“What happened back there? Did any of our people die? We lost track of everyone at the last minute.”
“Wylehan had them on circastream. They took positions on the go-order. Two casualties among the mercenaries. Minimal losses. Their families will be compensated. Part of the deal.”
“What deal?”
“Ophelia and her Chief would not work with me without compensation and guarantees. Their rationale should be obvious.”
“What did you give them?”
“Protection and prestige, Ms. Pynn. Dear Ophelia maintains control over her project, and Patricia Wylehan walks away with a small fortune. She can settle anywhere off-world and live her days without taking arms against the Chancellory. I cannot erase her shame as a failed officer of the Guard, but I can free her of Earth, and that is no small reward.”
“That’s all she needed? Money? After what you did to her unit?”
He stopped and stared. “Do I detect moral qualms, Ms. Pynn? I thought Walter and Grace taught you better.”
She glanced at James, who seemed indifferent. At the very least, in no hurry to her defense. Behind him, Michael shrugged. He mouthed the silent words “I got nothing.”
She had little more, as if she was starting over, entering this world for the first time.
“Fine, Admiral. Great. So, I’m an idiot. But I’m not brain-dead. What did you gain by wiping out Emil Bouchet’s security team?”
“The same thing any good soldier earns when he lures the enemy away from his base of operations: A way in.”
He tossed out a holocube. It opened with an external shot of a giant structure looming well above the clouds and extending to the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Perrone focused on the brothers.
“This was not an easy decision for Valentin and James, but they each have special motivation. They must hold the sins of their father to account.” They nodded as he spoke. “Emil Bouchet has not left SkyTower in twenty years. He is well protected but also unaware I have been chipping away at his defenses for years. Thanks to my compromise with Ophelia, he risked his primaries. In effect, he gave away the keys to the front door.”
He double-tapped his amp and threw open a second holocube, which displayed a grand room with elegant furniture, vaulted ceilings, and sculptured lighting arrays. The view panned over.
Another festooned officer entered the frame.
“Maj. Marshall,” the admiral said. “Your report?”
“Excellent news, Admiral,” said Sexton Marshall. “We have secured the Bouchet compound. Minimal casualties.”
“And our hosts?”
“Awaiting your pleasure, sir.”
Marshall pointed and the holocube followed. Sammie did not recognize these people sitting on a couch, but the family resemblance was clear enough. Emil and Frances Bouchet. Sammie glanced at James, who gave no hint of emotion. After everything he went through with Tom and Marlena Sheridan, after agonizing over their deaths, she assumed he would show something. Joy, relief, anticipation, even rage. The old Jamie would have bundled them all.
“Very good,” Perrone said. “Emil, Frances! Wonderful to see you both again. And I have fantastic news. Both your sons are alive and well. Look at them.” He shifted the cube. “Soldiers of the Guard. A matching set. And so keen to speak to you on matters of great sensitivity. Yes?”
The parents said nothing. Maj. Marshall did.
“We await your arrival, Admiral.”
“Indeed, Major. A good and dutiful friend, as always.”
He closed the cubes and leaned in to Samantha. He grabbed her by the chin.
“You may be a Chancellor by birth, but you are also a child. Do not forget.” As Sammie let the verbal dagger bury deep, Perrone switched gears to James. “And now, for your present. What do you say we meet the other Jewel?”
39
J AMES DARED NOT EXPLAIN HIMSELF to Michael and Sammie, not when Holland, Valentin, or Perrone could disrupt his plans in a heartbeat. He wanted them to understand what he’d become and where he was headed. James blinked and strode beside Ignatius.
“I’m closer than I could have imagined. If my father has the answers Perrone promised, I’ll have a real chance to finish this.”
He walked alongside Ignatius through a street of the nuked city. Ashen sculptures of human remains lay scattered amid the rubble.
Ignatius sighed. “And if he does not? What then?”
“Then it means the admiral lied.”
“You heard what Michael said about honest Chancellors.”
