- Follow Ophelia and take a plate. The food is good. Sit with us.
- This is like feast after hunt, but I do not see admiral basting over fire like deer.
- They do it differently here. When you were in the labs, did you hear anything about the others like us?
- Admiral said how good soldiers follow orders. I did not listen well. He is gone now. No matter.
- Be ready for anything, Rayna. This is supposed to be a celebration, but something is still wrong. I feel it.
- What is wrong is we came here. What is wrong is I left Ukraine.
- You won’t regret it much longer. I promise.
He saw a wry smile as she took a plate. He watched her confusion as Misha explained the offerings. She filled her plate with raw fish and bread. She and Misha shared words about where to sit, but Misha lost. They separated. Rayna sat across from the brothers, nodded, but ate in silence. When Rayna noticed the colony world floating above, she seemed disinterested.
Is she unimpressed? Is she terrified?
James scanned the room. Maj. Marshall and Ophelia sat away from his parents, which confused him. They were co-conspirators – how long did they work to make this happen? Why not toast victory together? Valentin whispered the same surprise in his ear. There are too damn many questions, James thought.
As if on cue, his father and the major left their tables and joined each other. Emil tapped his fluted glass with a knife.
“I will be succinct, which will come as a great surprise to my long-term associates.” Short, awkward laughter arose from the presidium executives. “Augustus Perrone and his allies posed an existential threat to the Chancellory. While there are many to thank for their efforts, none more so than Major Sexton Marshall, who risked his esteemed career for years to achieve this outcome.”
Emil offered a symbolic side-nod and took his seat.
“I am a loyal soldier of the Guard,” Marshall began. “I have given my life to defend the Chancellory and maintain stability on the colonies. We all lost at the fall of Hiebimini. We also know the most visionary among us have worked hard to give our people a future. The very notion of any Chancellor attempting to destroy or pervert that work is beyond criminal. Augustus Perrone was not only willing to ruin the Bouchets with false claims of crimes against humanity, he planned to annihilate the key to extended life. I witnessed him pit two brothers in combat for his entertainment, knowing he would one day execute them and incinerate their bodies along with the other Jewel hybrids and extended-life prototypes. He also ordered assassinations – including that of Dr. Tomelin – and carried out illegal UG operations on Earth in violation of The Foundation Treaty. We also have proof he has been an agent of The United Green, despite sending his own wife and son into hiding with a hybrid.”
James shared disbelief with Valentin.
“He’s lying,” Valentin whispered. “Perrone’s a bastard, but he wanted to steal Father’s work, not end it.”
James saw the wandering eyes zeroing in on them. He jumped into Rayna’s mind.
- Are you sure Perrone said nothing against us?
- No. He introduced me to his circle of fools. One did not like my words and said Jewels must be compliant. She did not say to kill me. If he wanted us dead, he could have killed us on island.
He disconnected. Perrone could have killed him many times, starting outside the fold. He knew what James and Rayna were capable of. Why keep the threats alive?
Marshall went on, listing Perrone’s crimes. He disclosed his own effort to place so-called infiltrators into SkyTower in the admiral’s name. He talked of mercenaries hired in Bouchet’s name who sacrificed their lives on Seneca to lure Perrone into the trap. He spoke of how Ophelia’s inside knowledge of the Bouchet operation and ability to adapt to “unexpected events” at the fold proved valuable in luring Perrone into their trap.
“Soon, I will transmit the evidentiary package to the Magistrate General of the Guard,” he continued. “In the coming days, this scandal will test our assumptions about Chancellor unity. Regardless, the proper faction now controls the future.”
Rayna jumped into James’s mind.
- I knew admiral was a fool. This man is true master.
- Did you hear him? ‘Controls the future.’ Control it how? You and I are part of that future.
- I told you this was trap, but you did not listen. These people think they own us because they created us. You know what they will do if they do not trust us. Da?
She was right. He felt it in his bones.
- I have an idea.
