Mesopotamia, The Domo, 5750 B.C.
She woke up with a groggy head. Her temples throbbed, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. It took her several seconds to focus on the ceiling of the Domo. She groaned, rolling in the coarse blankets. Her back protested; the bed was hard and pained her spine.
—I am glad you are awake, dear.
Ishtar sat up quickly; her vision blurred, and she lay back down again. Her father laughed; a raspy baritone that calmed her discomforts.
—It's not funny —she pouted. Her father's scent reached her like the marshes at dawn; that earthy aroma filled with the smell of white jasmines.
—No, it isn't —he caressed her head, carefully combing her hair.
She was able to focus her gaze again. Her father looked at her with his beautiful greenish eyes. She couldn't help it; she cried upon seeing him. A jagged cry that broke her chest into violent gasps. She clung to the hand on her head, squeezing it until it turned a sickly white color. Her father cooed at her, lifting her entire body to hug her, like those nights when she returned to the reeds, watching her parents die. His warmth enveloped her, relaxing her muscles.
—Kéleomai, héude bréphos, heudétō dè póntos, heudétō d' ámeton kakón —he sang for her.
The intonation had a vibrato that made her skin crawl. Her sobs subsided, leaving her full of snot and with hot cheeks.
—I am pathetic —she stammered, burying her face in her father's arms.
—I don't think so —he answered, resting his chin on her head.
—I lost —she hated how her voice sounded like a small child's.
—So did I —he reminded her. —And that doesn't make me pathetic.
—I almost died —she whispered.
Her father let her go. Ishtar tensed, waiting for the reprimand.
—Listen to me, Ishtar —he stepped back, standing in front of her.
Father and daughter looked at each other. Perseus took her hands, covering them in a warm, rough cocoon.
—Right now, you have two paths to choose from —he told her. Ishtar tensed, with new tears reaching her eyes. —You can let this defeat define you and allow it to dictate your life, or you can learn from it…
—How can I learn from this? —she whispered, hugging herself. —I wasn't even useful.
—Ishtar —her father smiled at her—, you are letting the defeat define you. In that, I can take the blame for bequeathing you my worst behaviors…
—You have given me the best! —she growled.
But Perseus shook his head.
—I'm afraid that isn't so, dear —he apologized. —I never taught you the value of defeat because I myself never meditated on such an idea. —He gave a sigh. —But an old curmudgeon reminded me that defeat is our best ally.
—I don't understand —Ishtar truly didn't see his point.
—Choose, Ishtar —her father said with a dark voice. —You are either going to stay in that bed, wallowing in your misery, or you are going to come out with me to understand the depth of your true power.
Ishtar looked at him with wide eyes. She swallowed hard.
—Train —she squeaked. She had never seen her father like this.
He gave her a smile, losing all his seriousness.
—When Ajak clears you, we will explore what you can really do with the blessings of Ares, Aphrodite, and Apollo…
—Train —she interrupted him; her eyes burned.
Perseus smiled. He leaned in to kiss her forehead.
—That's my girl —he praised her.
She felt warm, her chest about to burst from her father's affection.
—Now rest —he ordered. —You've been unconscious for a week; you must recover if you want to train.
—Yes —she nodded; a smile split her face.
With a nod, her father stepped away, but not before kissing her head once more. She watched him walk away, standing tall with relaxed shoulders.
—Papa —she called him.
He stopped, turning his whole body to see her.
—I love you —she chirped, snuggling into her blanket.
A discreet smile appeared on his lips.
—And I love you, my daughter —his eyes shone with affection. —I love you more than you will ever imagine.
And then he left, humming the lullaby to himself. Ishtar sighed, collapsing onto the bed. She heard the door close and then it hit her.
"What did I get myself into?" she swallowed at the thought of training again.
Mesopotamia, The Domo, 5750 B.C.
Kingo looked at his hands. He had secluded himself in the ship's archives and, against his better judgment, had read the ability reports of other Eternals in the galaxy. It was all useless; his abilities differed from those described, and nothing could help him.
—Dammit —he murmured, moving to the next screen.
—Eternal Kingo —the Domo's AI called. —You have been secluded in these facilities for one week, six hours, and fifty-eight minutes. May I provide support in your search?
Kingo let out an undignified shriek, clutching his chest.
—Don't do that! —he shouted at it with a high-pitched voice.
—Do what? —the artificial voice asked.
He had a flat look, staring at nothing.
—Forget it —he complained.
