Read Online The Song of the Jubilee (The Phantom of the Earth Book 1) by Raeden Zen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Raeden Zen
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afterward.”
“What’ll it do to me?” Connor sounded more intrigued than scared.
“You’ll feel tingly, then hot, then cold, then a little numb. Then you’ll become strong.”
Connor eyed the canteen, then his brother. “Strong as you and Zorian and Father and Moth—”
“Yes, yes. Just like all of us … and Mother.”
The crinkles in Connor’s brow disappeared. He tilted the canteen back and drank deeply. Hans watched him, making sure he left none of the liquid untouched. Connor licked his lips. “Hmm, an aftertaste like cinnamon, Father’s favorite.”
“Mine too.” Hans took the canteen and ruffled his brother’s scraggy hair. He walked out of the secret room into the cellar. He picked up his supply pack and hung it over his right shoulder. “Come, we must be swift,” he said, and when Connor hesitated, “don’t be afraid.”
When they neared the apartment unit’s entrance, Connor grabbed Hans’s arm. “Suffering is questioning,” he said. “Questioning is destructive. Destruction is never inevitable.” The Second Precept, designed to encourage economic output. “If we don’t go to the Block today, brother, won’t we be sent to the Lower Level?”
Hans couldn’t hide everything from Connor. His brother understood they weren’t going to the Block, and if they missed a shift during the peak, they’d risk censure. Murray had taught the Selendia boys that to live unregistered was to live as the registered, which meant participating in the citizenry’s ways and avoiding Warnings—official communiqués from the Office of the Chancellor that often led to demotions, or in the worst cases, exile to the Lower Level—at any cost to soul or self. “We’re never going to the Lower Level.”
“Where are we going?”
Hans tapped the doorway in a coded pattern, and the stone disappeared. Granville light burst over them. “We’re leaving the South,” he said, “that’s all you need know.”
Connor started. Hans watched his expression as excitement and fear battled within him. It didn’t take a telepath to know which would win. Connor was a Selendia and a Rupel, born with the family’s adventurous genes, which had made his nearly fifteen years of confinement almost unbearable. He turned away from the light toward the bioluminescent waterfalls in the back of the unit that kept it cool. “Can’t I at least say goodbye to Arty?”
“You’ll see him again,” Hans said. “Not today, but you will.”
Connor nodded, sad but resolute. He grabbed his cape and wrapped it over his shoulders, then slung his supply pack over his side. Hans wanted to tell him everything, that their foster father was on his way to Blackeye Cavern, that their biological father liberated millions of Beimenians from the commonwealth’s system, that Murray was fine-tuning the plan to raid Farino Prison, that they’d been fighting a guerilla war with the Masimovian Administration for decades—and that success or failure in that war now lay upon his shoulders.
Instead, Hans put his hand on Connor’s back and led him out. He couldn’t tell his brother about the BP, or what had happened to Father, or any of the things they’d kept from him all these years. Not just yet. He would explain more once they reached Natura. Until then, Connor was still vulnerable to interrogation, should they be captured. And besides, they had only a few hours before the fever would set in. It would be difficult, but Connor would make it in his new safe house, Hans felt sure.
Connor smiled up at him, and Hans ruffled his hair. They took the elevator up to the main floor and approached the intracity transport stop. One slowed to a standstill in front of them, and they entered and latched in, bound for Piscator Shore. Very soon now, Connor would find out who he really was. So would Hans.
ZPF Impulse Wave: Johann Selendia
Piscator Shore
Piscator, Underground South
2,500 meters deep
The Selendias rushed along Shore Station’s
“What’ll it do to me?” Connor sounded more intrigued than scared.
“You’ll feel tingly, then hot, then cold, then a little numb. Then you’ll become strong.”
Connor eyed the canteen, then his brother. “Strong as you and Zorian and Father and Moth—”
“Yes, yes. Just like all of us … and Mother.”
The crinkles in Connor’s brow disappeared. He tilted the canteen back and drank deeply. Hans watched him, making sure he left none of the liquid untouched. Connor licked his lips. “Hmm, an aftertaste like cinnamon, Father’s favorite.”
“Mine too.” Hans took the canteen and ruffled his brother’s scraggy hair. He walked out of the secret room into the cellar. He picked up his supply pack and hung it over his right shoulder. “Come, we must be swift,” he said, and when Connor hesitated, “don’t be afraid.”
When they neared the apartment unit’s entrance, Connor grabbed Hans’s arm. “Suffering is questioning,” he said. “Questioning is destructive. Destruction is never inevitable.” The Second Precept, designed to encourage economic output. “If we don’t go to the Block today, brother, won’t we be sent to the Lower Level?”
Hans couldn’t hide everything from Connor. His brother understood they weren’t going to the Block, and if they missed a shift during the peak, they’d risk censure. Murray had taught the Selendia boys that to live unregistered was to live as the registered, which meant participating in the citizenry’s ways and avoiding Warnings—official communiqués from the Office of the Chancellor that often led to demotions, or in the worst cases, exile to the Lower Level—at any cost to soul or self. “We’re never going to the Lower Level.”
“Where are we going?”
Hans tapped the doorway in a coded pattern, and the stone disappeared. Granville light burst over them. “We’re leaving the South,” he said, “that’s all you need know.”
Connor started. Hans watched his expression as excitement and fear battled within him. It didn’t take a telepath to know which would win. Connor was a Selendia and a Rupel, born with the family’s adventurous genes, which had made his nearly fifteen years of confinement almost unbearable. He turned away from the light toward the bioluminescent waterfalls in the back of the unit that kept it cool. “Can’t I at least say goodbye to Arty?”
“You’ll see him again,” Hans said. “Not today, but you will.”
Connor nodded, sad but resolute. He grabbed his cape and wrapped it over his shoulders, then slung his supply pack over his side. Hans wanted to tell him everything, that their foster father was on his way to Blackeye Cavern, that their biological father liberated millions of Beimenians from the commonwealth’s system, that Murray was fine-tuning the plan to raid Farino Prison, that they’d been fighting a guerilla war with the Masimovian Administration for decades—and that success or failure in that war now lay upon his shoulders.
Instead, Hans put his hand on Connor’s back and led him out. He couldn’t tell his brother about the BP, or what had happened to Father, or any of the things they’d kept from him all these years. Not just yet. He would explain more once they reached Natura. Until then, Connor was still vulnerable to interrogation, should they be captured. And besides, they had only a few hours before the fever would set in. It would be difficult, but Connor would make it in his new safe house, Hans felt sure.
Connor smiled up at him, and Hans ruffled his hair. They took the elevator up to the main floor and approached the intracity transport stop. One slowed to a standstill in front of them, and they entered and latched in, bound for Piscator Shore. Very soon now, Connor would find out who he really was. So would Hans.
ZPF Impulse Wave: Johann Selendia
Piscator Shore
Piscator, Underground South
2,500 meters deep
The Selendias rushed along Shore Station’s
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