Read Online The Song of the Jubilee (The Phantom of the Earth Book 1) by Raeden Zen - Free Book Online
Authors: Raeden Zen
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City, slaughtered by Lady Isabelle. Hans had gone along with his father’s wishes, though for the sake of Connor’s sanity (and his own), he’d asked Father to let him obtain the serums the houses of development used to accelerate human growth and evolution along the Homo transition spectrum. “It’s not like athanasia,” Father had objected. “You can’t just inhale it and forget it. We lack the expertise and the resources to develop in that manner.” Hans had relented; he’d never have suggested inducing the fever.
But circumstances had changed. Father would understand; he’d not let Connor turn into Zorian or fall to the commonwealth’s agents. He inserted his commonwealth card into a slit in the stone and put his hand upon the wall. He heard a snapping noise, then a pop , and the stone cleared, allowing his entry. When the stone reformed behind Hans, he told himself he’d make things right for his little brother. For there was nothing worse than waking up each morning fearful of the next Janzer search or strike, nothing worse than wondering what might have been. Regrets over the past ruined Zorian, Hans believed, and he’d not let his little brother go down that path.
He quickened his pace over the soft, thick Jurinarian carpeting, through the hallway, and into the great room. It featured polished granite walls on one side, overhung with mirrors, and Granville panels on the other. The neural signals and images spread by the Granville syntech made Hans feel as if he walked through a sunny vineyard, swirling with the redolence of greenery and grapes. It reminded him of Arty’s farm in Vivo Territory.
Now he entered a narrow, dim corridor, turned left, then right, then pushed through heavy curtains, making his way down a spiraled limestone staircase to the cellar. To the uninformed, the room looked like it stored fish oils and wine. Hans moved closer to the bottles. He put his supply pack on the ground and closed his eyes. Using the ZPF, he pushed his consciousness outward, through the wall and into the secret room. His little brother dwelled there. He’d activated his recaller, but Hans calibrated it and could penetrate the sophisticated signals that deceived Marstone and skilled telepaths alike.
He entered Connor’s mind …
The boy sat upon the edge of his bed, holding a Granville sphere. It was of the artistic variety, rather than industrial or decorative. The size of a walnut, it glistened like a gemstone. Connor held it in his open palm. Photogenic synisms within it transmitted signals into the visual cortex in his brain, letting him see his mother in holographic form. Hans had paid a Marshlandic holographer in Piscator City the equivalent of a trimester’s pay to have the sphere made. He gave it to Connor after Murray taught him how to access the ZPF about a year ago. Connor activated it often, though he would never admit so.
In the hologram, Solstice wore a white gown and a hooded sapphire cape lined with garnet gems. She was a descendant of the Rupel family, whose lineage, like the Selendias and Masimovians, stretched back to Livelle Laboratory, centuries ago. Her features were soft, her hair was long and curled around her ears and down her arms, her nose was round, and her lips curved into a smile. She looked like a goddess in white and blue with blue eyes.
Hans felt a shift in Connor’s consciousness. He wondered if his brother learned to sense a transhuman presence in his mind, but that wasn’t it. The hologram … changed. Their mother gagged. A diamond sword, swung by a Janzer, speared her back, poking through her chest. Blood streamed down the sides of the sword and from her mouth, down her chin and neck, over her chest, spilling over the white dress, dripping in front of her. She looked at her bloody hands and cried out. “Save yourself, Connor!” The more Connor reached for her, the farther away she seemed. “Save yourself!” she insisted. Then the sword was pulled from her
But circumstances had changed. Father would understand; he’d not let Connor turn into Zorian or fall to the commonwealth’s agents. He inserted his commonwealth card into a slit in the stone and put his hand upon the wall. He heard a snapping noise, then a pop , and the stone cleared, allowing his entry. When the stone reformed behind Hans, he told himself he’d make things right for his little brother. For there was nothing worse than waking up each morning fearful of the next Janzer search or strike, nothing worse than wondering what might have been. Regrets over the past ruined Zorian, Hans believed, and he’d not let his little brother go down that path.
He quickened his pace over the soft, thick Jurinarian carpeting, through the hallway, and into the great room. It featured polished granite walls on one side, overhung with mirrors, and Granville panels on the other. The neural signals and images spread by the Granville syntech made Hans feel as if he walked through a sunny vineyard, swirling with the redolence of greenery and grapes. It reminded him of Arty’s farm in Vivo Territory.
Now he entered a narrow, dim corridor, turned left, then right, then pushed through heavy curtains, making his way down a spiraled limestone staircase to the cellar. To the uninformed, the room looked like it stored fish oils and wine. Hans moved closer to the bottles. He put his supply pack on the ground and closed his eyes. Using the ZPF, he pushed his consciousness outward, through the wall and into the secret room. His little brother dwelled there. He’d activated his recaller, but Hans calibrated it and could penetrate the sophisticated signals that deceived Marstone and skilled telepaths alike.
He entered Connor’s mind …
The boy sat upon the edge of his bed, holding a Granville sphere. It was of the artistic variety, rather than industrial or decorative. The size of a walnut, it glistened like a gemstone. Connor held it in his open palm. Photogenic synisms within it transmitted signals into the visual cortex in his brain, letting him see his mother in holographic form. Hans had paid a Marshlandic holographer in Piscator City the equivalent of a trimester’s pay to have the sphere made. He gave it to Connor after Murray taught him how to access the ZPF about a year ago. Connor activated it often, though he would never admit so.
In the hologram, Solstice wore a white gown and a hooded sapphire cape lined with garnet gems. She was a descendant of the Rupel family, whose lineage, like the Selendias and Masimovians, stretched back to Livelle Laboratory, centuries ago. Her features were soft, her hair was long and curled around her ears and down her arms, her nose was round, and her lips curved into a smile. She looked like a goddess in white and blue with blue eyes.
Hans felt a shift in Connor’s consciousness. He wondered if his brother learned to sense a transhuman presence in his mind, but that wasn’t it. The hologram … changed. Their mother gagged. A diamond sword, swung by a Janzer, speared her back, poking through her chest. Blood streamed down the sides of the sword and from her mouth, down her chin and neck, over her chest, spilling over the white dress, dripping in front of her. She looked at her bloody hands and cried out. “Save yourself, Connor!” The more Connor reached for her, the farther away she seemed. “Save yourself!” she insisted. Then the sword was pulled from her
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