“You got to be the craziest damn white girl in the world.”
She did not respond. Instead, Brey moved to Ophelia, who groaned as she awakened. A few feet away, Patricia lifted herself to one knee and tried to shake off the daze. The chief raised her weapon, looking for a target. She took quick stock of the dead man and fixated on Sammie, who held the pistol at her side.
“Did you …?”
Sammie nodded, but Michael beat her to the punch.
“It was insane,” he said. “Soon as this nut come charging in for the rest of us, Sammie plugged him. You guys should thank her.”
They shared a fleeting glance, yet Michael seemed more distant.
Patricia stood over the enemy. “I should have sensed his presence. Cud! First, I lose my unit, now I cost us …”
“Nothing,” Sammie said. “Just a little time, Chief. We’re still depending on you.” She flipped on the safety and restored the pistol behind her back. “I got off a lucky shot is all.”
“He seems familiar,” Patricia said. “I wonder if I ever … ? Did he say anything before you killed him?”
“No,” Michael jumped in. “Dude never had a chance.”
“His strategy makes no sense,” the chief said. “He hit us with a thump at standard mode. Soldiers like us,” she sighed, “modulate a thump gun for extended incapacitation, even to the point of neural paralysis. He could have killed us all.”
“His motives no longer matter, Chief,” Ophelia said. “We need to make haste.” She offered Sammie a huge smile. “I thought we lost the day when Augustus stole the Jewel out from underneath me. But I believe we have found another jewel of enormous value.”
“Doing my part,” Sammie said, uneasy about Ophelia’s words.
“More than you realize, Miss Pynn. You’ll recall I mentioned your descendency’s strong name when we first met? The Pynns have not exerted political leverage for years, but their legacy and wealth are bountiful. If your father planned the future to the degree I suspect, I believe you will soon be a wealthy young woman. And our team will need considerable financing for the next stage.”
Sammie ignored the comments about wealth. She already knew exactly what holdings her father left behind.
“What is the next stage, Ophelia?”
“Confrontations on two fronts, Miss Pynn. Of course, we recover James. But he is not the only one returning through the IDFs.”
“The prototypes,” she nodded. “At least, that’s what the observers called them. The Jewels reborn.”
“Given our setback, your inheritance will be vital to uniting them.”
Patricia demanded the group resume its march southwest. The sun dipped below the tree line, and shadows lengthened. As they started away, Michael hung back for a moment. He made a final look at the body, reached behind his back where his own pistol remained, and shook his head. She gave him space.
Patience, she thought. He’ll come to you.
She sidled alongside Ophelia.
“Something I don’t understand. You knew about the Jewels for fifteen years. Why is money an issue? You had time to prepare.”
“We did, but life in the Collectorate has become more complicated. The rift between Chancellors has brought down dozens of powerful descendencies. Some of our original teams lost faith over the years, pulled their funding. I have only been team coordinator on Earth for three years. And the Green infiltrated our ranks. You saw what happened in the tunnel.”
“Daddy said the ten IDFs to those Jewels were tightly guarded secrets, but I guess the secret is out – at least here, anyway. Have there been problems at the other nine sites?”
Ophelia wrapped her arms against her chest and sighed.
“Last report I received, we had infiltrators at the Ukrainian site. Observers were down – on both sides of the fold. On a hopeful note, the Jewel appears to be alive.”
Sammie heard the doubt. “But …?”
“We’re not sure which faction controls her. I’ve been searching security filters for coded streams, but nothing in four hours. I have suspicions about who is funding the enemy, but no proof.”
“So that Jewel is a girl?” Ophelia nodded. “What about the other sites? Aren’t these rebirths happening almost simultaneously?”
“Yes, but even with our best resources, confirmation from the colonies may take several standard days.”
Sammie sorted through the details with clinical reasoning, a technique her mother taught her. She deduced the problem’s scope.
