Sam vowed not to let paranoia set in.
“Keep trying your contacts, Merton. Be discrete.”
“Always, Samantha. I’ll have dinner on the table when you arrive. Would you like the twins to join you?”
“Yes, but not right away. Give me fifteen minutes in my suite. I need to pull myself together.”
She instructed her pilot to land on the rooftop Scram perch. From there, she took the back stairway to the master suite, avoiding all staff. She thought closing the bedroom door, shutting off everyone, would give her a chance to breathe.
Sam was wrong.
The bedroom was immaculate, highlighted by garden-fresh flowers in vases and her favorite herbal infusion. Yet nothing camouflaged Michael’s musk. Every part of this room belonged to them equally. They might have learned how to make love at the Pacific Riviera outpost following her rehabilitation, but it was here that they became masters in how to love.
They transformed their moments into a type of art, with a rhythm suggesting the possibility of permanence. Sam never expected this depth of love in her life, certainly not after her father trained her to be cold-blooded. Michael was the least likely and the only man she could ever love.
“Please, sweetie, take care of yourself.” She grabbed a pillow and sniffed for a hint of Michael. “Do whatever you have to. Kill whoever you have to. I’ll fix this. I promise.”
The words rang hollow, unlike weeks ago when she returned to Earth resolved to go to war. Sam looked around the big, empty bedroom. What did she have now? No Pat. No Michael. Not even Finnegan Moss, apparently. Lucinda Blanche and her other allies left the GPM deflated. Would they concede without a fight?
“I don’t know how to do this.”
In the bathroom, she ran a cold cloth over her face. Shadows lagged beneath her eyes. Yet a more profound reality shook Sam, the thing she’d spent two years trying to deny.
She wasn’t an adult at all; just a naïve girl playing a part. She wore beautiful saris, entered rooms with the stiff upper lip of a Chancellor, spoke with fervor when angered. She made a name for herself, commanded attention with wealth and inside knowledge about humanity’s most dangerous terrorist. But how did she respond when the true puppet master of the Chancellory arrived as hell on wheels? She fainted.
For the first time since crossing the fold, Sam needed her father’s support. He’d provide the bluster and iron-fist theatrics to light a fire. He’d tell her how to whip them “ten ways to Sunday.”
The thought amused Sam as she brushed her hair. Yet those nostalgic feelings disappeared when she acknowledged where her father would stand in this fight.
“You’d be shoulder-to-shoulder with Celia Marsche. Right, Daddy?”
Sam’s heart burned with self-pity when she stepped out of the bathroom and into a new, sudden terror. She fell back against the door at the sight of the twins sitting on her bed.
They jumped up. “We’re sorry, Samantha,” Brayllen said. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, no. It’s OK. How did you know I was back?”
“We saw your Scram from our window,” Rosalyn said. “We went downstairs to greet you but …”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to avoid you. I just needed time … it’s been a tough few days.”
Brayllen smiled like a best friend. “That’s why we’re here. We felt you’d need us after everything that’s happened.”
“Merton thinks he’s been shielding us, but the public streams are too easy to access,” Rosalyn added.
“I just wanted you left out of it. You’ve been through so much lately. You shouldn’t be worried about these other matters.”
Brayllen reached out his hand, which Sam took.
“But they worry us. Michael’s in trouble, and we heard rumors of the peacekeepers being sent in to keep order.”
“Michael can take care of himself. You’ll see. And as for the Guard, well, those aren’t rumors.”
The twins shared identical glares. “You can’t let that happen, Samantha,” Rosalyn said. “The Guard will only bring death.”
“No. This is Earth. They’ll have a few battalions in places where things get out of control. They’ll …”
Brayllen tightened his grip. “They’ll kill innocent people just because they can. We saw it happen. On G’hladi, they wiped out whole villages just because of a few protestors. I mean, we didn’t see it happen, but everybody knew. Everybody on the Carrier talked about it. And most people, they liked it.”
“What do you mean, Brayllen?”
