The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

  Padded walls. A cold, barren floor.

  “He gives me two rules,” Rayna said. “I must not kill you, and I must not harm your face. These are only rules.”

  “What are you saying, Rayna?”

  An immortal brought in a chair, and Rayna demanded Sam sit.

  “Your hair is beautiful, but you do not deserve it.”

  Suddenly, a soldier buckled each arm against the chair. The joy of James’s light dissolved in a moment of terror. A hand grabbed her hair from behind and pulled it into a long, tight clump.

  “What? Rayna, why?”

  “My husband admires you. This must end.”

  Rayna twisted her eyes, blistering orange in their recesses, and nodded to the soldier. The clippers did their work.

  Sam dissolved into a crying, withering heap as Rayna watched through the cutting and then the close shaving. Not until the last hair was gone did Rayna change her expression. She displayed her teeth.

  “Release her.”

  Sam stood, trembling. “What have I ever done to you, Rayna?”

  “Is not past that worries me. You are stronger woman than you seem. I cannot have this.” She turned her palms upward in a gesture of reflection. “I can destroy whole city, but I cannot kill you. I will do next best thing. No?”

  She nodded to the immortals, who were both boys. They surrounded Sam.

  “Take it all,” Rayna said.

  Sam tried to put up a fight, but she never had a chance. After they stripped her naked, she fell to her knees and sobbed, arms wrapped tight over her chest.

  “Take the chair,” Rayna ordered, “but leave hair scattered. She must be left with something of her own.”

  Rayna drove her fingernails into the back of Sam’s neck.

  “This will be your room. Is big, no? But do not be afraid, Samantha. I will visit from time to time.”

  Sam tried to beg, but she couldn’t form the words.

  When Rayna closed the door, the light vanished.

  Sam did not see it again for three months.

  10

  Diplomatic rendezvous point

  530,000 kilometers from Mars

  S AM PULLED HERSELF TOGETHER by the time the Scramjet exited the wormhole aperture and Miguel Lennox brought down the cascade barrier. After Rosa unbuckled her, Miguel scanned her with a diagnostic holotool.

  “How do you feel?” He asked.

  “I’m ready, Miguel.”

  “Good. Rosa and I will set up the conference table. After we’re done, I want you to run through the entire script.”

  “Certainly, Miguel. We will have enough time?”

  “Yes. The other ship is seventy-five thousand kilometers out. I want the words to be fresh in your mind. In the meantime,” he pointed toward the bulkhead to her right. “Water dispensary. Drink enough to settle your nerves.”

  The dress rehearsal went perfectly. Sam’s diction and tone matched expectation, and her ability to answer extemporaneous questions was spot-on. This did not surprise her; Sam did little else between meals and sleep the past two weeks.

  “Perfect execution,” Miguel said at the conclusion.

  Sam had an epiphany. “You two were never there for the practice sessions. How long were you observing me?”

  “Three days,” Miguel said. “Once Admiral Valentin appointed us, we were told to learn every word. We must account for all variables.”

  “Valentin appointed you? Not James?”

  “In our chain of command, Admiral Valentin leads the immortals. Brother James may request our duty, but the admiral deploys us.”

  This surprised Sam. She thought James and Rayna lorded over all.

  “Don’t misunderstand,” Rosa intervened. “As much as we adore the admiral because he is an immortal like us, we worship Brother James. We will follow him on any path, no matter how dangerous.”

  Sam nodded. “And you should. There’s no one like him in the universe. James sees the beginning and the end.”

  “He does,” Miguel concurred. “But it’s good he defers military matters to his brother. No one man can be expected to make all the decisions. Even a living god is …” Miguel paused, his tone loosened. “Sometimes wrong.”

  Rosa gasped. “Miguel, what are you …?”

  “I want to tell you something, Samantha, but only because we are hundreds of light-years from Hiebimini.” Sam saw the torture in his eyes. He wasn’t sure about his next words. “I know what they did to you. I don’t agree with any of it. One does not torture a potential ally for three months. You deserved better, even if you are a Chancellor.”

