The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

  Ester finished her immediate duties and wandered out. Celia knew Ester wasn’t as mindless and subservient as she appeared. How often did the Cherniks sit around and theorize about each death? What macabre Solomon humor pushed them through each day living on the edge of a string? They dared not crack, or their fall would be sharp and sudden, like any along the fjords.

  Celia chose white gloves for the occasion. She thought they blended well with her sleeveless, fire-red bodysuit. She didn’t want to appear too eager to make a deal with her guest yet dared not dress to intimidate (her traditional strategy). Celia reminded herself about the value of discipline and cold, practical calculation. She held her people’s future within reach.

  She intended to make Johannes proud.

  Celia grabbed an egg-shaped silver case tucked between her perfumes and makeups. The case vibrated. She never took her eye off it after the messenger delivered it two days earlier in Oslo.

  So small, so important. So dangerous.

  A risk she needed to take.

  “It’s time,” she whispered, stiffening her shoulders and coaching her reflection. “Be unafraid to sacrifice for the future.”

  She took the lift down four levels to the Marsche family gallery. The room was empty save for eighteen obelisks, each designed in molded, glossy teak. A transparent sphere sat atop each, filled with ash. Beyond them, a hemispheric glass panel extended the length of the room, providing the summer estate’s most breathtaking view of the fjord. Outside, steep canyons of verdant forests rose from the sparkling, deep blue water where glaciers once ruled. Waterfalls half a mile high sliced through the forests with ferocious tentacles.

  Celia removed her shoes, leaving only the whisper of her socked feet against the wooden floor as she passed the obelisks, ignoring the name inscribed on each. I kept my promise, she mused as she approached the panel and soaked in Earth’s most wondrous sight. You will always see the world as Johannes did.

  She designed the gallery when she was fourteen and took out her first competitor. Twenty-five years later, she handed those designs to an architect and retrieved the stored ashes of every fallen Marsche.

  “You never appreciated the history,” she told the ashen spheres. “This side of the mountain is where one man began his quest to move humanity forward. A lonely young man hiking these forests in search of truth, which found him. I want you to watch … I want you all to watch a new path begin today.”

  Celia didn’t expect them to understand – especially her misguided, compassionate father. They wouldn’t be the last resistance.

  She opened the egg-shaped box. It split into halves. She rested each in her palms. One was empty, the other filled with a sponge-like substance. A dimple in the center glowed sky blue.

  “You will know how to unlock it,” the messenger said, unwilling to divulge more. “You’re the only one who can.”

  Per their arrangement, the messenger did not reveal his identity and was shielded from immigration security to and from Earth. If she was wrong about them … if this was a trap … she’d hunt them down and murder them herself.

  Celia tapped her amp to confirm Collectorate Standard Time. Then she pressed her right thumb into the glowing dimple. The result was immediate – the glow extended to both halves, even the empty shell. Instinct told her what to do. She reunited the halves, set the box upon the floor, and stepped away.

  Soon, the fjords vanished, as did the gallery. She stood in what she deduced to be a vault – its walls were paneled white, matching the floor. No distinctive details.

  She smelled him. It was a strange mix of perfumes and herbs. Neither the musk of a man nor the scent of a woman. Then again, she wasn’t in the room with a human being.

  “I wasn’t sure it would be you,” she said, containing her fear of the giant who studied her from a far corner.

  “And I wasn’t sure you’d have the guts to follow through.”

  “What is this? Where are we?”

  “Too far away to harm each other, but close enough to make a deal. Are you ready to begin?”

  “In a white box? I think not. You’re disguising your location. I understand why. But if we’re to talk, I wish to feel at home.”

  “Not a problem. Close your eyes and envision the fjord I see. Then open.”

  Celia did as told and returned to the gallery.

  Brother James stared through the glass, a few feet away.

  “Let’s talk about the future,” he said. “We can help each other. Yes?”

