The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

“Don’t take it personal, Admiral. I watch everybody. All we need is one act of betrayal to bring our little family to ruin.”

  He didn’t want to get into it now, so Valentin moved on.

  “Glad we have a man like you working to preserve our … family.” He sliced his fingers through a holopanel. “Now entering Black Forest,” he announced through the ship. “We’re home.”

  They pierced the protective cloak which made their fleet impossible to hunt. Six ships, all holding stationary positions equidistant from one another, dropped out of invisibility. Their system engines were inert, as if docked at port. A quiet colony, tucked away fifty light-years from the nearest inhabited system.

  As Ulrich Rahm navigated the ship into the lead position, Valentin contemplated how much this fleet – which James called Salvation – accomplished in less than two years. Seven ships against the Collectorate: each with a story, each with a price.

  Spearhead came to them easily when they raided Qasi Ransome’s least defended mineral supply depot. They killed eight on site and later vented the crew who disabled the harmonic transponders. Only Passaic Dawn, whose pilot Valentin shot in the chest, suffered a smaller toll. The renamed Sunrise housed rogue Chancellors who sold their futures to acquire the secrets of immortality. Most other ships came with a far higher toll in lives.

  The UGT Sterngarten – a Guard battalion transport with a trove of weapons – came into the Salvation fleet’s possession at the expense of three hundred peacekeepers plus another seven hundred collateral indigos. The Lutrium bursts, designed by James and his Jewel intellect but deployed by Valentin and six immortal children, cascaded beyond the Sterngarten’s docking port on Pitcairn and into the surrounding service village. They left an extinct community behind. James renamed the transport Haven.

  Blood spilled when they acquired Greenland, a deep-range research vessel converted to agricultural production; Gemini, a tourist liner hijacked from drydock above Xavier’s Garden; and Benevolence, a private transport en route to Inuit Kingdom. The forces of Salvation also executed passengers and crew to acquire eight Scrams and uplifts for travel within the fleet.

  Yet nothing compared to the price paid for Lioness, the fleet’s command-and-control ship. This system cruiser – the largest Chancellor mode of commercial travel – housed most of Salvation’s nine hundred members, including its command staff and their most revered of all. Vital research and weapons development occurred on Lioness. Military planning, victory celebrations, and “special education” took place here. It was their greatest prize. Forty thousand humans fell for Salvation to take its trophy.

  It had been Rayna’s call. She was returning to action less than a week after giving birth to twins, ending months of combat quarantine imposed by her husband. She hand-picked Lioness from a list of potential targets. “My babies need good home,” she insisted in a thick Ukrainian accent. “Princes deserve to live in castle.”

  The mission collapsed minutes after blasting in via wormhole at Port Baghdad on Euphrates. Intel was wrong: Lioness was drafted into temporary service for the Guard and was about to load hundreds of well-armed peacekeepers who spent weeks suppressing food riots. Upon realizing the error, Rayna ordered her two Scrams to unleash a barrage of energy slews on the crimson red enemy. As fires raged and soldiers dispersed, Rayna’s raiding party took control of Lioness, summarily executing the crew. But chaos morphed into order as peacekeepers reconvened to fight back.

  “Do not waste flash pegs,” she told her assault team. “I will make them go away.”

  Rayna sent a signal from inside Lioness indicating surrender. She exited a landing bridge and stood before a growing contingent of soldiers seeking revenge for the charred corpses strewn nearabout. Valentin, who only observed per his brother’s orders, saw Rayna tighten her fists at her side and unleash a stormfront of nuclear incineration. The blast took out most of Port Baghdad.

  It was the first time a hybrid became a Berserker since SkyTower, and her decision opened the floodgates. Indeed, acquiring Lioness set into motion more Berserker attacks. With every success, they weakened Guard morale and gained followers among indigos who wanted the Chancellory to collapse.

