The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

  “And another thing,” Michael shouted. “You are the ugliest motherfucker I’ve ever seen.”

  James blinked. The white forest shouted.

  We, you will drown them all.

  A firestorm crashed down around James. His long, beautiful hair – golden like a god deserved – exploded into flames.

  *

  Michael woke.

  He ached all over, but he was in one piece. He tried to sit up, but his body decided otherwise.

  Tall columns of smoke rose from the city and beyond. The nonstop rattle of high-powered weapons echoed across JaRa. Railguns fired long, concentrated blasts at Guard ships.

  A deep bass, emitted as if from the world’s largest malfunctioning speaker system, turned shrill.

  Silence.

  Then a bubble rose hundreds of feet above the tree line to the south. It imploded then burst, releasing a dust cloud.

  Graviton weapon. The fight. It’s still …

  Michael pushed off again, fighting through the agony. He accessed the S-1 convex gradient. Still active.

  How long was I out?

  He ran diagnostics on himself.

  No broken bones. Limited internal bleeding.

  A firefight arose close by. Soldiers in black and bronze – maybe ten – made haste. They didn’t see him.

  He tapped into the command center’s stream. Orders came rapid-fire. Ground troops were breaking through the lines. The graviton weapons weren’t taking out as many of the enemy as expected.

  He heard Col. Joosten’s voice. Where was Valentin?

  Michael remembered everything now.

  Sam. James. Rayna. Valentin. The energy slews. Sam.

  He jumped to his feet and gathered his bearings. The attack threw him far beyond the stage but still inside the amphitheater, or what was left of it. The flames were dying, but most of it was burnt crisp.

  Sam.

  Nothing was recognizable. The stage was shattered and spread in many directions, but Michael knew where to look.

  The spot where Sam fell did not take a direct hit, but the grass smoldered. She wasn’t there.

  “No, no, no. I’m not wrong. She was right here.”

  That’s when he realized nothing was like he remembered. The amphitheater was decimated. His bearings were off.

  The firefight drew closer. From the east, a Guard battalion tried to swamp the few immortals who stood against it. Stray flash pegs whizzed by Michael. An attack ship swung in low from the south.

  “Sam?”

  “Immortality is not a guarantee.”

  Maya’s words terrified him.

  “She’s not gone. She’s not gone.”

  Nothing else lived in the amphitheater. He saw no evidence of the Bouchet brothers; only scattered body parts from the hybrids he put down earlier.

  “This ain’t the end. No fucking way.”

  Michael committed. He unholstered his rifles and raced into the fray. The immortal soldiers were dropping the enemy, but they were wasting too much ammunition. Did Valentin not pass along Michael’s tip to reset the flash peg proximity triggers to maximum precision? To fire paired pegs and instantly penetrate Guard body armor?

  “Screw this,” he said and opened fire.

  He shredded ten of the advancing enemy in seconds, as their pegs made no impact on his own armor. The other immortals cheered and rushed forward, emboldened. Michael slaughtered enough of the battalion to safely leave the rest for his new allies.

  Directly overhead, an attack ship blocked the sun for an instant. Before it might unleash fiery hell, its Carbedyne nacelles exploded. A second railgun blast struck the craft amidships. It flipped over in a death spiral, crashing beyond the edge of the firefight.

  Flames consumed two more Guard soldiers.

  Michael pivoted. His business lay inside the city. Sam was not gone. James was not dead.

  He tapped his amp. “Valentin? Are you there? Valentin?”

  After a long pause, a response.

  “I’m here, Michael. You survived. Good.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Doing what you said. Trying to win the fight.”

  “Are you winning?”

  “We shot down most of their attack craft. But they landed ten thousand troops. We’re scattered on more fronts than anticipated.”

  “Upgrade your peg proximity triggers and spread the lines. I’m going after James and the remaining hybrids. Where are they?”

  “I haven’t seen or heard from them. Here. I’ll you send the coordinates for the hybrid sector. The convex gradient can’t penetrate the walls, but at least you can narrow down the options.”

  “Thank you, Valentin.”

  “Michael, take care. My brother … he’s more than we expected.”

  “That’s for sure. But he’s not unbeatable. Just looks like it. Valentin, you win the fight you were born for, and I’ll do the same damn thing. Get my speed?”

  “I do. Good luck, Michael.”

  Michael examined the coordinates, which highlighted the city’s grid system and the designated habitats for hybrids ten blocks away. Rifle fire cascaded from every direction. He expected to encounter heavy resistance on the way in. He focused the S-1 on the Jewel composite energy signatures.

  As he began his approach, Michael refused to give up hope.

  “Where are you, Sam? You can’t be gone.”

  70

  I T WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THIS WAY. Supreme Admiral Angela Poussard calculated for everything. She brought overwhelming forces, superior air power, and a surprise attack. How could this be happening?

