The Restoration of Flaws (The Phantom of the Earth Book 5)

by Zen, Raeden

  He stepped through the Cerebral Core’s spherical inner chamber. Sixty lasers crisscrossed over the center from the thirty black bots around its rim.

  Supreme Scientist Antosha Zereoue, requesting permission to access the Cerebral Core.

  Permission granted, Marstone replied. The lasers cleared. Welcome to the Cerebral Core of Beimeni, Supreme Scientist Antosha Zereoue. How may I be of service to you?

  I seek neural access to citizens including Heywood Querice in Mission Control, Corvin Norrod in the Valley of Masimovian, and Swarro Gallegos in Luxor City.

  Permission granted.

  Antosha now saw and heard the world as these men did.

  At Mission Control, Heywood was considering the merits of having Mintel sedated.

  “I told you not to send Barão and Shrader!” Mintel threw his arms in the air.

  The pad in the middle of Mission Control displayed the time portal, the Voltaire spiraling to its grave in the Earth’s ocean, a disruption, explosions. Captain Ruiner Holcombe had entered what the teams called “a death spin” beside the time portal, and worse, seemed to be pulled by the sun’s gravity—over a long period of time he’d barrel into it like a comet.

  Mintel raised his voice, his face red. “Everyone got it?”

  Few engineers acknowledged him this time. Dahlia put her hand on his arm and said, “Mintel, relax, step away—”

  “Heywood and Antosha put the mission in the hands of rookies!”

  Mariner hand-signaled the Janzers.

  Mintel peered side to side and narrowed his eyes, seething. “Where the hell is Antosha, anyway?” He moved closer to Mariner. “You authorized this debacle—”

  “Shut it,” Heywood said.

  The time portal loomed, a three-dimensional hole in space, Ruiner beyond it as he flailed and rolled on his way to the sun.

  Heywood communicated with the engineers and sent stabilizing messages to Ruiner’s synsuit, ordering it to reverse his supersonic descent to his death— “Mariner!” Heywood said. “We have a problem!”

  An explosion at the edge of the time portal sent a shower of starry matter looping into and out of it and around Lagrange point one.

  An alteration of space-time? Antosha thought from within the Cerebral Core. How interesting.

  “What is that?” Mariner said.

  “I don’t—” Heywood said.

  Two figures burst from the bottom of the portal, falling fast, wrapped together, and the time portal disappeared.

  “Captain Holcombe’s passed out, sir,” an engineer said.

  “The striker and strategist signals are not yet detected, sir,” a second engineer said.

  “The Voltaire is unrecoverable, sir,” a third said.

  “Prepare the teams for a manual rescue of Captain Holcombe,” Mariner said. “And find out what happened with the time portal, what the ejection means, what those … things are that fell from the bottom.”

  Mintel frowned. “Cap’n ain’t gonna make it, ain’t gonna make it.”

  No he won’t, Antosha thought, gods be good. One less of Broden Barão’s allies to deal with later.

  The lights and holograms sputtered, and the Granville panels and workstations darkened, replaced by dark red emergency light.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mintel said.

  The engineers stirred.

  The facility shook.

  “Oh my stars,” Heywood said.

  “That’s not an earthquake,” Dahlia said, “not here, is it?”

  “No,” Mariner said, “not a quake.”

  The ceiling split open, and bits of the carbyne plating broke free.

  “It’s a terrorist attack,” Heywood said. “Check the supply shafts—”

  “It’s too close for that,” Mariner said. “They’re in Outer Boundary Village, they’re in Mission Control—”

  Another tremor rumbled Mission Control, and the engineers braced on the railings.

  “What weaponry do you have?” Dahlia said.

  “I’m not concerned about our safety,” Heywood said.

  “We’re protected by ten Janzer divisions,” Mariner said.

  “What of the backup generators?” Mintel said.

  “Should be up any minute,” Mariner responded.

  A minute passed. Then two, then three, then four and five and six, and many minutes later the Janzers hadn’t yet restored power.

  The explosions grew louder and closer.

  In the Valley of Masimovian, General Norrod stood between the dunes at the head of one hundred fifty thousand Janzers, Arnao beside him.