“You have the money to retrieve the Jewels – assuming the Green don’t disrupt your plans – but you lack the funds to transport them all to one location. Or you can cover inter-colony passage, but establishing a permanent settlement is out of reach. Yes, Ophelia?”
She wrapped a hand around Sammie’s shoulder. “You are not the little girl who emerged from the fold. Correct on both counts. Extracting a Jewel off-world will be a delicate operation, in some cases requiring weeks. Purchasing private vessels for Fulcrum travel is exorbitant. The intercolonial fees, customs taxes, blockade inspections, private security … the costs never stop mounting. And then, as you say, the permanent settlement.”
“Where are they all headed?”
Ophelia removed her hand. “One step at a time, Samantha.”
“Understood.” An answer to her question would have been a stunning victory. Still, she uncovered much more two hours into the Collectorate than she expected. No matter the direction their path wound, she decided to keep Ophelia Tomelin close.
Her mind lurched forward through the minutiae and refocused on Jamie’s goal: Find the Jewels and kill them all. End the monsters before they end humanity.
A massive dream. Odds, improbable. A bloody proposition they sealed with a kiss. She was prepared, whatever may come. She could not say the same about Michael.
Sammie looked ahead, where Michael strode alongside Patricia at the spear of the group. She wondered why he covered for her if he so detested her action. How could she make him understand about the consequences of being soft in this world?
She was terrified for Michael and doubted he would survive long enough to experience a single, happy day in the Collectorate.
11
V ALENTIN BOUCHET SAW NEITHER A CHANCELLOR nor a brother staring back at him from inside the ReCon tube. The facial similarities aside, this bony creature struck Valentin as a genetic defective. Perhaps an exobirth malfunction. Sunken eyes, pale lips, spider-like fingers. A chest and torso with no musculature shaping the boy’s relaxed red shirt. He’d seen humans like this before, but usually among permanent settlers onboard Ark Carriers.
Or indigos. Valentin killed many of them – colonial ethnics with idealistic notions of absolute sovereignty. The peacekeepers laid waste to fields of such sorry men and women for centuries. And now this …
Inconvenience.
“Kill him while you have the chance.”
Those words slunk across his tongue but shy of his lips. Valentin did not understand the admiral’s wish to keep James alive despite the boy’s clear and present threat.
For seven years, the naysayers tortured Valentin: Too short to be a peacekeeper, no instinct for the kill, a mind for science not military glory. Seven years Valentin blinded himself to snickers and condescending tones. He earned respect with every kwin-sho victory, every endurance suffocation, every battalion promotion, every indigo body. Not yet fifteen, but already a junior officer with a long list of commendations – save the one blip in conscience he vowed never to repeat. And now this …
Brother? Would the others see this boy as a mirror of Valentin had their parents sent both sons to another universe? Would they see Valentin as a fraud born of a family willing to put itself before the interests of the Chancellory?
Valentin talked himself into unlocking the tube, then he made a plan. Leave the bastard magnetized to the stasis pad. Flex one hand around the neck. Snap it like so many calcified bones. Over.
He’d be d
emoted, but the witnesses would spread the tale: The brother who refused to allow a stain on his descendency’s good name. The man who eradicated an abomination.
Valentin cast his right hand over the laser-lock and rushed his fingers through the hologram’s security filters until finding the safety release. The gleaming tube dissipated, but so did the green glow of the stasis pad. Valentin cursed when he recognized his mistake.
Before James stepped off the pad, Valentin saw the truth in the older Bouchet’s concentrated eyes: He, too, had murderous plans. Valentin detected the steeled conviction of a boy who planned ahead. A boy who could kill his brother with a touch, take out the other unarmed peacekeepers, and hold the admiral hostage in exchange for free passage. He waited to pounce.
“I saw what you did,” Valentin said. “Give me the first cause to defend myself, and your friends are dead.”
James stepped off the pad, looked forward and aft, wriggled his arms, flexed his fingers. He firmed his shoulders and raised his chin.
“Don’t worry,” James said. “I’m not gonna kill you now.”
