The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

  Michael pulled from the pipe. “Thank you, Aldo. Please, tell me what you know.”

  “If by ‘know’ you mean ‘with certainty’,” he said, using air quotes, “I must disappoint. But I have half a century of service to draw upon, so I can speculate with considerable reliability. Michael, how much do you know about the Admiralty?”

  “Not much. A few names and faces. Why?”

  “The hierarchy was established centuries ago. Eleven Admirals to form the GPM Central Staff. Eight Step Admirals, two Rear, and a Supreme. In the old days, they delivered a unified vision to the Fleet Admirals – men and women like me. Strength, solidarity, adherence to the vision of Elevation Philosophy. The Great Plains Metroplex was hallowed ground to a soldier.” He sighed. “The Fall of Hiebimini changed it all.”

  “How?”

  “Solidarity took a back seat to paranoia and individual ambition. Those who decided the end was a foregone conclusion worked to enrich themselves and their descendancies. Commanders like me became an inconvenience. I was their scapegoat for what happened on Hiebimini. Michael, I believe you know of such Admirals. Yes?”

  Michael realized Aldo was right. “Perrone.”

  Aldo frowned. “Augustus Perrone. Disgrace to the uniform. The SkyTower inquest dragged all his nasty deeds out of the shadows. What you don’t know is how close it came to cracking open all the sordid machinations inside the GPM. A consortium of hardliners pushed back against the Sanctums to shut down the inquest. Publicly, they blamed Perrone and Maj. Sexton Marshall for everything. Balance the slate with two civilians – the Bouchets – and you have a clean resolution. Four villains. All dead. In the meantime, the shenanigans resumed, but with civilians pulling the strings.”

  Michael knew this part well. Supreme Admiral Bastian Grandover ordered Guard troops back to Earth to wipe out Solomon insurgents, all the while following the dictates of a lunatic, Celia Marsche.

  “If Rear Admiral Poussard hadn’t intervened, I’d be dead.”

  “You mean if she hadn’t relieved Grandover of his position. Internal coups never happened before Hiebimini. They weren’t necessary. Solidarity guaranteed stability and demanded honor. None of those exist today. Not in this Guard. And not, I assure you, in Supreme Admiral Angela Poussard.”

  “I don’t follow. She supported my efforts to help fund this mission. Col. Doltrice told me when I started training that I’d never earn the uniform unless it was approved at the highest level. I assumed he meant Poussard.”

  “Yes. She granted special exemption. At the time, you held favored status. You were close to the Solomon leadership, which meant you were off-limits. None of them thought you’d actually earn the uniform. Forsythe, Doltrice, Nilsson. But when you did, you became a convenient tool, an extra gun to defend this station. Worse yet, all those kills made you a local legend.”

  “Worse? What do you mean?”

  “A tool is convenient until it’s not. Michael, you must have heard the chatter. You’re the prototype for the new Guard. Skilled, dynamic, cold-blooded – and not a Chancellor.”

  “I’m not here to be a prototype. I’m here to rescue the woman I love. It’s all that matters to me.”

  Aldo clasped his hands over his chest as if declaring victory.

  “Which brings us to the beginning and, dare I speculate, the end.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Three days ago, you learned Poussard might strip Samantha Pynn of her status as prisoner of war. Yes? If in fact she does this – and I would be stunned if she did not – she will reclassify Samantha as an enemy collaborator. She’ll do this not because she believes it to be true; she’ll do it out of fear. A fear that if she doesn’t, one of her Rear Admirals will claim her chair and bring ruin to her descendancy.

  “This is how they operate, Michael. Once Samantha is discarded, they will ask, ‘Why are we protecting Michael Cooper? He offers no strategic value. He’ll serve no purpose joining the invasion. His very presence leaves a stain on the long, proud tradition of the Guard. He asks too many questions. He assassinated Chancellors.’”

  Michael stowed his pipe as the truth rammed him in the gut. Aldo put the finishing touches on his deductions.