  The rising death toll did not impress Valentin as much as the speed by which their little fleet extended its reach and influence. In theory, they could continue this way for years – hidden in a lost corner of the galaxy, imposing enough terror to erode confidence in the Guard. But status quo was not acceptable to any under Valentin’s command – and certainly not to his brother. Was there an endgame? A mission like today’s – a combo hit-and-run sabotage plus assassination – made little sense to Valentin. However, James insisted every mission was a piece in the grander future.

  Valentin decided the time had arrived for his elder brother to share those missing pieces with him.

  An uplift from Lioness docked with Spearhead as Valentin and Ulrich completed their shutdown checklist and assured the ship’s spatial alignment with the fleet. Minutes later, after docking in their flagship’s landing bay, Valentin was surprised by the lack of reception. The mission James deemed critical now appeared no more significant than a routine supply run.

  Valentin returned to the command bridge, where he found the recognition he expected earlier.

  The Officers of Salvation, as James called them, took time from their stations and holodynamics to greet him with hardy shouts of “Admiral on Command!” and “Superb, Admiral!” This blend of hybrids, the oldest immortals, and a rogue ex-peacekeeper – the Officers of Salvation – passed numerous tests of loyalty. Admiral Bouchet took comfort in knowing if the fleet ever came under attack, these men and women would be the last standing.

  He acknowledged his officers, listened to routine fleet updates, then made his way to the forward captain’s dais, where Sister Rayna, as she was now known, relaxed in Valentin’s chair. She was as striking as ever, a warrior dressed for combat, always seeking to quench her bloodlust. She was taller than Valentin, almost as muscular, her head shaved but for the forelock of her Ukrainian heritage. Her growth in the first month after their escape from Earth was stunning. James beat Rayna senseless, at her urging, until she underwent the same Jewel-driven metamorphosis he endured after dueling Valentin in the Great Plains Metroplex. Their passion for each other intensified, their animalism undenied.

  “Where is he?” Valentin said as he approached her.

  “Now is not good time for him.” She made no effort to leave the admiral’s chair. “He is with our boys. So, you succeed at Vasily?”

  “We completed the mission. Success is a matter of perspective.”

  “Ah. You do not believe mission was good idea. No?”

  “No, Rayna, it was not strategically sound. And yes, I told this to James when he first laid out the plan. Not that you’d support me.”

  Rayna laughed. “Men are assholes. Never able to see beyond their own testosterone. My husband is asshole sometimes, but I love him. Does not mean I follow him with blind eyes. You are right about Vasily mission. Dangerous idea. Fool’s errand. I told him so.”

  Valentin flexed a brow. “Let me guess. He said you were jealous of Samantha Pynn and did not understand the grander future.”

  She shrugged, to which Valentin sighed.

  “I know my brother too well. Or at least, I used to think so. I’ll ask you again, Rayna. Where is he?”

  She crinkled her lips into a wry smile. “Do you intend to create scene in front of my boys?”

  “I am their uncle. I love them, Rayna. I promise not to demean their father in their presence.”

  “Because you will shoo them away then demean their father.”

  “Something like that.”

  At times, Valentin felt Rayna slipping into a foggy, psychopathic horizon beyond anyone’s grasp – even James – but she still honored the kinship they shared following their escape from Earth.

  “They are in stellar dome. He is growing them.”

  She meant it like she sai
d it, enough to give Valentin pause. James spoke of the “transference” many times, but he always carried it out with his sons in absolute privacy. Everyone saw the impressive results but never the process itself.

  “Thank you, Rayna. I assume you will tell him I’m coming?”

  She stretched her smile. “He already knows.”

  Of course. After almost two years, Valentin remained uneasy about the hybrids’ ability to communicate instantaneously despite their lack of stream amps. The connection was empathic, James and Rayna explained. Their messages did not form as words but rather a combination of emotions and instincts.

  They refused to install amps. Ever.

  “We will be the first species to know each other as one without technology,” James proclaimed after he broke the rescued hybrids free of their Chancellor compliance programs.

  “A hive?” Valentin asked.

  “Better. You’ll see.”