A split second earlier, James consulted with Ignatius Horne. He had to know whether this version of the Jewel might prove itself a fair counselor. They waded in the edge of the Gulf of Mexico, Ignatius’s pants rolled up shin-high.
“Do you recall the countless speakers who visited your school, talking on the subject of bullies?”
“I do,” James said. “I hated them all.”
“Because their message was ineffectual. What strategies did they suggest? Walk away from the threat? Report the vermin to an adult? Never respond in violence?”
“Yeah. And I tried every strategy – and then some.”
“And still, their shadows hung over you, though the bullies be miles away. Now your own brother. You see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Although I first counseled you to consider a pensive approach, I concede my error. Valentin respects strength through confrontation. You must make him feel danger.”
“If I can’t hold my own against him, my mission’s got no shot.”
Ignatius grabbed a faded beach ball from the surf. “You are a man of singular purpose, James; show Valentin your conviction.”
James stiffened his shoulders and raised his chin – eyes locked upon Valentin’s.
“Don’t worry,” James said. “I’m not gonna kill you now.”
Valentin grunted. “Or later. You have no place here.”
James took a half-step toward his brother.
“Next, you’ll tell me how I made a tragic mistake coming to this universe. You’ll look me over head to toe and ask if everybody on my Earth is so scrawny. Then I say, ‘Sure are, but they’d kick your ass ten ways to Sunday.’ I reckon it’d be all downhill from there.”
Valentin flinched. “I see you rehearsed, big brother. Nothing else to do inside the tube. Yes?”
“Nothing except …” James gazed at his right hand then turned his palm toward Valentin. “Wonder how quickly I could end you.”
The peacekeeper leaked a smile. “No sane man releases an animal from its cage if he thinks the animal will kill him.”
“He might,” James said, “if that was the only way to kill the animal.” He tapped his temple. “I know more about what’s going on here than you ever will, little brother. You got no clue.”
Valentin closed to arms-length. “You are an abomination, hidden away by zealots trying to pervert the Chancellory.”
On the beach, James and Ignatius smiled as they shared the sunset. “Well done,” Ignatius said, raising a glass of white wine. “You baited him right into it.”
On the Scramjet, James locked both hands behind his back.
“Zealots?” He said. “You mean our parents? I can’t wait to meet Emil and Frances. Tell me about them.”
Valentin’s eyes narrowed and his chin tightened.
“They never mentioned you. Not once. What makes you believe they have any interest in seeing you now?”
James couldn’t believe his success. “Never said they wanted to see me. They will anyway.” He paused for a beat. “Dude.”
Valentin blinked first, glanced to his right, where the other two peacekeepers stood in rapt silence.
“What is … dude? A code?”
James felt giddy. “Seriously?” He took another step closer. “I’ll tell you someday. But right now, little bro, I got a question for you. How come a fellow like me crosses one universe to another, and not an hour later, he’s staring at a brother he never knew? What you figure to be the odds for us to meet like this? Collectorate has what, like, forty planets? That’s one big damn coincidence, huh?”
Valentin rolled his eyes. “Your return was scheduled.”
“Were you always on the welcome home committee?”
“And you are implying …?”
“Hell, I ain’t implying a goddamn thing, Valentin. You and me are standing here because somebody else has big plans. I think we’re being played like two Alabama rubes. How about it … bro?”
Valentin closed to within inches of James. Although only three inches taller, he dwarfed his older brother.
“Play your magic trick,” he said. “Turn me to ash.” He continued when James did not unlock his hands. “I thought as much. Listen to me, you arrogant pretender. Admiral Perrone recruited me because he believed if the Jewel became noncompliant, a family member should destroy it to protect the descendency. He has full confidence I will kill you at the earliest, necessary moment.”
James nodded. “Sure. You go on believing that, bro. But I got news for you …”
The shadow appeared to James’s right, as if emerging all at once from a fog. Rear Admiral Augustus Perrone stepped from his cloaked command office, cup of café in hand.
