by Zen, Raeden
She accessed the ZPF and requested connection to Brody through Marstone, and was denied once again. She lowered her head and placed her palms over her eyes.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” Verne said. “He’s the most skilled telepath in the commonwealth. No one could ever hurt him.” He looked at her with such hope in his eyes that she believed him. The Janzer hunt aside, Brody’s skill with the ZPF should overturn any attempt to hold him captive.
The Janzers stirred.
“What’s happening?” Damy said. She rushed toward the workstations, where the Janzer division operated six Granville spheres, though the data in the holograms they generated was hidden to her. “Tell me what you see.”
“We have a lead, Madam Scientist,” the Janzer said, his eyes moving up and down rapidly. “We’re acting on it, though that’s all I can say for now.”
“Damy,” Verne said, “there’s nothing more we can do here. Let’s go back to the lab. When Brody returns, he’ll be pleased with our progress on Project Silkscape and uplifted with news that the menagerie opening remains on target.” He leaned closer to her and whispered, “Let’s not give them a reason to demote us too.”
Damy frowned and pointed upward, indicating Marstone, the eye in the sky. She followed Verne to the transport.
Research & Development Department (RDD)
Palaestra, Underground Northeast
“What disgusting animals,” Damy said to Verne.
Above her workstation was rendered the Phorusrhacos longissimus, the prehistoric “terror bird” her synbio engineers, scientists, and artists had created. They were ancient carnivorous, flightless birds. Strike Team Hyperion had discovered eighteen species on direct orders from Lady Isabelle, Damy had learned, and Verne had secured the fossils in the facility’s back end, where he and the team had done their best, in less than a day, to recreate the genetic materials and reverse engineer a known genome into the prehistoric beasts.
The synconvert organism had aided in the creation of the terror bird’s genome, as she hoped it would, but she didn’t understand why Lady Isabelle desired something so … hideous. “We’re not keeping these … things in the menagerie,” Damy said.
She and Verne worked side by side on the uppermost rim of the front end of the cylindrical Nicola Facility, the rim labeled PALEONTOLOGY 70. This part of the facility consisted of seventy circular floors, each lined with glossy green and midnight-blue elephant’s ear plants, and amaranth, whose burgundy blooms dangled like ropes against a backdrop of running water.
“I don’t know,” Verne said, “some people might appreciate them … lawyers, holo-producers, politicians …”
“Shut up, Verne—”
“Traders—”
She smiled involuntarily.
“Gotcha,” he sang.
She laughed until her unease over Brody’s disappearance overtook her. Brody, where are you? Damy adjusted the hologram, removed the layers of feathers and skin. The skeletal system of the subspecies Andalgalornis was rendered into view, its beak hawkish and hooked, skull sturdy and as large as a log. Where are you? The Janzers had provided no update. She pressed her finger to the bird’s holographic beak, telepathically requested the rest of the skeleton, and recorded how the bird attacked its prey.
“Damy?” Verne said.
She didn’t hear him. She recorded her findings. My hypothesis is that the birds lost the ability for flight in South America at a time when it was an isolated island continent …
“Damy?”
And adapted to attack their land-based prey with powerful jabs …
She lost her balance, then steadied herself, holding the bottom of her pregnant body. She grew larger by the hour, it seemed. She found it odd to see and feel her body expand this way, and found it more than a little uncomfortable to move about the commonwealth. She wasn’t close to being as physically strong as she had been in 286 AR when she’d completed her training for the Harpoon Exams in House Summerset. She missed the simplicity of those years; she hoped Pasha and Oriana’s development would proceed as smoothly as hers had.
“Damy?”
“What, Verne?” she snapped.
“Gwendolyn Horvearth’s assignment to Project Reassortment is being challenged.”
Damy sighed. “I don’t care.” Pasha and Oriana kicked her.
“Brody’s going to lose her unless we act, and you told me that she might be what he needs to lead us to the surface—”
“He’s gone, Verne! What don’t you get about that? The Janzers don’t know where he is! Lady Isabelle doesn’t know where he is! I don’t know where he is! And Verena and Nero aren’t responding to me!” She held her head and leaned against the crystalline ledge.
