The Synthesis and the Animus (The Phantom of the Earth Book 3)

by Zen, Raeden

  “They had explosives, airborne paralytic synisms, and a Converse Collar. Look, I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just say it. I believe I was taken by the BP.”

  Nero leaned back, the smoke sputtering from his mouth. Brody put his index finger over his lips, then swiped his hand for Nero to move closer. “There’s more. I know this will be difficult. I’m still unsure, but … Jeremiah Selendia may be alive.”

  Nero shook his head. “There’s no way—”

  “You cannot repeat or think about this conversation when we leave.” Brody held a stack of what looked like benari coins. He spread them apart, revealing a recaller, which also appeared as if it was made from silver, platinum, and gold, the official benari blend, then he restacked them and handed them to Nero.

  “Have you reported the BP encounter?” Nero said.

  “Just a cursory report with the DOC. I left out the interesting details.”

  “Will you request an inquiry from the ministry?”

  “The ministers squabble over any and every detail from benari allocations to Harpoon candidates. What would they say if I accused the commonwealth of apprehending a supreme scientist without any proof?”

  Nero removed the hookah from his mouth. “Apprehending?”

  Brody nodded. “And detaining. Where, I’m not sure. But I think I need to find out.”

  “Brodes, what’re you suggesting?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll keep you informed. You need to know.”

  “Why?”

  “If something happens to me, I need you to protect my family as I would protect yours.”

  ZPF Impulse Wave: Gwendolyn Horvearth

  Spas of Tranquility

  Natura, Underground West

  2,500 meters deep

  Gwen floated around the natural spring, where a skylight allowed unnatural sunlight to burn through the low ceiling. She watched Antosha crouched naked at the edge of their cabana, looking at the thin sheet of cascading water, which shielded them from the outside world.

  At these depths, the depths of the Beimeni zone, temperatures were normally hotter than a desert, driven by the radioactivity in the planet’s core. Hundreds of millions of years ago, underground streams had developed in the Natura spas, which Beimenian engineers mixed with water delivered by the commonwealth’s coolant piping—lest the water burn a transhuman alive—and manipulated into falls. They gave off an aroma of minerals, moss, and musk that was new to Gwen. She breathed it in and sighed.

  Antosha stood and reached out toward the falls.

  Is he truly a killer? Gwen thought. She didn’t want to believe it. But as word traveled that two supreme scientists were battling for her skills, she couldn’t escape the whispers. “Antosha returned from the Lower Level,” Caterina had said. “How could you know this?” Gwen put in. Caterina continued, “Roger heard from Neal who heard from Steph who heard from Angel’s girlfriend’s sister-in-development that he killed transhumans and was exiled there by Chief Justice Carmen for his crimes.” Gwen didn’t trust many candidates or neophytes—for most befriended her only because she was a Variscan candidate and the Harpoon Champion—but Caterina had supported her from the beginning of development, before most candidates understood the differences between the houses of development. Why would she lie?

  “Evolution unmanaged is too random,” Antosha was saying.

  Gwen swayed to him and kissed the scar on his back and massaged his muscular shoulders. “Is that why you brought me to the spas, to talk about evolution?”

  He turned and caressed her neck. She moaned. He closed his eyes and kissed her. “I brought you here because I missed you.”

  He put his hands into the falls just outside their cave and parted them, opening their view of the colorful ponds and walkways and the fields and falls that hid the rest of the cabanas beyond. “The Beimeni illusion is powerful precisely because of the reality it creates in our minds, the sounds from the falls, the artificially cool air, the polished stone beneath our feet, the smells of pine and citrus and flowers, the Granville sky to please our eyes.” Antosha removed his hands, and the vision blurred into a sheet of water. “Take this away and we’d have nothing—”

  “I have you …” Gwen began, losing her voice. She’d not been with a man since Markus Venatici, and she’d always been with Markus in the virtual worlds of the Harpoons, never in person, never like this. Her lips quivered and her breath quickened.