“I’m not sure who to trust. One of them will turn on us, I’m sure of it. Perrone, Ophelia, Emil. There’s another move coming. If I don’t anticipate it…”
“You did not mention Valentin. Is he beyond reproach?”
“Yes. What we share is unique. He will be with me, whatever I decide.”
“And if your decision is to kill your father? Will he join you in plunging the knife through Emil’s heart?”
“If I prove our father needs to die, then yes. He will.”
Ignatius scooped ash. It fell through his fingers.
“You may be right, but I also think it won’t matter.” Ignatius ran his hand across James’s cheek, painting it gray. “She’s coming, James. She’ll be in front of you in minutes. When you see her, the changes in your life will dwarf these past few days.”
James pushed the other Jewel from his thoughts during the madness of the past few hours, but she was always there, niggling around in the back of his mind. Her presence never disappeared after she crossed into this universe and entered his dreams.
“Why?” James asked. “I already know what she is.”
“Precisely the problem. Like you, she can do THIS.” He pointed to the destruction. “But like you, she is an altered human coexisting with a life form of potential far beyond the human imagination. You are the only two of your kind in a hundred light-years. You will not be inclined to destroy what might literally be called a soulmate.”
“I’m stronger than you think, Ignatius.”
“Are you? There was one other like you. Like her. He walked the path possessing the wisdom of the Jewel. He struggled to the last day of his life, bearing the knowledge that a Jewel-human hybrid was an abomination. Then, on the day he liberated Hiebimini, he also liberated the Jewel within. He paid with his life, but he served the greater good. If I recall, you came through the fold with similar determination. Yes?”
“And my plan has not changed. You’ll see. But you… you never said Ignatius Horne was like me.”
“There are countless secrets I haven’t spilled, James. We’ve only known each other a short time. If you live long enough, you’ll learn all the secrets. Then you’ll beg to die.”
He blinked twice and continued following the party of five along a walkway heading northeast of the outpost.
They walked in silence for several minutes. Sammie didn’t say a word after Perrone called her a child. He couldn’t recall ever going this long without hearing Michael riff. If he had ten minutes in a room with them, he’d explain everything. They had no time for a meaningful conversation since crossing the fold.
Soon enough, fate arrived. Five figures rounded a bend in the walkway some hundred feet ahead just as the admiral’s Scramjet moved into position for a landing at a nearby clearing. The morning sun began to break over the eastern tree line.
Ophelia Tomelin led them. James didn’t recognize any of the other Chancellors, but he knew her. The Jewel. She was as tall as the rest, but she dressed like no one on this Earth. Her full-length coat reminded him of photos from world history class: Russian fighters in the old days, before the Communists took over. What were they called? Big fur hats, rounded swords? As they drew closer, he recognized the hilt of a sword in a pouch slung over the coat. He was already impressed. She must have refused to change into Chancellor garb. It was very warm here, perhaps eighty degrees. She had to be suffering underneath.
As they neared, he heard other
voices on both teams speak, but James never took his eyes off the Jewel.
She carried the swagger of a girl his age – a rising senior ready to pounce on the world. But better: She was a fighter. Even more, she was a killer. Her features told a story: steeled by loss, world-weary, disciplined through purpose. James smelled the gunpowder on her hands, tasted the blood of her victims on her blade.
A surprising sound snapped him out of his trance. Sammie walked up to Ophelia and delivered a powerful slap across the woman’s right cheek, throwing the scientist back on her heels.
“You could have told us,” Sammie insisted. “Michael and I almost died out there.”
Ophelia glanced between Sammie and Perrone.
“I deserved that,” she said. “I’m sorry, Samantha. We had a plan, and I couldn’t risk drawing attention. I knew a classified way out of the facility, and I couldn’t risk suspicion by bringing others along.”
“You even removed Linton. She was supposed to protect us.”
“I didn’t think you would be in any danger. Our enemy wasn’t focused on you. They wanted the Jewel. And you are trained to defend yourself. Yes?”