All the scientists in the facility gawked at them, even the ones on the other levels, who leaned over the sides and searched for the source of the racket.
“Forgive me,” Verne said. He steadied her, holding her hand and her back. “Please, sit down. I’ll get you water.”
Damy lowered herself awkwardly on a marble settee beneath the flora, and Verne returned with a glass. She sipped. “Who wants her?” she said, though she had an idea.
“Antosha Zereoue.”
“Bastard.” Damy finished the water. She squeezed the ridge of her nose. “Did you know he actually attacked Brody at his hearing, after Chief Justice Carmen exiled him from Beimeni?”
Verne shook his head, crinkling his brow. “You don’t look so healthy,” he said. He squeezed her hand. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”
She rolled her hand in the air in a circle, released his grip, and said, “I’m fine!” She stood up, waving her arms to balance herself until Verne helped her steady. “What’s Antosha’s reasoning?” she asked.
“He claims that following a demotion, a supreme scientist loses his priority claim upon neophytes.” Verne chewed his lip. “He’s right—”
“That bastard—” Marstone hailed her. Damy, are you there? It’s me, it’s Nero.
Yes, I’m here. Where have you been!
An … accident with Verena. Is Brody with you? Can both of you come to the infirmary?
I haven’t been able to reach him since yesterday. I hoped he was with you two. Verne and I are in Nicola. Be there soon.
RDD Infirmary
Verena lay on a hospital bed surrounded by hefty plastic, attached to an oxygen mask and tubes that fed her uficilin, air, and sustenance. Medical bots zoomed around her. They offered Damy, Verne, and Nero water every ten minutes, though they consistently refused, and between the constant, “Aha, Lord Nero, have a drink,” and “Aha, let’s save, save, save a life,” Damy’s head positively ached.
She sat on a settee next to a sleeping Verne, once again feeling as helpless as a newborn. So many tubes surrounded Verena—tubes with bright colorful fluids, enzymes designed to repair her DNA, tubes with wires that measured her vitals, tubes with clear liquids, including water and uficilin. Nero sat next to her and seemed as hopeless, the color drained from his face and legs like juice from pulp. His eyes never left Verena’s face.
Nero had explained to Damy how he and Verena had disobeyed Brody’s orders and sought to remove their z-disks and logs from the Regenesis Chamber prior to Antosha’s return. That this violated every unspoken rule in the RDD didn’t matter to Damy. She would have done the same, had she been in their place.
Antosha’s work had led to the deaths of many of their friends and colleagues. That Brody felled Antosha in Palaestra Square and helped the commonwealth arrest him didn’t help endear the two.
Chancellor Masimovian assured Damy and Brody it would be different this time; now Antosha knew his place. “It’s been so long since those years,” Masimovian had said, “his time in the Lower Level served him well. He’s learned from his error in judgment and will be a valuable addition to the RDD, much as he once was.”
Damy knew it was bullshit, as did Brody. This attack on Verena, denied vociferously by Antosha as anything but a sy
nism breach of containment, confirmed her fears. Now she couldn’t help but wonder, had Antosha attacked the Superstructure and abducted Brody? The thought chilled her more than the settee.
Verne snored loudly, leaning on her, drool dripping down his mouth. “Verne,” she said. “Verne,” she repeated and nudged him.
“Whoa, wha…thirty-four thousand contracts, no … fifty! … make it fifty.” Verne’s eyes fluttered open. He saw Damy’s expression and grimaced, looking like a child-in-development caught dipping his finger in raw cake batter. “It was just a dream!” he said as he wiped the spittle from his mouth. “I don’t trade anymore!”
Damy didn’t respond. She put her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what to do.”
Verne massaged her arm.
She threw herself off him. “Oh, my gods!” she said, wondering if she dreamed.
Brody was standing in the doorway!
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said.