“Squabbling brothers,” he chuckled. “You remind me of so long ago with Maximillian. We found ourselves in the most vicious fights over who would be first to claim a command. He almost killed me once. Max always held a blade better than I.” He faced Valentin. “Meeting your elder brother has not changed your resolve.” He flipped to James. “He proposed killing you almost instantly after acknowledging your identity. Not a welcoming gesture. Yes?”
James pursed his lips. “He don’t understand he’s being played.”
“Ah.” Perrone sipped his café. “But you, James … you, the interloper … have a deeper insight into some grand machination?”
“I recognize this much, Admiral. Twenty-four hours ago, a man like you woulda scared the shit out of Jamie Sheridan. But that kid ain’t around anymore. Near about every-damn-body he grew up with is dead, and I killed some of them. Whatever you got, have at it. I’m ready to play.” He glared at Valentin. “I reckon we both are.”
Perrone laid a firm hand upon Valentin’s shoulder.
“And you, Specialist Bouchet?”
“I want his head,” Valentin said through gritted teeth.
“And why?”
“To hand it to my parents, to remind them I am their only son.”
“Revolting, albeit spirited.” Perrone sipped café. “I think James is smarter and more dangerous than you realize, which would make the prize more deserving. Yes?”
“Sir?”
Perrone stepped away. Just before he re-entered the cloak, he admired the brothers.
“Ah. Family. Pain and grief. Yes? Young gentlemen, in less than an hour, one of you will be dead at the other’s hand. All things considered, I am not sure where the advantage lies. Surprise me.”
Valentin’s searching eyes showed hesitation: A warrior caught off-guard by receiving exactly what he wanted.
“A gift horse,” Ignatius whispered against the winds of the Gulf of Mexico. “He will be suspicious. The seed of doubt you planted will be your greatest weapon.”
“I’ll need every weapon I can find, and maybe something else.”
“Yes.” Ignatius pointed south toward the horizon to a line of purple clouds. “Is it stirring?”
“It
is.” James felt a sudden, terrifying hunger. “The dark wants to be fed. I have to release it, Ignatius. It’s my only chance.”
“Then time to drown them. Begin with your brother.”
12
M ICHAEL COOPER HAD HIS FIRST CHANCE to think about food. He recalled having eaten sandwiches in the hours before crossing the fold, but those moments seemed like excerpts from a dream. He salivated. Pork chops with mushrooms, fried chicken, Mississippi roast, meatloaf.
“What kind of food do you eat, Chief?” He asked Patricia.
“Strange question. We eat what we grow, what we process. Why? Do you have a special regimen we should know about?”
“Hell, no. I ain’t no damn vegan, and I ain’t allergic to nothing. Put it in on a plate, and I’m good.”
They strode a few yards ahead of the other three, now less than half a kilometer from the shuttle.
“If I carried portable rations, Michael, I’d share them. We have reserves in the ship. I have a question myself. I noticed your friends call you Coop. Should we adopt that nomenclature?”
“Nomen-what?” He sighed. “No. Michael’s fine. I get Mike sometimes, too. I think maybe I’m outgrowing Coop.”
“Hmm.” She checked her stream amp to verify tracking to the shuttle. “A new name for a new life? In my experience, I find little difference to be had. You are not supposed to be in this universe.” Their eyes matched, and Michael saw sympathy. “Are you?”
“I made a choice. You saying I made a mistake?”
“Enormous. Possibly fatal.” She tapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll find I am direct, if nothing else.”
“You think I’m gonna die here.”
“On Earth? Yes. Your odds will improve if you make passage to one of the colonies – especially Zwahili Kingdom. But even there, they’ll know you’re different. You must find the proper tribe.”
Hairs stood up on the nape of his neck. “See, right there! The same whites-only vibe I got from Ophelia first time she saw me. What happened on this Earth? All the Nazis and the Klan shack up and spill out a few billion babies? Am I the only brother?”
The Impossible Future: Complete set Page 35
