The Synthesis and the Animus (The Phantom of the Earth Book 3) (24 page)

The timer on Connor’s armlet beeped, indicating that the transport bombs had arrived along the travel and supply lines on the eastern side of the Phanes Beltway. He handed Nero, Aera, and Murray the rappelling equipment and their helmets, and put his on.

His breath fogged the base of his visor. Sweat flowed down his cheeks in rivulets. He’d trained so long for this, but now the time had arrived. He’d no longer be tucked away in Blackeye Cavern or Hydra Hollow where life was simpler and somewhat safer. He even kept his neurochip installed, carrying a recaller to disrupt Marstone.

Father, please hold on, I’m coming …

Murray set the timers for the bombs in the warehouse.

Nero raised his brow.

“No trace to the BP on this,” Murray said.

Connor brought over the mineral-crusher tanks attached to belted packs with tubes that snaked out to a pair of gloves. He helped Nero and Aera put on their equipment. They checked their power supplies; the holographic readouts above their armlets indicated full power. Connor telepathically requested his hologram shift to a live feed from Hammerton Hall and he counted, “Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fifty-six, fifty-five …”

“Thirty-four, thirty-three, thirty-two, thirty-one …”

“Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen …”

Now Aera held up five fingers, four, three, two, and closed her fist. “Execute!”

Nero telepathically activated the crusher glove. Silver phosphorescent light tumbled over the village bedrock, and he disappeared with the earth.

Murray activated the ground-penetrating radar.

The crushers hollowed through the ground like termites burrowing through a tree. Nero’s dusty silhouette emerged and dissolved as he fell, farther, farther, farther.

“Halt!” Murray said. Orange light flooded the pit. “First stage complete.”

Connor, Aera, and Murray rappelled down the pit on their bellies, one arm on the rappel device near their belts to control their descent, their other arm and legs extended for balance.

“Good, this looks good,” Aera said when they arrived, now vertical, holding the carbyne ropes.

Murray adjusted the GPR, and a new rendition emerged. “Aera, you’re up.”

She dropped to the ground. “How far?”

“Preset to fifty meters,” Murray said.

Two flashes, and the sound of air whistled up from the supply shaft. When the dust disappeared, Aera said, “All clear here.”

“Let’s move!” Nero said.

They dropped into a nook lined with alloy, wiring, and mold. Connor heard a transport approaching, though he saw no headlight.

“Prepare for stage two,” Murray said.

The transport eased and stopped near the nook. The entrance cleared, Arturo called to them, and they climbed on board.

During the journey, Murray and Nero continuously reset their GPR devices. They rendered images of the earth beneath Phanes and searched for the hollowed portion of Permutation Crypt.

“Arty,” Nero said, “slow it down, we’re close.”

“You sure?” Murray said.

Nero brushed his forefinger over Murray’s hologram. “You’re not using it right. You have to turn the red knob all the way to thirty,” Nero curled the knob, “and the one over here to twenty-five. Otherwise, the signal won’t be strong enough.”

“Got it.”

Arty halted the transport. He shouldered a burlap sack with new rappelling equipment. They exited the transport and attached the ropes to the piping that ran along the shaft.

“You sure this’ll hold?” Nero said.

“These pipes should be able to withstand an impact from a transport,” Aera said, “so we should be fine. You’re up, striker, and remember, the crushers can’t penetrate the Crypt, but the Crypt might be able to detect their usage. So take us close, but not too close. We’ll set the EMP near enough to disable the shifts and security.”

Nero transmitted instructions to the glove, setting it to disable the crushers in ten seconds. The striker pointed the glove near his feet and held the rope. He disappeared with the light.

“Halt!” Aera said.

Orange light engulfed the new pit. Connor peered down.

Nero hung belly-first, crusher glove outstretched, one hand out to the side for balance, his legs bent slightly at the knees. The rappel rope held him from the middle of his back.

“All clear,” Nero said.

“Time to set the breaching charges and the EMP,” Murray said. He flipped a casing on his belt, pulled out the tiny sphere, and activated its holographic interface.

“Arty, best for you to head back up,” Aera said. She threw her thumb in the air with a closed fist. “You get any trouble, drop a flare,” she opened her fist, “and get the hell out of here.” She raised her brow. “Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Arty pushed a lever on the rappel device attached to his belt and zoomed to the top of the pit.