“They were always so angry. The hardliners. They talked about G’hladis growing too wealthy and gaining too much influence in the Sanctums. They said indigos didn’t treat Chancellors with the same devotion they used to.”
“Sometimes,” Rosalyn added, “we’d get into fights with our peers over it. Most days, it was just me and Brayllen against them all. That’s why our parents took us and ran. I heard other Carriers were like the Newton. Chancellors are happy when peacekeepers kill indigos.”
“I know.” Sam tried to comfort the girl. “I’ve heard the stories, but this is different. Earth doesn’t have Ark Carriers, and we don’t have indigos.”
“Yes, you do,” Rosalyn said. “You call them Solomons here.”
“No. We live and work with each other on Earth. We need each other. It’s not like on the colonies.”
“You wait and see,” Brayllen scowled. “When the peacekeepers kill Solomons until they can’t fight back anymore, Chancellors will celebrate.” He gazed away. “G’hladis are the nicest people I ever met. I’m going to live there someday, Samantha.”
“I hope you have the opportunity. But for now, what do you say we put this awful business aside and have dinner?”
Sam wondered whether they were right; would Chancellors celebrate the slaughter of people who made their lives easier? Were her people no more than an angry mob in the making?
The questions stripped Sam of her appetite, though she was starving. Nonetheless, she pulled herself together a couple minutes after the twins left and vowed to put on a strong face.
Her heart jumped when she discovered Brayllen waiting alone outside her door. He smiled, teeth visible, hand outstretched, ready to escort her. A gentleman, despite all the trauma in his life.
Yet as Sam extended her hand, an inexplicable chill curbed her enthusiasm. For a lingering second, she hesitated.
30
Danielson Outpost
Appalachian Mountains
M ICHAEL VOLUNTEERED FOR FIRST MORNING patrol. He snuck in three hours sleep before breakfast and stimulants and had no intention of lying about all day in a constant cycle of fidget-and-worry. Raimi Inhofe’s team had yet to signal all-clear for stream amps. Michael brought along a Mark 8 blast rifle and a pulse laser, more weapons than needed, Rikard claimed. No one was likely to breach their cascade barrier.
Michael did not share his friend’s confidence. He’d seen too much insanity this side of the fold. Why wouldn’t someone have invented cloaking tech to penetrate a full-proof barrier? He summarized the plot of a film called Predator, where a cloaked alien wiped out a team of badass soldiers in the jungle. That he’d seen Predator half a dozen times heightened his paranoia.
Rikard sent him east along the north slope, three hundred meters through heavy forest. Maya Fontaine walked at his side.
“You don’t have to do this,” Michael told her. “I’m good.”
“I thought a stroll would be invigorating. This is new for me. Nature, I mean. I am very much a creature of the city.”
“Not me. I grew up in the country. Spent most of my years running around in the woods, swimming in creeks, fishing, hunting. You name it. I hated it when Sam said we were moving to Boston.”
“But the Pynn compound is a beautiful estate.”
He nodded. “We spent a year together on the Pacific. Hardly anyone bothered us. Boston’s all right, but a fella can only take so much of breathing in all them Cha
ncellors, if you get my speed.”
“So naturally, you decided to entertain crowds of them.”
“What can I say? I’m a natural dumbass. Besides, it helped the movement. I did what I could.”
“You’re an outstanding soldier, Michael. There are many of us around the world who sing your praises.”
They trudged through a heavy groundcover of dried leaves.
“It’s funny. Back in Alabama, you couldn’t have paid me to enlist. I’d have spent my life working the register at a damn mini-mart before putting on dress blues. I was a fanboy. Loved watching that shit, but I’d have peed my pants on a battlefield.”
She snickered. “I don’t understand your references, but I gather life would have been much simpler on this other Earth.”
“Simpler, sure. Also, a dead-end on minimum wage.”
“Do you ever wish you stayed behind?”
He stopped and observed. He listened to a rush of a waterfall not far away. Sunlight twinkled trying to burst through the canopy. The air was crisp, the forest’s fragrance vibrant.