  Antosha looked at her knowingly, reaching for her. “I would give you more than Beimeni, my violin. I’d give you the surface, and you and I would rule it all together as did the kings and queens of old.”

  Gwen liked the sound of that. She could see herself with Antosha on the surface beneath a terradome of her design, one that could stop Reassortment’s entry from below and above, something no terradome could presently do: a terradome that could allow the people to live without illusions. When Antosha takes over the Reassortment project, Gwen thought, we’ll work on it together. Then she remembered Captain Barão’s assertion in the Ventureño Facility, and the rumors about Antosha. She bit her lip. “We won’t hurt Captain Barão … I mean, not too badly … or permanently?”

  Antosha smiled. “Gods no, we will bend him just enough so the people see their captain’s inferiority.” He lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “He’s proven that after decades of research, he cannot lead the people to the surface. My methods … are extraordinary—”

  “I’ve heard some things about your methods,” Gwen said. Antosha kissed her, and she thought she might not be able to utter another word.

  She found her voice. “How did you get that scar? What happened in Beimeni fifteen years ago?”

  “I worked closely with a group of scientists who shared my beliefs that the way to assure our ascendency back to the surface is through managed evolution. Some of the experiments didn’t work quite how we’d envisioned.” Antosha looked like he might cry. “Some of my friends died.” He put his hands on Gwen’s sides, and she felt a sensation in her body, like an orgasm. Her breath caught, as did her voice. “When I regain control over the Reassortment project,” Antosha added, “you and I will find the answers, the way the gods intended.”

  The pleasurable feelings eased, though Gwen still breathed heavily. “Captain Barão … believes you are his partner—”

  “How often must I remind you of his deceptions? The captain has his own interests in mind—”

  “He has skill with telepathy, like you, and he told us—”

  “He has failed for too long, and he doesn’t care for the people the way I do.” Antosha paused. “The way you do.”

  Gwen brushed her forefingers over Antosha’s chest and shoulders. “Why does the chancellor yield to Captain Barão in ways he doesn’t with any other supreme scientist?”

  “The chancellor has ruled in a way designed to hold power and write his legacy, but he has forgotten where true power derives in the universe.”

  She ran the back of her hand down Antosha’s forearm, then squeezed it. “Genes.” He’d told her so several times before.

  He caressed her breast and pinched her nipple lightly. “Transhuman skin protects our bodies from the pressures and heat down here, but it’s still as weak as cloth against much else. A diamond sword or a structural collapse—” He inclined his head and closed his eyes when Gwen kissed his neck. “My violin, we’ve only just begun to realize what we’re capable of …”

  He led her into the steaming spring then and eased her over a layer of red rose petals upon the edge. He kissed her arms, swiped his fingers over her legs, and massaged her feet and toes. She again troubled to draw breath. How did he affect her so? Was it in his mountain scent or something else about his presence that no other man possessed?

  Time ceased to have meaning, and it felt as if he traversed every part of her body before he finally massaged her breasts and kissed her chest and neck. Again she breathed so heavily and uncontrollably she thought something w
as wrong with her. Her face felt on fire.

  He rubbed his face beside hers and gently tugged on the bottom of her earlobe with his teeth. “My violin,” he said softly, “you are perfect.”

  And like all the time in his presence, the sound of his voice sent a soothing sensation through her. “When will we rise together?”

  “Follow my lead.”

  Hours later, the Granville sun set.

  ZPF Impulse Wave: Damosel Rhea

  Gorges of Hillenthara

  Palaestra, Underground Northeast

  2,500 meters deep

  Damy leaned against the cool railing near the falls. “This wasn’t supposed to happen for days.”

  She cringed and locked her knees together. This was supposed to be her day to get away from Beimeni City and the Nicola Facility. Since Brody had returned from Vigna, she hadn’t seen Verne outside the lab as much as she wanted.

