Mesopotamia, Eridu, 5500 B.C.
Kingo flopped onto the floor of the archives room. The aseptic smell comforted his body. If someone had told him upon arriving at the planet that his safe place would be among the Domo's archives… he didn't know how he would have reacted, but he certainly wouldn't have believed that poor devil.
He sighed, resting his forehead on his knees. His eyes stung. Ajak's words drilled into his head. "Do not exhaust the rest because of your recklessness," she had told him with a voice of ice.
"Am I really a hindrance?" he asked aloud.
"Negative," Domo responded from the console. "Each Eternal is designed to fulfill a specific function within the parameters of the mission."
"It's not comforting that you talk about me as if I weren't a living being," he complained. Whenever he had these meltdowns (this was the third one), Domo had the bad habit of treating him as if he were part of a large-scale production of Eternals.
Each occasion left him with bile on his tongue.
"Your doubts have been duly noted," Domo replied.
"That doesn't solve—"
"Your role within the team is that of an assistant," Domo continued.
"What kind of assistance?" Kingo groaned from his knee.
"Indeterminate," Domo responded. "The individual's evolution has not reached measurable parameters."
"Thanks," he muttered.
"My pleasure," Domo's voice seemed to nod.
Kingo rolled his eyes.
"Domo," he called.
"Yes, sir?"
"What do you mean by 'designed'?" he asked.
"Only a high Eternal can access that information."
"Rot in hell," he thudded his head against the wall.
"My composition is inorganic," it warned.
Kingo rolled his eyes again. With a sigh, his face went blank.
"What failed in my attempt?" he asked.
"Analyzing…" It took Domo a few seconds. "Four evident errors have been found," it informed.
"Four?!" he shrieked, letting his arms hang limp.
"Law of recoil," Domo continued: "you do not possess the adequate support base to resist the opposing energy generated by the shot."
"Damn it," Kingo cursed dryly. "Solution?"
"Take a resistant stance as shown in the diagram. In this posture, the recoil energy is dispersed into the ground and not into the Eternal designated as 'Kingo'."
It showed a human form with its body almost hugged to the ground: the right knee pressed to the chest and the arms flexed toward the torso; the support foot, extended further out, touched the ground with its entire inner edge. It was animated, showing how it extended both arms and then how they recoiled forcefully against the torso.
"Okay," he responded, drawling his answer. "And the other three?"
"Incomplete firing rail," Domo responded. "Scans show you used only one hand to charge the shot, but a parallel runner is required to create it properly. For this, the diagram shows the firing position."
Kingo raised his hand, confused.
"Question."
"Yes, sir?"
"Are we still working with the pellets?" he asked doubtfully. "That space between the arms is for a sphere the size of my head."
"Yes, sir; that leads me to error three," Domo confirmed: "necessity of a low-pressure vacuum to avoid air resistance."
"I see," he said with wide eyes.
"You did not, sir."
"Yeah, I didn't," Kingo nodded. "What's next? Because I don't want to get ahead of myself again."
"Affirmative," Domo agreed. "I must point out that I warned of this result in your attempt to jump to phase ten when you have barely finished phase three of your training."
"Yeah, rub it in my face," Kingo muttered with a pout.
"I would not do that," Domo sounded innocent. "Do you wish to hear the final error?"
"Uh-huh."
"You ignored the principles of magnetic and thermal back-propulsion—"
"That's not in the first part," Kingo frowned.
"Negative," Domo dismissed the observation. "The first error is regarding the energy produced upon releasing the projectile. Back-propulsion is the venting of the cosmic energy used for the rail. Because of this, the user destroyed his arm and shoulder, while the recoil sent him flying."
Kingo said nothing immediately; he only thudded his head against the wall once more.
"It's going to be a lovely few centuries of study," he whimpered.
"Record updated: positive disposition toward training," Domo congratulated him.
At that moment, the door opened. Kingo looked back; it was Sprite. She tilted her head in his direction, frowning at him.
"Still wallowing in your misery?" she asked with a playful grimace.
"Yes," Kingo responded in a grunt.
The girl rolled her eyes.
"Move your butt," she urged. "Ajak needs us on the bridge."
Without waiting for an answer, she stepped back out.
"God save me," Kingo sighed.
"It is merely an expression," Kingo grumbled.
He stood up. His joints were stiff and his back ached.
"Let's get this over with," he muttered, his elbow still throbbing from the healing.