  “Earlier, you asked, ‘What am I missing?’ It’s simple.” Aldo pointed a finger between Michael’s eyes. “You are what’s missing. They’re going to take it all away from you. Hiebimini. The uniform. And, if you resist, maybe your life. They almost did the same to me years ago, but I had leverage. You have none.”

  Michael said the words, “No. They won’t go that far,” but didn’t believe them. He was foolish to think anything had changed. Chancellors. Motherfucking Chancellors.

  “Michael, you and your friends have been nothing but trouble since you crossed the fold. You’ve been at the center of all the drama these past three years. SkyTower, the civil war, the Solomon uprising, Salvation, realignment. Stirring the pot doesn’t begin to describe it. If James and Samantha are killed on Hiebimini, and you were suddenly to vanish on Tamarind …” He pointed two index fingers at Michael then shifted them toward the Void. “Who would speak up for you? Who would tell the stories of a brave young couple who fought the prejudice of the mighty Chancellors and changed history? How quickly would the Chancellors erase their memories?

  “This is what we are, Michael. But you knew that when you took the uniform. Every reason in the world to hate the Chancellory, but enough idealistic hubris to think you could change us. Maybe even become one of us.”

  Aldo was right about all of it. The truth was never farther away than the tip of his nose. But the rage blinded him. The killing distracted him. The camaraderie and the sexual escapes fooled him.

  “Why, Aldo? Why are you telling me this?”

  He shrugged. “You asked. But remember, while my speculation carries a high probability, it does lack certainty.”

  “No. I mean, why warn me of what’s coming? Aren’t you risking your command? I know you want to be part of that invasion, too.”

  Aldo responded with a jolly guffaw.

  “Want? How delightfully naive. No, Michael. The Admiralty tells its legions what they want, and the rest of us execute their vision. Have you not been paying attention?” He wrapped an arm around Michael like a wizened grandfather. “Yes. I want to return to Hiebimini. I want to know what happened thirty-eight years ago. I want to know about these so-called Jewels of Eternity. I took this command rather than evacuating Tamarind because it gave me the inside track. But truth be told, I’m about as likely to see Hiebimini as you.”

  Maya’s words cut through Michael’s fleeting desperation. “You two will be reunited,” she said. “There is no force that will come between you, even though many will try. Some paths are unshakeable.”

  In an instant, he saw the path.

  “Aldo, if there was a way for both of us to get what we want, would you consider it?”

  Aldo smirked as if bemused.

  “I’m five months away from fifty years of service. If I’m still banging about, they’ll give me a medal. Are you going to suggest some insane notion that will put my medal at risk?”

  “Insane is probably a good description. Yes.”

  “Let’s see now. They called me insane when I claimed the Fall of Hiebimini was the result of an alien attack. They called me insane again when I walked away from my second turn at Admiral to run this dreadful facility. Therefore, I must be insane. Do you concur?”

  Michael avoided a smile. This might yet be a Chancellor trap.

  “Yes, sir. It does appear you’re insane. I think we both are.”

  “OK then.” Aldo stood erect and offered Michael a side-nod. “Thank you for clarifying matters, Lt. Cooper.”

  Michael reciprocated the salute. “Anytime, Cm. Cabrise.”

  “Best we return to our duties now. I assume your admin stack is fully accessible?”

  “It is, sir.”

  “Good to know, Lieutenant.” He tapped his right temple twice.
/>
  Michael did the same then dared to hope.

  27

  JaRa, Aeterna

  1 day after inauguration

  S AM SLEPT ON A PILLOW inundated with her tears. She couldn’t count how often she awoke during the night, the ferocity of Brother James’s voice tearing at her soul. Twice, he showed her his light, and twice she saw past the monstrous exterior and into his heart. She wanted to love him when he commanded the crowd at Inauguration and boasted like a visionary who would change the universe. But another voice whispered from light-years away until she uttered his name for the first time in months. “Michael.” Sam long assumed she’d break down if she let him back in. She wasn’t wrong.

  She wound herself into a tight knot, having kicked the sheets off the bed overnight. Though the sun was long up, casting beams through the skylights, and many voices outside her habitat indicated the young city was alive, Sam saw no reason to move.