  Valentin took the lift up five levels to stellar dome, an observatory at the top center of Lioness, originally designed as a place for parties and concerts while en route between systems. The coliseum design encircled a round stage which elevated ten feet off the floor. Above, a star field and the southern tip of the Enfidi Horse Nebula filled the view. Valentin heard voices as he climbed the stage stairs.

  “Sometimes they do,” a young boy said, his tone soft and fragile. “Will they always be afraid of us?”

  Too much bass powered the father’s response, a voice rough-hewn and stripped of higher octaves, as if the larynx were reconfigured to project the echo of an aging, battle-weary warrior.

  “The day they stop fearing us is the day they kill us. Every time they look away or bow their heads, take pride. You are among the promised few.”

  The other son spoke. “What about the pain, Father? Some days, it’s so hard to hide the pain.”

  “This is how we grow. You are becoming gods. The agony will only last as long as your bones and muscles change. Focus your mind on the secrets of the Jewel, and the pain will fade.”

  Valentin reached the stage and beheld a sight previously hidden to all but James, Rayna, and their one-year-old sons. He regretted coming here.

  They were naked. James stood in the center – eight feet tall, five hundred pounds of arching, rippling muscles. A goliath even by peacekeeper standards. His boys, now waist-high to their father, enveloped him, rubbing their bodies against his, their legs twisting around his massive trunks.

  Islands of soft blue Jewel energy coursed beneath the father’s skin and into his sons. As the little ones shrieked with new growth, James turned toward his younger brother. The red glow in the corners of his eyes shimmered.

  Valentin understood: James wanted him to see this. Another reminder that even though Valentin could not die, he owed allegiance to a more powerful master.

  11

  W HEN IT WAS OVER, THE BOYS FELL to their knees in exhaustion. James walked away, the blue islands having disappeared, and grabbed a long black robe from the stage floor. Once he dressed, his voice sharpened.

  “Get up, both of you. Stand tall and endure the pain.”

  The boys did as they were told, but Valentin focused less on them than on his brother’s eyes. They were hardened, soulless, full of the unbridled arrogance Valentin saw in his parents while growing up. Valentin knew James loved his children, but he masked it well.

  Peter, the oldest twin by two minutes, wiped his tears.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I’m still learning. I’ll be better next time.”

  Benjamin, the younger one, lent a hand to Peter.

  “Father understands. He knows we’re trying hard.”

  James turned away. “Dress yourselves and return to our suite. Take time to heal.”

  The boys obeyed, throwing on robes. Valentin didn’t know whether to envy or pity them. They were, by laws of nature, abominations. Their intellect was running ten years ahead of their age, and Valentin couldn’t imagine how their tiny frames were sustaining this insane growth, even under the Jewel’s design. Unlike their parents, who evolved fifteen years after the Jewel’s introduction into their blood, these boys were a new breed. What would they become when fully formed? Were they a leap beyond their hybrid parents?

  Valentin vowed to reserve judgment, given that his kind were also engineered to defy the laws of nature.

  “Hello, Uncle Valentin,” the boys said in unison, before Peter added, “Did you have a good mission today?”

  “I did. Maybe I’ll tell you all about it later. Do as your father said and get some rest.”

  If previous transferences were an indicator, Valentin expected them to grow three inches within a day. He waited until the boys left the dome before speaking to his brother.

  “Their progress is remarkable,” he said. “Are you sure you aren’t pushing them too hard too fast?”

  James raced his hands through golden, shoulder-length locks.

  “Are you telling me how to raise my children?”

  “No, James. But their pain is obvious.”

  James smiled. “Pain is a great motivator.”

  “And also crippling.”

  “Only if delivered without purpose. Those boys are going to become men faster than anyone in history. I need them to be unshakeable and fearless. The other hybrids will be having children soon, and they know I expect nothing less from them.”

  “You called them ‘the promised few.’ I’ve never heard that before. Do you consider the immortals among these ‘few’?”

  “Obviously, brother.”

