by Zen, Raeden
Gwen’s tears streamed over his forearm. They felt warm and less welcome than they might have minutes ago. He released his grip. His hands shook, and he swiped tears that flowed through him from Gwen, from his cheeks.
“I’m a fool,” he said. “I should’ve known a neophyte’s not capable of what you did …”
Brody peered back into Gwen’s soul, flipping back its pages, for he still didn’t understand why Chancellor Masimovian would’ve brought Antosha back from the Lower Level. Why would he allow a master of telepathy and mayhem, and one with ambition, anywhere near his power? And why did the chancellor grow distrustful of Brody, a strike team captain who had pledged his loyalty to the commonwealth and proved it over and over?
“Lady Isabelle Lutetia is Antosha’s lover,” Gwen said. Brody couldn’t hide his surprise. “They’ve been planning a coup for many years. It’s underway.”
“We were all his pawns,” Brody said. And then … then he remembered. “Haleya Decca knew, she knew about Lady Isabelle, and that’s why she—”
“Killed herself,” Gwen finished.
“Where’re my twins? Where’re Nero and Verena? Is the minister here? Is Portage Citadel in danger?”
Gwen wet a cloth and placed it over Brody’s forehead. It felt as welcome as a warm blanket in a Borean ice hotel and smelled of lilies, like Damy. He eased back on the bed and calmed.
“I’m your ally in this fight, Captain,” she said, “and you will have all the answers to your questions in time. For now, you rest. You’ll need your strength.”
“For … what …”
Gwen didn’t respond. She activated a holographic lever over a workstation, and fluids rushed through the intravenous line and short catheter inserted into the vein on his arm, and his world turned blank.
Night turned to morning in Portage. When Brody awoke and stepped onto the balcony overlooking the lagoon in the citadel’s courtyard, he noted the lack of security below and lack of sky above. Worse than I expected, he thought. Even the stone and minerals on the citadel revealed wear, pieces missing or otherwise disfigured.
Brody looked out on the labyrinth of clay buildings and skywalks beneath Portage’s silver sun. He felt the city’s fear. Portagens and migrants commuting on the skywalks thought about Chancellor Masimovian’s assassination, about the return of the People’s Captain and the Liberation Front. They thought about the impending inauguration of Antosha Zereoue and the inevitable invasion.
Brody blocked his mind from theirs, but he couldn’t block his destiny, his chosen destiny. I must lead them now, he thought, lead the Great Commonwealth back from oblivion, and I must find my babies …
Minister Kaspasparon was accused of housing an enemy of the state, and all Janzer divisions, including those in Portage, were redeployed with a focus on Phanes, Nexirenna, Ope, Vivo, and Palaestra. The minister had spoken with Brody that morning and asked him not to agonize over the chancellor-designate’s actions, for they were inevitable. “He seeks to consolidate and justify his power,” Kaspasparon said, “but he will not succeed. We must act swiftly and decisively if we are to end this war.”
The Controller had contacted Antosha and informed him of the chaos during the blackout, and of his suspicion that the Middle zone elevators—designed to allow for smooth transfer of Janzers to the Lower Level’s supply chutes—had been commandeered by the BP. When Minister Kaspasparon’s assurances of loyalty had fallen upon deaf ears, he sent a Communiqué of Separation to the Office of the Chancellor. The minister felt sure Antosha would make examples of the secessionist territories—Portage, Gaia, Yeuron, Piscator, Jurinar, Haurachesa, Reanaearo, and Navita—in short order.
That afternoon, Brody joined the minister, along with Gwen, Xylia, Xylia’s eternal partner, Breccan, and the rest of the BP Leadership who survived, in Ministry Hall. They stood in a circle around a holographic pad that rendered an image of Artemis Square.
“We have reached the end,” Minister Kaspasparon said.
He appeared and moved as a working man of Portage, like Brody’s father, with taut skin, athanasized but with a toughness not present in much of the wealthier territories of the Northeast. His medium-blue hair was slicked back and fell to his shoulders, over which lay a hoodless silk cape.
“I’ve heard worse from the BP in the past,” Brody said, “from a man who isn’t here.” He paused. “Tell me, where is Jeremiah?”