  “Do you go west?” Arnao said.

  “East.”

  “The terrorists may be long gone in the east, but the stronghold in the west—”

  “Is reserved for Lady Isabelle; she has something special in mind for them. Our scouts indicate a steady flow of Polemon into Volano, Peanowera, and Navita, so I suspect many yet remain in the place they call Blackeye Cavern.” Norrod brushed his fingers over the golden buttons down the left side of his suit. “This war ends tonight.”

  “What will you have of me, General?”

  “Go back to the DOC and await my orders.”

  Arnao nodded, and Norrod raised his arms. The Janzers, lined up in rows over the white sands, clad in gold-lined synsuits, grasping shuriken, batons, and pulse weapons. They sang the “Battle Hymn of Beimeni.”

  Norrod stepped to the pulpit and flashed a bright green light to the army below. The Janzers finished the last verse and marched in place, sending the sand into a storm. They held their shuriken above their heads with their right hands.

  “The fiercest army ever assembled stands before me,” Norrod began. “And I’m proud to lead you into battle.”

  “Aoi-yah!” the Janzers screamed.

  “The enemy is wicked, and they hide behind women and children as traitorous as they. The enemy attacks transhumanity’s lifeblood with reckless abandon. But this day the enemy will meet their makers.

  “This day the enemy will meet the Janzer Army of the Commonwealth!”

  “Aoi-yah!”

  “The enemy will fall to an army that will show no mercy, no cowardice, no weakness!

  “Remit sustenance to loyal Navitans in need, but when you ascend into the enemy’s traitorous Blackeye Cavern, do not yield!

  “Serve Beimeni!”

  “Live forever!”

  “ON TO NA-VI-TA!”

  In Luxor City, Chairman Gallegos rode a camel into the city proper beside the chancellor. Pyramids rose up around them. Gallegos fanned himself, wondering how Luxorians survived this heat. With all Prime Minister Decca’s wealth, how did he not utilize the commonwealth’s terraforming technology to its full potential?

  “Wonderful choice, my chancellor,” Gallegos said to Chancellor Masimovian, “coming to Luxor for this announcement.” He swiped his face with his Beimeni beret. “And better still riding in on these camels instead of a luxury transport.” The camel’s fur felt soft on his ankles, but the smell! Gods, he’d never get it out of his tunic.

  Masimovian guffawed and rubbed his camel’s neck.

  “Splendid. Swarro, is that bitterness I sense? Good for you—you’ve failed me for so long I should’ve hung you from a palm tree in Artemis Square ages ago.”

  Gallegos shook.

  “When you’re a ruler of a great people,” Masimovian said, “times arrive when you have to be among them. The pyramids on the Earth symbolized ancient power, and those we built below represent modern power. Don’t you agree?”

  Gallegos sighed. “I think Hammerton Hall would have worked as good if not better.”

  The chancellor didn’t respond.

  Minister Decca awaited their arrival upon a stage near the Palace of Luxor. A golden sign hovered above the golden promenade: WELCOME TO THE AUTUMN GALA.

  Antosha tuned back in to moonlit Navita, where Norrod’s Janzers handed boxes of Loverealan wine, cheeses and crepes, trinkets and treats, dishes a
nd dates, and pouches jingling with benari coins to any and every Navitan who neared.

  Navitans bowed, dropped violet rose petals, or offered a grin when they retrieved their gifts. Antosha felt the city’s relief through Marstone. Anxiety about the army’s sudden appearance began to dissipate.

  The Janzers moved up into the tunnels behind the Great Falls.

  There was a flash of red light and a rumble, followed by smoke, darkness, more explosions, gasps, and screams. The stars and moon went out. Somehow, the BP had managed to cut power to the city.

  Norrod telepathically ordered a thousand divisions to aid their fellow Janzers already stationed in the city to restore electricity and maintain peace.

  He led a Janzer division, dressed in synsuits lined with neon blue to signify their scientific status, to the front of the lines. The Blues, as they were known, were cleared to use mineral crushers and other sensitive synthetic materials. They sprinted through the tunnels just ahead of him.

