The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

  James stopped. “And this matters to me why? He’s one boy.”

  Valentin’s stomach tightened. “He’s part of us, and you vowed every immortal deserved the same opportunities as the hybrids. I don’t want to turn him over to you for incineration.”

  “What option do we have if he’s disloyal?”

  “Brother, I know you kissed him on Brahma, but you haven’t touched him. I believe if he experiences the transference, he’ll come around to us. Will you do this for me?”

  James thought for a moment, looked back toward the commons.

  “No. The event on Tamarind took a toll on me. I’ll be doing the same in a few days for the Chinese, as I promised. Plus, I need at least three more sessions with my own boys. I’ll need to teach the other Jewels how when they give birth in a few weeks.”

  “But brother, you said …”

  “He’s one boy. We have five hundred like him who honor us. We were never going to liberate all the immortals anyway.”

  “If Rikhi doesn’t come around?”

  James shrugged. “Vent him. Or give him to me. Either way, I’m not going to have soldiers who are less than devoted.”

  “Which is why you need to touch him. Make my job easier.”

  “Hmmph. Wasn’t I just saying what a great admiral you are? Be one. Either fix him or slaughter him, goddamn it. I have the entire history of the universe in here.” He pointed to his skull. “I’m trying to change it. I’m not going to spend my energy on one little prick who can’t make up his mind.”

  With that, James reset his destination for the production deck but did not demand Valentin follow. The reaction stunned Valentin.

  “Makes no sense,” he mumbled. “What else are you hiding?”

  Valentin made his way to Rikhi’s quarters, which the boy shared with three other immortals, all younger but ravenous. When he entered, Valentin found Rikhi alone on his bed, talking to himself. The boy did not rise for his admiral.

  “You are a quandary, Rikhi Syed. Have you reviewed the six tenets of The Promised Few, as I asked?”

  “Yes. I read them three times.”

  “Do you better understand our destiny?”

  Rikhi slipped a pillow under his head without looking at his admiral. Valentin recognized the distant stare of nostalgia as the boy responded.

  “The fourth tenet says we will find our eternal bond in our shared love for each other. By love, do you mean blind loyalty?”

  “Absolute loyalty is a necessary foundation. Yes. But we build love with time and patience.”

  “My parents had patience. I caused so much trouble for them, but they always loved me.”

  “Or so they appeared. They adopted you only because of the enormous financial reward. They were drawn to you by their financial leverage, not by their hearts.”

  The boy showed no outward reaction. “If that’s true, why did you kill my brothers and sisters? They didn’t have a say.”

  “They were complicit in the lie.”

  “You’re killers. If I accept you and become part of your army, will I become a killer, too?”

  “You will do as we order you.”

  “Pilar says killing is a necessary part of our life of endless pain.”

  “Your roommate?”

  “Yes. She’s nine. She says she can’t wait to kill people who need to die.” The boy turned to Valentin. “Is that love?”

  Valentin’s mouth went as dry as his words. He summoned the best answer he could.

  “It’s obedience, Rikhi. The hybrids and immortals have a destiny. We are going to surpass human frailty. To do that, and protect ourselves, we have to kill everyone who needs to die.”

  “Then maybe I need to die.”

  This wasn’t working. The boy was drifting further away. Valentin felt no more an affinity for him than any other immortal, yet the thought of his death by incineration or venting was unacceptable. I will not lose you, he thought. Not even one.

  37

  V ALENTIN IGNORED HIS IMMORTALS en route to the lift. Rikhi dominated his thoughts. Perhaps the mistake was in deceiving his brother. Why hadn’t he been upfront before they left the command bridge? If he reasoned with James, suggested a modified transference, he might have success. What if Valentin agreed to end all further efforts to liberate immortals? James was never much for compromise, but this seemed reasonable enough.

  The lift opened. Two passengers stepped apart to make room, but Valentin was lost in contemplation.

  “Admiral,” a man said, prompting Valentin to pay attention.