“Where have you been?” She waddled to Brody. “What happened at the Superstructure? Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t the Janzers—”
“Easy,” Brody said, holding her in his arms, eyeing Verne. “I’m okay. What’s happened to Verena?”
“Do you have any idea what we’ve all been going through?” Damy said. Verne waved weakly, while Nero remained catatonic, his face a shade of green.
“What’s going on?” Brody said.
He seemed fresher than usual, his bronze skin glistened, his dimples perfectly placed, his bright blue eyes as easygoing as Damy remembered. How could he be so calm? Where had he been?
“The bots tell us that Verena’s suffered an allergic reaction to the synthetic vibrio used for Regenesis research,” she said. “It’s not contagious. It’s—”
“Antosha,” Nero said. “The bots can’t trace it, but I’m sure he’s responsible.” His eyes never left Verena when he spoke.
“What were you two doing there?” Brody inserted himself between Nero and Verena. Nero looked up. “I thought we agreed you’d stay away.”
“Not my idea…but we almost made it out, we almost—”
“Got Verena killed! Stay away from Antosha! He isn’t permitted in our facility, and we’re not permitted in his!”
Nero’s face reddened. He shook his head and stood. “Great, that’s a great way to foster conversion.” Nero paced the room. “The projects we all agree are symbiotic are now separated—”
“That doesn’t explain where you disappeared to,” Damy said to Brody. “You should’ve called! We’ve been trying to reach you for days—”
“Didn’t look that way when I arrived,” Brody said.
Damy turned to Verne, whose matted hair sat askew. She said, “I feared the worst.” She trembled. “I thought Antosha—”
“My love,” Brody said. He swiped the damp strands of hair away from her face. “Antosha can’t hurt us. He wouldn’t dare challenge me again. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I had to file a report with the DOC, and they told me you were safe, in the RDD infirmary, so I thought I’d just come.”
Damy hated when Brody lied to her, but this wasn’t the right time to question him further. Marstone was listening. She looked up and back to Brody, who nodded. He couldn’t call me, Damy thought, or he would have. But where was he? What happened? Why can’t he tell me?
To Nero, Brody said, “What’s her prognosis?”
“Bots tell me the first three days after this type of contamination are critical.”
“Will she survive?”
Nero didn’t respond.
Brody moved to Verena. He put his fist to his mouth. “This is on me. I should’ve requested—”
“Brodes,” Nero said, “this is Antosha’s work, not yours, you didn’t transmit the signals to her DNA to generate a synism inside her body. He did, I’m sure of it.”
“That shouldn’t be possible with Marstone’s oversight,” Damy said.
“Right,” Nero said, “and Antosha was never again to walk through the Beimeni zone.”
ZPF Impulse Wave: Broden Barão
Beimeni City
Phanes, Underground Central
2,500 meters deep
Brody smiled wistfully at Damy, who curled on the couch asleep, her hands cradled beneath her stomach, beneath their twins. He lifted her and placed her in their bed, where she cuddled with the blankets and pillows.
She’s exhausted, he thought. She’s worked too hard on Silkscape.
He kissed Damy’s forehead.
He sauntered out of their bedroom and onto the terrace overlooking the city from the First Ward. The Granville sunset cast polychromatic hues over the fountains, amphitheaters, and white palm trees in Artemis Square. Phaneans moved among the Janzers, carrying on as if nothing untoward stirred in the commonwealth. Brody rubbed his forefingers over the animated tattoo on his forearm, the black and gold ink formed into a captain, striker, aera, and strategist holding hands, swaying, looking down upon the historic Livelle city-state. He activated his recaller and descended into his memories of Jeremiah Selendia, many decades ago.
Jeremiah had taught Brody about Reassortment, about Beimeni, about Earth, history, women, and life. And as the penultimate light faded from the city, he recalled Jeremiah’s penultimate words to him. They’d talked about Marstone, how its use had shifted from technology that helped mankind understand the quantum universe to technology that monitored neurochips through the ZPF, to technology Lady Isabelle used to issue arrest warrants. “It wasn’t like this,” Jeremiah had said in the Ventureño Facility’s Cryo Room, Dr. Shrader’s stasis tank reflected in his eyes. “This abyss Masimovian has led us into, I fear we’ll never emerge.” And Brody had replied, “I don’t think we’re worse off than before.”
