The Descent into the Maelstrom (The Phantom of the Earth Book 4) (5 page)

It was so good to have Father back. Connor couldn’t believe how fast he’d recovered, but then he hadn’t known how many healer synisms existed beyond uficilin. Synisms that specialized in repairing bone, tissue, the brain, the immune system, and more were all available in Hydra Hollow, the BP’s western stronghold.

The Leadership had tapped into the commonwealth’s live broadcast signal over the ZPF. Connor wondered how they did this without Marstone’s detection but didn’t interrupt the meeting. The three-dimensional scene showed Danforth Diamond, the
Beimeni Press
reporter in Hammerton Hall, or “the official crime scene,” as he described it, crawling with Janzers after the so-called “Midnight Murders.” Then the cameras shifted to Chief Justice Carmen, who entered the Judgment Center from backstage and waddled to his dais. His face rolled with more wrinkles than most of the elderly Connor encountered in the Hollow, and his long, curly silver hair drooped around his cashmere robes. The rest of the justices, who looked as old as Carmen, sat beside him, four to the left, four to the right.

“They’re about to begin,” Brooklyn said.

Nero’s chains rattled on the ground when he and Connor rounded the table. They stood ahead of the table and watched.

Beimenians streamed into the public portion of the Judgment Center and crowded into the stadium seating. Danforth explained that guests were arriving from all over the thirty territories, from Gaia and Dunamis in the West, Vivo and Portage in Central, Piscator and Yeuron in the South, and Peanowera, Navita, and Marshlands in the East. Two divisions of Janzers guarded Captain Broden Barão. Two divisions! They must’ve suspected a BP strike, but Father wasn’t about to send anyone to this hearing. He had made that clear the day before yesterday.

Captain Barão now appeared near the right panel, the Judgment Center near the left one, and Danforth in the middle. The Janzers moved methodically, in perfect sync, their knees lifting nearly to their chests, their diamond armor glistening under the lights. They ushered Captain Barão through the bright tunnel. He wore a glowing green collar around his neck, similar to the ones Connor had first encountered in Gaia when Lady Isabelle had clamped them on him, Hans, and Murray. A Converse Collar, designed to block Captain Barão’s telepathy.

He wondered if the captain was as skilled as his father with the ZPF.

“What is this … madness?” Nero said.

Captain Barão’s wrists bled from where the cuffs dug into his skin. His face was emotionless, mouth drooping, his hair messy. The chains that bound his wrists rattled when he lifted his hands to block the flashes from the holo-producers. Blood dripped down his forearm.

Nero opened his mouth, then shut it without speaking.

Father poured glasses of wine for the Leadership, then sat down and sipped.

Hands clawed for Captain Barão when the Janzers forced him forward near the crowd. Some screamed, but it was impossible to understand what they said.

Father leaned forward. “What’s Xylia doing there?” He didn’t sound happy.

Connor tilted his head and squinted. Sure enough, he recognized Xylia’s freckled face, her crooked stance, her curled, fiery hair and golden headband. They’d met during Connor’s stay with Minister Kaspasparon in Portage Citadel, when he had first escaped Lady Isabelle and her tenehounds and Janzers in Phanes.

“I ordered that no one go to this hearing. Someone will find out why she went.”

“Xylia?” Nero said. “Xylia,” he said again and paused. “As in, Brody’s … Xylia?”

No one answered.

“Atticus Masimovian,” General Norrod began, “Supreme Chancellor of the Great Commonwealth of Beimeni, overseer of the thirty territories within North America, he who will
always
serve, has sent by his office and the Office of the Judiciary the following charges.”

The attendees hushed.

“Conduct unbecoming an officer of the strike teams—”

The crowd gasped.

“Murder in the first degree.”

Chants of “Barão, Barão, Barão,” rose up from the crowd. Chief Justice Carmen silenced them with his gavel.

“Disturbance of the peace.”

“This is bullshit!” Nero said.

A group of Beimenians, Portagens by the looks of them, in their brown lab coats and leather bodysuits, heckled Norrod and the judge, one shouting, “Let him go!” and another, “He’s done more for the commonwealth than
anyone!
” Several from the group chanted, “BARÃO! BARÃO! BARÃO!”

The Janzers swooped down upon the hecklers with a swiftness and elegance that Connor knew well. The disturbance was soon quelled.

