The Gambit with Perfection (The Phantom of the Earth Book 2) (18 page)

I could only imagine.

The middle son, Johann, I apprehended along with the youngest, Cornelius, in Ypresia Village. But they somehow escaped from the DOP. We reacquired Johann, but Cornelius escaped with Murray Olyorna.

Murray …

A former Reassortment research scientist on Jeremiah’s team, the BP’s developer according to my intel.

Where is Johann now?

A corpse in quarantine. I sent him to the surface, but Cornelius and Murray elude me still. The youngest Selendia is underdeveloped. He won’t survive for long.

I’d like to meet this Zorian.

You might get the chance. He’s in Masimovian Tower as we speak.

Splendid. You might consider keeping him around awhile longer.
Antosha paused.
Jeremiah grew more careless than we imagined. How could he think we’d not find his heirs? And how could he believe we wouldn’t be able to turn them to our cause? With him gone, I trust the Front is disintegrating, as you assumed?

Isabelle looked down.
Wish that were so. The BP’s influence strengthens by the day, near as fast as the economy weakens. It’s as if some reflexive disease has taken hold.

Does the chancellor suggest a means to end the war with the BP? When will he grant my release?

He drinks himself comatose by day and beds his maidens by night.
Just thinking about him made Isabelle want to gag.
The slob is barely in connection with the Janzers any longer, making my job more difficult. But he assures me he’ll grant your reinstatement. The chancellor expects you to … aid me in my search for the Polemon.

You are truly a protector of the commonwealth and I would see you above the world rather than beneath it.

Where humanity belongs.
Isabelle blew out a deep breath.
My love, I must confess, we have a separate issue.
She paused.
Miss Damosel didn’t accept Gwendolyn Horvearth to her team, and worse, she recommended our Harpoon Champion to shadow Captain Barão on Reassortment. How can we move forward?

That’s fine … in fact, that’s even better.

The chancellor sent another summons through Marstone. Though Isabelle didn’t respond, she sensed his growing agitation through the ZPF.

I must go. Atticus seems to have sobered long enough to notice my absence.

Will wonders never cease. Be well, my dove.

Stay alive. I’ll have you out of there soon.

Masimovian Tower

Beimeni City, Phanes

Isabelle rubbed the soft fabric of her silk scarf as she made her way beneath an archway, her gown sweeping the carbyne floor behind her. Atticus had summoned her to the Library Level. He stood in the reading room, searching the semicircular cases full of holographic books, which glowed with white phosphorescent light. A Janzer stood on either side of him, along with several keeper bots. They bowed to Isabelle upon her approach.

“You seem pleased with yourself,” he said without looking up. He closed his eyes, disengaging his extended consciousness from the texts, and turned toward her. He was nothing like the man she’d fallen in love with, centuries ago—his breath reeking of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot, his face as full as a warthog’s, his voice full of hate. “Where have you been?”

“I told you I would search for the whelp this day.”

He bristled and his entire face twitched. “You sent Icarian to Farino Prison without my approval. And you found Jeremiah’s eldest son, but didn’t tell me!” Atticus closed the distance between them and leaned toward her ear. “What else are you hiding, my lady? Pray tell.”

She drew back, then slowly orbited him as if she were lecturing in Harpoon class. He stood still and turned his head with hers, like a Harpoon candidate. She ran her forefingers over the back of his neck. “It’s my job to protect the people—”

He grabbed her wrist, twisting her to him, drawing her face close to his. The smell of booze hung on his breath. “Your job is to please me, Isabelle.”

She broke free and slapped him, forward and backward, letting her many rings slice his cheeks. He narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth, his tongue on his lower lip.

“I’m not in the mood,” she said.

The chancellor swiped his hand toward a keeper bot, which injected him with uficilin, healing his cuts. The bot then wiped his face of blood.

After it finished, Atticus reached for the pendant around his neck. He sent a command, and the Janzers departed, the bots trailing behind. Isabelle sensed the clash of anger and lust within her eternal partner, enjoying his confusion. Atticus did like it rough.

Once they were alone, he turned to her. “You left the BP’s most skilled telepath in my tower and kept it to yourself. Do you take me for one of your Harpoon candidates?”

