When I said nothing, only stared, he chose to break the ice. “I understand why you’re upset.”
“Yeah?” I asked, near-whisper.
“What can I do to prove that I wasn’t involved with your sister’s murder? What would you like to hear me say?”
I reclined in my seat. “Save your groveling. I’m not here to fight.”
Lucifer tilted his head.
“Things have been… difficult,” I began. “I segregated Sanctum for some time to think.”
“And what’s your conclusion?”
“A peace ceremony.”
Lucifer stared at me like I’d just shat a rainbow. “A…peace ceremony.”
“A lot of things have been brought to light. Neither of our cities will prevail under cold war. In only a week our economy has dropped a quarter. Parliament’s in disarray.”
“And what about you?”
I paused. “Come again?”
“You’ve given me reasons for continued peace based on the desires of your city and its subjects. But what about you?”
My stare hardened. “What about me?”
“I want you to believe that I didn’t order your sister’s death. I can’t keep an alliance with a city whose ruler doesn’t trust me.”
Raith looked so sincere, and that really bugged me. “I believe you.”
He hesitated, searching my face for the tiniest fracture. He wouldn’t find any, because I had practiced apathy my entire life. “Tell me more about the peace ceremony.”
“I want to hold an event at Yema Theater; Archaeans and Nehelians united under one roof to celebrate our alliance.”
“When?”
“Not sure yet. I have to talk to Yema’s curator.”
“What would the ceremony entail?”
“Speeches, music, performances—whatever you see fit. We’ll invite the media. That should cool down the talk of war.”
“How many people can Yema hold?”
“Twenty thousand, full house. Ten thousand angels and Nehelians.”
Lucifer grew silent, thinking.
“Are you onboard?” I pressed.
“If I agree, will you send your scientists back to the Plexus? Yahweh is very upset about that.”
“I plan to reopen the borders after I make a statement to the press. The Plexus will be replenished soon after.”
Raith smiled. “Then count me in.”
“I’ll call you again when I know more details. In the meantime, think of ways we might entertain our audience.”
“I look forward to our talk, Qaira.”
I severed the call and the feed blipped to static. I watched, the warmth in my expression dwindling. Then, I left the communications room and headed back to Parliament. The first thing I did when I returned to my office was schedule a meeting with Director Kada Ysam.
O
AMISS
Yahweh Telei—;
THE YOUNG BOY OPENED HIS MOUTH AND I pressed the wooden spatula against his tongue. Usually I had to squint in order to see the state of someone’s throat, but not his.
“Erynotitis,” I said, and the boy coughed. His mother rubbed his shoulder, easing him. “I’ll write you a script for antibiotics.”
Seldom did I practice medicine anymore, but I tried to help out at Adonai Hospital once a month. As CEO of the Plexus, my physician coat had been replaced by a business suit, patients replaced by patents—so it was good to get out of my office and treat sick people every now and again.
As the woman and her son shuffled out of the examination room, script in hand, a nurse poked her head inside.
“Dr. Telei, there’s a call for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, following her to the reception desk. I touched the rune on the Aeon, gazing ahead.
This is Dr. Telei.
Yahweh, it’s Namah.
… Dr. Ipsin, you’re two floors down.
That’s two floors too far. I’ve got a line of patients and can’t leave the unit.
What do you need?
There’s been a spike in pharyngitis and emphysema-type cases over the past two weeks. Have you noticed?
Can’t say that I have.
The patients aren’t responding to antibiotics and blood tests show nothing but an extraordinary count of leukocytes.
Viral?
If it’s viral, it’s taking a very long time to clear up. I’ve just scheduled a chest irridigram for a patient who’s suffered emphysema for almost three weeks. I’ve got a few other cases here under review and wanted you to take a look at them.
Can you send them to my office at the Plexus? I’ll be there later this afternoon.
Sure. When can I expect to hear back from you?
Tomorrow afternoon at the latest.
Until then.
***
On my way back to Moritoria, I made a detour to Theosyne, Heaven’s governing house, to check on the status of Sanctum’s segregation. We were hit hard by Qaira’s decision to pull our Nehelian employees from the Plexus. Production and research had been cut in half, and the Axium clinical trial was collecting dust.
Lucifer had planned to speak to Qaira this afternoon, and I wanted to know what was happening. I found my father emerging from our panels room, evidently having just talked to the Regent. There was a look on his face that spoke of trouble. I was almost too afraid to ask.
“A peace ceremony,” said Lucifer, just as I opened my mouth.
“… Sorry?”
“He wants us to hold a peace ceremony in Sanctum. Ten thousand angels are invited.”
Qaira was trying to mend our alliance. That should have been good news; why did Lucifer look so jaded?
And then I thought about it.
That didn’t sound like Qaira Eltruan. He was never that diplomatic, even in peace. Perhaps Leid had influenced his idea, but…
No, something was amiss.
“He’s reopening the borders tomorrow,” my father continued, walking through the hall. I followed. “The Plexus will have its scientists back after he makes a statement to the press.”