  26

  N EITHER HIS FIERY EYES NOR THE DARK TREMOR in his voice terrified Celia. Her tour of duty in the Guard inured her against his intimidating size. No, what unsettled Celia was his sophistication. He was in command and knew exactly the terms he would achieve. How long had he been orchestrating this moment? She vowed not to allow him to dictate the terms outright.

  “Help each other, you say? Interesting. You have slaughtered a quarter million humans and evaded the largest military search in human history. I’m not sure help is what you require.”

  Brother James rubbed his beard. “Everyone needs help. We don’t change the universe in a vacuum.” He hinted at a smile.

  “I see. An attempt at humor? Please. You are a savage.”

  “As are you, which is why we’re here. We leave a trail of blood wherever we go because it serves our interests, and because we enjoy killing. I slaughter strangers. You slaughter your family. If we were being graded on savagery, I might not win.”

  “My fam …? Your information is dreadfully inaccurate.”

  “I’m not wrong about anything, Celia Marsche. I know it all. Literally, all of it. I’m a god, and you’re an impostor.”

  He never looked at her throughout the exchange, instead examining the closest obelisk. Celia admired his audacity, but she laughed it off.

  “A god? You are a delusional hybrid. A charlatan who broke a flawed genetic design. Oh, yes, James Bouchet. I saw the vids of you before you became this … thing. I saw the duel with your brother in the Great Plains Metroplex. Everyone did. It was a public spectacle during the SkyTower inquest. You were made into this by Chancellors. A freak. An abomination.”

  He rubbed a hand over her father’s ashes.

  “I am an abomination, Celia. So are my children. So are all the immortals under my watch. Everyone else is an enemy, unless I say different. In two years, I have gone from being a waste of space to the most powerful being in the universe.” He turned to Celia. “I can kill every last Chancellor. One billion. And I will never shed a tear, just like you never cried when you murdered your father. Take some advice: Back off the arrogant, condescending Chancellor bullshit. You have no leverage here. Understand?”

  “Ah. Leverage, is it? And who is the one in hiding?”

  “The one you sought out. Oh, yes, Celia. I know you spread agents across the Collectorate, but their orders weren’t to kill me. You wanted them to make contact. You need me alive to fulfill your plans. I have all the secrets you want to possess. All the secrets that got away when I brought down SkyTower.”

  No, Celia thought. He can’t know about the connection.

  “We lost a tremendous body of research that day.”

  “Research? That’s what you call it, Celia? Research? And who is this we? According to my intelligence, you and my parents were enemies. In fact, they made every effort to keep you away from their so-called research. Yes?”

  She sighed. “It is true. Emil and Frances Bouchet did not invite me into their circle of confidence. Your parents were selfish, even by Chancellor standards. We are fighting for our collective lives.”

  “Says the woman who murdered the eighteen relatives in this room. Go ahead, Celia. Admit everything now. If you want to make a deal with me, I need to hear it. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you’re dead within a week.”

  “You bastard. You filth. You …” She took hold of her wits. He was winning. “Fair enough. Yes, I was competing with your parents. My descendancy should hav
e had a role in the hybrid and immortal programs. So, I formed an alliance with a man who believed as I did, and who had been wronged by the Bouchets.”

  Brother James smiled. “Say his name.”

  “Rear Admiral Augustus Perrone. He was mine. He was perfectly positioned as number two in the Admiralty. We devised an exquisite plan for destroying your parents and taking it for ourselves.”

  “Sounds about right. What went wrong?”

  “You distracted Augustus. He was reckless, brought Valentin into the equation, and was blind to the treachery of his own right-hand, Sexton Marshall. But you already knew this. How?”

  “I didn’t, at the time. But one of my many strengths as a Jewel is an eidetic memory. I can sit for hours and ponder any time in my life, second for second. I can re-observe all the details I missed the first time. Perrone was too confident. I knew someone else was backing him. A few months ago, one of your agents almost uncovered our location. We captured and tortured him. After we got all we could, I incinerated him and focused all my efforts on you. It wasn’t hard to put those pieces together.”