“Not anymore. It’s crazy, but I’ve been more alive the past two years than if I lived for ninety years back home. I don’t like all the choices I’ve made, but it’s been one hell of a ride.”
“Once we settle this conflict, you’ll retire from soldiering and live a carefree existence. So, you’re familiar with forests? I wasn’t a student of botany. Enlighten me.”
It all came back to Michael, even though he’d spent little time hiking mountains. He pointed out the flora: Hemlocks and beech trees, maples and white oaks. A diverse forest. The beauty was captivating but deceptive. Death was a far greater threat beyond these mountains than what first Earth posed.
“How’d you get involved in the movement?” He asked her. “If I hadn’t seen you in action at Entilles, I never would have thought of you as a soldier.”
“My parents were chefs attached to a Presidium in Marseilles. I grew up in kitchens. Became an expert with knives. Along the way, developed into a reasonable soprano.”
“That’s a hell of a combination.”
“No more amazing than comedy and laser pistols.”
“True. So how did you…?”
“Become so proficient at stabbing people through the heart?”
“Something like that.”
“Same way most people go down that path, I suppose. I was angry. Very angry.”
“What I saw was a shitload more than angry.”
They reached the far edge of their patrol. Maya didn’t look up as they cycled back toward the outpost.
“Not every Chancellor is an asshole, as you often call them,” she said. “But most are, especially the men. The loud ones don’t bother me. They go about acting as if they’re Johannes Ericsson reborn.”
“Yeah. I know the type. Mine’s bigger than yours.”
“It’s the ones with the quiet focus that worry me. You can see it in their eyes, this underlying insecurity. Believe it or not, the ones with children are the worst. I was contracted to a family when I was seventeen. I had double duty. Work in the kitchen, sing for private events. This Chancellor, he loved opera. Or so he claimed.
“He had a private annex on his estate. He took me there after performances.” She shook her head. “Do you know how hard it is to sing at pitch when a man who loves anal penetration is pumping you from behind?”
Michael’s blood drained. He regretted going there.
“Oh, shit. Look, you don’t need to explain a damn thing. OK?”
“I’m long over it, Michael. It’s been eight years. In truth, that wasn’t the part that got me angry. I might have lived with it had he never invited his brothers to join in.”
She was placid, her features free of anxiety. Her voice bore no ill will, as if she’d come to peace with it. Still, her revelation caught Michael broadside.
“I’m sorry I …”
“No, Michael. You posed an honest question. But I’ll spare you the rest. They found this Chancellor months later, alone on a beach with his head adjacent to his body. I’d met Rikard at the first organizing conference. He put me in contact with the right people to make it look like a tragic salvo in the Chancellor civil war.”
He fumbled over his words.
“Damn, Maya. I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s life. We breathe.”
As badass women went, he’d seen nothing like Maya since his fiancée brought down a helicopter with an M16. But the grace she showed, the mask of a woman in total control, amazed him.
“So, I reckon if I ask you whether we’re gonna come through all this in one piece, you’d say what?”
“I’d say the pieces of our enemy will be unrecognizable. This will take some doing, but we’ll defeat them in time.”
“I pray you’re right, Maya.”
She stopped him with a curious smile.
“That word. Pray. Does it have to do with divine worship?”
“Kinda-sorta. You don’t have the word in Engleshe?”
“Not as far as I know. How exactly does one pray?”
“I reckon it’s up to each of us. Say it aloud, keep it to yourself. Just between you and God. And yeah, I know you people don’t believe in The Big Guy.”
“But you do?”
“When I need to.”
“We should talk someday about why you pray to this God.”
Michael let loose a hearty guffaw. “Don’t know if I’m the best source, but reckon I am the only one.”
The notion of being the sole believer in an entire universe laid heavy on Michael. Did he owe God a solid when few people on this Earth understood the concept of a higher being? Then again, did God exist in a multiverse? Maybe nothing watched over mankind on this side. Michael didn’t want to venture down such a winding, philosophical road.
