise be the vibrant symphony of clacking keyboards and buzzing haptics setting the stage for the occasional clink and clank of bleeding-edge tinkering currently lay silent beneath perpetually twilight rays.
Indeed, the dimmed lights of this hour provided for a tasteful ambiance when set against the windows into the brightly lit depths of the ocean floor, visible not only through the occasional porthole but through the innumerable cameras that provided a seamless transition between the opaque metal walls and the views just beyond them.
I kept this AR view open, just in case of another chance encounter — a titanic clash — between whale and squid.
This was what perhaps made this tenure more colorful than Titan’s.
Because even this far down, Earth’s inexplicable gift for harboring life did not relent. If anything, it demonstrated that gift in far more extremes.
This momentary foray into reflection soon gave way into the rhythms of work, as I scanned through line after line of pertinent data that—
FWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I swiveled my chair around, my eyes widening not out of surprise but out of a subtle satisfaction of this age-old ritual.
With a slide towards the back of my office, I reached for the screaming kettle, pouring its boiling contents into the teapot’s built-in infuser.
I savored this moment, the calm, the break from—
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
My eyes flicked up.
Charts, graphs, and all manner of visual overlays displaying ambient exoreality radiation signatures took the place of everything else on my workspace, as monitoring systems and cross-sectional subsystems peppered my field of view.
The ECS was active.
…
But not in the way we’d ever observed.
The spike in readings was neither discrete nor transient.
If anything, it expanded exponentially, warning after warning coming into play in a way that far surpassed what the ECS was designed to—
BWWWOOOOP! BWOOOOOOPP! BWOOOOOPPPP!
“PRIORITY ALERT! UNSCHEDULED EXOREALITY ENTANGLEMENT ACTIVATION! SOURCE: ECS HOLDING CHAMBER!”
=====
Sol - Trans-Neptunian Military Exclusion Zone - LREF Ranger Station Epsilon - Ring 1 - Deck 1 - Command and Administration Center - Flag Officer’s Private Office. Local Time: 1145 Hours
12 Hours Prior to the UEEA Incident
Captain Calico Li
Docking with the behemoth… was never once an underwhelming affair.
This effect was doubled, tripled, and perhaps even quadrupled the longer one spent away from this rotating bulwark of composalite and plasteel.
Because unlike most ‘megastructures’, measured in double-digit kilometers, but ultimately built as a ‘shell’ for what dwelled within — O’Neill cylinders, Stanford Torus’, and the like — Ranger Station Epsilon wasn’t built to house communities nor to simulate the P-MASL comforts.
It wasn’t built to look ‘inwards’.
Instead, it was built in typical true spacer fashion: to look out at the stars themselves.
What would have normally been a hollow interior pumped full of breathable gases, layered in dirt, and peppered with an ecosystem resembling a slice of pristine Earth was instead devoted to a single defined purpose — command and control.
No square meter of space was wasted, no volume was reserved for life-giving gases or aesthetic consideration. In lieu of it, was an environment as hostile as the space that surrounded it, an unapologetic glut of computing that filled the stations’ confines from surface to surface; along with the infrastructure necessary to keep this beast alive.
At its heart, were stellarators that pulsed with energy, each doughnut wrapped around a central axis that formed the ‘spine’ of the station.
Surrounding it, and snaking into each and every nook, cranny, and crevice, were the fluid coolants; impossibly long tracts of piping that permeated everything. From the reactors themselves, to the kilometers worth of computing hardware, the heat generated from their mere operation was effortlessly wicked away. Ensuring that these machines, by their own existence, didn’t melt into slag from the mere act of thinking.
This culminated in one of the most visually striking features of the station, an unexpected aesthetic expression that gave it its endearing nickname — the Orchid of Neptune — its five-layered radiators.
Each ‘petal’ was an engineering feat unto itself, reaching so deep into space that it dwarfed the cylinder which it was attached to. And owing to its function, eschewing any sense of stealth for sheer heat-dissipating efficiency, each ‘petal’ glowed. Creating what was in effect a radiant display of light that many likened it to a glowing orchid, pulsing intermittently in between cycles of heat dissipation all along its various ‘layers’, completing a phenomenon no engineer had ever intended, but all quietly admired; an ‘living’ spectacle born entirely of thermal necessity
It was, in essence, a living breathing titan of technology.