He disconnected and turned to his brother.
“The three of us need to talk,” he whispered. “Can you get us out of here?”
Valentin nodded. Once mild applause for the major died away and Marshall took his seat, Valentin had a word with his parents. The discussion lasted long enough to make James uneasy. Valentin returned, stopping at the head of the table. He did not whisper.
“Father has permitted me to provide you a tour of our home. Then I will show you to the guest quarters for the night.”
“Sounds great,” James said. “I’d love to see how I might have grown up. Rayna?” He nodded in a way that said, “Just play along.” Her mischievous smile indicated she understood.
However, Misha popped up from the next table. “Please allow me to come. I want to make sure Rayna’s transition is …”
“No.” Rayna grabbed his hand. “Your job is done. Go home to family now. Change name. You dislike Tsukanov.”
He winced as Rayna twisted his hand. Misha relented.
James thought they were clear until a towering, familiar voice rose.
“Peacekeepers Bouchet and Bouchet. Soldiers of the Guard.”
Maj. Marshall put down a napkin but did not rise. Valentin stood at attention, so James followed suit.
“Expect to be summoned soon. Col. Onyx will contact you for a final mission briefing.” They responded with side-nods as he turned to Rayna. “And young Miss Tsukanova. You were also witness to important events here, on Seneca, and in the Ukrainian Expanse. You will be summoned as well. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Rayna said. “I will tell everything you need. Da?”
James felt relief at Rayna’s choice to play nice. Yet the instant they left the observatory and hopped aboard a rifter, he realized what was happening. Everyone in that room was talking ab out the Jewels – openly, frankly. With Perrone and his conspiracy behind them, only one issue remained. Control the future.
“They need us to be compliant,” James told Valentin as he took Rayna’s hand, a heated surge of Jewel energy passing between them. “We will never be. Do you understand what that means, brother?”
Valentin closed his eyes. James didn’t need an answer. He understood.
50
Philadelphia Redux
Hamilton Park Overlook
S AMANTHA PYNN WAS OFFICIALLY ONE of the thousand wealthiest Chancellors on Earth. She inherited her parents’ compound in Boston Prefecture, a suite of landings in New Stockholm City, a shared outpost on the Pacific Riviera, and a standing residential occupancy pass for the Ark Carrier Infinitus, orbiting Indonesia Prime. She owned a seat on the Americus Presidium and acquired her first Solomon. She wore a Transitional Communicator around her right wrist until the sanctum approved her stream amp for installation. Her purchase of a private uplift would be completed in days. She was, at long last, one of them.
Sammie never felt more terrified.
She gazed upon the city and realized she was in over her head. Philadelphia Redux rose similar to a pair of mighty cliffs, its cylindrical skyscrapers lining either side of a vast forest a kilometer wide, a powerful river chasing through the center. The polychrome towers glistened orange, pink, and yellow from the late-afternoon sunlight. She watched as residents detached balconies from their landings in these towers and descended to the park. Scrams, shuttles, and uplifts flew higher overhead, their green nacelles comparable to fireflies.
No story her father ever told, no heartfelt moment of nostalgia prepared Sammie for this.
“It’s so big,” she said, braced against the guardrails fronting Hamilton Park Plaza, inside which she became an official Chancellor. “I can’t breathe, Michael.”
He held her close, the same comforting arm there throughout the hearing. The Reclamation and Descendency Sanctum didn’t believe she was up to the challenge – Sammie saw it in their suspicious eyes. Yet they had no choice but to approve her. The credentials provided by Dr. Ophelia Tomelin and supported in person by her proxy, Dr. Talan Langdon, boosted her case. Only when they discussed the Americus Presidium – and their universal admiration of it – did the panel seem to drop its skepticism.
“I reckon this happens when dreams come true,” Michael said. “You look around and ask yourself, ‘Now what?’” He pointed northeast to SkyTower, which hogged most of the horizon. “Or, I reckon you could look at that damn piece of work for a while, and the city just ain’t so big anymore. Small potatoes, if you ask me.”
