Lower Earth Rising Collection, Books 1-3: A Dystopian Contemporary Fantasy

by Eden Wolfe

  Lucius had taken on the locusts and won. Locusts had survived the Mist, of course. Hearty and durable things. And a devastation to their crops in the eleventh generation. Martin had been the Great Geneticist then, but his degradation had happened hard and fast. He’d begun the work on the locusts but hadn’t advanced it far. The Tower had floundered on it for a while, and then in came Lucius. The story was legend in the Tower. Lucius was just a young man, a perfect physical example of men before the Mist. He was cocky, he was elusive, and he was better than anyone else known in Central Tower.

  The locusts had been under control within the year.

  How far Lucius had fallen since those days.

  Uma stood from her desk, shaking her head. Elgin was problematic, but it paled in comparison to the locusts. Lucius solved the locusts in ten months. She’d been working on Elgin for three years, and wasn’t any closer to resolving it.

  She set the kettle and opened the closet. The smell of it seemed to mock her. She glanced at the clock.

  Nine in the morning and I haven’t had my coffee yet. No wonder I can’t figure out Elgin.

  She frowned. If only a cup of coffee could make the difference between a lethal virus and saving the world. If only.

  A tap on the door, so light, Uma wasn’t sure she actually heard anything. She turned from the closet to see the outline through the glass wall.

  Roman.

  Perhaps Elgin would continue to haunt her, but at least she knew she was where she was supposed to be, in the seat that Roman had borrowed for a few years. She’d found him a comfortable office at the back of the seventeenth floor. She couldn’t dismiss him after all, she needed him.

  But still, she felt the same thing every time he appeared at her office door and she smiled in spite of herself.

  “Come in, Roman.”

  5

  Roman

  Roman hesitated outside the office door. He could see Uma taking down a bag of coffee from the closet that had been his storage space. In it he’d kept the unsuccessful treatments tested in the incubation program.

  Uma knew it, too. It was just another way she rubbed his nose in it.

  Coffee in my cabinet of failures; she makes a farce of it. Uma can call me arrogant all day long, she’s the one who has no idea what she’s up against. Elgin. As if Elgin were the greatest challenge. Just wait. It’ll come back to her. Everything comes around.

  Uma, the first female Great Geneticist. Uma, everything had to be her way, on her terms, and different from everything else that came before. Roman couldn’t make any snide comment to her about the changes she’d made in the office or across the Tower. If he did, she would tip her head and make a face that called him a wounded animal looking for a reason to be useful.

  Certainly, he had wanted to be the Great Geneticist, he wasn’t going to lie about that. But he had been equally relieved to give it up.

  There had been a time in the past when Roman had reported to Uma. Until a point, she had always been more senior than him. She played political games well. But then things had gone awry. Roman had shot up in the Tower. It had seemed it was his for the taking.

  At least that had been true with the former Queen, Maeva. With Queen Ariane, it was different. During the reign of Queen Maeva, those had been his glory years. He could almost do no wrong.

  But then there was the incubation program.

  It hadn’t even been his idea; it had been Maeva’s. She’d wanted armies of women to defend Lower Earth, children grown en masse into machines that could fight back Upper Earth.

  He’d known. He’d known it would fail. He’d known it would undo him. He’d known it would leave swathes of incubates without real meaning in the world. Without true purpose.

  But he’d done it anyway.

  And now look where I am. Lucky to be alive. That’s more than Maeva can say. Settlers, be kind to her soul.

  He tried not to think about the incubates.

  If he thought about them, he had nightmares. In the daytime, he could distract himself. Change the subject. Forget that it happened.

  He had no defense when he was sleeping. Dreams of them, thousands of children, crawling toward him, bloody, bloated little bodies, all less than five years old.

  Of all the terrible things he had done in his life - the disappearances he’d uttered to the Queen’s Guard, the chemical tests, and then Lucius... it was the incubates that tore at his conscience. They would until the day he died. And maybe even beyond that.

  He tapped on Uma’s door.

  She saw him through the glass and smirked. Roman blinked and prepared himself.

  “Come in, Roman.”

  If only he could find a way to revive the Male Program. Perhaps there was a chance he could atone for all he’d done.

  “I’ve been waiting for the soil studies,” Uma finished her last sip, slurping the coffee between her teeth. Roman shuddered at the sound. “I was expecting them yesterday.”

  “We only just got the report from the Dark Counties yesterday, you’ll have it by this afternoon. Flooding across the Central Mass set her back by a day.”

  “Flooding in the Central Mass. I never thought I’d see that day.”

  “The runoff from Rainfields is getting worse.”

  “Is Transportation across it?”

  “How should I know?”

  Uma sighed and scribbled onto a page on her desk. “I’ll take care of it then.”

  “Access to the Dark Counties was never a priority.”

  “Yeah, well, now it is. I want to know why the rest of us are plagued with Elgin while they seem to get away without the slightest of effect. Dark Counties. I guess it’s time they had something on their side.”

  Roman dropped the file on her desk that was his reason for coming. “There’s also this.”

  Uma looked at the file, “What is it?”

  “Death rates.”

  “And?”