  “Thank you, Miguel. It was challenging, but I’m here now, and I’m ready to serve.”

  “Good. We won’t speak of this again.” He turned to Rosa. “Will we?”

  Rosa picked up her jaw. “No, Col. Lennox. Never.”

  A part of her wanted to hug Miguel. She never expected any sympathy, let alone for anyone to mention what she endured. But Sam dared not allow the moment to extend. She’d fall apart at the most critical juncture. The system ship with Earth’s envoys was on final approach. It would dock within minutes.

  Steady. Graceful. Poised.

  *

  The months in her cell were worse than midnight. There were no stars, no ambient light, no hope of dawn. She heard one sound: The low, steady hum of the ship’s engines.

  After the first few hours of crying, Sam pulled herself together and decided to crawl. The floor was cold but tolerable. She had no sense of direction and only a feeble memory of the room before the lights vanished. She spent her last minutes before darkness locked in self-pity, listening to the clippers snip away her hair and watching Rayna’s immense glow of satisfaction.

  The floor’s smooth, well-buffed surface offered no clues – until she came upon the hair left behind. Something of her own.

  She grabbed a clump of locks.

  In the pitch, her strands felt longer. Sam remembered growing up with hair that bounced across her shoulder, of tying it into ponytails. It was all part of the act, of course; but until she arrived in the Collectorate, Sam identified herself with long hair. She loved taking her time washing it out and brushing in front of the vanity. Yes, she was meant to become a fearsome soldier – Daddy insisted this was her destiny – but Sam needed to be reminded she was a girl. The external beauty would be lost once she became a soldier of the Guard; there needed to be something leftover inside.

  She never cut it until months after SkyTower. She hesitated because he always waxed poetic about how beautiful her hair smelled in the morning. He loved to run his hands through it like spaghetti while making love to her.

  His voice. His eyes. His heart.

  She dropped the loose strands and resisted midnight tears. Sam refused to say his name. She knew it would break her – exactly what Rayna wanted. As she crawled about the abyss, Sam remembered a technique she used to call upon at her most dire moments. A technique to save her from collapse. A technique to provide balance after she claimed her first kill during Dacha.

  Six, five, four, three, two, one. Reset.

  It worked, for a brief time. What it did not do, however, was give light to the black hole into which she’d been cast. The more she crawled, and eventually walked, the more disoriented she became. Only when she found a corner did Sam feel the slightest measure of protection. In time, as the dismay turned into stark resignation, Sam closed her eyes and curled up on her side.

  When she awoke, the first few seconds filled her with hope of a new day, but stubborn night gave life to the truth.

  Sam had no concept of time, her stream amp having been nullified the day she arrived on Lioness. The dry pinch in her throat and the twang in her stomach meant little at first.

  She suffocated as the room seemed to shrink in the following days. It felt more like a sarcophagus.

  Six, five, four, three, two, one. Reset.

  She awoke in a pool of urine and with an intense desire to lap it up with her tongue, so fie
rce was her thirst. Yet she pushed herself away from the mess, ashamed and disgusted. That’s when her arm flailed into the black hole and found an unexpected treasure.

  A water bottle. Small, perhaps half a liter, but enough.

  They came while she slept. Did they leave anything else?

  She crawled like a crab, her hands grasping for any semblance of food. Maybe clothing? A blanket?

  She fell asleep before she hunted the entire cell.

  When Sam awoke, she smelled it. Meat. Vegetables. Inches from her face. It was kiosk food, but it was also glorious.

  She brought the tray close and raced her tongue over it. When she was done, and a new bout of sleep stymied her, Sam tossed the tray across the cell. They were watching. They were drugging her.

  She cried herself to sleep.

  Six, five, four, three, two, one. Reset.

  In time, she lost control of her bladder and bowel. They rarely cleaned her while she slept.

  Nothing changed. Days. Weeks. Sam couldn’t distinguish.

  “Do you know how he pleasures me?”