  “Here you are,” Rosa Marteen said, cheery and gracious as she set a container on the bedside table. The thirteen-year-old immortal, who accompanied Sam on her diplomatic meeting, arrived at the same time as the previous three days. “We harvested the first melons yesterday. I filled your cantaloupe with pomegranate seeds. You need the energy, Samantha.”

  From her self-imposed cocoon, Sam saw a tall glass of orange juice, its color deep, laced with pulp.

  “Thank you, Rosa, but I’m no use to anyone.”

  “This is your fourth day, and everyone in JaRa works. I think they tried to be patient. Eat first then come with me, Sam. You can’t stay in here if you don’t earn your keep.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “Yes. Miguel said it came straight from Admiral Valentin.”

  She’d seen little of Col. Miguel Lennox, who piloted Sam to the diplomatic meeting. Rosa continued:

  “Miguel said you could work with my team today.”

  “Which is?”

  “Food preparation. Every day, we see something new from the gardens or the orchards, and we’re learning how to process, preserve, and cook. The work is hard. We have seven hundred mouths to feed, so everyone must contribute.”

  Sam thought about James’s words the day before, and a condescending notion popped into her mind.

  “Women in the kitchen, huh?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She handed Sam the orange juice. “Here. Sit up.”

  She felt like a fool. “Sorry. I know everyone rotates assignments.”

  “That’s the goal. We become experts in how to manage every aspect of our society. No specializations.”

  “Right.” Sam remembered a few bits she learned the first two days here, before the madness of Inauguration took over. “‘You have forever to learn, so you should learn forever.’ Did I get it right?”

  “You did.”

  Sam never tasted better orange juice. The pulp danced on her tongue and tingled her senses.

  “The problem is,” Sam said, “I don’t have forever. I might not even have tomorrow. Rosa, has anyone told you why I’m here?”

  Rosa lowered her eyes, as if embarrassed.

  “No, but you shouldn’t worry. You have this beautiful home. We designed it especially for you. I don’t think we’d be asked to go to such trouble if they expected you to leave us.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Rosa glanced around the habitat, her arms pointed to the various furniture and technological features.

  “There are few items we can salvage from the fleet without having to retrofit them for ground use. Miguel says the engineering facility on Lioness will only run a few more weeks. It’s easier to create workshops here and make use of the planet’s natural resources with our holotools and phasic drivers.”

  “Yes, I understand, but what about this place? All this work was done for me?”

  She shrugged, as if Sam was being silly to ask.

  “We have enough habitats in JaRa to house ten thousand people, but we only stock new domes each time we add to our population. We build for each other because we will always need each other.”

  Sam drank the rest of the juice, realizing how thirsty she’d become overnight. She took a closer look at breakfast and grabbed a spoon.

  “Rosa, I took your advice yesterday. I watched the Inauguration. I tried to stay hidden, but I think Brother James saw me. Don’t worry. I won’t tell him who gave me the idea. Rosa, the things he talked about … did any of it scare you?”

  This was apparently the moment when Sam grew two extra heads based upon Rosa’s step-back reaction.

  “Scared? Of what?”

  “He said all of you would kill every last Chancellor. Rosa, there are a billion Chancellors. I’m one of them. Can you even imagine what it means to murder a billion people then have that on your conscience for eternity?”

  Rosa shook her head furiously. “No, no, no. Brother James wasn’t talking literally. My friends discussed it afterward. He meant we kill the people who threaten us. The ones who have to die. You know, the Unification Guard. There are only a few million of them. I think we’ll probably go after the rest of the Ark Carriers, too.”

  The words dropped from Rosa’s lips with such casual disdain, Sam wasn’t sure she could stomach pomegranate and cantaloupe.

  “But you’ll still be murderers. Is that why you were brought here? To learn how to butcher millions of people?”

  Rosa’s expression turned sour. “Eat your breakfast. Now. You have to work. Your bodysuit is wrinkled. I’ll run it through the tube while you finish.”

  Sam felt an impulse to press harder but resisted for the moment. She wanted to push breakfast away, but to her dismay, the cantaloupe was the best ever, without doubt. She’d never tasted pomegranate but now couldn’t get enough. Her appetite demanded another round.