  At first there was dust and silver phosphorescent light, then darkness. They traveled an incalculable distance, north and east, east and north, west and south, and north and west. They used ultraviolet vision and coordinates provided by Lady Isabelle to determine Blackeye Cavern’s location.

  Finally, they arrived.

  They halted prior to full penetration and destroyed a lateral passage large enough to ensure an all-out assault with ten thousand Janzers in the first wave. The Janzer Blues shared hand signals, and after a wide flash of light the walls crumbled. The Janzers rumbled through, roaring as they went. They drew their shuriken and pulse rifles and readied for maximum carnage. When the smoke cleared, they found nothing.

  No one.

  Norrod was astonished.

  He advanced to the center of the hollowed enclave with polished stone and limestone pillars. Colorful bioluminescence revealed a cavern full of stalactites, stalagmites, waterfalls, and passageways, but no BP.

  He ordered the Janzers to conduct a search, and divisions scurried in all directions. Whether this was a ploy or an illusion, Norrod couldn’t tell. When the team leaders emerged and exchanged hand signals, Granville panels on the far side of Blackeye Cavern became illuminated. Faint at first, the letters soon focused, and stilled Norrod’s heart.

  WE WILL STRIKE THE IRON FIST

  FROM IT THE BLOOD OF OUR KIN WILL FLOW

  The message looped, like a Navitan ticker, and one of the Blues rushed out of a tunnel.

  “General!” he said.

  He gasped.

  “General!”

  He lifted his visor.

  “Get them out! Get them—”

  And the pillars exploded from top to the bottom, one by one. The cavernous hall collapsed upon the army, ending Antosha’s view of Blackeye Cavern. Goodbye, Norrod, he thought.

  In Luxor, keeper bots helped Chancellor Masimovian and Gallegos down from their camels. Masimovian’s maidens surrounded him, and the entourage moved up the marble stairs to the Palace of Luxor. Masimovian threw his beret to the crowd below, who swarmed over it like bees to honey. They chanted his name.

  Masimo! Masimo! Masimo!

  Masimo! Masimo! Masimo!

  Masimovian strode onward with Gallegos and the Janzers. Strike teams stood in position at the base of the palace. Millions of Beimenians waved and cheered. Auburn palm trees waved on either side in the gentle arid air. The Janzers formed a perimeter around the stage where the ministry sat waiting, clad in silk tunics and Beimeni berets and glistening jewels.

  Masimovian climbed the marble steps to the precipice, where Prime Minister Decca awaited. Decca bowed to Masimovian and ambled with him across the platform. Then Decca raised his hands high and applauded. The crowd joined him in thunderous celebration.

  Antosha could feel Gallegos’s relief as he took a chair. There were many steps, and he was far from top physical condition. He wiped his brow as the crowd cheered on.

  Masimovian raised and lowered his hands.

  The sounds of rustling palm trees spread over the promenade with the silent rain of red rose petals. The clouds parted above and allowed the Granville sunlight to pour over the glass-domed palace and the stage and the people.

  “Serve Beimeni!” Masimovian said.

  “Live forever!” the crowd returned.

  “Serve Beimeni!”

  “Live forever!”

  “Serve Beimeni!”

  “Live forever!”

  Masimovian clapped, and the chants from the crowd’s chorus ceased.

  “Thank you!” Masimovian said. “Thank you!” He smiled and waved. When the crowd was quiet, he continued. “I love speaking to Beimenians, especially when I have good news!”

  Magnificent Masimo! Magnificent Masimo!

  Magnificent Masimo! Magnificent Masimo!

  “A change is coming, one that will have profound implications for our civilization.”

  Behind and above Masimovian and Decca, a hologram formed, a rendering of carbyne spires and glass, columns and light blue domes—a city under construction.

  “It is with great pleasure, my fellow Beimenians, that I give to you … Sky City, the first city within containment upon the Earth’s surface free of Reassortment!”

  Magnificent Masimo! Magnificent Masimo!

  Magnificent Masimo! Magnificent Masimo!

  “I promised you we would return to the surface! And so it shall be!”

  Magnificent Masimo! Magnificent Masimo!

  Magnificent Masimo! Magnificent Masimo!

  Magnificent Masimo! Magnificent Masimo!