  “You’ll want to look especially at the Sisters.”

  “Can you quit with the dramatics and tell me what’s going on?”

  Roman clasped his hands. “It’s getting worse. An increase in the mortality rate. Daphna reported it. It arrived today.”

  “Daphna. I should have kicked her ass when I had the chance.”

  Roman wasn’t going to respond to that. Daphna had been relatively unknown to him when he ran Central Tower. A biologist on the fourteenth floor, from what he could remember. They had rarely crossed paths until she started causing trouble. He’d never have guessed she’d end up leading the Sisters. And definitely not that she’d provide key information that they’d never had from the Sisters before. Without Daphna’s knowing, she had lifted the veil on decades of mystery. Roman tracked closely with everything she sent in. She never sent an anecdotal report, it was always all numbers. Roman couldn’t read into her submissions whether things were good or bad, elusive, or frustrating. All she provided was the raw data. And Roman was sure that one day he would need it for something.

  “What do you think it is?” Uma spoke to the pages, flipping through them, “Frankly, if contaminated water is to blame, then I don’t see why we need to try to spread ourselves any thinner for the Sisters, of all people.”

  “It’s not Elgin. It’s not contaminated water.”

  “I don’t see anything in here that gives any indication of what it is.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So it could be Elgin.”

  “That’s not how Elgin operates. Look at the stages they go through.” Daphna had listed the process by which the Sisters perished with the amount of time, degree of apparent organ failure, and a few other short descriptions of symptoms. Roman got a shiver down his spine.

  Uma dropped the report back on her desk.

  “It’s an overreaction. The rates are not so far outside of regular. They’ll normalize soon enough.”

  Roman’s mouth dropped in spite of himself. How could she dismiss this so easily?

  “Don’
t look at me like that, Roman. If we don’t clear up Elgin then it’s coming to Geb, and it’ll be a lot more than a few Sisters who die of muscle aches.”

  “Muscle aches?”

  “If there’s nothing else, then the door is there.”

  Roman turned. There was no getting through to Uma when she was in a mood like this. He’d work on her, slowly. He couldn’t alone figure out what might be passing through the Sisters, but he wasn’t about to let it go. There was something there, something invading them. Something sufficiently altering their DNA so that life was no longer viable.

  He was about to walk out the door when he found himself suddenly staring at the adorned chest of someone who stepped in front of him. From the little he saw, two inches in front of his face, straps of leather with bead and metals sewn into it, he knew it was the Commandante.

  He took a step back to be able to see her.

  “Roman.”

  Irene, the Commandante, tipped her head in greeting.

  “I was just leaving.”

  “Stay. I would like to speak with both of you,” Irene stepped around Roman and marched to Uma. “You’re late with your update.”

  Roman saw a flash of panic in Uma’s eyes. “I was waiting for - ”

  “There’s nothing to wait for. The Queen doesn’t wait.”

  “Yes, of course, I’ll deliver it immediately.”

  “The Queen would like you to remember your station. You lead Central Tower, but you are a servant to the settlers’ descendants. You serve she who comes from their blood. The Queen - and I, for that matter - wish to impress upon you the importance of this recognition.”

  “Yes, I - ”

  “I’m not finished.”

  Uma whispered, “Sorry.”

  “You, above all others in the Tower, must be present at every Briefing, every announcement, every court hearing.”

  “But the Queen doesn’t hold court anymore.”

  “You are missing the point.”

  “I see, yes. I see what you mean.”

  It was like watching a dog with its tail between its legs. Roman was frozen to the spot. He now understood that he was not there to listen, but to act as a symbol. Do as the Queen commands, or else you’re demoted without a second thought.

  Irene strolled across the office towards the window that looked into the square, across to the fortress. “You have a nice view from here.”

  “I hardly notice,” Uma said. “Between Elgin and flooding in the Central Mass, and now an unknown cause of death among the Sisters...”

  “The Sisters?” Irene turned to look at Uma.

  Uma’s got her now. Roman shook his head, ever so slightly, in both wonder and admiration. Five minutes ago, she couldn’t have cared less about the Sisters. But that’s golden for Irene. And Uma knows it.

  “It’s still very preliminary,” Uma continued, “But we have more data points than we’ve ever had from them.”

  “Daphna is more transparent than any previous leader, that’s evident.”

  “Commandante, I will make sure that as soon as I have any indication of what’s behind it, I will deliver word to the Queen immediately. I’ve been deeply invested in trying to understand the implications behind it, and I didn’t want to bring a half-cooked hypothesis to the Queen.”

  ‘Deeply invested.’ Roman shook his head. She is unreal.

  Irene appeared to be buying it. Her eyes were narrow, listening to every word that fell from Uma’s lips. She didn’t move for a while after Uma finished speaking. Roman watched Uma squirm in the silence. Her discomfort relieved him. At least she was not entirely impervious to her situation.

  “Fine,” the Commandante said. “Waste no time. Even if it is incomplete, I want a summary by close of day that I can take to the Queen. Understood?”

  “Very clear.”

  Irene walked out of the office, passed Roman, and then stopped. “Roman?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s a new stomach illness in Cork Town. It’s disgusting. People wasting away on the streets. I find it hard to believe you’re standing around when there’s so much to be done.”