Isabelle took care to block him from her mind. “I take you for our leader,” she said, her voice as soft as rose petals, “and I thought the apprehension of one of the Polemon’s last commanders would please you.” She raised her hand toward his face, bracelets jangling. He flinched. She smiled and brushed her forefingers over the beads of sweat upon his forehead. “Those maidens can’t handle you the way I can.” His breathing calmed. “Come,” she added, “let us meet with Zorian Selendia, together.”

She took him by the arm to the Cellar Level, where two Janzer divisions and a pack of tenehounds surrounded Zorian. His wrists were cuffed, his chin and face glowing green from the Converse Collar.

“Forgive me,” Atticus said, “we sometimes forget our courtesies.” He nodded to a Janzer, who then unlocked the collar, deactivating it.

Isabelle felt Zorian’s presence in the ZPF immediately. His quantum energy pulsated around her, alarmingly powerful. Her heart drummed.

“If I wanted to kill you,” Zorian said, “I would have done so already.”

Isabelle laughed. “Child, you think you’re skilled because your father is Jeremiah Selendia. You think you’ve suffered because you’ve never known life outside a family you never understood, and now loathe.” Zorian pressed his lips together, blinking. He folded his arms. “Oh yes, child, much as you think you’ve seen my mind, I’ve seen yours. I’ve seen your fights with your brother, your hatred for your father, and your love for the commonwealth’s central territories.”

In truth, Isabelle had seen all this in brief glimpses, when Zorian was bleeding out from tenehound bites. And it wasn’t so much love for Vivo or Nexirenna as it was, she hoped, desire to live a legal life. As soon as she’d injected him with uficilin, he blocked her out again. She couldn’t see him, truly, when he focused. Even now, he evaded her.

The pillars and cellar flashed. The animated sea-life tattoos upon Zorian’s arms spread as if they had wings, engulfing Isabelle and Atticus. The Janzers activated their pulse weapons and drew their swords, while the tenehounds howled. The Cellar Level disappeared …

… Replaced by what Isabelle could only construe as construction assembly lines, obscured by geothermal steam. What the terrorists were building, only the gods knew, but it couldn’t bode well for the commonwealth. Men and women raised and lowered hammers. Alloy sparked. The smell of burning oil and minerals filled the air.

The scene shifted. She, Zorian, and Atticus now stood in a maze of tunnels. Endless tunnels! They snaked up and down and left and right, all throughout the underground, where the BP took care to hide a piping system, which, it seemed, stole cool water from the commonwealth. They somehow avoided detection, though Isabelle would conduct more research into this. Zorian took them deeper, or parallel, to the Beimeni zone. It was hard for Isabelle to keep up with his mind. He stopped and she turned, observing a cavern hidden from the commonwealth with lichen and false limestone. The BP stored synism vials along the riverbanks,
beneath
the rivers, at the wharfs, within the ships, and through the walls, side by side. It made sense to Isabelle now, how the BP had survived so long, how the war had dragged on for decades. This was the result of the BP’s attacks in the RDD. Isabelle felt nauseated. How could they drain resources from more than three hundred million people? How could they put so many at risk?

The way of Reassortment with them
, she thought.

The view shifted, blending people and places together and pulling them apart. Zorian led them through the underground from Gaia in the West to Portage and Phanes in Central to Gubertiana in the Northeast, to all thirty territories in the Great Commonwealth—ending in Navita.

Interesting choice for Zorian to halt,
Isabelle reflected.

Atticus seemed to be struggling to speak. Finally, he managed, “You will lead us to them or you will follow your brother into the afterlife.”

Zorian disengaged. Once again, the Cellar Level materialized. Isabelle silenced her barking hounds.

“My chancellor,” Zorian said, “I could lead you to the eastern stronghold and help you destroy it with your Janzers and tenehounds, but more just like it will sprout before we’re finished. For all I know, the caverns in Navita are gone. The same is true of the Polemon passageways.”

Isabelle sighed. Zorian’s candidness surprised her, but she doubted she could trust him. “Blackeye Cavern,” she said, “you know where it is. Tell us.”

“No.”

“Without a homeland, the BP would be forced to surrender—”

“No.”

“Tell us, now.”

“I don’t know where it is!”