  Magnificent Masimo! Magnificent Masimo!

  “Thank you! You’re too kind, Beimeni! I hope Beimenians throughout our Great Commonwealth will join us here in Luxor during the Autumn Gala in our celebration of this outstanding significant conversion!”

  Magnificent Masimo! Magnificent—

  The ground shook, and the sky darkened. The chants gave way to gasps, screams, and two bursts from a pulse gun. Chaos ensued, and the ministers scattered. Gallegos took cover with them.

  The Janzers ignited white phosphorescent flares and surrounded Chancellor Masimovian and Prime Minister Decca, who lay side by side in a pool of blood. In a single stroke, the chancellor and his first in the line of succession were dead.

  ZPF Impulse Wave: Verena Iglehart

  Hydra Hollow

  300 meters deep

  Verena had learned the complex BP labyrinth around Hydra Hollow and, together with Jocelyn, ushered the weakest and neediest Polemon to safe houses in the West, South, Central, and, later on, the North.

  Not long after Jeremiah sent his eldest son with a helper of the Leadership (disguised as a Courier of the Chancellor), the helper returned with a cryptor from Zorian. Its coded message indicated that Arrowhead City, Kiplorea City, Nurino City, Xerean City, and Boreas City could serve as hosts to BP escapees from the Hollow—for a price. Minister Mueriniti would keep Zorian as her hostage to the conclusion of the Evolutionary War. This didn’t please Jeremiah, but he had no choice but to send the helper back to Xerean, indicating he accepted the North’s terms of reversal with the Front. It didn’t take long for the BP to reconstruct their Polemon passageways in the North, along the rivers.

  Verena learned over time that the intricacies of the passageways throughout the commonwealth explained why the government couldn’t solve them—or put down the Liberation Front. For as quickly as the Janzers scuttled a tunnel, the BP built twenty new ones. If they destroyed ten, the BP constructed a hundred more in many different directions, like a beehive.

  Verena and Jocelyn moved through the darkened tunnels, guided by touch, dressed in government garb, maroon capes and black boots with golden chains and hoods. They smuggled BP in cartons and crates, barrels and boxes, any and every contraption that carried cargo over the Underground Passage.

  Today, the BP celebrated. The sounds of harps, violins, and guitars filled the Hollow’s great cavern. Colorful bioluminescence decorated every stream and colu
mn. Verena and Jocelyn awaited their turn at a limestone bar where a man with melon cheeks served grilled beef strips, boiled vegetables, water, alcoholic cider, and lemonade. Jocelyn placed her order, and the man smiled and handed the child stone cups filled with lemonade and cider. Verena thanked her and brushed her chin, a little unsteadily, for she wasn’t comfortable with Jocelyn’s assistance, or her presence, so close to the end.

  The last of the Beimeni Polemon in the Hollow gathered in the center for song and dance. Verena pushed her fingers through Jocelyn’s sausage curls.

  “Come along now,” she said, “they’re about to begin.” She knew Jocelyn loved the Polemon melodies. The BP danced in circles round the pillars, and across the footbridges that led over the streams, to their ballad, “Strike, Strike, Strike.”

  May anarchy provide cover for our escape, Verena thought, and Nero’s …

  She found herself thinking about him more often, for no news of the BP held in Farino Prison leaked outside the city or territory, the one territory notably absent from Zorian’s cryptor. Verena didn’t even know if Nero still lived. But if he somehow survived the harsh conditions on the prison islands and the power outage disabled the Converse Collars the way Jeremiah assured her it would, he’d find a way out.

  He must.

  Now Jeremiah Selendia ascended the precipice on the main cavern’s south side. The BP applauded and raised their mugs. Jocelyn let go of Verena’s hand and covered her ears.

  The crowd silenced.

  “My people,” Jeremiah began, “I can’t assure you we will have this war settled in days,” he wagged his thumb rhythmically and nodded deliberately, “but I can assure you that no matter what happens, we won’t rest until the iron fist is broken. We won’t rest until we live under rule of law that doesn’t punish the weak and benefit the privileged. We won’t rest until the ministry hears our collective voice and gives us a seat at the table.”