  Her verbal tactics a miserable failure, Celia gave in. This creature before her was more dangerous than reports suggested. Yet what choice did she have? Brother James was right. She held no leverage.

  “Your point has been made,” she said. “But if you would be so kind before we strike a deal, please answer two simple questions.” He stared without objection. “How is this conversation possible? You must be light-years away, yet we speak in real time.”

  “Simple, Celia.” He pointed to the glowing egg. “The device is a binary communicator. It’s a miraculous tool designed to link two people – and only two – no matter how far they’re separated across space. The genetic code of its users is programmed into each device. They send signals that burrow through the substrata of dark matter, where time and distance can be defied. They intercept in seconds.”

  “How? Did you invent this?”

  “No. I found it in my memory, which is also the Jewel’s. My memory goes back a million years. This device was the last great achievement of those who created the Jewels. They were dying and searching the galaxy for solutions. They created this device to stay close to the ones they loved. Imagine that, Celia. Creatures who loved each other.”

  “Yes. Interesting. But I don’t understand. How did you acquire my genetic code? Do you have agents on Earth?”

  “I didn’t need them for this.” He looked away from her. “If we ever see each other after today, I’ll explain. Some truths are too difficult to handle, even for someone like you. I believe you had two questions. What’s the other?”

  “How do I know you’ll uphold your end of our deal?”

  “Because I’m sure you won’t betray me. You are staking your entire reputation on this bargain. You plan to reset the future of the Chancellory or die trying. Betray me, and you die. Follow through, and you will honor Johannes Ericsson. That is your greatest desire? Yes?”

  A chill curdled her blood. How could he know?

  “What will you give me if I see this through?”

  “Everything. The recipe for immortality. A replacement for brontinium extract. The schematics for the binary communicator. Other technology secrets from the Jewels’ creators.”

  “Quite a list. What are your terms?”

  “Events will happen in the coming months that will change history. These events must form a perfect chain of causality. The most important will take place at Vasily Station. Use your contacts within the Admiralty to dictate the actions of their station officer. When the event occurs, the Guard must contact Samantha Pynn and demand her presence at Vasily.”

  “Pynn? Your friend who disavowed you? What does she …?”

  “None of your concern. After she arrives, other events will follow, both on Vasily and on Earth. The consequences will be immediate. The Guard will make a series of mistakes in their search for us. This will undermine confidence in the Admiralty. You will have the opportunity you missed with Perrone.

  “Arrange a civilian coup. You will know which admiral is willing. Simultaneously, prepare for an offensive against the Solomon insurgency. You have assassins at your disposal. Order them to strike before the Guard takes a direct combat role in resolving the Chancellor civil war. In a matter of weeks, you’ll have full control of the Guard, the Solomons will be put down, and a united Earth will hail you as a hero. I have transferred logistical details into the communicator. You will find them on your admin stack.”

  She couldn’t tell from sincerity in those glowing, menacing eyes.

  “You paint a rosy picture, but your terms make no sense. What do you gain if we resolve our internal conflicts?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “And you expect me to agree based on ‘you’ll see’?”

  “I also ask you to make sure Samantha Pynn is not harmed.”

  “Why? What is her role in …?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “And the other friend you plagued us with? Michael Cooper?”

  “Your assassins will be free to kill him. It will be a mercy. He won’t survive for long without Samantha anyway.”

  “But you just said …”

  “You’ll see, along with everyone else. Do we have a deal?”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  Brother James smiled, showing teeth. “That’s what Johannes Ericsson said three thousand years ago. But he made the deal.”

  Celia couldn’t recall ever feeling so inferior.

  “What are you?”

  “The first day and the last day.”