“And finally,” Norrod said, “
treachery
against the Office of the Chancellor.”

“Norrod!” Nero said. “How could you!”

General Norrod’s turned against the People’s Captain,
Connor thought. He’d learned from Murray and Arturo, his deceased foster father, that the strike teams were once fully autonomous from the commonwealth, led by the commander Vastar Alalia, who maintained a steady alliance with Chancellor Masimovian. Vastar died during a surface excursion to the Island of Reverie in 273 AR, and the rank of commander was decommissioned, with General Norrod taking over as the unofficial leader of the strike teams.

He should’ve helped Captain Barão.
Connor dared not speak his mind, not given his father’s complicated past with the captain. Connor knew his father had been outbid by Vastar at Captain Barão’s Harpoon Auction in 260 AR. What he didn’t know was whether or not his father had killed Vastar the way the strike teams accused him, or if the commonwealth had without his father’s knowledge.

Now Minister Charles, clad in the traditional ministry garb—a green silk turtleneck shirt with silver cufflinks, silver pants, and a dark gray wool cape laced with synisms that projected Palaestran landmarks—joined Captain Barão behind the desk as his representative. Chief Justice Carmen recited the evidence, showed the replay from the Dream Forest atop Hammerton Hall, Verne’s and Damy’s kiss, her coughing, him seemingly strangling her, Captain Barão arriving and breaking Verne’s neck.

Nero puked.

The Leadership turned.

“This can’t … this can’t … be …” Nero bobbed like a bird. He wiped his mouth with the synsuit glove that still covered his hand. “Water,” he said. “Please … water …”

Connor brought him a canteen despite the obvious displeasure of the Leadership. Even his father scowled. Connor ignored them and also fetched a towel for Nero.

“What about due process?” Charles said. “Isn’t a Beimeni captain entitled to defend himself—”

“I can assure the people that this court’s reasoning is based on the evidence,” Carmen said, “and the evidence is unmistakable—”

“This man achieved more proper conversions than any captain before him. He holds the Mark of Masimovian inside his skin. He would die for anyone in this commonwealth.” Charles turned to the audience. “He doesn’t remember anything that happened the night of the Bicentennial, what does that say—”

“He’s a liar!” a man said, an obvious Navitan trader with golden suspenders.

“Order!” Carmen said.

Charles nodded. “I want you all to take a close look at this man, your People’s Captain.” Charles paused, and the camera shifted over the crowd, many with glossy eyes.

“Minister Charles risks much speaking for your captain,” Connor said to Nero.

“My captain saved his daughter from the Lower Level, bidding for her when no one else did during her Harpoon Auction. Tethys understands how much the crowd’s psyche means to Chancellor Masimovian, and so he will appeal to them directly now.” Nero turned to Connor. “He will push so far as he knows Masimovian will allow, but no further. The chancellor understands this.” Nero looked at Jeremiah, who met his gaze. “And the chancellor knows the Palaestran minister hates the BP for all the scientists you’ve killed.”

The look Father gave Nero could’ve cut through diamond. Connor feared he might truly kill the striker, until he sipped his wine and turned back to the holograms.

“Captain Broden Barão,” Charles was saying, “he who swore to uphold the integrity of the commonwealth, he who achieved more conversions than any captain before him, who gave his life to his chancellor and served the commonwealth with a dignity, pride, and enthusiasm unprecedented in all my one two hundred eight years in this phantom Earth.”

He turned back to the judges.

“Can you sentence him to punishment undeserving of a noble man?

“Can you sentence him to serve in the Lower Level?

“Can you sentence him to
death?

“I should hope not, for we must realize that we all return to the gods in the afterlife. Our medicines and Fountain of Youth provide eternal life, but make no mistake, transhumans—”

“That’s enough!” Carmen said.

Charles shifted his gaze and pointed to a man in the audience. The camera shifted with him to a muscular man with black-and-silver hair and a damaged eye. “The only way this act of violence occurred is if an outsider influenced the captain. And that outsider sits in this room. You know him well. He sat on this side of the court some fifteen years ago after his actions led to the deaths of countless RDD scientists—”

The crowd gasped.

“Antosha Zereoue, your return to the RDD has brought with it the death you left behind—”

The crowd roared.

“Silence!”

Carmen pounded his gavel.