“You don’t know?” Brooklyn said. “How could you be a skilled telepath and not know—”
“Just because I can hear doesn’t mean that I choose to listen.”
“He gave his life to save yours,” Gage said.
“The Lady Isabelle invaded our western enclave and killed him, along with everyone else who remained,” Zoey said.
Brody looked down. The news both saddened and relieved him. He would never reconcile with his former mentor, nor would he have to confront him. Jeremiah had often assured Brody the gods preserved the deepest and hottest pits of hell for deceivers.
He wondered if Jeremiah found peace in that hell. Brody had certainly found none in his, down below.
A popping noise sounded from the doorway. Brody turned.
The crystalline entrance to the Ministry Hall cleared.
Did the gods hear me? Brody thought.
Verena and Jocelyn entered. Verena looked exhausted, her hair matted, dark circles beneath her dark violet eyes, rimmed with wrinkles. Or was it cuts? The child’s face was even worse, covered with dirty sweat.
“Ah, Lady Verena,” Kaspasparon said. “I trust you’ve met my friends in Gaia.”
“Minister Portia sends her regards.” Verena massaged her shoulder. “Next time, I hope you’ll arrange for more comfortable transport. I thought I was going to have to use the suicidal z-disk she gave me.”
“We came here in boxes,” Jocelyn said, grinning.
“The merchants of Transport City smuggle precious cargo, indeed.” Minister Kaspasparon turned to Jocelyn. “I’m sorry to say that children are not permitted here, young one.”
“I’m not a child,” Jocelyn said, wagging her finger, the remains of her sausage curls bobbing. “I swept the Polemon passageways, took anyone Jerry gave me, made my way in the darkness, alone! Sometimes afraid, though not of the dark, nope! But that didn’t matter; I helped Lady Verena take our friends along the Underground Passage! And that makes me as much a Polemon as anyone else here.” She set her hands on her hips.
Jeremiah’s Leadership, the minister, and Brody were confounded. Kaspasparon said, “I suppose an exception can be made for a child with such … eloquent speech … at such a youthful age …”
“Who are you?” Zoey said.
“I’m Verena Iglehart, and this is Jocelyn Vertulli, and we were smuggled here on orders from Jeremiah Selendia.”
“You’re alive,” Brody said. The last time he’d been with her, she had been lying on a gurney in a medically induced coma because of Antosha’s genetic strike.
Verena grinned and ran to him. They hugged tightly. “Captain,” she said, “please, accept my apology.”
“No need for that,” Brody said. He held her at arm’s length. It was so good to see her up and about again. “You’re here, I’m here, and—”
“The flow of time is against us,” Kaspasparon interrupted. He swept around the holograms, his cape slipping over the ground. “The parameters of our predicament are as follows.” He adjusted the renditions, shifting it to Farino Territory and Reassortment Hall. “First, if word over the Underground Passage is correct, a group of prisoners in Farino were transferred to Reassortment Hall, where they await what we assume will be multiple transhuman trials in the coming days, or something worse.”
Kaspasparon raised his hand, altering the view before them to Beimeni City, the Fountain of Youth, and Masimovian Tower. “Secondly, Antosha’s inauguration nears, and this may be our only opportunity to strike, with the enemy weak, his defenses and his hold on the commonwealth in disarray—”
/> “The people presently stand with him,” Xander said.
“They mourn Chancellor Masimovian,” Zoey said, shaking her fist, nodding, “and ever-savvy is the young chancellor-to-be. He awed the commonwealth with his Regenesis presentation, but won the hearts and minds of a tired, failing commonwealth with his declaration of thirty days and nights of holiday, games, and performances in Hammerton Hall, all complimentary, in honor of the late chancellor.”
“You can’t mean to act so soon after Masimovian’s death,” Isaiah said.
“Please, be at ease,” Kaspasparon said. He pushed out his palms. He knew these people in ways Brody did not. “The crowd is fickle. One day they are in love with Masimovian, the next with his murderer.”
“But they don’t know Antosha is the culprit,” Brooklyn said, “and neither do we. We’ve no proof. Theories aren’t proof.”
“I think we do,” Kaspasparon said. He turned to Gwen. “Isn’t that right?”
