The Song of the Jubilee (The Phantom of the Earth Book 1) by Raeden Zen Read Free Book Online Page A

“I could’ve been the head of my own farm by now, and I’m not, and I don’t care, but why must you put our lives at risk with this fruitless operation? Why would you risk Connor?”
    She’d say anything to live a legal life, Hans assured himself. He heard a lecture from Zorian, years ago, repeat in his head: She’s not one of us. She’ll turn against you and lead to our ruin. Was Zorian right?
    No, Hans couldn’t believe it. He loved Maribel more than he loved himself. And he could trust her to fend for herself, unlike Connor. “If I don’t proceed with the plan, Lady Isabelle might break my father’s mind, and find Connor and execute him.”
    Mari lost all color in her face. Her lips quivered. “I just want peace … I just want to serve …”
    “Right …” Hans’s cheerless voice gave way to deranged laughter. “Serve Beimeni, live forever.” He announced the chancellor’s First Precept with a Phanean accent and walked in a semicircle, like Lady Isabelle during Harpoon classes, which Mari attended during her development in House Variscan. “I’d rather die.”
    Mari raised her eyes. “I wouldn’t.”
    “You haven’t seen or felt what I have from the spies’ z-disks—the Lower Level, the men and women and children, Beimenians they call exiles , who breathe air that couldn’t sustain a handful of transhumans, hallucinating, collapsing, burning—”
    “Show me, let me experience what you have. How else would I understand?”
    Hans kissed her but didn’t meld his mind with hers. She covered her mouth and turned away.
    “I have to go,” he said.
    She nodded, still not facing him.
    “I’ll return.”
    Hans zipped into his fisherman’s bodysuit, flung his cape around his shoulders, and grabbed his pack, a seventy-five-kilogram bag full of gear for the operation. When he neared the entrance to his unit, he turned. Maribel looked over her shoulder, her lips pressed together, her hands tucked under her elbows, her cheeks sweaty and red, her eyes narrowed. Was it determination, sadness, or hatred in her expression? Hans couldn’t decide.
    He thought about how they’d awakened together yesterday morning, their arms and legs intertwined, the warmth of her skin, the smell of berries in her hair, the way her chest rose and fell when she breathed, how her heart seemed to beat in sync with his own. Would he ever see her again, the woman he loved?
    In the alleyway, he trembled, even as the humidity and heat in Piscator wrapped around him. I’m President of the Liberation Front , he thought . I have responsibilities.
    Hans’s eyes blurred as he took long strides, fighting back tears. Reaching the intracity transport stop, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. I’ve made the right decision, he thought as he climbed aboard. Maribel will forgive me.

Part II:

Tradecraft
    On the Surface: Spring
     
    In Beimeni: First Trimester
     
    Day 82
     
    Year 368
     
    After Reassortment (AR)

ZPF Impulse Wave: Damosel Rhea
    Beimeni City

    Phanes, Underground Central

    2,500 meters deep

    Damy rolled in bed and reached for Brody. When her fingers found the cool, soft sheets, she turned. The clock read 0250. She wasn’t due in the Nicola Facility, her lab, for another five hours.
    She heard a stirring beyond the entrance to the master bedroom, like the sounds of clattering dishes. Brody? she sent. No response, but someone was there, clearly. She hadn’t seen her eternal partner in days or spoken to him since the clinical trial upon the surface the prior morning. She hoped it had gone well but suspected otherwise—why else wouldn’t he have called her or woken her when he returned?
    She slipped out of bed and set her bare feet on the polished wooden floor. She opened her closet, lifted her golden nightgown, and wrapped it around herself, then moved through the corridor and into the great room. Brody stood upon their terrace, leaning against the balustrade. He sipped tea from a mug, staring at the Granville sky, an