Test planet

The Test Planet The sunless sky of Numinous was bright and clear. The firefly lights had dimmed to their daytime registers, drifting in their patient patterns. The cobblestones held their warmth. Arthur sat at his usual table in front of Franco's. He looked as if he were living under a personal storm cloud. A cup of black coffee occupied the table before him. A bag of ice pressed against his forehead. Across from him, Iona sat upright, eyes clear, energetic. Ethan arrived. Iona's eyes found him. "Ethan! Finally!" He was on his feet. "Want to test your armor and weapons? Real targets. Let's go to the Test Planet today—you, me, and Arthur. What do you say?" Panic moved through Ethan. He had told himself missions were distant. Months away, not days. He looked at Arthur. Arthur answered without opening his eyes. "Yes. Real monsters live there. Only predators. You can kill without feeling guilty." Ethan's curiosity and fear arrived simultaneously. "Only predators? That's impossible. An ecosystem needs prey." Arthur peeled one eye open. "We currently have one hundred and thirty-four planets under our jurisdiction. We can access any of them instantly. But this one is... special." He lifted the cup. He drank. The grimace that crossed his face was involuntary. "The apex predator there isn't an animal. It's a virus. It attacks the amygdala, driving biological creatures into permanent hyper-aggression. The infected have one imperative—to spread through violence." Iona's grin arrived gradually. "That's why only the biggest and strongest survive. They fight for days. Sometimes they stop just long enough to mate." He laughed. "If you're lucky, they'll try to kill you." Arthur's free hand moved to his temples. The color in Ethan's face had drained. Arthur opened his other eye. "He's joking. Mostly. The virus poses no threat to humans or sentries. Our biology is incompatible. And we have antidotes, just in case." Number 6 had been transformed. Cartridge tables lined one wall, their surfaces carrying the varied inventory of what had been tested and prepared. The computer Elizabeth had provided occupied its corner, humming softly. He stood before the mirror. The nodes beneath his skin held their faint glow. He stilled himself, and the generators responded. The clothing moved—the casual wear reorganizing itself into the combat suit. He checked the upgrades. His wrist flexed. The blade extended from the forearm housing—snikt—the diamond edge catching light before he retracted it. He tested it twice more. The cartridges went into their housings methodically—electro-shock, high-penetration, explosives. Helmet under his arm, he left Number 6 and joined the others at the gate. The Boundary Wall rose at the Enclave's edge. Embedded within it, five carved gateways. Above them, at a height that required looking up, a larger gate occupied the wall's upper register. They passed through the first gateway. "Authorization confirmed." Verr-sa's voice arrived from the chamber. Arthur moved to the console. "If you ever bring an outsider here," he said, "Verr-sa will lock this room down. Only authorized biomass passes." He placed his hand on the scanner. The light changed. The world resolved into its new configuration. The pyramid structure rose around them. Beyond the armored glass, the sky was wrong—deep purples layered through it, crimson streaks. Low on the horizon, a colossal red star hung, casting long, dark-red shadows. The wilderness beyond the glass was both beautiful and hostile. Towers of black-barked trees rose at intervals, their upper reaches carrying phosphorescent violet leaves. Heat shimmered in the air. Arthur and Iona's footsteps on the stairs communicated their direction upward. "Go outside," Arthur's voice came from above. "Don't stray too far." Ethan stood at the structure's threshold and engaged the mask. It extended to cover the lower half of his face. Along the jaw, two emitters released their intersecting sheets of light. The neural chip translated the photonic data in real time—heat signatures emerged in the treeline. He stepped outside. The heat arrived first—pressing, comprehensive. Behind it, the smell: sulfur layered beneath rot layered beneath dense, animal musk. The gravity registered a moment later—heavier than what he had been calibrated for. He moved ten meters forward. The ground trembled. Something emerged from the jungle. It came out with unhurried certainty—a shape that resolved from shadow into presence. Ursine in its fundamental architecture, but scaled: six legs, bone-white plating covering the torso and shoulders. Its milky eyes found Ethan with immediate, complete attention. "That's a big one," Iona's voice arrived from above. "Cute, right?" The creature didn't roar. It launched—zero to full-commitment charge, the six legs driving it forward. The thrusters fired. Ethan dodged sideways and up—insufficient. The creature's shoulder caught him, the impact ringing through the armor's structure, lifting him and carrying him in a brief arc that ended in the red dirt. He came up fast. The suit reported no damage. The beast came again—no pause, the same committed charge. Ethan's fist came up. The densolate knuckle assembly found the creature's skull—a crack that moved through the bone-white plating. The creature staggered. It did not stop. Its forelimbs found him—the grip closing, lifting him and driving him back into the ground. The HUD registered the suit's pressure readings climbing. "Use the gun!" Ethan's arm came up. The barrel of Hephaestus found the creature's neck, and he fired. The discharge was total. The light was blinding. The creature's sound was high, involuntary—the specific sound of something encountering unexpected pain. Its forelimbs released him. Its body carried itself backward. It looked at him across the distance. Then it turned and went back into the jungle, the violet leaves closing behind it. Ethan was in the dirt. His chest rose and fell with deep, effortful breathing. The heat pressed against him. There was something wrong in the alien sky. "Not bad," Arthur's voice came from above. "Now come back inside." Back in Number 6, the contrast arrived—the shadowless warmth, the clean air, the cobblestones underneath. Iona was already in motion. He occupied the center of the space with full commitment, his arms finding positions, his body communicating the creature's scale through his own, each stage of the encounter rendered with delight. The performance was energetic. It was thorough. It showed no signs of concluding. Arthur sat quietly beside Ethan. The laboratory was quiet when Ethan arrived. Elizabeth was not at her station. The equipment ran its background processes. Cirrus stood at a monitor at the room's far end, examining data. He did not turn when Ethan entered. "I heard you were on my home planet," Cirrus said. "Did you like it?" Ethan stopped. "The test planet? With the red sun? That's your home?" Cirrus turned. "Hard to believe? Because I don't bite?" Ethan found a chair. "Arthur said only predators live there." "That is correct." Cirrus paused. "Now." His eyes changed—something moving beneath the surface, dimming the light in them. "But it was not always that way." He swallowed. "When the virus spread, it was apocalyptic. It overtook the planet faster than anyone could react." A pause. "I was hiding when Elizabeth and her siblings found me. I was immune. They brought me here to study the cure. Gave me a translator." A brief stillness. "They gave me a place. As a heretic." Ethan sat with it. His throat moved. "I am really sorry. More than I can express." Cirrus looked at him across the quiet laboratory. Something in his expression shifted. He smiled. It was faint and real. "It's alright, Ethan. Empathy doesn't need speeches." He turned back to the monitor. "If you're looking for Elizabeth—she's on Earth. With ani."