  She was speechless. The perfumes she smelled when he first appeared had soured. Every instinct said no, no, no. But Johannes whispered to her across time and demanded Celia be bold.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. You cudfrucking monster. Yes.”

  27

  Great Plains Metroplex

  24 days after the attack on Vasily Station

  S AM CRIED MOST OF THE NIGHT AWAY. She was angry – at Celia Marsche, at the Admiralty’s shocking allegiance with the hardliners – but mostly at herself. For her naivete, for her inability to misread the warning signs. For her sheer stupidity to believe the Chancellory would negotiate through reason and compassion. And then, as the first night of her imprisonment dragged on, tears fell for Michael. Her amp forcibly nullified, Sam couldn’t warn him of the trap they’d walked into.

  The Admiralty called it “protective custody under emergency declaration,” but Sam understood the truth. They were holding opposition Chancellor representatives in silentium until publicly announcing the Guard’s official position on the civil war. They’d be sending out new orders, recalling battalions of peacekeepers from deep-system and colonial service. It would take days to establish a visual presence in cities the Admiralty considered most at-risk and weeks to blanket Earth.

  She protested from the guest suite where she was confined. She heard full-throated howls from her peers close by, but she was told to be glad she wasn’t locked in a cell. The officers who guarded the guest rooms must have been part of the coup; they looked upon her with the same demonic possession as Celia Marsche did in the conference room, right before Sam fainted. As the hours dragged on, and Sam ate bland morsels from a food kiosk, she hoped the silence meant the situation was unsettled. Perhaps other Admirals were fighting back; maybe a countercoup would set things right.

  She wished Pat were by her side.

  Thirty-eight hours after the hardliners took control of the Admiralty, her suite’s door pixelated. Sam rose from the sofa and wiped her red, puffy eyes. New Supreme Admiral Bastian Grandover entered, hands behind his back, shoulders tall and firm, nose up. He was accompanied by the officer who had ignored Sam’s protests.

  “Put on your shoes,” Grandover said. “Follow me.”

  “No. Not until you tell me why you violated my rights as a citizen.”

  “No rights have been infringed, Miss Pynn. Emergency statut
es give us broad discretion inside the GPM. You’ll be home by sunset. Now, put on your shoes.”

  “What is the emergency?”

  “Anything, or anyone, that threatens the health of the Chancellory is an emergency. Does Major Engel need to escort you in bindings?”

  She bit her tongue and followed instructions. She was stunned when she met her peers waiting for her in the corridor: Ezekiel Mollett, Lucinda Blanche, Evan Augustine and Malcolm Rainier. Her closest allies stood up for her after Celia tore her down at the conference. They were joined by other Solomon sympathizers who the Admiralty must also have imprisoned. She saw the defiance in their eyes, but no one spoke.

  “This is how it will be done,” Grandover told them. “We will escort you to an area of interest beneath the facility, where we will share a few words. Once we are finished, you will be free to leave. Your staff and pilots will be waiting for you in your ships. Your amps will catalyze once you exit the GPM cascade.”

  Like a herd, they followed Grandover and three officers into a lift. Sam stayed at the rear, huddling close to Lucinda. As they descended, she whispered:

  “Is this as bad as I think?”

  Lucinda was pale. “Worse, I fear.”

  “How did they pull this off?”

  “I’m not sure, but it would take a much bigger alliance than Celia Marsche and this bastard.” She nodded toward Grandover. “There must be strong support in the chain of command.”

  “I don’t understand. Why go this route instead of negotiating?”

  “My guess? Negotiating takes too long. There’s something else at work.”

  “Like what?”

  “I think we’re about to find out.”

  She said those words as the lift opened to underground corridors. The lighting was dim. When they stepped out, Grandover pointed to his right and said:

  “Our holding cells are fifty meters in that direction. They are empty, even of a place to sleep. For those of you who complained of your accommodations above, rest comfortable at having avoided true imprisonment. Follow me.” He turned left.