And we were just living on its surface — a fact one could almost forget in the eclectic spaces of those that called it home.
The Admiral’s office was one such space — an expansive open-plan room with more wooden slats than exposed metal walls, more plants than mandatory emergency O2 packs, and more splashes of vibrant colors, instances of boxy monitors, and paintings of rocket ‘ships’ than what most could ever imagine; all hearkening back to an aesthetic era of space exploration that never was.
It felt as if I’d just been teleported into a Venusian apartment.
Though, frankly, the Venusian ‘Jetsonian’ aesthetic was a breath of fresh air from what ‘hardcore’ spacers often touted as the height of style.
This culture of Venusian vibrancy translated all too well to its sole occupant — down to the rebreather facemask and its associated adornments hanging by the belt of her uniform — as the Admiral was quick to approach me the moment I entered through those unnecessarily ‘wooshing’ doors.
“Ah! Captain.” She announced chipperly, approaching me with a skip in her step, as I couldn’t help but to match that enthusiasm with a wholehearted salute of my own. “I trust you’re breathing well?”
“Admiral Shelby.” I responded warmly, remaining where I was until she reached for a reciprocal salute. “Indeed I am.”
“Good to hear!” She beamed, before craning her head out to the panoramic viewscreens, zooming onto my ship with an appreciative nod. “From the abyss that is his domain to the planet that bears his name, your current commute never ceases to be as poetic as it is amusing, Captain.” Shelby spoke in earnest, gesturing for me to follow, as we both came to a stop at the very center of the room.
There, we both intuitively reached our usual stations around the massive holoprojector — one of the few places in the room to have been spared the Admiral’s stylistic makeovers.
It was here that the ambient blue hue of the grid-like space in front of us erupted into a flurry of shapes, transposing live and past feeds alike into a 3-dimensional projection of local space. Or more specifically, the immediate ‘sphere’ of control that constituted de-facto GUN territory.
The lights in the room dimmed in reaction to this, giving way to what felt like a near-virtual experience that dragged both of us into a physical manifestation of humanity’s domain.
We both stood at opposite ends of this 250 light year bubble, as star after star and sector after sector was shaded in until practically the entirety of the space had been filled with teal.
However, that was just the start of it. Because from there, a further 100 light year sphere was drawn out. Though, as was the case with the first bubble, this too was colored in teal until no gap nor empty space was left.
This finally prompted the both of us to make eye contact, with both of our features coming to land on the same languid disappointment we always ended up wearing in every single one of these meetings.
“Operation Black Lantern II is a bust.” Shelby spoke under a tired breath, moving her hands swiftly across the projector to bring up patrol routes, expedition trails, and the veritable fleet of ships that had since become an integral part of this reality-defining mission. “Interplanetary space, and even what was supposed to be high-interest hotspots, turned up nothing. And before you ask, yes, we’ve already done a complete sweep of interstellar space within the buffer.” She quickly highlighted the vast swaths of empty space between each star system, before using her other hand to quite literally ‘grasp’ the near hundred-strong patrol group as each ship came to fit snugly atop of her open palm.
At about the same time, I began flipping through the various visualization overlays, cutting out everything on the electromagnetic spectrum until we were left with nothing but Quintessence readings set against plain astronomical features.
Not a single statistically significant spike existed, nothing beyond background noise and the ever-present hum of the CMB, nothing… aside from a lone red spike in Sol; or more specifically on Earth.
“So have your civilian counterparts cracked the code yet?” The Admiral promptly questioned as she twiddled heavy cruisers between her fingers.
“Only in so far as practical application and its anomalous properties are concerned, yes.” I answered plainly.
“So more of the same, but none of the how or the why, huh?”
“Correct, Admiral.”