Mesopotamia, Eridu, 5500 B.C.
"Sorry for the delay," Kingo entered at a trot.
Everyone was gathered on the bridge, the area where the Domo connected to the temple of Eridu. Ikaris looked at Kingo with narrowed eyes; to him, he had an impenitent air, as if Ajak hadn't scolded him at all.
"Sprite has been looking for you for ten minutes," he growled.
Kingo frowned back at him.
"I have spoken with Arishem," Ajak gave Ikaris a 'shut up' look.
"And what did he say?" Perseus asked.
Everyone jumped at his words. He had been so silent in a corner that they had forgotten he was there.
"We must move cities," she sighed. "We install the shield and we move."
Everyone remained silent, not expecting this order.
"Why?" Sersi shrieked, upset. "We haven't finished teaching them! And they are going through an epidemic!"
"Do not let your emotions blind you, Sersi," Ajak told her coldly.
Sersi shrank into herself and lowered her head.
"I'm sorry," she replied with a broken voice.
"Won't we leave a semi-Eternal to watch over them?" Perseus blurted out.
Ikaris frowned and growled under his breath.
"No," Ajak replied curtly. "We leave this coming week."
"Fine," he nodded.
Kingo looked at him as if he had grown a second head.
"What was that?" he asked with a frown.
"Ishtar can take charge of this region," he shrugged.
"That is the idea," Ajak nodded.
But Ikaris made a face. He couldn't see how the rest didn't see it. Ishtar murders her own kind as if they were worthless flies! If he has learned anything from humans, it's that they are not to be trusted.
"I will give her the news," Perseus nodded, but did not move.
"Do it," Ajak authorized with a sharp nod. She turned to face another member of the group. "Phastos, have you completed the Deviant-slower I tasked you with?"
"I have," he nodded. Ikaris did not like the glint in his eyes.
"Can we track Kro?" Ajak asked.
"Well… no," Phastos said awkwardly.
Everyone tensed, except for Ajak; she didn't seem surprised.
"Why is that?" Perseus asked, like a grunt.
"I don't know," Phastos replied resignedly. His eyebrow had a stress twitch.
"Because someone is helping him," Ajak answered.
"WHAT?!" came the exclamation from the other ten.
Ikaris and Thena were the most murderous, swearing to destroy the being that supported this abomination.
"Since when?" Perseus growled.
Ajak focused on him, looking more tired than ever.
"Since the siege of Uruk," she confessed.
Ikaris felt like he had been punched in the stomach. Two hundred and fifty years she knew this secret and she kept it all to herself.
'It wouldn't have changed anything,' a treacherous voice said in his mind, but he didn't listen.
"And now you tell us?" he demanded with a clenched jaw.
"It is not that simple," Ajak responded patiently.
That was it.
"SIMPLE?!" Ikaris thundered. "I ALMOST DIED, THE BRAT ALMOST DIED...!"
"Aw," Perseus cooed. "You like her."
Ikaris, furious, looked at Perseus, confused by his interruption.
"What?" he asked, perplexed.
"Ishtar," Perseus gave him a lopsided smile. "You named her before the rest."
Blinking, the blue-armored Eternal looked back at his companions. Everyone's faces were pale from his outburst, except for Sprite; she was laughing into her hand like a half-witted dog.
"He's got you… boss," Kingo smiled.
Ikaris ignored him.
—"That's not the point," he growled.
"Ajak," Perseus turned to the leader, "how sure are you?"
She didn't respond immediately; she licked her lips, pensive.
"It is a conjecture," she admitted. "I have been meditating on it for the last centuries. Many of the actions attributed to Kro are… strange. He only hunts the combat Eternals of the groups."
Ikaris and Perseus shared a look.
"Only combatants?" Ikaris tried to make sure.
"Yes," Ajak gave a dry laugh. "That means his power is not natural."
"Because if he had evolved on his own, he would absorb all the Eternals," Phastos made the connection.
"Yes," Ajak nodded. "That was my thought."
"Well," he muttered, a knot forming in his gut, "we are at the beginning because we don't know who this mysterious benefactor is."
"But we can look for patterns," Perseus dismissed it. "And if the worst happens, the non-combatants can archive the information for other Eternal teams to use."
"Well, they can take notes then," Thena growled out of nowhere, entering the Domo with heavy steps.
Ajak sighed, watching Gilgamesh run to catch up with her. Ikaris saw her look much older than her appearance suggested.