“I’ll set the charges,” Connor said.

“I’ve got the EMP,” Aera said.

Connor brushed at the granite ground with his boot. Though he couldn’t see the Crypt’s alloy roof, he felt vibrations in his feet and legs from the structure’s electromagnetic coils. He activated an explosive cylinder, set the timer to one minute, and placed it on the ground. He laid a dozen pulse grenades nearby.

Aera set up the EMP.

“Timer is set for one minute,” Connor said.

“Copy,” the team replied.

Connor and Aera lifted themselves to Murray and Nero’s position. Nero telepathically activated the timer on the explosive cylinder and EMP. A countdown was illuminated within their synsuit visors …

Beimeni City

Phanes, Underground Central

2,500 meters deep

“Stay close to me tonight,” Brody said.

He locked his right elbow with Damy’s left. His arm and shoulder still didn’t feel right. “The body’s blueprint is contained in the ZPF,” the medical bot in Silkscape City had assured Brody, “and it is from the ZPF we will regenerate your limb.” The bot had applied electromagnetic currents to what remained of Brody’s arm, and after a few hours of tingling sensations, and to Brody’s astonishment, his limb
did
reform as directed from the hidden map inside the cosmos. Little good this connection did for his left forearm. Unless he sawed off this arm and regenerated it as well, he would forever carry the burned
T
delivered by synisms in the syringe Lady Isabelle had injected into him: the burn that destroyed his animated strike team mark.

Beside him and Damy, transports arrived and left, left and arrived, one after another, and a cool breeze that gave Brody goose bumps flitted over the stairs. The aristocrats gathered at Hammerton Hall’s base, and it was standing room only on all the platforms.

Brody had never seen so many Beimenians in such a small area. This explained why the chancellor had called in fifty thousand Janzers from the outer territories. Masimovian spared no expense protecting his people from the BP. It made Brody sick to think on it.

Not far from where he and Damy now stood, Danforth Diamond interviewed Minister Genevieve Sineine of Boreas Territory. Danforth’s fur cape was fit for a king, and Genevieve’s hair, puffed high and swirled through synthetic gemstone-studded bands, fit for a queen. The hall’s blue-on-blue phosphorescent light glowed behind them. Before them, a sea of Beimenians awaited the show.

Better the minister in Danforth’s claws than me
, Brody thought. He didn’t want any attention tonight, not until he knew the BP operation had succeeded, and that Nero had obtained Jeremiah Selendia for the ministry’s proof.

“When will it start?” Damy said.

Brody drank in the sight of his eternal partner, the silk gown that hugged her muscular back, the way her hair twisted up around her head and fell in loose curls upon her right shoulder, the daisy above her ear, her face healed from Lady Isabelle’s bludgeoning.

She tapped her right foot against the marble step, looking even more nervous than he was. When the attack came, she would flee the Bicentennial, retrieve the children, and disappear. She still resented Brody’s acting without consulting her but said she would see to the safety of Pasha and Oriana. They agreed it was too great a risk leaving them in Dunamis, vulnerable to the commonwealth’s agents.

He squeezed her hand tighter. “It will come when it comes. Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you or our children—”

“How can you say that after the ambush in Lovereal?” Damy looked up, a combination of doubt and hope in her expression. “Neither of us is in the fighting shape we were in after our Harpoon Auctions.” She laughed bitterly. “Who knew I’d need all that swordplay Lady Parthenia insisted—”

“Isabelle’s attack in Silkscape City caught both of us off guard. That’s why we must stay in public view while we’re here. She’d not dare harm us at tonight’s celebration. The chancellor would never allow it.”

Damy didn’t have time to answer, for Lady Eulalie Variscan fluttered over the stairs. “Oh, look at you,” she said to Damy, “so exquisite. How all those stuffy scientists must
envy
you in Palaestra.” She grinned and swayed her voluptuous body. Her skin was taut and powdered perfectly, and her eyes changed colors as she moved.

“Pleasure, Madam Developer,” Damy said, bowing.