“Should’ve expected as much.” She sighed out in tepid disappointment. “Listen, I get that it comes with the territory of working with a sample size of one. I empathize with the scientific process, hell, I know anyone in the LREF would. But the more space we cover, and the rarer Quintessence seems to be… the more I find myself wanting answers sooner rather than later.”
“You and I both, Admiral.”
Both our eyes now landed on Earth, the Admiral’s features soon shifting to one of indignant frustration. “I’m expanding the search radius by another 100 light years, and I don’t intend on stopping until we’ve found another viable source. We need Atlantis II dismantled and taken off-world yesterday.”
“Dr. Weir’s ready and willing to pull the trigger on that offer the second we confirm said viable source, Admiral.” I concurred, prompting a dark huff from Shelby.
“Of course she would. It’d be an easy exit-strategy for her and that shortsighted charter of hers.” The Admiral commented with just a hint of animosity, causing me to quickly search for a pressure release valve.
“Well, look on the bright side, Admiral. At least we didn’t find any Quintessence sources within the 250-proper.” I offered with a sly smile of encouragement.
The admiral, quickly catching onto the joke, acknowledged that jab with a dry chuckle of her own.
“That is a rather fortunate boon, yes.” She nodded. “With how much grief the Exo-Atmospheric Forces have caused us during the liaising of Dark Lantern, I can’t imagine liaising with them for the entirety of the IAS’ existence. Though I can imagine it’d probably be easier than the Army.”
That comment prompted the both of us to share in a collective sigh of frustration, as we both turned back to the Quintessence-rich earth.
“Why’d it have to be there of all places?” She continued. “Security risks aside, having the IAS chartered as an Earth-bound institute has caused headaches for all of us; all the way up to SECDEF and SCI-AD themselves.”
“To be fair, on both points, Admiral — the former issue has been addressed with enough Atypical Exoreality Radiation Resistant materials that complies with existing normative limits. As for the latter, well… despite us not formally being institutionally entrenched to take on the IAS’ sec-ops, we still have enough legal channels of bilateral cooperation to effectively act as such. Cadet Booker’s deployment proves as much, no?”
“Cadet Booker simply proves that the bureaucrats haven’t fully succumbed to protocol-complacency.” The admiral shrugged. “The fact of the matter is, the administrative effort required to maintain this whole mess of a bilateral relation isn’t sustainable. We need the Army out of the IAS charter… because the whole reason they’re even in it in the first place is absolutely inane.”
“Comes with the territory of doing anything on Earth. Holdover clauses from the Planetary Unification Charter and all that.” I shrugged.
“This could all be changed, or at least given special exemption, if the case was pushed to the Assemblies.”
“It would.” I nodded. “But the statutes of confidentiality—”
“Will expire soon. And the moment it does, and the moment this thing goes public, is the moment we can finally start getting some much needed meaningful reforms on the charter done. Which leads me to my next point… has the Cadet reported back yet?”
“Not yet.” I responded calmly. “She’s not due for about another week.”
“Then I hope for all our sakes that she touches base soon. The Army’s the third-to-last branch I’d trust with an extract mission, especially a fully automated one.”
The latter reminder sent a chill down my spine, my left arm reaching to grip the hard metal of my right.
“I’ve seen the contingency protocol, the reports on limiting that extraction squad to ensure emergent intelligences don’t spawn during the mission. But I think I’m not alone in saying that no amount of limiters can prevent another Charon incident.” The admiral paused, before moving to place both hands down on the projector controls in front of us. “My apologies for bringing up a particularly raw topic, Cal.”
“I appreciate the sentiments, Admiral.” I nodded. “But it’s a necessary point to bring up.”
“You have made your objections to this clear, right?”
“Oh, I have. But frankly — and this is a rare instance of me agreeing with the man — the General’s right. With our current stockpile… or lack thereof, we simply lack the chemical catalysts for the production of more E-ARRS’ armorsets. Fully Autonomous Modular Combat Platforms are the only thing we can viably send over, as a result.”
The Admiral went silent, her eyes now shifting back to the freshly designated 100 light year bubble beyond the buffer. “Let’s just hope that the next viable source of Quintessence has a larger deposit and rate of replenishment for Q-Type catalysts, then.”