  “Yes, Commandante.” Roman couldn’t help giving a sardonic smile, “Getting right to that.”

  Irene leaned in. “Had it been my choice, it would have been you whipped to death in that square, not Lucius.” She stood upright, “Watch yourself, Roman.”

  Roman watched her march away, Irene’s head coming as tall as the doorway and her shoulders nearly as broad. When she disappeared in the elevator, Roman looked back to Uma whose hands were on her hips.

  “Get me more on this Sisters’ disease. Now.”

  Roman nodded and left the office that used to be his, closing the door with a satisfying slam.

  6

  Irene

  Irene closed her eyes in front of the carved wooden door of the third floor of the fortress. Likely Queen Ariane already knew she was there. She had that way of knowing. Just like her mother. And besides, it was the time of day for her regular report to the Queen.

  Yes, she definitely knew Irene was there.

  Irene rubbed her forehead, preparing words in her head. She thought she’d had it all planned out, but now that the moment was upon her, Irene wasn’t sure how she’d explain the situation with the Sisters. Her head ached. At fifty-five years old, she was far from degradation - her body was as steady and toned as it ever was - but it was her mental acumen that was starting to worry her. She wasn’t as quick to react to the Queen’s questions, didn’t have the answers as easily.

  With Queen Ariane, that could prove a deadly fault.

  “I hear you, Irene. Would you just come in already?”

  Irene took a deep breath and turned the brass handle.

  “What were you thinking about?” The Queen was sat at her bureau, her back to Irene. From behind she didn’t look imposing or regal. From behind she could almost be girl-like. Her delicate shoulders and fine chestnut brown hair. But she was no child. Young for a Queen - she was still only twenty-four years old and had been on the throne for six years already. Such was the age when it seemed Queens in Lower Earth came to rule. Maeva had barely been past eighteen herself.

  Ariane swung around in the chair, and Irene had to catch her breath. Something about the way the dusk sunlight reflected off Central Tower lit Ariane from behind. Irene could swear she was looking at the old Queen Maeva. Certainly, they’d always had the same face, Ariane and Maeva, such was their shared Royal genetic code, but Irene had never for a second confused the two. Not until that moment.

  She’s settling into her role now. She’s more assured. Maeva was always assured. Perhaps that’s what’s so striking about Ariane now.

  “You haven’t answered me,” Ariane raised her eyebrows.

  Irene held out the report. “I was thinking about the Sisters.”

  “The Sisters?” Ariane jumped from her chair and rushed towards Irene, snatching the report out of her hand. “What have they done? I’ve been waiting for this moment, tell me, quick! What is it? There is treachery that runs through that whole community. Are they preparing a revolt?”

  “It’s nothing like that at all,” Irene had to choose her words wisely. Ariane did not take to any note of condescension. “The illness among them is worsening. The death rate is accelerating.”

  “Accelerating? Well, that’s a comforting development.”

  Irene blinked hard. While the Sisters had been an adversary of Irene’s people, it had always been more symbolic than concrete. The Sisters, for all their subversion and talk of revolution, had never taken any explicit action. Not against the Ganese, not against Geb, and not against the Queen.

  But there was no explaining that to Ariane.

  It’s Maeva’s fault. The Sisters never even would have existed had she not torn Sahna away from the Ganese. Our people never belonged in the capital, serving settler Royalty. We were never to serve anyone. Yet there was Sahna, and here I am. It will stop in some gen
eration, but not with me.

  Ariane flipped through the pages of the report. “They have an ‘internal breakdown’? What does that even mean? Why does Uma treat me like I’m some sort of idiot?”

  Irene shifted her weight. “I think it means that they prematurely degrade. But I don’t know for sure.”

  “Answer me, why does she treat me like I’m some sort of idiot?”

  Irene didn’t reply. She watched the Queen’s shoulders rise and fall in quicker succession.

  “I may not have the education that those of the Tower flout around, and there may be other Royal designs out there that were more adapted for scientific exploits. But no one can say that I don’t know how to rule. I have been designed to lead. To lead. How, Irene, how can I possibly lead when my closest advisors treat me like I’m a child? I am twenty-four years old, older than King Geb when he established this city. Older than my own mother when she took the throne. I’m older than those designs, those who would have usurped me from my birthright, those false Arianes; I am older than they will ever be. And still, this is how I’m treated?”

  Irene knew this argument. It was a near-weekly occurrence, and had been ever since Maeva had died. Nonetheless, it sent shivers down Irene’s spine every time Ariane referred to the other ‘designs’.

  They were women, with every right to this same throne. One day I’ll say more than I should; I must be careful not to say that out loud. Ariane would take it for betrayal.

  “Perhaps, my Queen, Uma has phrased it like this because she herself does not have any further information.”

  “How could she not!”

  “I was there, it seemed she had only just learned of the Sisters’ condition. But she wanted to provide you with a report as soon as possible.”

  “Premature. She’s acted rashly. To send me a report without substance. It’s insulting and irresponsible.”

  And yet, had she not, you would be arguing that she had not given you any warning or insight that it was coming.