  “Magnus.”

  That’s when Valentin noticed Ophelia. She did not meet his gaze.

  “My brother went down to production moments ago,” he told Magnus Levinson. “Why aren’t you there?”

  “We do have to eat, Admiral. I’ll admit time got away from me a bit. I wasn’t informed Brother James was coming.”

  “No. It was unannounced.” He turned to Ophelia. “Dr. Tomelin. Are you and Magnus acquainted?”

  “For about an hour, if you can call that acquainted. We chatted over dinner. I hope we did not upset protocol.”

  “Of course not. No one is a prisoner in this fleet.”

  He thought she stifled a chuckle, but the moment passed.

  “Dr. Tomelin, I’d like to sit down with you later to discuss our struggling soldier. I trust you will find time?”

  “By all means, Admiral.” The lift slipped open. “If you’ll excuse me, this is my stop. Admiral. Mr. Levinson.”

  “Fascinating woman,” Magnus said when the door closed. “I understand she transitions the liberated immortals.”

  Valentin winced. “She helps transition them. And I’m not sure fascinating is the best word. If you’re fortunate, Magnus, a third of whatever she told you is true.”

  When the lift opened at the production floor, the fleet’s chief of intelligence was waiting to board. Valentin had not seen Harrison Malwood, a bald man with a white eyepatch, since they returned to the fleet following the Vasily Station mission. Valentin thought the man crankier and more circumspect than usual then.

  “Malwood, good day. And what you are doing down here?”

  “What I always do, Admiral. Observe. In other words, my job. Please excuse me.”

  Valentin felt a cold wind pass as Malwood stepped inside. And who is observing you? Valentin thought.

  Valentin and Magnus headed out onto the production floor. Robots, holowindows, and phasic tools created a visual symphony as refractors and energy slews took form along a series of geodesic stations connected by isolation cylinders. Twenty Chancellors monitored the tech, while rogue peacekeepers secured the finished products off the line. Seventeen-year-old Jewel hybrids Bartok Hyam and Ursula Amondala inspected the products with holotools James designed solely for Jewel use. Ursula, due to deliver triplets in twenty-six standard days, worked apace as if her enormous belly posed no hindrance. Bartok was the father.

  “The operation is moving efficiently, despite your absence,” Valentin told Magnus. “You have an effective chain of command.”

  “We try.” Magnus grinned. “After all, we’re invested in your success, Admiral.”

  Spotting his brother was easy. The room’s biggest giant was talking to Magnus’s second in command at the first station.

  “Tell me, Magnus, what do the other Chancellors say about this investment? Have you heard any concerns?”

  Magnus swallowed hard, impossible for Valentin to miss.

  “Concerns, Admiral? What do you mean?”

  “I know there must be some frustration when we don’t explain our strategy or the nature of everything you produce.”

  Magnus shrugged. “A few might vent on occasion. Nothing seditious, I assure you. Nothing rankles a Chancellor more than having no leverage. Quite familiar with the concept, I’m certain.”

  “I am, Magnus. Your team is doing exceptional work. When all is done, you’ll return to the Chancellory as a hero. More or less.”
>
  “More, I hope, Admiral.” Magnus started toward the first station. “Will you be joining us, sir?”

  “Not at the moment. Go show my brother some adulation.”

  Valentin followed a notion that took him to Bartok and Ursula. They were taking a finished refractor through its analytical paces and did not notice Valentin approaching. He thought they made a strong match. They were both raised in closed jungle communities on other versions of Indonesia Prime and were the first hybrids James broke free of the Chancellor compliance programs. Once they escaped their prison, Bartok and Ursula absorbed the Jewel’s intellect at frightening rates. James suggested these two would be the likely heirs to Jewel leadership if he and Rayna were killed.

  “Admiral.” Bartok’s greeting was nonchalant. Ursula did not take her eyes off the refractor.

  “Are the products meeting standard?”

  “So far. But one can never be too certain in dealing with singularities. Any miscalculation could have frightful results.”