However, before the air of the room could get any more dour, I quickly dropped another, far more optimistic slant on the otherwise pressing circumstances.
“The universe never looks kind from the inside of a cockpit. It only makes sense once you’re far enough away to see the entire arc.” I began poignantly, prompting the Admiral’s brows to quirk upwards.
“Jackie Setanta.” She acknowledged, before gesturing for me to continue.
“It’s in our nature to be wary, Admiral. The more unprecedented the circumstances, the worse it gets for us compared to any other branch. It’s our duty to watch the horizon — to look past the hill and over the fence for threats. But we can’t afford to ignore the whole journey either. We’re standing on a genuine paradigm shift. Yes, it'll demand a painful rethink of grand strategy and every security assumption we've ever held. But it also means that now, after countless generations of wondering, wandering, and searching for answers, that we’re finally going to see the end of that question. Not just on alien life, but civilization, and culture. Of minds that looked back at the universe and wondered, just like we did.”
The admiral paused. This time however, the trajectory wasn’t towards that inevitable look of tired frustration, but instead, an amused sort of smile that more suited her.
“You truly are a Scouting and Recon Element (SRE) posterboy, Cal.”
“You flatter me, admiral.” I responded sheepishly. “Especially considering I haven’t even signed up for an Outbound Flight yet.”
“The spirit of an SRE officer isn’t just measured in distances traveled. It’s also in the lengths to which sacrifice for the creed is shown. Charon Innovations proved that. Don’t ever forget, Cal.”
“It’ll be difficult not to, Admiral.” I responded with another sheepish smile.
=====
Dragon’s Lair. Central Cavern ‘Foyer.’ Local Time: 2340 Hours.
Kaelthyr
Pulse.
I reached into the dark.
Pulse.
I held my neck into the void.
Pulse.
I extended my soul, my being, my senses and my self into the depths of nothingness.
Pulse.
And I felt nothing.
…
There was no dark, only the absence of all including light.
There was no direction, no position, nothing… save for a guiding lure.
I grabbed onto that lure, pulling, tugging, reaching and grasping desperately towards—
…
Pain.
I was shattered, shackled, siphoned and held taut.
My existence was halved.
And I recalled exactly why this was the case.
Eschewing the discomfort, ignoring the pain, and setting aside pride and honor, I reached into this shattered crystal. And from that anchor, held taut by will and linked firmly through resolve, I called forth resonance.
A familiar voice entered the chorus of my symphony.
Broken. Shattered. Mishapen, and malformed… but ultimately my own.
I embraced it, beckoning its eyes and ears.
At which point, did I finally glimpse into the interloper's world… if one could even call it as such.
I was met with a static world, a pristine world, a space far too perfect for anything living. A space defined by impeccable geometry, inlaid with glossy whites and stark chrome.
It was as pristine as it was cold, artificial, and entirely dead; devoid of the natural, the magical, or even the sensical.
Then, in a matter of seconds after my resonance, the world itself reacted.
Stark whites were replaced with flashing reds, panels awoke at my presence, as surfaces alive with crawling symbols spat bellowings of an unknown language all across this holding cell.
Following which, after satisfying my curiosities, did I focus on increasing the definitive range of my symphony’s resonance.
It required effort, and an impossible concentration.
But after a moment of reflection, I called forth that accessory sense.
…
My world shattered following that call.
What had been silent, pristine, and impossibly unassuming… was immediately contrasted by the presence of an impossible cacophony of voices. They crackled, mumbled, screamed and sang all at once, every thread an impossible string of incoherent gibberish, all speaking without thinking, all calling out in cries that could only be described as the voices of infernium itself.
Yet in this insanity, a single cry went through from where I sat: the matriarch’s cry.
I sat there, attempting to blot out, ignore, and shut out everything else… while allowing the matriarch a chance to commune with her fellow voidborn.
=====
Earth - Atlantic Ocean - Special Administrative Zone under requisition by the United Nations Science Advisory - Institute of Anomalous Studies (IAS) Pilot Research Facility Codename: ATLANTIS II. Administration Wing. Local Time: 2335 Hours.