  “I see. I’m sure you know of the rumors.”

  “A few immortals think we’ll abandon you to the Guard when we flee the Collectorate.” He stretched his neck. “Valentin, I have no intention of leaving the Collectorate. Ever. We are going to realign it in our favor. Hybrids and immortals. One new civilization. Just like we envisioned after we brought down SkyTower.”

  “I don’t doubt your goal, James, because it’s our goal. The only reason I listen to the rumors is because I know you are holding back from me. I am more than your military commander. I am your brother and your partner. You showed me the truth about myself and the betrayal of our parents and the Chancellory. We have crossed the galaxy together, slaughtering our enemies and growing our allies. But there are times, like today, where I feel a divide. When you send me on a questionable mission without divulging its role in our long-term strategy, I have doubts.”

  James raised his eyes toward the nebula. “If I told you my reasons, you never would have gone.”

  “I almost didn’t. But since you’d already committed our agents inside Vasily, I felt obligated to save them. This sudden obsession of yours with Samantha Pynn disturbs me. We agreed long ago to put aside personal vendettas for the greater good of our peoples. We talked at length, James. We agreed.”

  James fell silent as he probed the stellarscape. He turned his back to Valentin, who’d seen this behavior before. More than once, Valentin walked away when his brother became lost in sudden musings. Was he drowning himself in the Jewel’s wonders? Or simply being petulant? Either way, Valentin had no intention of walking out.

  He grabbed his brother by the arm. “Talk. Now.”

  James sighed. “Valentin, do you remember what it was like the first two weeks? Just the three of us. Eluding pursuit? Raiding for fuel and supplies? Killing almost everyone we met.”

  “Yes, brother. I remember.”

  “I’ve never had so much genuine fun in all my life. The more I killed, the hungrier I became. And Rayna … every time we touched … every time we made love … sometimes, I wish we could go back to being renegades. Just surviving day to day. No clear strategy. Taking whatever the universe gave us.”

  “Those were heady days. Yes. But we have a responsibility to our people. We must be effective leaders with a clear plan.”

  James pushed his brother’s hand away. “Of course, and we do. I just haven’t told you all of it because there are too many var
iables still in play. I won’t tell you what I have in mind for Samantha because I’m saving the moment for myself. I will admit this: I do have a fixation on her, but not for the reason you might think.

  “I despise her. No one did more to betray me than Samantha Pynn. She was her parents’ spy in my life, posing as my friend, even as someone I should love. And I almost fell for it. She would have allowed me to die and be reborn as a compliant Chancellor tool. I’ve tried to forgive her every day for the past two years. I never will.”

  “Then I don’t understand. Why not just kill her? Why assassinate her aide? Our operative had the shot.”

  “Because Sam is a domino. She’s where I need her to be. In time, she’ll know what it means to be a compliant tool.”

  “Right there,” Valentin pointed. “The very sort of vague madness I hear coming out of your mouth more and more often. She is one woman among thirty-five billion humans. No single person outside this fleet will turn the tide of our campaign.”

  James laughed under his breath. “Already did.”

  Valentin did not react fast enough. James swooped in, his hands striking like thunderbolts, snapping Valentin’s neck.

  A dark blanket settled over him, and all thought vanished.

  When Valentin opened his eyes, he stared at stars.

  Seconds passed. His cognition returned. The sharp tingle at the back of his neck softened.

  “You worried me.” James’s voice echoed from behind. “You were gone longer than the last time. I thought about saving you.”

  Valentin pushed himself up. “You thought?”

  “For a man who will live forever, you are very impatient. I decided to remind you about your gift.”

  He turned his neck gingerly. “By killing me a third time?”

  “Don’t get up.” James walked past him and pointed upward, to a region close to the nebula’s edge. “Like I was saying before, someone already did turn the tide of our campaign. Do you remember when we scouted this system as a possible refuge? Remember the debris field we discovered half an AU from here?”

  He did. Something large and manmade had been incinerated long ago, but Valentin found nothing in Guard historical data.