“What’s she doing here?” Verena said. The whites of her eyes expanded. She reached for her side as if she searched for a pulse gun. “She’ll lead him directly to us! If she hasn’t already …”
“Calm down, Verena,” Brody said. He pushed Verena’s arms down and held her back.
“You of all people should know what she’s capable of! And what she did for Antosha after Masimovian sent you away—”
“Not by choice!” Gwen said.
Verena calmed, for there was only truth in Gwen’s voice. Brody released her.
“And as for Damy, I didn’t know.” Gwen looked to Brody, then back to Verena. “I swear it. I didn’t willingly campaign for Antosha or kill my own brother-in-development. I loved him, and I’ll never forget who tricked me. I’m with you to the end.”
“Ah, the end,” Kaspasparon said. “The end is here, Captain, and what your people require is a viable contingency plan to raid Phanes and Reassortment Hall, simultaneously, in a manner that cannot be repelled.”
“I suppose every man, woman, and child in the Liberation Front is prepared to die,” Verena said. She brushed a layer of dust away from her chest.
“They are,” Kaspasparon said.
In the days that followed, Minister Kaspasparon dispatched his messengers along what remained of the Underground Passage. Word spread that the People’s Captain awaited all able-bodied men and women who sought to confront the new chancellor in Phanes—a suicidal operation if there ever was one.
The smugglers gathered a force tens of thousands strong, traveling by river, stream, supply line, and sewer—an unprecedented consolidation of the Liberation Front.
The Leadership also learned the identities of the prisoners transferred from Farino Prison to Reassortment Hall, Nero among them. This revelation led Verena to designate herself for the rescue operation. Brody didn’t argue. They also learned that a huge BP contingent had escaped from Farino Prison, but as yet, neither the commonwealth nor the Front knew their whereabouts.
“Surely in this time of mourning and healing,” Breccan said, “the new chancellor doesn’t plan Jubilees.”
“I don’t know what his plan is for the prisoners,” Brody said.
He manipulated the holograms over a Granville sphere in Portage Citadel’s great hall, rendering visible the Volano Gates. They were made of carbyne and led to the transport tubes that led to Reassortment Hall. Under normal circumstances, fifty Janzer divisions guarded the gates, and could flood it to stop any attempt to pass through.
Brody turned to Breccan. “You and Xylia will accompany Verena to Volano. We cannot leave our comrades to whatever devilry Antosha has planned.”
“Agreed,” Kaspasparon said. He looked at Verena. “I have no doubt Jeremiah’s son, Connor, is responsible for the unprecedented escape from Farino Prison.”
“I’ve not felt his presence in the ZPF,” Brody said.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Verena said. “He’d grown powerful before his capture. He could be concealing himself, and his people, through the ZPF.”
“But he was overwhelmed by Antosha before,” Brody said. “Can we trust him to do what’s necessary now?”
“I don’t know,” Verena said, “but I suspect we will need his talent before the end.”
“They’ve been waiting for you,” Minister Kaspasparon said.
The minister stood among the Leadership. The BP, including Brody, wore chameleon fatigues and carbyne body armor streaked with strips of white phosphorescent light on the sides.
Gwen also stood with the BP. “We’re all with you, Captain,” she said, nodding. She’d put her hair into a bun. Around her neck, an animated tattoo swirled in the shape of a rose. It swayed gently as if caught in a breeze upon her skin. Gwen’s way, Brody assumed, of showing solidarity with the BP, which was founded in the South.
Brody moved out to the terrace upon Portage Citadel’s main level. His shaved face gleamed with sweat, while his trimmed hair peaked to a ridge near his forehead, like a striker. He scanned his army, spread over thousands of skywalks and limestone, alloy, and clay rooftops: growers from Vivo, electrical engineers from Gaia, Granville panel operators from Cineris, musicians from Marshlands, fishermen from Piscator, sailors from Jurinar, submarine operators from Haurachesa, bakers from Reanaearo, entrepreneurs from Yeuron, traders from Navita, men and women who carried weapons they’d never used. Brody lifted and lowered his chin. Despite their shortcomings, he believed this army could achieve the impossible, for he felt their determination, their hatred for Antosha and the system that brought him to power.