She tried looking up, made it to cloud level, then shifted quickly to the ground. It was true what they told her: SkyTower was disorienting, as if the rational brain wasn’t meant to process it.
“I wish he was here,” she said. “Maybe if I had tried harder, he might have seen there was a better way.”
“What, J? Nah, that ship sailed. You saw the look in his eyes.”
“Do you wonder what’s happening up there, Michael?”
“Up where? I can’t even see that high. And I’ll tell you one thing, sure as shit. You’ll never see my ass up there. They brag on it, but I don’t reckon that’s how God meant us to live.”
“I didn’t know you were religious.”
“First Baptist. Sometimes. Truth is, a man sees SkyTower, how can he not be religious?”
Sammie didn’t argue. She couldn’t imagine how she would gotten through the day without Michael. After the panel approved her claim, a legal advisor walked them through the next steps and provided both with TransComs. Michael, whose Earth residency might take weeks to finalize, compared the device to a smart watch on steroids. It delivered holographic communications and data. Yet it also contained everything they needed to set up temporary residency in the city before flying to one of Sammie’s properties. Throughout it all, Michael littered the room with questions and colloquialisms, flushing out any “Chancellor bullshit.” He was her brother, her guardian, her best friend.
“Thank you for everything today,” she said. “I needed you.”
He shrugged to a goofy smile. “Hey, just doing my bit, ya know?”
“It’s been a long day. Glad it’s almost over.”
“Hell, a long week. What day is this anyway?”
She looked over her shoulder. A few citizens – most colonial tourists – milled about the Overlook or checked into duopods, the open-air vehicles designed similar to the detachable balconies moving between the residential towers. Sammie had an idea.
“Before he left, Dr. Langdon said we should take a public duopod down to the park. Said it would be refreshing, especially before dinner. You’re probably hungry, too, but maybe it’s worth a try?”
“That Langdon was a strange bird, wasn’t he? Couldn’t wait to high-tail out of the city.” He examined the duopods. “Sure. I’m game. Langdon said the tourists rave about it. I’m guessing lots of these folks come from other planets. What you think they’d say about a fellow from another universe? Talk about your tourist!”
Sammie laughed, almost cried. She loved how the silly Michael from Albion did not disappear under the overwhelming trappings of this world. Yet she wondered how long he could keep it together.
The duopod operated with a code drawn from her TransCom. It offered six destinations. She let Michael choose, and away they flew.
It drifted silently westward, toward the fading sun and away from SkyTower. They sat back in cushioned comfort. The air was still.
“Sweet,” Michael said.
It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was everything they had not shared since they ran for their lives. For a while, they observed in silence, but Sammie studied Michael more than the city or the forest. The question nagging her all day cut the quiet.
“Michael, do you want to go home?”
He opened his mouth to speak, caught his words, and frowned as if he didn’t understand the question.
“Sure.” He looked away. “Doesn’t everybody wanna go home?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Look, can’t we just take this in? We go eat. Go to sleep.”
Sammie had to do this. If he stayed with her out of obligation, he would hate her. Dr. Langdon, in a quiet moment after the hearing, gave advice she needed to hear. He pointed to Rayna Tsukanova, whom he rescued in the Ukrainian Expanse and who grew angrier in his shuttle with each passing hour over the Atlantic.
“This is not his home,” Langdon advised. “This universe may kill him in spirit before it buries him. He deserves the option.”
She grabbed Michael’s hand and kissed it.
“I have money now. I can make sure we find the IDF. You’ll go home, and you’ll be safe with your family.”
He twisted his frown, as if she’d gone daffy.
“Safe? You mean after I finish explaining where I been and what happened? No. Not a chance.”
“Your parents love you. They can give you what this world can’t.”