5 Minutes Prior to the UEEA Incident
Dr. Laura Weir
“You aren’t nervous?” I questioned pointedly, raising a brow between two clasped hands from behind my desk.
“Not particularly, no. It’s in keeping with LREF tradition to report at the 11th hour.” The Captain responded with a sly grin. “Besides, I have faith in the Cadet. We gave her a generous time window for a reason, after all. I’m sure there’s either some technical difficulties, or just circumstances preventing her from dropping us a line just yet. Reality is rarely conducive to the calculated ‘ideals’ after all.” Li shrugged. “If there’s anything I’m nervous about, it’s your memo.” He continued, immediately branching into the interrogatives of organizational politics. “You can’t be serious, right?”
“Oh I very much am, Captain.” I smiled back politely.
“Laura, you’re dealing with the Science Advisory here. You can’t just do an organizational rugpull. It’s one thing to amend the IAS’ charter, it’s another to just… wipe and replace it in a single penstroke.”
“It’d solve the growing interservice friction.” I countered. “There’d be no air gap. The organization and apparatuses of the IAS, including the charter, would simply be sunset and replaced in situ.”
“A friction that only exists because we’re on Earth.” He shot back. “Listen, I just think it’s much more realistic if you go down a more conventional route. Allow the confidentiality statutes to expire, then call for the establishment of a special assembly committee to push through an exemption clause for the LREF to replace the Army as sec-ops. It’s a simple open and shut case. We’re on Earth sure, but the operational parameters are anything but. The only reason why the Army’s even entrenched in your charter is due to the PUC being so airtight about sec-ops on Earth. The Assembly will see that, and they will allow a simple amendment.”
“You’re saying this as we’re on the eve of the General sending through fully autonomous—”
“I’m ready to file a motion against that.” The Captain concluded. “This can either be resolved martially through the Unified Central Command, civilly through SECDEF, or legislatively through the Assemblies. With the statutes still in effect that leaves the latter off the table. So until then, I’m ready to pull the trigger on this for your sake, Laura. That’s the direction we should be headed… with all due respect, of course.”
I let out a long and tired sigh, reaching for my forehead, before resting it between both my hands.
“And here I thought I wasn’t dealing with your sister.” I responded with a slight jab and a chuckle.
“You know what they say, Laura — you can take a Li out of politics, but politics never quite leaves a Li.” The Captain responded with a cocky grin, before shifting towards a few more documents on the table.
“Anyways, the Admiral’s given the green light for Dark Lantern III.”
“But?” I preempted.
“You know our situation too well…” The Captain sighed. “Getting another Long Patrol involved is going to test the patience of the Expeditionary and Response Element (ERE), which means we’re going to need a green light from the UCC and SECDEF, not the Science Advisory. So we’ll have to—”
BWWWOOOOP! BWOOOOOOPP! BWOOOOOPPPP!
“PRIORITY ALERT! UNSCHEDULED EXOREALITY ENTANGLEMENT ACTIVATION! SOURCE: ECS HOLDING CHAMBER!”
=====
Earth - Atlantic Ocean - Special Administrative Zone under requisition by the United Nations Science Advisory - Institute of Anomalous Studies (IAS) Pilot Research Facility Codename: ATLANTIS II. ECS Holding Facility. Local Time: 2350 Hours.
Captain Calico Li
All hands were on deck.
The small and otherwise unremarkable room that housed the controls, monitoring equipment, and sensitive overlays for the ECS was now a veritable smoshpit of scientists and engineers — all led by the science boss himself as a flurry of virtual activity buzzed across a hundred instances of the Holding Facility’s intranet.
“Dr. Mekis, report.” Came Weir’s first directive, as the scientist began listing through anomaly after anomaly, until suddenly—
RING! RING! RING!
—all of our terminals began ringing.
What I saw… defied both reason and protocol, as I felt both my gut twisting at the sight of the caller ID.
With a quick cock of my head to the systems administrator, and a shake of Dr. Mekis’ head, I answered the call.