  Take me to the gorges, along the Hillenthara, she’d transmitted that evening, but what she meant was, Take me away from here, take me somewhere I won’t feel confined, take me, take me, take me …

  The waterfalls crashed along two artificial limestone cliffs, covering her screams. Her heart pounded with the water, and she thought she might pass out.

  Verne held her up. “What do I do?”

  Damy pressed her lips tightly, perspiration dripping down her forehead. “They’re coming, the twins are coming!” She keeled over. “Oh! My gods! I don’t think I can move! Verne! Verne!” He lifted her in his arms and almost dropped her. He waddled and breathed, breathed and waddled.

  “Faster! Must go faster!”

  “I’m … as fast … as I … can.”

  “Oh, please, please, please, go, go, go,” Damy said.

  She felt his shoulders tremble beneath his suspenders. Unlike many scientists, Verne hadn’t maintained his developmental physique. He collapsed with Damy in his arms, sweat running down his cheeks. The pain was so severe now that when Damy turned, the marble bridge and its balustrades and Chancellor Masimovian’s statue blurred.

  “Verne!” Steam from the falls mixed with perspiration pouring down Damy’s face and neck and breasts and back in rivulets. Her silk gown stuck to her body.

  “Forgive me … I cannot carry you farther. I contacted Marstone … requested … medical evacuation.”

  Damy screamed.

  The world twisted. The falls, the statue, the balustrades, and the Granville sky all looked like an unstable hologram.

  “Please, calm down,” Verne said. He held her. “The Janzers are on the way. They have our location.” Verne peered through the balustrade down the trail. “The medical bots must’ve given you instruction for how to handle a situation like this.”

  “They didn’t really … tell me anything … other than”—gasp, gasp—“I was to report … to medical for the … delivery and”—gasp—“here we are … two days early”—gasp—“Oh Verne … what did I do?”

  “I want you to calm your mind,” he said. “Think about our walks along the hills in Gubertiana and in the farms through the vines in Vivo and the markets in Palaestra City and the cobblestone walks in Phanes.”

  She imagined the raspberries and blueberries in Vivo and the bazaar and their talks along the paths, until she could imagine nothing but her organs contracting.

  She cried out and twisted in Verne’s arms.

  Passersby gawked as if he were killing her.

  Damy lost her senses. The sounds, the words mixed with the falls, the sights too far, as if they lay on the other side of Beimeni instead of the other side of the bridge.

  I’m going to die and take Pasha and Oriana with me.

  She felt hands on her legs and arms and back, Janzer hands.

  “Verne!” She searched for him but didn’t see him. “I can’t …. access … way … Marstone!”

  She felt the cold gurney beneath her, and her voice broke as the Janzers jogged down the trail between the pine trees, with her raised aloft.

  Her screams mixed with the falls.

  The sunlight split through the tree trunks over Verne, who staggered and jogged, doing his best to keep up. Sweat and dirt streamed down his face, his blurred face.

  “Verne,” she said weakly, “send … messages …”

  And she passed out.

  ZPF Impulse Wave: Broden Barão

  Palaestra City

  Palaestra, Underground Northeast

  2,500 meters deep

  Brody sprinted through Solaris Station to the trench designed for the intracity transports. He entered one and 50 BENARIS PLEASE rotated in midair. He moved his commonwealth card through the bright blue letters and numbers, and the message disintegrated. The circular glass door rotated and enclosed the oval transport. He sat in a pearl chair and looked out of the glass enclosure as the transport whizzed along the narrow, winding trench through Palaestra City.

  He repeated Damy’s last message over and over, They’re putting me under, love you. Why would she to go the gorges? Why was she with Verne?

  Palaestra City, “the city of onyx,” zoomed by, its thousands of geometric buildings made of synthetic gemstones, lined with ivory onyx, and connected by glass skywalks. But all Brody saw was Damy’s head falling to Verne’s shoulder—with so much ease.