“Just like that?”
“Exactly,” he muttered.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know yet. For now I’m onboard with the idea, but instinct warns mindfulness. He said he believed that I wasn’t involved in Tae’s death, but his face said otherwise.”
“Do you think it’s a trap?”
Lucifer unlocked his office, letting me in first. Once we were out of ear’s reach, he said, “That’s the confusing bit. He wants to hold the peace ceremony at Yema Theater, and ten thousand of his own people will be in the audience, too.”
“Why don’t you ask for it to be held elsewhere? Somewhere closer to home?”
“I don’t think he’d come to Heaven, scheming or not.”
“True, but what about Moritoria?”
Lucifer sat at his desk, stroking his chin. “Perhaps.”
“Whatever you do, be careful. Qaira isn’t stupid.”
“I never said he was. Brash, yes. Derogatory, absolutely. But never stupid.”
I lowered my eyes, recalling the last conversation that I’d had with the Regent. There was a piece of it I had neglected to tell Lucifer, but with the scent of danger in the air, it was best that I did. “He knows.”
“Knows what?”
“About Leid.”
Lucifer hesitated, staring. His face grew darker as the seconds passed. “You told him?”
“No. Like I said, he isn’t stupid. He was able to correlate our discussion in my office with Calenus’ appearance. He thinks—knows—we’ve been spying on him.”
A little while after we’d settled into The Atrium, only a few weeks after Leid and Qaira were wed, Calenus made a secret visit to the Ark and told us to notify the Court of Enigmus if Leid ever presented any strange symptoms.
He hadn’t specified what those symptoms were, or why we needed to contact him. When Lucifer inquired about what we should be lo
oking for, Calenus only said, “You’ll know, trust me.”
And he’d been right. The first thing I’d done after Qaira asked about Leid’s black eyes was call Lucifer, who in turn contacted the Court of Enigmus. What I hadn’t expected was Calenus’ immediate response. So much for subtlety. He’d practically thrown me under the craft.
“He made no mention of that?” I asked.
“No.”
Another red flag.
“Any news on Micah Triev?”
Lucifer only shook his head; our conversation was wearing on him. He looked tired. Stress was his only friend as of late.
We needed to find Micah if we ever hoped to reconcile with Sanctum. The longer he was missing, the guiltier we looked. Lucifer knew that, so I didn’t bother saying anything. How Triev had been able to shake authorities for so long was a mystery.
“Are you hungry?” I offered. “I haven’t eaten lunch yet.”
“Not really,” he said. “But you’re free to stay and order service.”
“No, I’ll eat when I get back to my office. It just looks like you need to unwind a bit.”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Thanks for the advice. That coming from you, I’m in big trouble.”
***
Coffee, check.
Early dinner, check.
Strings music playing listlessly in the background, check.
Time to look at those case files.
Namah had made them accessible via the Plexus’ private database. I typed in the administration code and downloaded the files, waiting for them to load onscreen. While I waited I took a bite of my meat pastry. It was dry, but I was hungry enough to ignore that flaw.
Sonaius, XXII – Year 451360:
Patient Name: Samael Soran
Age: 3020 Weight: 85 lu Height: 6'1” G: M
The patient was admitted at 11:30 PM with chief complaints of chest tightness, apnea, and chest pain. Initial examination showed wheezing and pleurisy. An upper respiratory biopsy was carried out after physical examination. Mast cells and lymphocyte proliferation found within interpleural tissues. Cause of inflammation is unknown. Blood tests showed negative for pathogenic substrates or toxins.
I scrolled through the results, frowning thoughtfully.
There were ten more identical cases, enough to pique my concern. It must have killed Namah to ask for my help. He never failed to show how seasoned he was in our field.
After reading the cases, I reached for the Aeon. It was after clinic hours so I called his apartment line.
Hello?
It’s me.
Earlier than I expected.
Yes, you’ve caught my interest. What time did you schedule that chest irridigram?
Tomorrow afternoon.
Send the results to me, if you can.
I certainly will.
Removing my finger from the rune, I took another bite of dinner, re-reading the case files. Perhaps the Plexus had another project lined up.
My eyes rose to the muted televised screen on the wall across from my desk. A Sanctum PB headline scrolled along the right panel, titled:
REGENT DENOUNCES COLD WAR—BORDERS REOPENED TOMORROW
I selected the headline and Qaira’s statement played. I turned up the volume, listening to his speech. He spoke of mending wounds and getting past the tragedy that befell Sanctum. Promises of lasting peace and productivity filled the ears of his audience, but Qaira delivered them with dead eyes. He’d worn the same look when I first met him.
It was just as I thought.
This wasn’t over.
XIII
PERTINENCE OF RESPECT
MY CITY LOOKED SO FOREIGN.
Coua replaced by glass pane, aeroways decorated by lights and digital advertisement boards, crafts sleeker and flashier, smaller yet more efficient. The only constant was the bleak, gray sky.