She detected no break, no sense of untruth in his voice or mind. If he deceived them, this was indeed a skilled telepath.

“Then you’re useless to us,” Atticus said. He turned to Isabelle. “Escort this traitor to Farino Prison—”

“Pardon, Chancellor.” Atticus frowned but let him speak. “I don’t know Blackeye Cavern’s location, but I can help you, if you let me.”

“What’re you proposing?” Atticus said.

Zorian took three steps toward the chancellor, his cape swaying behind him. Atticus stepped back, and the Janzers crossed their swords before him.

Isabelle stepped in front of Zorian. “I might send you to the East, then, and when you make contact with the BP spies, I will follow them to the stronghold.”

“The East will not do,” Zorian said. “My lady, let me be your eyes and ears in all your territories, and you will know the Front’s movements even before they do.”

Isabelle’s heels clacked against the floor as she orbited Zorian. She observed his mind. He
allowed
her to do so. She sensed this thought, along with its implication, that he might stop her if he chose.

“Unacceptable.”

She signaled and a Janzer reattached the Converse Collar around Zorian’s neck.

“Take him away,” she said.

Zorian blew her a kiss as they dragged him out of sight.

When they’d departed, Atticus took her by the arm. He escorted her to the Ballroom Level, with its balustrade, terrace, and southern city views. Masimovian Center and the districts formed the city’s bright skyline. The blue bioluminescent waterfalls in the Fountain of Youth hung in the distance.

Atticus swept his hand toward the horizon. “We can’t let the BP take this from us.”

Isabelle ran the nail of her index finger down his neck. “Give me the resources I require to destroy the Polemon, and your people shall live forever.”

“So
that
was it.” A slight smile broke through his stubble goatee. “You thought the threat presented by Jeremiah’s traitorous son could convince me to let Antosha return to the commonwealth.”

“Only the timing of his return is in question.”

“I think not.”

She pulled away. “We agreed!”

“Prime Minister Decca will not allow—”

“The people will blame you, not Carillon Decca, if we lose this war.
You
must stop the BP, or all this,” Isabelle waved her hand over the balustrade, “will disappear.”

Atticus ran his hands through his thick hair. “You truly think Antosha can help us?”

“I’ve never been so sure of something in my life. He’s more advanced with the zeropoint field, the CRISPR system, and synbio than any living scientist.”

“What will I tell the people if he should kill again?”

“The only ones among us who should fear Antosha are the traitors we desperately must terminate, for the survival of the commonwealth and the good of your people.”

Atticus waved his hand and nodded. He lit a cigar from the lighter in the palm of a keeper bot and puffed. “You told me you searched for the whelp, Cornelius Selendia. Did you find him?”

“Lieutenant Arnao’s pursuit continues, and I’ve been mining Marstone’s Database.” Isabelle twisted one of her bracelets.

Atticus puffed his cigar again and narrowed his eyes. He was trying to search her mind, but she would not let him see her.

“From the time Cornelius escaped our city,” Isabelle said, “I’ve caught bits of information, flashing on and off, though the origin remains in the East … in Navita.” She tapped her lips with her forefinger.
Zorian knows where they are, he led us to Navita for a reason. But can I trust him?
Perhaps she would chat again with him sooner than she thought.

“I wonder, my lady,” Atticus said, “did you just unravel the enigma?” He activated a Granville sphere that hung above the terrace, creating the illusion of Navita City, its Great Falls crashing around them.

Unknown Time

Unknown Location

I can’t fail,
Brody thought,
not now.

The one hundred twenty-one years of his life flashed before him; his illegal birth in Portage City; the Janzer invasion of his apartment unit; his father’s suicide; his and Xylia’s arrest; Minister Kaspasparon and Portage Citadel; the Variscans and development; Nero, Verena, and the Harpoons; Vastar Alalia and his teams; Jeremiah Selendia and his obsession with power and Reassortment; the Gemini; and Damy, his eternal partner who kept up his spirits through decades of death; round and round they went, like the
Cassiopeia
through space.

Brody sent out a burst of telekinetic energy around the shuttle, shielding it from the influence of the consciousness he felt far stronger here than at CCCCm A57914678.37-1794256.2 before the
Cassiopeia
barreled into the exotic portal.