Antosha didn’t budge. He sat next to a woman Connor didn’t recognize, his arms folded with hers, she dressed in a black dress, covered by a veil, he in a black suit, bloodstone gems down the center. His face remained motionless, impassive, as if he didn’t realize someone had just accused him of murder.

Or as if he didn’t care.

“Silence!” Carmen said. “Or I will hold you all in contempt of your chancellor!”

Charles turned toward the judges. “This man acted out of fear and under the influence of a synthetic hallucinogen, telepathically and genetically delivered by Antosha. This can be the alleged crime’s only explanation, and you would do your best to serve this commonwealth by commuting Captain Broden Barão’s sentence and holding him in the DOP until a full round of—”

“Where is your proof, Minister?” Carmen said. “Words are worthless to this court.”

Charles spoke, but Carmen bashed the gavel, overwhelming his voice.

“We’ve seen the lab tests! We’ve seen the live Granville feed from the forest! We’ve heard from the witnesses! And we’ve arrived at a fair and just conclusion for the greater good of the people of this Great Commonwealth of Beimeni!”

Carmen signed the Decision Decree.

A hologram formed above the judges.

“
Gods
,” Nero whispered and fell to his knees.

What does this mean?
Connor wondered. He’d learned some basic Beimenian law in Piscator, but this was a term he had never come across, perhaps, he assumed, because it was a rare sentencing.
For sure it must be terrible.

Beimenians in the Judgment Center moaned and wept and fell. A few Navitans in bow ties and suspenders clapped and cheered.

“Order!” Carmen said. “I will have order in my Judgment Center!”

Xylia screamed, and the crowd rushed into the center aisles. Janzers stormed inside from every opening.

“I will have order—”

Jeremiah cut the feed.

“Was he sentenced to death?” Connor said.

His father put his arm around him. “Worse.” He paused and stared at Nero. “Captain Broden Barão will reside on one of the islands in Farino Prison prior to his departure for Region 7 of the Lower Level. He will serve out his sentence there, for the rest of his days.

“He will die slowly, daily, and by the end not even his developers will recognize his body and mind.”

“How does Xylia know him?” Connor said.

“She grew up with him in Portage Territory, and they were arrested at the same time, but while he was purchased by the Variscans, the Kaspasparons kept her hidden from the commonwealth, and now she’s a—”

“BP spy,” Connor finished. Connor didn’t know much about Xylia, certainly not her history with Captain Barão.
She must still love him like a brother, poor girl.

Nero breathed heavily. He sounded incoherent. Snot dripped down his nose, his eyes were as streaked as a nebula. He slumped forward. “Verena,” he said, “Verena, Verena …” Tears ran down his cheeks as he mumbled, “And the twins, my gods,” he covered his mouth, “the twins!”

Nero wiped his grimy face and glowered, breathing hard. He turned to Father, who said, “Whom do you serve now,
striker?
”

Palaestra City

Palaestra, Underground Northeast

2,500 meters deep

“Aha, mademoiselle,” Juvelle said, “I have your robe and clothing ready.”

Gwen ignored her keeper bot and scrubbed her arms and chest and legs till her skin was raw.

She cried.

“Mademoiselle?” Juvelle said. “Aha, are you all right?”

The bot’s eye slit shone brightly beyond the cloudy glass and steaming hot water that sprayed Gwen, who hung her head and watched the swirl of suds and muck and skin descend the drain.

Every night since the Bicentennial, she’d let him touch her. Every morning she awoke upset. “Take a whiff of this,” Antosha had told her, “and dance with the good captain, and humiliate him, and all shall be ours.” She’d whiffed and danced and thought the captain’s humiliation complete when he’d wobbled through the orgy, covered with champagne and sweat and women’s kisses that didn’t belong to his eternal partner. How wrong she’d been.

She turned off the faucet.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Marcel isn’t here yet, is he?”

“Aha, no, no, mademoiselle, but your transport leaves soon.”

Gwen opened the door and stepped out of the shower in her new First Ward apartment unit. Antosha had gifted it to her. He lay on the bed, still asleep. Juvelle draped a woolen robe around her that smelled of cinnamon and apricot. She dried herself and handed the robe to Juvelle, then slipped into her undergarments and a summer silk gown. She applied maroon eyeliner and dark mascara and injected herself with uficilin, but it didn’t dull the pain. The dirt would never clean. Her insides would never heal.