  Inside the city’s medical center, a medical bot with JENNY chiseled to its breast plate, handed him a white gown and escorted him to the hallway outside the delivery suite, where Verne sat on a bench, arms crossed, his unbuttoned silk shirt covered with dirt and streaked with his and Damy’s sweat.

  “What were you doing at the gorges,” Brody said, his voice as rough as granite, “with a woman less than three days from her delivery day?”

  Verne extended his arms, his palms toward Brody. “She asked me. She begged me. I swear—”

  Brody grabbed him. “You should’ve left her at home! You should’ve been working on Project Silkscape in Lovereal! You should’ve—”

  “It wasn’t my idea. I told her we shouldn’t go—”

  “You’re lucky she isn’t dead!”

  “Should I escort Vernon Lebrizzi to the waiting area?” Jenny said.

  Brody didn’t answer and set Verne on the ground. He realized how ridiculous he sounded, for his eternal partner and his babies could be hurt, or worse, if something had gone wrong with the accelerant injections.

  Jenny latched its alloy arm through Verne’s fleshy one. He didn’t resist. They disappeared through an exit at the far end, Verne’s head down, suspenders hanging off his shoulders. Brody turned. Damy lay in a bed on the other side of a glass enclosure, her legs spread, held by straps, and concealed by cloth.

  She should’ve asked me to take her to the gorges.

  Despite everything she was going through, he couldn’t stop the thought.

  Brody took the hallway chair and waited. He didn’t know how much time had passed when Jenny opened the door. Behind the bot stood Damy wrapped in a cashmere gown.

  She scurried around Jenny. “Brody!”

  She threw herself into his arms, and he kissed her dotingly. He tasted the berries on her lips and inhaled her flowery scent. He tightened his grip.

  He felt terrible for being so selfish this whole time. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you today.” He held her face with his hands. She felt so cold and looked terrified, all the color gone from her bronze cheeks. “Are you hurt? Are … our babies …”

  He couldn’t say it, but Damy understood. She held his right hand and rubbed her face into it, then kissed him. “I’m fine, so are Pasha and Oriana. They’re being prepared.”

  Prepared, Brody thought. He made sure his recaller was activated in his pocket, for the more he thought about the commonwealth’s procedures, the more he hated them. Was this why his parents had kept him hidden? Was this why they had risked arrest, censure, and death: to keep him from being prepared and developed as if he was a pig and a computer, rather than a transhuman being? Instead of expressing his displeasure—that
he and his eternal partner couldn’t even hold their babies—he said: “Thank the gods you’re safe.” Then he looked at Jenny. “Where are our children?”

  “Aha,” Jenny said, “follow me. The chancellor’s heirs are ready for the viewing.”

  They took an elevator deeper into the center. At the Natal Level, fifty floors down, Jenny led them into a hallway with windows looking on postnatal viewing booths. They passed new moms and dads and developers along their way to a booth with holographic blue and pink letters:

  PASHA BARÃO

  ORIANA BARÃO

  Damy hugged Brody.

  Jenny said, “Shall I allow your visitors to join you?”

  “Visitors?” Damy said.

  “Vernon sent us all messages.” Brody wiped his eyes and turned to Jenny. “Send them in.”

  “Even Vernon Lebrizzi?”

  Brody pursed his lips and turned to Damy. She had the look of a neophyte who’d done something naughty, but Brody could tell the guilt was twisting her inside. He could feel it in the ZPF. He wouldn’t hurt her, not now, with this their first and likely only time to see their twins until after they took the Harpoon Exams and were purchased at the Harpoon Auction. “Yeah, let Vernon in too.”

  The glass doors spun on the far end of the hallway, and in flew Nero, trailed by Gwen and Verne, all three dressed in cashmere gowns. After the kisses and hugs, the group turned toward the babies, who appeared so peaceful, so serene, so smooth, and so unaware of what awaited them in Dunamis and Underground West.

  Verne pulled Brody aside. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Verne said. “Please, forgive me. I would never endanger—”