“Maybe. But Sammie, they can’t make me forget what happened. They can’t make me forget about them damn bodies in Albion and Austin Springs and … you think anybody found Christian Bidwell yet? I put two bullets in him, and he’s probably out there rotting in the sun. Nobody deserves that shit.”
His tears fell, and she hated herself for turning the moment dark.
“Michael, this world is more dangerous. You’ve seen it.”
“Look, no place is safe. Not really. That shit is just a dream we tell ourselves. Get my speed? If I go back, I’ll never forget what I saw here. I’ll always wonder what happened to J. And …” He fought the tears before they swelled. “I won’t be able to put you out of my mind. Ever. You see that, right? You get what I’m saying?”
She did. For the first time, Sammie had no doubt.
They fell silent in each other’s arms and held tight.
Sammie hated herself for rejoicing inside. When she rose at last, he was there to wipe her tears. More than a brother, a friend, or a guardian. She closed her eyes and felt his lips against hers.
She had no idea how long it lasted – forever would have satisfied. Yet when they did separate, they shared the awkward smiles that said, “What just happened here?”
Michael looked around.
“I think we landed. That was quiet.”
The duopod came to a rest in the park. A walkway adjacent to their landing pad took them into the woods in one direction and to a small pond in another.
“Which way?” She asked.
“Dunno. Think I’d rather sit here and kiss my new girl for a while.” He laughed at himself. “I sound like a dude out of a 50’s flick.”
She looked west. “Well, we probably only have a couple hours of sunlight. Maybe walk a little way? You can hold my hand.”
He faked a gasp. “What? Solomon holding hands with a Chancellor?” He took on a Southern drawl. “Now, we just can’t have that around these here parts. Get my speed, missy?”
She laughed. “I always loved your Cracker imitation.”
“I’m gonna be a standup comic. Dunno if they have those in the Collectorate, but these jackasses need to lighten up.”
“Good luck with that.”
They walked hand-in-hand toward the pond.
“How about that?” Michael said. “Ducks. Just like back home.”
“Yes. Maybe this is how we get on with it, Michael. Find the things that remind us of back home.” She laughed. “All the years I dreamed of being here, Albion was my home. I
never appreciated it.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You were on loan.”
They stopped at the edge. She wished she had food for the ducks, which approached as if expecting a treat.
She caressed Michael’s cheek. He wore four-day stubble.
Sammie started to ask if he ever thought about growing a beard. The words came, waited, but never passed. She heard a muted pop and felt a sudden itch in her belly.
A familiar gaseous taste rose from deep within. Her vision blurred. Michael asked her something, but she didn’t hear. Sammie held her hand against the source of sudden pain and lifted it. Blood.
“Sammie?”
She twisted, lighter than air, but he held her up. Then another muted pop broke the silence. A hole opened in the left side of Michael’s chest, just above the Solomon tri-crest. He coughed, and she thought he apologized for everything.
She fell to one knee when he let go. She heard a splash. Then Sammie slipped into the night.
51
M ICHAEL DREAMED OF STATIC INTERFERENCE. He turned every channel on his Granddaddy’s old set. Nothing. Sometimes a voice cried out through the white noise. An image passed by in a single frame. He adjusted the rabbit ears. No better, but the geometry changed: Lightning, thick snow, scrambled flashes. He banged on the set. Then he dreamed of more static interference.
In time, the pain became too much for his fists, and it radiated through his arms and into his chest. It burned. His ribs cracked.
And still, the white noise.
His Granddaddy said, “You doin’ it wrong, child. Give me here.”
An old man’s hand took a hammer to the screen. Again and again. The screen cracked, shattered, rebuilt itself.
Each time the white noise diminished, the scrambled signals formed images which lasted seconds. Voices inside the screen demanded his attention. Warned him to be ready. Said the pain would never go away. Take the hammer, they said. You need the hammer. Hang on.
The pain seared his chest, snaked up his throat, and burst between his lips. As he screamed, his eyes opened.
The Impossible Future: Complete set Page 56