“Come now,” Perrone interrupted. “No sense in a minor squabble over what might have been. Our guests have arrived, and we need to board my ship.” He introduced himself, but the girl did not speak. She did, however, glare. “I understand your position,” he told her. “If I had encountered the same treachery, I would be suspicious, too. No matter. You are with us now and safe.”
“You sure about that, Admiral?” Sammie unleashed her fury. “Ophelia said someone on our team was a spy. Didn’t you?” She stared down Dr. Tomelin. “Three possibilities: Brey, Rikard, and Patricia. Was that a lie, too?”
James heard the dispute, even as Ophelia struggled for a response, but his focus never left the Ukrainian. His heart grew lighter, his thoughts dizzy with anticipation as he studied her. Then it came to him. A full name. Rayna Tsukanova.
“We don’t have time for this,” Ophelia said. “I promise to talk later. Admiral, I’d like to introduce Misha Tsukanov, the last surviving observer of the Ukrainian team.” Misha offered Perrone a side-nod. Ophelia added, “It is not his birth name, but he has chosen to keep it.”
Misha, tall and blond and old enough to be the Jewel’s father, shared a smile with the girl. Misha wore a Chancellor-made suit.
“It is not protocol, but I have lived with this beautiful name for fifteen years, admiral. It has been my duty to watch over Rayna. In her honor, I wish to keep this identity.”
“Understood,” Perrone said. “We will reach accommodations with your descendency. And you,” he faced the girl. “Rayna Tsukanova. I cannot express how momentous this day has become.”
“You can try,” Rayna said, her thick Russian accent carrying a wind of disdain. “But do not bother. I have no use for praise.”
Misha interrupted. “Apologies. Rayna has been through a difficult experience. She has lost those who mattered most to her, including her father.”
“And my horses.”
“Yes, and the horses.”
“Excuse me?” Perrone said.
“We struggled to meet our arrival schedule,” Misha said. “Rayna insisted our horses be brought aboard the Scram and taken to a safe place to live out their lives. We set them free on the plains of Domadi, where they could join the wild herds.”
Perrone nodded. “My condolences about your father. I did not know Peter well, but he always struck me as…”
“Do not talk of Father,” she glared.
“Very well. Then we should move forward. Rayna, I suspect you know who this is.” The admiral eyed James. “He too has suffered but is coming into his own quite beautifully. As will you. Rayna Tsukanova, meet…”
She jumped his words. “James Bouchet, son of Emil and Frances Bouchet.” James took a half-step forward, wondering if he should shake her hand, hug her, tip his head. Kiss her. But Rayna kept both arms wrapped behind her back. Firm, at a safe distance.
He kept his response cautious. “Pleased to meet you, Rayna.”
There were echoes of other voices, discussion of next steps, the need for Rayna to change out of her Cossack garb, and orders to board the Scramjet, but James listened to none of it. Instead, a different sensation arrived, an itch in his mind, taking form as a Russian voice.
- You are more beautiful man than I dreamed.
He replied without opening his lips.
- And you’re a beautiful woman. Your hair. What is it called?
- It is forelock. All Cossacks of dignity wear it. Do you like?
- I do.
- This red skin you wear is ridiculous.
- It keeps me alive in battle.
- You have killed many?
- Yes. And I will kill many more.
- Good. Then we are fit for each other. No?
- Yes. But we are also monsters.
- Da. This is our tragedy. They must not know we speak this way.
- Agreed. If they find out, they’ll try to separate us.
- Which would be most terrible mistake.
- Rayna, I feel your anger, but you have to play along with them for now. We need them, and some of them might even help us.
- I do not play nice. These Chancellors are assholes. They have no honor.
- Yes, most of them are shit. But there are friends. The man next to me is…
- Your brother. I am no fool.
- He more than anyone is the key. He has a strength we’ll need.
- If you say so. I will trust you, James Bouchet. But you only.
- Fair enough. We need to board the ship now, Rayna. We have so much to do.