Shortly after that, Brody had requested the Regenesis assignment, which led to his rise and Jeremiah’s demotion in 283 AR. Upon reading the chancellor’s communiqué, Jeremiah had said to Brody, “You were my greatest student. You were supposed to lead them with me. You betrayed more than me.” And shortly after that, Jeremiah was demoted from Reassortment, and Brody never saw him again. Five years passed, and three more supreme scientists would be demoted before the ministry appointed and the board confirmed Brody as the next supreme scientist of the Ventureño Facility and Reassortment in 288 AR. He learned that Jeremiah had been banished from Underground Northeast, not the Beimeni zone. Whispers of Jeremiah’s demise spread throughout the RDD. He died in obscurity, they said.
Now Brody wasn’t so sure.
In fact, he doubted everything the chancellor, Lady Isabelle, General Norrod, and Chief Justice Carmen had ever told him: that Antosha’s punishment would fit his crimes, that Jeremiah had perished, and that the BP was a traitorous myth. “If there is such an organization,” Lady Isabelle had declared at a ministry meeting many decades ago, referring to the terrorists, “I’m not aware. What I do know is that these attacks will not go unpunished. We will capture or kill those who bring harm to this Great Commonwealth.” The attacks she’d referred to were those perpetrated in Underground North, not dissimilar to the one Brody fell victim to recently. Brody tried to reconcile his knowledge with recent events, for what had been facts decades, years, and even days ago now seemed folly as Antosha was reinstated, promoted, and Brody’s encounter with the BP matched all the rumors he’d heard over the decades.
Earlier, he’d awoken in his apartment unit to the melody of blue grosbeaks, forest scents tickling his nose. The plush carpet massaged his hands and face. He wore an undamaged bodysuit. Birds, dark-eyed and long-billed and blue-feathered, perched in the thickets—his unit had transformed into the Island of Reverie.
He’d staggered into the bathroom and found his face unbruised, his skin bronzed and vibrant the way a captain’s should be. He assumed the uficilin had worked its magic, probably combined with a tranquilizer. The BP had hurt him in ways he wouldn’t forget, and worse, threatened those he loved most, yet they left him physically unharmed. He didn’t k
now what to think or how to feel. He wanted to talk, but also wanted to keep his encounter a secret, especially from Damy, lest he put her in harm’s way.
He connected to Nero through Marstone. Meet me at the Pulp Crossbar.
I can’t leave Verena.
The Janzers guard the infirmary, and the Protector Prototype guards the patients. Antosha can’t hurt her.
I have to be here when she wakes up.
Ask the Janzers to keep you updated. Verena would want you to hear what I have to tell you.
Brody and Nero sat at a cushioned booth in the Rovartun Tower rooftop pub, the Pulp Crossbar, with its evening view of Fountain Square below, Hammerton Hall near, and Masimovian Center afar, a pale full moon in the southeastern sky. A blues band played mellow tunes for the Beimeni bar crowd, and potpourri released scents of pine and fruit trees from garnet pedestals spaced across the roof.
Brody telepathically ordered a Blue Velvet, and a waiter bot dropped off a hookah. The synthetic leaves tasted like blueberries and macaroons when Brody puffed. He slyly showed Nero his recaller—which no one, not even Damy, knew he owned—before he hid it beneath a satin cloth. “What would you say,” Brody began, exhaling blue smoke, “if I told you there is a world beyond this world.”
Nero shrugged. “Verena tells me I travel to it often.” The waiter bot dropped off glasses filled with Loverealan wine. “But that’s not why you invited me here.”
“Do you wonder about the Superstructure?”
Nero nodded. “How did they nab you? I mean, after Vigna, I’m surprised anyone had the balls.”