  The Ukrainian voice woke her with a start. She wasn’t sure it was real, or the remnant of a nightmare.

  Rayna slapped her. Question answered.

  “I asked, do you know how he pleasures me?”

  “Rayna, I … please don’t …”

  “At first, he was more powerful with light of the Jewels. He would stimulate me by touch anywhere on my body. But he had great passion, and never did he stop. He has tool bigger than God. He thrust into me for hours. He opened my soul to light of a billion stars. Never would he give you these gifts.”

  Sam smelled her sulfuric breath. The hybrid was bending down, talking over Sam from behind.

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Now that I am heavy with babies,” Rayna said, as if ignoring Sam’s question, “he enters me with delicate form. He places fingers beneath ears and traces path to temples. Is more than stars he shows. I see babies become as me, and they are happy and loved. They are warriors like their mother. Never will you have this love.”

  Rayna placed a water bottle in Sam’s left hand.

  “Drink and sleep, Samantha Pynn. My husband will call when he is ready for you. And when task is done, you will be done.”

  Rayna said nothing more. Sam gave in quickly to the primal urge and consumed the water, knowing it was drugged. She tried to remain awake as long as she could, hoping for a glimmer of light outside the cell. But Rayna did not leave until sometime after Sam lost consciousness. She did not visit a second time.

  It was enough. The last words settled in with a permanent echo.

  When task is done, you will be done.

  *

  Now, as she prepared to complete that task, Sam wove a calm center and took her seat at the conference table seconds after the Chancellory ship docked. Rosa sat to her right. Col. Lennox stood just inside the bulkhead door as it pixelated, dropping its cascade.

  He greeted three of the most elegant Chancellors who Sam ever saw. None was familiar to her, though she was positive Supreme Admiral Poussard would only send influencers capable of shifting policy within the Chancellory and the Admiralty.

  They were old school, forty to fifty years her senior, trimmed by early shades of gray and the stiff upward chin of the most intractable hardliners. Sam wondered which of them – a woman flanked by men – would take a moderate approach to the negotiations. Poussard wouldn’t be foolish enough to send only those with deaf ears. She tried to look for the simplest clues, but Sam struggled to see past their one common denominator – all three glared at her as a traitor to humanity. They did not attempt to hide their scowls.

  Steady. Graceful. Poised.

  She allowed Miguel to show them to the conference table. He took the chair to Sam’s left shoulder. Her hands clasped, her smile steady but measured, her eye contact unblemished, Sam followed the script.

  “Thank you for meeting us today under these challenging circumstances,” she said. “My name is Samantha Pynn. I am Salvation’s first Ambassador to Earth. We have come to you because we believe the previous conflict between Salvation and the Chancellory can be resolved through diplomatic measures. It is the genuine hope of Brother James that a new order be established to promote peace among the forty worlds. As part of this peace, Earth and the world currently known as Hiebimini will engage in no further military conflict and will allow the colonies of the Collectorate to choose their path as sovereign worlds. On behalf of Brother James, I welcome the chance to promote an exciting new future for us all.”

  11

  T HE THREE CHANCELLORS EYED EACH OTHER with caution. The woman spoke first.

  “I see,” she said. “Peace. An exciting future for us all. Ms. Pynn, my name is Eve Cardamone. I represent a Presidium with vital interests on thirty-five colonies and a descendancy that has faithfully served in the Guard for as many generations. This new future your so-called kidnapper speaks of would strip Chancellors of their birthrights. It would destroy Earth’s economy and end the single greatest triumph in human history. Is it truly the position of your misbegotten … friend … that a handful of genetic monstrosities will hold the same balance of power as a Chancellory a billion strong?”

  Though she did not know what objections would arise first, Sam heard nothing that rehearsals did not prepare her for. She avoided focusing on Cardamone’s insults and gave a strong, conciliatory nod.