“Until somebody proves different,” he told Maya, “I think I’m gonna have to pray for help from my guns and my friends.”
“And your heart, Michael. Even if you lose the first two, your heart will point you down the right path.”
He didn’t understand how, but Maya settled his nerves. After what she endured, Michael reasoned, she should have been angry and distrustful of men. Maybe she’s right, he thought. Trust my damn heart, and I’ll come out the other end.
Nice sentiments. A buoyant moment.
Naturally, premature.
Michael knew something was off as they approached the outpost. The facility, made of lumber born of the forest and shielded with a layer of climate-resistant marosilicate, was camouflaged by the centuries-old trees. It rose three stories, built into the thirty-degree slope, each level fronted by a north-facing balcony. Michael heard the echoes of argumentative voices long before he saw faces. When he and Maya reached the base of the outpost, the arguments stopped, but a chillier reception awaited.
Rikard and Raimi stood like silent sentinels, hands crossed over their chests. Even from a distance, Michael knew Rikard was livid.
“Don’t say it,” Michael started when he reached the balcony. “We still can’t stream.”
“Oh, we can, after a fashion,” Rikard said, nodding to Raimi, who picked up the point.
“We’re clear to drop messages on admin stacks, no danger. All of us can access public streams and infotainment backchannels. But there’s a limit on live amps and cubes. Solomons can amp in to other Solomons without feeling threatened. The algorithms for our circastream nodes are built for inter-Solomon communication.”
Michael’s head was spinning. “Dumb it down, dude.”
“Chancellory and Solomon amps have different core designs. They didn’t provide us the same universal access features.”
“That’s something, I reckon. But I don’t see the problem.”
Rikard and Raimi shared a grimace. Raimi said: “Michael, we can’t risk amping Chancellors. They can use the algorithm to track us.”
His stomach tightened. “You mean I can’t talk to Sam?”
“Not in real time. You’d put us in danger. But you can prepare a data loop to drop on her admin stack. If you don’t know how, I’ll walk you through it.”
“She can do the same?” Raimi nodded. Michael was happy for anything. “It’ll be like passing notes in class, I guess. I can live with that for now. But I heard you guys arguing. There’s gotta be more.”
Rikard’s face turned red. “We have much bigger problems than stream amps. Before you go inside … Michael, Maya, I hope you understand I never thought it would come to this. I never thought the pushback would be this dramatic.”
“Out with it,” Maya said. “Whatever the obstacle, we’ll face it.”
He choked up. “There’s going to a public announcement later today, but we confirmed it. The Admiralty of the Unification Guard is redeploying battalions from intersystem training posts and at least a hundred Ark Carriers. They’re being recalled to Earth.”
Michael twice experienced peacekeepers in action. Saw what his ex-best friend looked like in a crimson bodysuit. Terminators.
“Why, Rikard?”
“Their orders are to take control of security in every major city and hunt down elements considered hostile to the Chancellory.”
“Hunt down? Does that mean …?”
He nodded. “Their standing order will be to kill every active member of the Solomon equity movement, arrest all Chancellors harboring or collaborating with the movement, and enforce the existing Solomon Treaty. They’re going to bring peace the way they’ve always done it on the colonies: By wiping out the threat to peace. No trial. Only what peacekeepers do best: Slaughter.”
Michael felt sick. “Rikard, I don’t understand. We protected the Chancellors from each other. We killed for them. Can’t they stop the Guard from doing this?”
“It was the Chancellors who forced the Admiralty’s hand. The hardliners won. These assassins they sent out after us? They’ve already killed at least forty of our brothers and sisters. There have been firefights. Chancellors killed in the crossfire. The assassins provided cover, so the Admiralty can use the chaos as an excuse to bring in the Guard.”
He turned to Maya, whose eyes glassed over. She offered no comforting words. He wanted a bottle of jubriska. Desperately.
The Impossible Future: Complete set Page 80