  Valentin looked over his shoulder.

  “Do the others know? About the singularities, I mean.”

  “Of course not. If these fools,” Bartok said, eyeing the Chancellors and rogues, “knew the true purpose of these refractors, we might face a mutiny.”

  “Precisely, Bartok. That’s why I’m surprised you use the word openly. A bit dangerous, wouldn’t you say?”

  Bartok flexed a brow. “You’re right, Admiral. Of course. Sometimes, I get ahead of myself.”

  Ursula finished her probe and silenced the holotool.

  “Only sometimes?” She grinned at both men but pointed at Bartok. “This one here is a walking, talking security risk.”

  “You jest,” Valentin said, “but we must take care. Everything rides on our ability to deploy the refractors without disruption. Speaking of disruptions, are you two excited about the triplets?”

  “Excited?” Ursula paused to reflect. “These three are going to be much like the production line. They pass through the final station, and then we start making new ones. If we’re to reach Brother James’s goal of five hundred Jewels within five years, the first two generations are going to be quite busy. No time to be excited.”

  “So many decisions still to make,” Bartok added. “We haven’t decided whether we’ll pair for the next round or switch off with the others. For variety, you understand.”

  No, he didn’t. Valentin was guaranteed never to father a child – Emil and Frances Bouchet saw to that – so he didn’t understand this ambivalent attitude toward three. Rikhi Syed’s words hit him across the bow. Is that love?

  “I suppose you’ll be learning my brother’s transference techniques to accelerate your triplets’ growth?”

  Bartok raised his hand. “All on me, I fear. If she’s going to birth them, I might as well grow them.”

  “I saw James growing his boys. Have you tested to see if you can transfer Jewel energy in a stable form?”

  “Brother James insists we begin under his tutelage.”

  “He is the expert. But I wonder, have either of you tried to tap into your own raw energy?”

  Ursula rubbed her belly. “Strange question, Admiral.”

  “I know, but we’re approaching a convergence. All the new children about to be born, full deployment of the refractors, the final push to our home world. I care about everyone in the fleet. I just want to make sure we’re all our best when the time comes.”

  Valentin felt like a fool as the words crossed his lips. He was fishing, and they knew it. Ursula crinkled her lips in confusion.

  “So, you believe we should test our transference in advance?”

  “If my brother approved. He’s touched every Chancellor and rogue plus half the immortals. I am concerned he might be stretching himself thin. I know he is frustrated at not having been able to extend his control of life and death to the rest of you. In this case, he might value assistance from the other Jewels.”

  There it was. A stupid maneuver executed without sufficient planning. Valentin knew they’d take the idea to James. He’d respond with a scathing tantrum accusing Valentin of overstepping his bounds. Rayna would intercede then demand a greater role in every upcoming military operation.

  If James was hiding something from him, if there was a deeper reason for his refusal to touch Rikhi Syed, surely the circle of Jewels knew about it by now.

  “Very good then,” he told Bartok and Ursula. “I’ll let you back to your business. Apologies if I intruded into your …” He stammered when he realized the hybrids weren’t paying attention. The tiny red dots in the corners of their eyes brightened to a twinkle.

  They smiled as if in triumph.

  “What?”

  Ursula waved across the production line. Valentin pivoted.

  James was running in their direction, smiling ear to ear, like an eight-foot tall predator unchained for the first time.

  “It’s happening, Admiral,” Bartok said. “A Guard communique.”

  Instinct told him to open a holocube. He tapped into his command stream and threw up a window onto the bridge.

  “Kane, report.”

  Valentin’s executive officer, Major Rafael Kane, the third oldest immortal in existence, responded.

  “It’s stunning, sir. We intercepted deployment orders from the Admiralty of the Guard.”

  “Deployment where?”

  “They are sending one hundred battalions to secure Earth.”

  “Secure it from what? Do they expect we’re going to invade?”