Lady Eulalie kissed her cheeks and slung her arms around Brody, holding him tightly. “Oh, oh, oh, my little boy’s
all
grown and handsome and a captain and a supreme scientist! How I’ve missed you!” She looked around. “Where’s my other boy, where’s Nero?”

“Yes,” Damy said, her head tilted, “where
is
Nero?”

“On his way.”

Brody had not yet told Damy about Nero’s direct participation in the raid, having learned only this morning that his striker planned to join the BP’s assault on the Crypt. He’d wished Nero luck and promised to look after Verena, should the worst happen. For if the BP could steal a supreme scientist from the Research Superstructure, surely then they could also extract a comatose Verena from the RDD infirmary.

“Oh, oh, oh, I heard about Verena,” Lady Eulalie said with pouty lips. “Poor thing, I do hope she’ll be all right.”

“So do we,” Brody said.

A keeper bot called to Lady Eulalie. The lady waved. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said. She smiled and mouthed,
I’m coming!
“Oh, it was a pleasure to see you, but now I
must
greet the ministers, I so hope you’ll stop by our house when things … slow down.”

“We’d be honored to visit,” Damy said.

The lady kissed Brody and Damy on both their cheeks, then blended with the crowd.

Damy locked her arm into Brody’s again, and they scuttled up the stairs to the second platform, where Minister Noria Furongielle awaited with two guests and one of her white tigers. Damy’s sister-in-development wore a maroon gown, opaque below and transparent above. Dried black roses and wintergreen vines, recently cut and still redolent, twisted around her back and chest. Her arms were locked through the arms of two men, twins, developers by the looks of them, their suits embroidered with snakeskin designs.

The white tiger growled at Damy.

“She can sense a slut when she sees one,” Noria said.

“Are you sure,” Damy said, “or is it that she smells walking trash?”

The tiger bared its sharp teeth.

Damy drew back. Brody sensed her fear in the ZPF, though it had little to do with Noria or her tiger; she was reliving the attack in Silkscape City. He moved to comfort her.

Noria cut in front of him, putting her hand around his neck. She looked like she might kiss him, and he wasn’t sure what he could do, here, at the Bicentennial, for Noria
was
a minister. He glanced at Damy, who looked angry and petrified, her bronze skin graying.

“Congratulations on your heirs,” Noria said. “I do hope the Summersets make them as beautiful as the Variscans made you, and should the Harpoons go awry, know that I won’t let them leave the auction without a bid.”

Damy found her voice. “We don’t need your help.”

The white tiger lunged for Damy, who held back a scream.

Noria raised her hand, and the tiger calmed and purred. It rubbed its head against Noria’s leg, leaving white hair upon her gown. Noria wiped the hairs away and gave Brody an energetic, wet kiss. She released him and turned … into the slap of Damy’s palm.

Noria put her hand to her raw cheek, unable to hide the look of shock from her face. “Bitch.” She turned away from Damy and strutted toward the third platform, the twins on either arm, her white tiger in her wake, tail swaying.

Damy breathed deeply, looking ill.

“Are you all right?” Brody said. “Please, speak to me.” He cupped her face with his hands.

“I’m okay … it’s just that after that other night …” She sighed and rubbed her thumb over his lips. “You have lipstick,” she said, then chuckled. “I’ve made it worse.”

Brody licked his handkerchief and cleaned her fingers and his lips.

Damy waved to Verne and Gwen. Verne was dressed in traditional Navitan attire, a green and yellow button-down shirt with golden suspenders, green bow tie, corduroy pants, and a long cashmere coat. Gwen wore a traditional Palaestran gown, interlaced with pink floral designs that shifted back and forth depending on how she moved. Her magenta heels matched a boa around her neck that fluttered near her ankles.

“I
love
your dress,” Damy said.

Gwen curtsied and smiled and hugged her.

Verne bowed slightly to Brody and extended his hand. “Pleasure, Captain.”

“Pleasure,” Brody said, not unkindly, though he wished he’d seen neither Verne nor Gwen tonight, his last night with Damy for gods knew how long.

When Gwen and Damy finished talking about their hair and makeup and designers and Project Silkscape, Damy hugged Verne, and Gwen kissed Brody’s cheek tenderly. “You look stately tonight, Captain Barão.”