  Minutes later, she slipped into a wrinkle-free bodysuit and brushed her hair, Rosa pacing the habitat in an impatient circle.

  Sam started to apologize. “Rosa, I …”

  “You don’t understand.” The girl snapped. “You’re a Chancellor. Do you know what they did to children like me? After they grew us in SkyTower? They sent most of us to the colonies. Places where we didn’t belong. Most of the time, we didn’t look anything like the indigos. Our phony parents made up stories about adoption or charity or Solomon relatives on Earth. Most of us were bullied and beaten. Some of us tried running away, but our so-called parents were given tracking fobs. The homing beacon was in our brains.

  “I have ten friends who tried to kill themselves, but they couldn’t no matter how hard or often they tried. Sam, I don’t blame the indigos. We were different, and they didn’t understand different. I blame the people who created us. I blame everybody who helped them. And everybody who fights for them. Admiral Valentin and Brother James saved us. They showed us who we really are. We’re better than the Chancellors. If they don’t know it yet, they will. And maybe that means we kill as many of them as we want.”

  Rosa’s eyes glistened with rising tears. Sam saw the girl in a new light; this was not the anger-proof, brainwashed minion who appeared to live in eternal bliss.

  “I’m sorry, Rosa. I was too harsh. I …”

  “Sam, I know you’re not like the other Chancellors. You weren’t born on Earth. You came from the other universe, with Brother James. Maybe that’s why you’re here. He knows you’re special.”

  Sam rolled her eyes and stifled a laugh. “I don’t know his reason, but it’s a safe bet you’re wrong. How about we change the subject for now? We have food preparation duty?”

  “We do.”

  Sam was relieved at their détente and followed Rosa out into the city. During the first two days, Sam walked as much of JaRa as her body could take while she adjusted to full gravity, and always with an immortal escort per Valentin’s orders. The suspicious eyes and condescending glares lessened on the second day. Within the first minute of day four, Sam encountered the awkward sensation of being ignored entirely. After Inauguration, she was l
ikely the last thing on anyone’s mind.

  Though JaRa housed several hundred immortals and hybrids, today it felt like a home for thousands. The wide avenues were teeming with immortals walking alongside loaders or piloting rifters. At one point, three rifters raced past in a textbook line and at higher speed than Sam thought safe. Miguel Lennox drove the second. Each contained a large cylindrical device in the cargo hold.

  Rosa leaned in to explain. “For the secondary defense perimeter. Or so I’ve been told.”

  “Secondary? What do you mean?”

  “In case anything breaks through the primary, of course.”

  “Of course.” Sam thought of the giant pylons that stretched above the clouds, eight of them each a hundred five kilometers from the city center. A concentric circle. They too grew out of the planet, and no one explained their purpose beyond the vague “if all else fails.”

  “They seemed rushed,” Sam said. “Brother James didn’t say anything yesterday about an attack coming.”

  “Does it matter? We all know the Chancellors will come eventually. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year. Maybe twenty years. We’ve been preparing almost from the day we set foot in the city. We have to be tested by fire to prove ourselves.”

  “Oh. Something else Brother James said after the landing?”

  “No. We were told that our day of liberation. The first test came when each of us was shot through the head. If we awoke, we were told about the fire we would face as an army. Since it never happened in space, it will happen here.”

  They passed what Sam thought of as the city’s industrial sector. Scaffolding, loaders, and crablike hyperphasic drivers surrounded three capital ships formerly part of the Salvation fleet: Greenland, Haven, and Benevolence. The largest was Haven, a former UG troop transport with extensive weapons facilitators. The rifters carrying cylinders toward the defense perimeter left from there. Next to it, Greenland –used for agricultural production in space – contained a wide variety of scientific labs and a medical research facility. Benevolence looked the least like a ship. More than half of it had been cannibalized, inside and out. Beside it, one of the tallest structures “grown” from the planet contained a factory full of holotools, drone scoopers, and raw materials transported here from operations outside the defense sector and from colonial allies who signed trade agreements with Salvation.