  “Negative, sir, they’re …”

  James interrupted. “They’re locking down Earth before their war gets out of control. They’re deploying battalions from twenty-six colonies. Twenty percent of the entire Guard.”

  Valentin was dumbfounded, but Bartok and Ursula were ecstatic.

  “It’s incredible, Brother James,” Bartok said.

  “You were right,” Ursula added. “You’re always right. But how?”

  “Yes,” Valentin said. “How?”

  James slapped him on the back. “I told you it was coming. Chaos. Big, beautiful chaos. This is the final piece we needed.”

  The reality overwhelmed Valentin. His brother was right.

  “They’re opening the back door for us.”

  James exploded in laughter rivaling a roar.

  “Now let me see your smile, brother. I need to see a smile.”

  Valentin complied, but his heart was not pounding with joy. He was the Salvation Fleet’s admiral, yet his brother somehow orchestrated a massive military maneuver behind his back.

  38

  Pynn compound, Boston Prefecture

  Five days after redeployment of the Guard

  B UYING MERCENARIES AT THREE TIMES the market rate was so simple, Sam’s only problem was in shutting the door before too many rats crawled in. They came in all shapes, from disgraced peacekeepers to retired officers itching for new action to civilians whose families sought greater leverage. A few, she suspected, were double-dealing Celia Marsche by jumping ship from the assassin teams dispatched to kill Solomons like Michael.

  She met them in a cottage on the compound’s periphery alongside Merton Bayfield, her estate manager and chief recruiter. Once she’d given the order, he needed only to sort through a few contacts to find the necessary headhunters. Sam spent hours preparing her words and her attire. No sari for this lot; she wore a combat-ready bodysuit equipped with sidearms.

  “I’ll come right out with it,” she told the twenty mercs she settled upon. “I don’t trust any of you, and I doubt you give a damn about me. You got your own agendas. I get it. One of my best friends was a merc. Maybe you heard of her. Patricia Wylehan?” A few nods. “If you got even half her honor, we’ll make this work. You survive this war, you’ll be the richest mercs in the Collectorate. You want off Earth? You can buy your own ship.”

  The youngest of the team, a sixteen-year-old beast who left the Guard under dubious circumstances, asked a
question Sam expected.

  “What are the chances we take care of this business before the Guard locks down the planet?”

  Sam snuck a glance at Merton, who coached her response.

  “In six days, battalions will start taking control of the intersystem ports,” she said. “Our sources say the goal is to wrap a noose around Earth within ten days. Not even small commercial vessels will pass through the orbital blockade after the last capital ships arrive from the outer colonies. Full martial law. It’s simple: You have five days to finish operations. That leaves you enough time to high tail it off Earth or disappear to rural outposts and lay low.”

  She didn’t mind the skepticism in their eyes or their uncertain body language. Though she was the shortest person in the room, Sam enjoyed being in command, of laying down the stakes in a take-it-or-leave-it style. Maybe Daddy wouldn’t be ashamed after all. Sam felt her blood running cold. No fear, no compromise.

  Not this time.

  A merc old enough to be her father said, “Then I recommend we start cracking. What’s the plan, Miss Pynn?”

  Yes. Daddy would be proud.

  “We work in two phases: Intel-gathering and combat. I will be taking a team of six in my Scram to the Moss compound. If they play it smart, they’ll let us in without firing a shot.”

  “And if they aren’t smart?”

  “You have big guns. Use them.”

  “Copy that, Miss Pynn.”

  The rush heated her blood. “We intend to establish an alliance across Presidiums. It’s the only way to prevent Guard control.”

  “Alliance?” The young beast sounded skeptical. “You think Finnegan Moss is going to respect us riding in hot?”

  “It’s a risk, but our sources,” she turned to Merton, “say our only chance is to take an aggressive posture. Many powerful families are frightened to act. Someone has to take the lead.”

  “You’re wealthy, Miss Pynn. We’ll give you that. But we all know your story. You’ve only been here two years. These other families have roots. You think they’ll risk it all for you?”