Read Online The Descent into the Maelstrom (The Phantom of the Earth Book 4) by Raeden Zen - Free Book Online Page A
Book: The Descent into the Maelstrom (The Phantom of the Earth Book 4) by Raeden Zen
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Raeden Zen
Ads: Link
disqualified. Is that clear enough for you?”
Pasha frowned, nodded, and rubbed his raw cheek. He stole a sideways glance at his ID number on the leaderboard and bit back a grin as he helped Oriana off the ground. “You all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He didn’t sound sincere.
Oriana didn’t respond. She shivered and limped to the golden bench near the wall.
The Summersets, on their way to the exit, hand-signaled the medical bots, who injected the twins with uficilin.
Oriana sighed at the sweet, instant relief. Newfound energy flowed from her toes to her head. She giggled. Part of it indeed was owed to the medication, while another part was owed to her very first … victory.
For the first time, she solved a riddle during a Harpoon simulation that Pasha could not.
“Forgive me, O.” Pasha bit his lower lip. “You’ll get your number on the leaderboard too. You will.”
“You don’t believe that.” She sensed his consciousness the same way he surely sensed hers. “You think you’ll get the first bid over me.” She pressed her finger to Pasha’s lips before he could speak, smiled, and cleared her mind, the way the lady taught her.
Oriana gave her twin a sisterly kiss, then pressed her lips to his ear. “Ask not for my forgiveness, dear brother, but for my mercy.”
Pasha pulled away from her. His lips looked pouty, his dimples deep. He stood speechless.
Oriana raised her brow. “When I get there, not even you’ll be able to beat me.”
ZPF Impulse Wave: Isabelle Lutetia
Permutation Crypt
2,750 meters deep
“How is it still this disgusting down here?” Lady Isabelle said to Lieutenant Arnao, her voice muffled by a strapless face mask.
She wiped a hand back and forth to clear the soot that permeated the air, then pushed ahead of Arnao through one of the research rooms, shaped like a parallelogram. Janzers roamed everywhere, like platelets, doing what they could to stop the hemorrhaging. They used blowtorches and drills on the plating, pulled singed wires and coils from the floor, and hauled supplies—synism drums, tool chests, water.
“We’re making progress in our repairs, I assure you,” Arnao said. His chameleon military fatigues had turned a mixture of smoky black and gray to match the room. “They used an EMP to disable the coils and disrupt the transformations. Much damage was done, but it can be undone.” He adjusted his face mask. “The survivor awaits you in the infirmary.”
Isabelle nodded and ambled beside her former courier, thinking about the BP. While she had anticipated a Polemon strike on the Crypt, she’d not expected it on the evening of the Bicentennial. With so many aristocrats and high-ranking consortium officers gathered in one place and the immediate gratification of ruining the chancellor’s prime event within reach, it seemed a fruit too juicy to ignore. The chatter in Marstone’s Database suggested Hammerton Hall was a top priority. One decoy among several, Isabelle reflected, for the BP attack on the Phanes Beltway had drawn Arnao’s forces to the eastern side of the territory, away from Permutation Crypt, which suggested a diversionary tactic. It had been executed well but was obvious enough in context. The chancellor, who could connect to his Janzer protectors as easily as he could move his own limbs, had been so soused and entranced by the Bicentennial that he didn’t even recall receiving a distress signal.
Isabelle remembered, for while she sought to send reinforcements to the Crypt on the night of the raid, Arnao had sent too many of the capital’s Janzer divisions to the ruckus on the beltway. She should have punished Arnao after he failed to capture the whelp in Mantlestone Village. If he didn’t start performing, she’d be forced to send him to the Lower Level and promote another of her former couriers to take his place. She sighed.
They passed the holding cell where the battle with the BP occurred and a whiff of blood and death
Pasha frowned, nodded, and rubbed his raw cheek. He stole a sideways glance at his ID number on the leaderboard and bit back a grin as he helped Oriana off the ground. “You all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He didn’t sound sincere.
Oriana didn’t respond. She shivered and limped to the golden bench near the wall.
The Summersets, on their way to the exit, hand-signaled the medical bots, who injected the twins with uficilin.
Oriana sighed at the sweet, instant relief. Newfound energy flowed from her toes to her head. She giggled. Part of it indeed was owed to the medication, while another part was owed to her very first … victory.
For the first time, she solved a riddle during a Harpoon simulation that Pasha could not.
“Forgive me, O.” Pasha bit his lower lip. “You’ll get your number on the leaderboard too. You will.”
“You don’t believe that.” She sensed his consciousness the same way he surely sensed hers. “You think you’ll get the first bid over me.” She pressed her finger to Pasha’s lips before he could speak, smiled, and cleared her mind, the way the lady taught her.
Oriana gave her twin a sisterly kiss, then pressed her lips to his ear. “Ask not for my forgiveness, dear brother, but for my mercy.”
Pasha pulled away from her. His lips looked pouty, his dimples deep. He stood speechless.
Oriana raised her brow. “When I get there, not even you’ll be able to beat me.”
ZPF Impulse Wave: Isabelle Lutetia
Permutation Crypt
2,750 meters deep
“How is it still this disgusting down here?” Lady Isabelle said to Lieutenant Arnao, her voice muffled by a strapless face mask.
She wiped a hand back and forth to clear the soot that permeated the air, then pushed ahead of Arnao through one of the research rooms, shaped like a parallelogram. Janzers roamed everywhere, like platelets, doing what they could to stop the hemorrhaging. They used blowtorches and drills on the plating, pulled singed wires and coils from the floor, and hauled supplies—synism drums, tool chests, water.
“We’re making progress in our repairs, I assure you,” Arnao said. His chameleon military fatigues had turned a mixture of smoky black and gray to match the room. “They used an EMP to disable the coils and disrupt the transformations. Much damage was done, but it can be undone.” He adjusted his face mask. “The survivor awaits you in the infirmary.”
Isabelle nodded and ambled beside her former courier, thinking about the BP. While she had anticipated a Polemon strike on the Crypt, she’d not expected it on the evening of the Bicentennial. With so many aristocrats and high-ranking consortium officers gathered in one place and the immediate gratification of ruining the chancellor’s prime event within reach, it seemed a fruit too juicy to ignore. The chatter in Marstone’s Database suggested Hammerton Hall was a top priority. One decoy among several, Isabelle reflected, for the BP attack on the Phanes Beltway had drawn Arnao’s forces to the eastern side of the territory, away from Permutation Crypt, which suggested a diversionary tactic. It had been executed well but was obvious enough in context. The chancellor, who could connect to his Janzer protectors as easily as he could move his own limbs, had been so soused and entranced by the Bicentennial that he didn’t even recall receiving a distress signal.
Isabelle remembered, for while she sought to send reinforcements to the Crypt on the night of the raid, Arnao had sent too many of the capital’s Janzer divisions to the ruckus on the beltway. She should have punished Arnao after he failed to capture the whelp in Mantlestone Village. If he didn’t start performing, she’d be forced to send him to the Lower Level and promote another of her former couriers to take his place. She sighed.
They passed the holding cell where the battle with the BP occurred and a whiff of blood and death
Similar Books