—Request accepted —the AI responded. —May I assist you in your research?
He weighed his options. He could keep fumbling around or he could swallow his pride and ask for help. He figured it was better to ask the AI.
—Yes, Domo. Do you mind if I call you Domo? —he began to ramble. —I want to improve my performance on the battlefield; I was looking for ideas on how to apply my power to be more useful in combat.
He didn't want to have to carry a companion again for Ajak to heal. The slimy sensation of Makkari's blood on his armor and hands still gave him nightmares; and the sight of his niece Ishtar holding her entrails turned him green. His hands trembled as he clenched his fists. The memory of the blood and Makkari's slight body hit him like an angry Deviant.
—The designation Domo is accepted —the AI responded. —Please approach the scanner to determine possible performance improvements.
Some parallel bars rose behind the research console. They weren't very striking, except for the golden dots at the tips of each one.
—Position yourself in the middle —he obeyed, bypassed the data console, and stood between the bars. —Please activate your ability to initiate the scan. Warning: do not perform any attack that compromises the integrity of the ship.
He raised an eyebrow. "And who does this one think she is?" he thought with his mouth open in disbelief. However, he charged a small disc of energy in his hand. A knot in his stomach left the AI's comment behind. He pouted and then winced when the ionized smell of the air reached his nose.
—Scan complete —the computer announced. —Do you wish to hear a description of the physics of your power to…?
—It's not necessary —he interrupted. —How do I improve?
—Your power projects ionized plasma —the AI seemed to sigh. —According to estimates, Eternal Kingo can generate two parallel currents of energy between his fingers, creating an electromagnetic field that can propel projectiles at Mach III speeds.
He let out an impressed whistle.
—Do you wish for a training regimen to develop this ability…?
—Of course I do! —he cheered; the vertigo made him dizzy.
—In phase 1, the fundamentals of electrodynamics must be learned… Selecting files for required theoretical studies. —Kingo felt a bucket of cold water on his head as he listened. —The practical exercises consist of making a metal ball float; the ball must maintain a constant spin. If it melts, the electromagnetic ionization is too high; if it falls, it is too low; if it is thrown from the hand, the charges are not equal; and if it does not spin, the charges only ionize the air but do not create the basic required rail effect. The goal of phase one is to create a stable electromagnetic field.
—Well, shit —he commented with slumped shoulders.
"You wanted to improve; sweat blood to get it," he told himself. The memory of Sersi half-blind silenced his doubts.
Mesopotamia, The Domo, 5750 B.C.
—Ajak —Arishem's imposing voice greeted her.
—Arishem —she responded. Her voice trembled as she saw him; she could fit in his outstretched hand with room to build a city larger than Uruk. —We continue to protect the humans, but since Kro's arrival and his assault, there have been no new attacks. The Eternals are becoming nervous.
—They will have to move soon —he ordered. —Kro will not show his face until he evaluates your threat. It is best to eliminate the mindless Deviants before he can make them evolve.
—And the semi-Eternal? —Ajak asked. —What do we do with her?
—Ishtar is Perseus's responsibility —he thundered. —Let him decide her fate.
—He has grown fond of her —she pointed out.
—Has this fondness compromised his performance? —he asked.
—No…
—Then I see no reason to intervene.
—I understand, Arishem —Ajak bowed her head. She did not end the link.
—Is there something else you wish to tell me, Ajak? —Arishem's immense head had a twitch of doubt.
—Phastos's plan to protect the city —she responded. —He wants to create a shield that harnesses the life energy of births so that we may move to the next zone of Terra.
—I see how that might disturb your mind —he thundered. —But do not worry, it is part of the mission on this occasion. I support this initiative and expect to see it implemented in every Eternal city.
And Arishem ended the link. The violence of the change made her stumble; she was caught before she could fall.
—Are you alright, Ajak? —Sersi asked her.
—Yes —she nodded.
—What did Arishem say? —she asked with bright eyes.
Of all the Eternals, she was the one most in favor of the shield.
—He expects the shield to be completed —she responded.
Sersi smiled, almost splitting her face. In her eagerness to tell Phastos, she let her go before she could stabilize herself.
—Sorry! —she shouted over her shoulder, without stopping.
Ajak struggled to sit back down on the floor.
"What is happening?" she wondered.
In every one of Arishem's missions, he opposed wasting life force on this idea of Phastos's. "What changed?" she meditated. For the first time, she did not know what Arishem's true design was.