At which point… a familiar face — in that titular helmet-cam view — came to dominate all of the Command Staff’s commlines.
Nobody spoke a word.
At least, none amongst the command staff.
Instead, the flurry of activity only intensified amidst the scientists and tech specialists as they ran like headless chickens between each and every terminal present in the room.
Emma too… was speechless.
But a quick nod between the both of us jogged us back into action.
“Mission control…” She began, her voice practically breaking. “Request authentication and IDENT challenge from LREF mission commander.”
“That shouldn’t be possible…” Murmurs erupted from the background, voices which were promptly silenced by a shush from the security personnel.
I cleared my throat, swallowing my disbelief, before continuing. “Inbound signal under Cadet Emma Booker’s credentials claims IDENT: Pilot II Actual. Initiate Unscheduled Comms IDENT Protocols.”
A pause soon fell across the entire room, as all eyes now fell on me. “Pilot II, complete phrase set: ANDROMEDA FIVE.” I breathed in, starting the set. “When the maps disagree—”
The Cadet’s eyes quivered, but she responded just as promptly. “—follow the stars.”
The silence continued, as I rattled on unimpeded.
“State your last authenticated request.”
“New rotor for the training flight pack. Damage during the last training session totaled the left rotorblade.”
I didn’t nod, nor give any signs of acknowledgement, only proceeding with the verification.
“Confirm contingency fallbacks.”
This prompted the Cadet’s voice to harden instantly.
“Negative. Fallbacks are off the table unless compromised. Escalate properly.”
That was it.
That was the tell.
I exhaled, letting out a sigh of relief in the process. “Pilot II Actual IDENT confirmed. It’s good to hear your voice, Cadet Booker.”
The Cadet smiled widely in response, her breaths heavy, before she just as abruptly broke out into a half-cry half-laugh.
“Took you long enough.” I interjected teasingly, attempting to bring the Cadet back to her senses as she simply nodded and took a moment to breathe.
“Captain… Director… I… this is imperative.” She began warily. “Mana radiation over-pressure is going to flood the portal room, on a scale far, far more intense than what you’ve ever recorded. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt to open portals any larger than what we’ve done so far. Do not open portals for transit, save for instances where the portal techs on this end are actively aiding you.”
“And precisely why—”
“Permission to upload sensor data and mission reports?” She urged, cutting Mekis off.
“Permission granted.” Weir chimed in, nodding at the various IT staff to begin offloading the glut of data about to be sent over.
“Dr. Weir?”
“Yes, Emma?”
“The polity known as the Nexus is to be considered hostile.” She urged, her eyes rife with a wariness that shot deep into my own. “I say again: the Nexus is hostile. It is an existential threat to the existence of our culture, our civilization, and our very being. Our very existence as living beings stands in defiance to their state-enforced dogma. There’s… a full report on this in the files. But I have—” She breathed in deeply, before being cut off by Mekis.
“Emma.” The scientist began. “Before you continue, I need you to tell me exactly how you’re doing this. How did you trigger and sustain an active Exoreality Entanglement episode?”
The Cadet paused, before opening up another camera feed, panning to her left to reveal…
“Is that a fucking dragon?!”
Comments
Thisisanick
This is kind of Magic
Thisisanick
They did, thus Earth side had it easier with incoming mana backpressure.
M223
I may have missed this, but why doesn’t humanity know the level of background mana in the Nexus? I know the professors lowered local mana levels when Emma entered but did they do the same thing for the first human (before Emma) too?
architectural engineer
great chapter tho i just had a thought. how exactly did the dragon reconnect with the other half? did the dragon simply use a different scale to connect to the first scale or did they use parts of the destroyed scale to connect to the other one
Andrew
What I gathered from the earlier segment is that there aren't any other known quintessence sources outside of Earth. At least not for a few hundred light years. My guess was that the ability to generate or power portals came from that source.
Aaron
After rereading this couldn't the GUN open a portal in an extremely remote location and allow mana to flood into their universe. Draining it from the nexus? Dependent on how they do it they could use it to artificially enhance materials.
M
Fantastic build-up! Made made me really emotional, I love it^^