  “I understand your concerns, but we are not here to antagonize you. However, the evidence is clear. Salvation has engineered spectacular military victories over the mighty resources of the Guard while evading all attempts at capture. These genetic monstrosities, as you call them, were created through sinister medical experiments for the purpose of saving Chancellors from extinction. Many were genetically modified to become weapons of mass destruction, while others were stripped of the basic human ability to procreate. They have earned a right to their own home world and a status as revered as the Chancellory.”

  The male to Cardamone’s left grunted. “Armin Lastrobe, Executive Chairman of the Europa Consortium,” he said. “These two beside you? Hybrids?”

  “No. Miguel and Rosa are immortals.”

  “I see. And do they know how to speak?”

  “That’s not their role today.”

  “Ah.” He scratched at his deep brown mustache. “They’re your minders, Ms. Pynn. Making sure you don’t speak out of turn. Have they completely brainwashed you, or is there anything left of you?”

  The comment cut deep, but she anticipated it.

  “I am the willing Ambassador to Earth,” she said. “I have chosen to be the diplomatic face of Hiebimini because the killing must end.”

  The third Chancellor, who identified himself as Randolph Drake, laughed. “The killing? All I’ve seen is Brother James and his psychopaths vaporize two million Chancellors. If you are so interested in resolving this conflict, then allow me to pose a question. What would the eminent, merciful and peace-loving Brother James think about the idea of the Chancellory returning its Ark Carriers to their respective colonial orbits?”

  She expected this question to come up sooner. Originally, the answer was included in her opening statement.

  “Reestablishing an Ark Carrier fleet over the colonies would be considered an act of war, as you would be denying those colonies their right to sovereign rule. Salvation would have no choice but to carry out immediate retaliation. However, if you will simply agree to a truce while we pursue diplomatic measures, no harm will come to any Chancellor on Earth or in the Sol system. The final terms of realignment must be carefully negotiated. Surely, you can see the wisdom in this?”

  “Wisdom?” Eve Cardamone raised a finger to silence Drake. “Was it wisdom you brought to the table when you convinced Angela Poussard to end the necessary occupation of Earth? Was it wisdom when you helped to ensure Solomons would share political power with their masters? Or was it simply a selfish attempt to save
the proto-African who shared your bed? And now, do you offer wisdom in order to save the other friend who crossed into our universe at your side?”

  It was bound to arrive. Sam heard the accusations before, during, and after the SkyTower inquest. She knew of the lingering whispers as she openly shared her life with Michael at her side.

  “Ms. Cardamone, I was raised a Chancellor and I will be one until the day I die. My father was training me to serve in the Guard. I never expected to be flung into these incredible circumstances. But I have seen enough hatred, violence, death, and destruction from all sides. I will not justify the extreme measures Salvation has taken to save the indigenous peoples of the colonies. Brother James can speak to his motives better than I.

  “My personal connection to either man who crossed the fold with me has no bearing on the decision I made to come here today.” Sam did not flinch after she told her first lie. “It is true that Salvation took me against my will. However, I have come to realize diplomacy may be the only way to avoid a war that costs billions of lives.”

  Armin Lastrobe would have none of it.

  “That sounds like a threat, Ms. Pynn.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Lastrobe. I am here to protect life. The Guard has millions of soldiers and fleets of capital ships adept at spreading destruction. Salvation has mobile wormhole technology and Jewel hybrids who can destroy entire cities without warning. Wouldn’t it be preferable if Earth and Hiebimini coexisted peacefully three hundred forty light-years apart? And all the worlds in between could choose their future without a threat from either planet?”

  “There was no threat until Salvation came along.”

  Randolph Drake followed up. “Might this so-called truce you propose be a distraction while Salvation constructs more of the weapons that destroyed the Carriers? Perhaps the goal is a sneak attack in this system to obliterate all our forces at once.”

  A warning bell signaled deep in Sam’s conscience. Drake voiced the fear she repressed many times during rehearsals. Though she was not privy to James’s plans, she would not put it past him. From a pure military standpoint, such an attack made sense. Wiping out all the Carriers would render Earth impotent for generations.