When she turned away, the verbal connection severed, but not the smell of her skin or the imagined taste of her lips. He took deep but steady breaths. James thought of Ignatius’s words: When you see her, the changes in your life will dwarf these past few days.
James understood. Their telepathy did not surprise him.
A new light shone. A breeze calmed his soul but fired his imagination. He saw not ten steps ahead—like any good Chancellor—nor one hundred steps. Rather, he viewed thousands of permutations of a future unwinding itself. Secrets and machinations, loves and betrayals, deaths and sacrifices, births and renewals. And in all of it, endless rivers of blood.
Even as he joined the others on the Scramjet and heard the echoes of Sammie still complaining and Michael trying to hold her back; even as he listened to new orders from Perrone and shared the satisfaction of victory with Valentin and Holland; even as he recalled Ignatius’s advice and the horror of the nuked city; James made peace with the dark.
He swam in the tides of the impossible future.
He was of them and above them.
And she was beautiful.
Just for a second, he allowed himself to believe they were gods.
40
R IKARD BRYZNEWIESKI WAS A PILOT long before he met and fell in love with the man he would marry, Matthias. Each time he took a job, Matthias feared for his safety, but they understood the risks were necessary. Now, five minutes removed from the Isle of Seneca and safe in his shuttle, Rikard wanted to go instream with his husband, but the time difference with Hong Kong Prefecture would be an inconvenience. Matthias loved his sleep.
Moreover, Rikard needed to finish a nagging task before he returned to the mainland. He stood in the navigation cylinder studying cubes.
He laid in the course and set the shuttle to auto-nav.
Brey Grinderson, Ophelia’s right hand who Rikard met a few days before the battle at the IDF, worked at the forward panels.
“So,” Rikard broke the silence, “she gave you no reason why she’s sending you back to New Stockholm instead of going with the admiral?”
Brey swiveled about. “I’ve never understood Ophelia’s logic. Truth is, I think what’s about to happen is above my pay status.”
“Doesn’t explain why she’s taking Michael Cooper and Samantha
Pynn. But you’re right. No sense trying to figure her logic. At least we’re out of the line of fire. That’s a damn significant improvement. Yes?”
Brey smiled. “Ironic. I’m heading to safety, and you’re my pilot. Did you know I accused you of running away from the fold and leaving us there to die? Before I knew the truth.”
“Yes. She told me later. You were quite put-out.” He laughed. “I have a thing about people trying to blow up my ship—especially while I’m still in it.” He changed his tone. “What about the others? The Chief and her team? Strange they’re not returning with us.”
Brey shrugged. “They made a deal. Peacekeepers are taking them back to Great Plains Metroplex, process them, ship them off-world. Probably for the best.”
“Oh, come on, Brey. You’re not that stupid. Patricia Wylehan and those mercs will never set foot on land. They’ll be executed onboard that shuttle, weighted, and dumped in the Atlantic. I can’t believe the Chief was that naïve after what Perrone did to her first team.”
“She was tired and used up. Anyone could see it. She wanted an easy way out, and Perrone offered.”
Rikard stepped out of the cylinder. “It’s what you Chancellors always want. The easy way out. Money, prestige, leverage. Do any of you ever ask what it’s all for?”
Brey threw up his hands. “Talking to the wrong guy, my friend. I probably have less money than you and wouldn’t know prestige if it bit me in the ass. Leverage? My family gave up trying years ago.”
Rikard wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
“Yep. Brey Grinderson, hard-working Chancellor. Struggling to make ends meet.”
Brey started toward Rikard. “That’s beyond the line, Solomon. You need to remember your place.”
“Oh, I do, Brey. Trust me. I am constantly reminded. And usually, I’m good at keeping my mouth shut. But two days ago, I made a new friend. Poor bastard didn’t know what sorry business he was walking into when he crossed the fold. I’m curious, Brey. Have you talked much to Michael Cooper?”
The Impossible Future: Complete set Page 50