Sanctum had become a derivative of Crylle. Parliament and its people worshipped angel technology, begging for more and more of it. Convenience was a currency valued over usos, reducing people to frothy-mouthed, crazy-eyed goons. If we kept on like this, there would be a price. I didn’t know what that price was, but I knew there was one. There was always a price.
Winter was in full-effect, covering Sanctum in snow, sleet or rain day-round. Sometimes all three at once. Right now it was raining and I leant against the sill of my office window, watching beads of partially frozen water tap the glass, sipping a cup of hot coffee.
I’d slept for four hours last night, a new record since my sister’s death. Leid woke up early and we had breakfast at a shop near Parliament.
It was getting easier to feign normalcy. Smiles were fluid, albeit with effort, and small talk was manageable. The ever-present concern on my wife’s face had diminished as of this morning. The statement I’d made yesterday had pleased her, and it broke my heart knowing that now I had to please her as well. I had to please everyone—all part of the job—but she and I had always been unprejudiced. Candid. It was almost like Leid had died, too.
The Aeon chimed and my secretary announced that Dr. Ysam was here. After instructing her to bring him in, I resumed my spot at the window, finishing my coffee.
Dr. Kada Ysam was the Director of Eroqam Research Science and had headed the team responsible for upgrading our military crafts during the war. Yahweh and Lucifer had pressed to recruit him to the Plexus, but Ysam declined.
He didn’t like angels.
As diplomatic as he seemed, he was never onboard with the whites. Kada had led several government protests against angel migration when our alliance was formed. They all were peaceful protests, given his rank and placement, but now his hate was something I needed. He had lost his son fifty years ago, after the angels’ first strike on Sanctum. Dr. Ysam would be sympathetic to my cause.
“Qaira,” Kada greeted, closing the door behind him. “This is a surprise.”
“It’s been too long, Doctor.”
“Yes,” he said, taking a seat. The look he gave me said much more than that, something like, ‘Too long that you’ve been friendly with the whites.’
He was close to my father’s age—when my father had been alive, that is. Tall and dark, always dressed in black, with raven hair cropped short to his head, graying at the temples.
“What’s this about?” asked Kada when I’d failed to say anything else, drawn again to the window.
“It’s been too long,” I repeated, and this time he caught my drift.
“I’m sorry about Tae,” he said, quietly. “Believe me when I say I know exactly what you’re going through.”
“You saw my statement?”
“I did. Can’t say I approve.”
“Good.”
Kada fell silent, startled. I left the window and sat behind my desk.
“I’m planning a peace ceremony at Yema Theater, two weeks from today. I’ve invited Commander Raith and ten thousand angels to attend. There will be speeches, art performances—a mosaic of culture under one roof.”
Kada said nothing, his confusion growing ten-fold.
“Our Research Science department has angel devices, does it not?”
“Define devices.”
“Explosives.”
The confusion in Kada eyes waned. “Yes, it does. What kind of explosives?”
“Demolition.”
“… You want to bring down Yema Theater with the angels inside.”
I didn’t respond, but my expression verified that claim.
“And how do you expect to get away with it? If you kill that many angels on Sanctum ground, you’ll be convicted of a war crime.”
“They won’t look to me. The evidence will point toward another act of angel terrorism.”
“Why would the angels want to kill their own people?”
“Not only their people.”
Kada hesitated, darkening. “How many?”
“Many.”
Ten thousand.
Ten thousand Nehelians were to be sacrificed, but
the means justified the end. Our city would revolt against the angels and no one would push for peace any longer. They would want blood. They would want war.
And this time we’d win, because Lucifer Raith would be buried under the ruins of Yema Theater, his Heaven left leader-less. Powerless, like pouring water on a hive and watching all the little insects scramble out—desperate, terrified.
“Qaira, that’s… a heavy burden to carry.”
“I’ve carried heavier, sadly,” I murmured, looking away. When Kada said nothing, I continued, “The angels must be erased. I’ve discovered that Commander Raith was responsible for my sister’s death. The Nehelian decree is honor, no matter the price. And we’ve lost that honor; we’ve lost our identity because the whites have bleached our pond with fancy gadgets and apathy.”
Kada lowered his gaze, nodding. “You’re the Regent. Even if I don’t morally agree with your plan, I’m at your disposal.”
“You don’t agree with my plan?”
“I agree that the angels need gone, but I don’t agree with the method.”
“I know this will sound unfeeling, but the Nehelians to attend our peace ceremony are angel-lovers. Sympathizers. They would only get in the way of any future conflict.”
Surprisingly, Kada saw reason in that. The indecision on him faded. “You have my fealty.”
I bowed my head, grateful. “Gather employees whom you know you can trust. I’ll call you in a few days and schedule another meeting at Eroqam.”
As Kada moved to leave, the Aeon chimed again.
Yes?
Sir, Roen Artuega is demanding to speak to you.
I eyed the clock; only ten minutes until a sit-down with the Education Department. I don’t have time for walk-ins.
He’s not taking no for an answer. He’s quite belligerent, sir. I think he’s been drinking.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 56