“The question,” Kaspasparon said as he leaned over, placing his hands upon the balustrade, “is this: Are you ready to lead them?”
Brody looked up to the minister. “He knows we’re coming.”
“If that’s true,” Brooklyn said from behind them, “then why hasn’t he called off the inauguration?”
Brody turned. “Antosha Zereoue fears no one. He holds the inauguration because he must, because he sees himself as invincible.”
“Is he?” Gage said.
“He’s still transhuman.”
“Don’t underestimate him,” Gwen said. She raised her head and tilted it. “During the Regenesis procedure, he coordinated the counterstrike in the Inaccessible Region of the West and manipulated my and Connor’s minds, to perfection.”
“I understand,” Brody said. She has no idea what I’m capable of, he thought, no idea that I taught him, I created him, and I alone can undo him.
His thoughts moved to his twins, held in Phanes. The army that stood here, ready to die for him, didn’t matter. His feelings of anger and fear didn’t matter. Reassortment didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Pasha and Oriana lived.
Papa’s coming, he thought.
He stepped closer to the balustrade and raised his arms. The BP roared. He threw his head back, closed his eyes, and extended his mind over them, like a blanket over a baby. The BP slipped into Brody’s past on Venus.
They glanced here and there, to the smoky geysers, flowing lava, and swirling orange-red clouds overhead.
“Follow me now,” Brody said. “See through my eyes, hear through my ears, live through my body, past, present, and future.”
The BP shifted their attention to Brody and ignored the searing heat, deadly air, and vibrating ground, which trembled beneath their feet.
“Follow me now,” he repeated.
The Venusian groundswell disappeared.
The BP hung in the void of outer space with Brody, between Earth and the moon, between past and present. The Polemon raised their arms to shield their eyes from the sun’s violent light.
“I’ve seen the other end of the galaxy, I’ve seen the surface of the Earth, I’ve seen the center of Vigna, I’ve seen advanced life, life at depths transhumans never thought possible. Now you’ve all seen what I can do, the skills that lie behind the true reasoning for my exile from the commonwealth.
“Trust me when I tell you that when Antosha Zereoue sla
ps your minds with his telepathic onslaught, I will defend you with all that I am.
“Trust me when I tell you that when I create a world to unite our consciousness as one, Antosha Zereoue will seek to split us apart.
“When the way seems blocked, I will set you free. Trust me.”
The Earth spun, blackness shifted to day, and the BP floated through clouds, over trees, beyond oceans and mountains, down to a clearing on the Island of Reverie.
“Follow me now.”
The green grass glistened with dew. Birds, foxes, rabbits, and chipmunks filled the air with chirping and barking sounds. The air was fresh enough to heal the soul.
“Our escape from inside the Earth, a phantom of the Earth shaped by men and women and synisms as a potter crafts a slab of clay, is the ultimate goal of our effort.
“Never forget this.
“We do not seek vengeance for loved ones lost.
“We seek justice upon those who dirtied our world.
“Follow me now!”
The Polemon shouted and waved their weapons.
Brody waited for silence.
“We seek to set the commonwealth on a sustainable path that will see us live in peace and harmony, with each other, and the planet we all love.
“Follow me now!”
Brody brought his people back to Portage City. The BP stared to and fro in astonishment.
They believe, Brody thought. He raised his diamond sword and yelled, “ON TO PHANES!”
“ON TO PHANES!”
ZPF Impulse Wave: Oriana Barão
Area 55
Boreas, Underground North
2,500 meters deep
Oriana awoke from her usual nightmare, though this time it ended with the Lorum synsuit covering Pasha’s flesh. She sat up on a suspended gurney. She moved, but not far. Something held her in place. Clamps pierced into her wrists, drawing blood. She gasped.
“Aha, she’s awake!” said a medical bot labeled DOROTHY.
Oriana’s vision cleared and blurred. The bot disappeared. Now its eye slit glowed, its arm waved, and the infirmary took shape around her—a line of suspended gurneys, medical bots, and workstations topped by a rendition of the Reassortment Strain next to her vitals. She looked down. Tubes and wires circled her arms and legs.
