Space Angels: find the Gift (complete)

ЄD0Ɲ: Ŧhe CiŦy ~ Chapter Thirty

Cherubim Landing Zone: Ŧhe CiŦy

30 - mayhem at moonrise ~ PART THREE

Jango scanned the empty road open-mouthed.

"Hmm, that is strange," said his Lǽran.

"Strange! Narrator they've all gone - Edons can't do this. What's going on?"

"It's true. Edons don't have the higher consciousness to perform such trickery. I've checked the chronica globe updates for a reference, but found nothing. Have I your permission to check my archives?"

All Lǽrans had memories gathered from different missions, a secret wealth of data they could only retrieve if it related to their current assignment and only on a cadre leader's order. These were powerful tools, Jango knew. He didn't hesitate.

"Do it," he snapped.

The street was strangely quiet now, apart from the occasional chariot.

"Try changing your Multi-Sight settings, Jango. I hope I'm wrong, but the dimensional filter may reveal an answer..."

Jango flicked through his Scintilla frequencies: ultra, quantum, red shift, blue shift and one he'd never used – dimensional, which he selected. He felt a sudden heat on his face. Ahead, a curved wall of roaring flame, several cubits high, spread across the road. Chariots passed through it oblivious, their shiny bodies did not catch fire, their black wheels did not melt and no harm came to the Edons within. It was as if the inferno wasn't there – but it clearly was.

"What am I looking at, narrator?"

It is only one level down as a dimension but it is enough to fulfil its purpose. You are viewing an O-zone – short for Obfuscator Zone. A temporary sphere of space-time often used to correct anomalies without interfering with the universe's fabric. Thrones can conjure them up, but this one does not carry a Throne's signature. It was created using a contraption."

Jango had never heard of an O-zone. He had to admit to himself that the Edons were more advanced than he'd believed. Deon had produced this realm with the device he'd thrown onto the floor.

"I'd like to know where he got it from," he said.

"Me too," Jango's narrator agreed. "Still, a device must occupy a position in space itself to project the O-zone. There must be a hole somewhere on its outer wall. It may be a way in. I suggest you send your Scintillas to look for it."

Jango didn't need asking twice, in seconds all three of his Scintillas were searching the O-zone, starting at the top. Their panoramic view revealed the enormity of the flaming dimension, shaped like a sphere laying on its side, the height and size of a small stadium. His Scintillas swept across its canopy, racing in close formation, checking every micron methodically. It seemed to take an age.

"There it is!" Jango's narrator said, "Scintilla 2, back two thousand microns."

A small slit of coloured air, appeared briefly in the flames then vanished. Seconds later when Scintillas 1 and 3 arrived, Jango noticed something else beneath the flickering tongues of fire, dancing in the wind like blue jagged blades. His Scintillas pulled back, revealing a hole the size of his head. He sent Scintilla 2 through the jagged window.

He was now staring at a plain of dry yellow grass tinged with a red glow, stretching for almost half a league. A few spindly trees, gnarled and without leaves, cast no shadows on the landscape. There was a low grey fog, maybe only a cubit high, wafting around a knoll up ahead. Jango sent Scintilla 2 towards it. A sound echoed, like a tapping. Then he saw it: an arm in black silhouette rising from the fog, holding something long and sharp. It fell again. A dark figure emerged from the mist. It grabbed the arm and pulled it back. Its head lifted and let out an anguished scream. The Scintilla translated the words.