  The Praxis command bridge was in a state of pandemonium. The officers on the ground reported horrifying casualties, systemic failure of body armor, and an unknown weapon that imprisoned soldiers in a gravity bubble and compressed their bodies before literally turning them inside-out. Camouflaged railguns blew their ships out of the sky.

  If they advanced, the slaughter would continue. If they retreated, no rescue crafts awaited.

  The soldier biodata reports left Poussard speechless. Five thousand dead. Five thousand five hundred dead. Six thousand dead.

  “How much longer can they hold on?” She asked Capt. Forsythe.

  “Is this all we have, Admiral? How many ships did we leave in reserve at the gate?”

  She didn’t want to say it. The number was confirmation of her incompetence. She was finished.

  “Do you realize,” she said, a scant above a whisper, “we have already lost more combat soldiers today than in the past four hundred years combined?”

  “Admiral, this is not about history. We have to salvage this. How many ships in reserve?”

  “Only the Hummel.”

  Forsythe stared in dismay. “You sent in everyone? Why?”

  “Because the Guard does not settle for half-measures.”

  “Admiral, we always leave reserves in case a second wave is required. That is basic operating procedure.”

  Now you’re developing a spine, Poussard thought as Forsythe glared with the eye of a second-in-command who wanted the big chair. You will never understand what it’s like.

  “We need to leave,” she announced to the bridge, drawing sudden silence. “This fight is lost, but we have the jumpgate and we have a holostream of thirty-five million quantum signatures. We’ll fight another day.”

  Col. Johansson, the navigator, swung around in anger.

  “Admiral, are we abandoning our soldiers?”

  “Yes, Colonel. That is exactly what we’re doing. There are no better ideas, so don’t bother proposing any. Lt. Norvath, how long will you need to spool the Praxis holostream for compressed transmission through the Anchor?”

  The young man, also dumbfounded, took a moment to focus.

  “It’s a full system download, Admiral. Massive. I can make transfer in twenty minutes.”

  “Good. Do it. All non-essential personnel report to the Anchor. Set the engine’s fusion rods to overload in thirty min
utes. That will allow us time to evacuate. We’ve given the terrorists enough today. We’ll not hand over Praxis.”

  A new schematic opened adjacent to the navigation dais.

  “We might not have a choice,” Col. Johansson announced. “Three ships have jumped out of wormholes.”

  “Size and disposition?”

  “Two Scramjets and a commercial luxury liner. Its configuration matches Lioness, which Salvation captured two years ago when a Berserker wiped out Port Baghdad. Lioness is holding position ten K off our bow. The Scramjets are astern at point-blank firing range.”

  You had to bring us closer, Poussard. You had to violate your own mission design.

  “Suggestions?” She asked to no one in particular. “Forget what I said earlier. If you have a better idea, I’m listening.”

  Capt. Forsythe sighed. “We still have the Anchor. Evacuate everyone but senior staff. We buy time to compress the holostream.”

  “And how do you suggest we buy time?”

  “By doing the very thing the Unification Guard has never done in a thousand years, Admiral. We surrender.”

  “No. Not that.”

  “If they were unwilling to show us mercy, they would have fired. We talk. We buy time. We live to fight another day.”

  She pounded the dais. “Cudfrucker! Fine. Col. Johansson, open external comms.”

  *

  Aldo Cabrise knew the configuration he wanted, but convincing Salvation’s Admiral Kane proved difficult. Kane did not want to commit three of their four armed Scramjets to a single target, choosing instead to dispatch two to the planet’s surface to engage the invaders.

  Aldo expressed the delicate nature of his operation.

  “You want to win this thing, Kane? Wrap it in a bow to make it last forever? You need their command staff. I’ll get them for you. Just bring your girl along for show. It will work.”

  Aldo stood next to Sgt. Dax as their Scramjet emerged portside of the Praxis stern. After eight trips through Slope, he handled the experience with more steel. Plus, his stomach was empty.

  “And now?” Dax said.

  “Patience, young lady. This should not take long. Hmmph. Speaking of long, I’ve been wondering about you immortals. Will you look the same forever? Or will you grow older? I’d hate to spend an eternity being in a body like mine.”

  “We don’t ask questions like that. Immortality is not guaranteed.”

  “Really? I thought that was the whole point.”

  “If they fire on us, old man, and blow up the ship, does it matter?”

  “Not to worry. Praxis has no offensive weapons.”

  Sgt. Dax rolled her eyes. “They told me you were a fleet admiral.”

  “I was. Orbiting Hiebimini, no less.”

  “You mean Aeterna. Tell me, do you think of us as terrorists?”

  “By definition, you are.”

  “But who is attacking our home right at this moment?”

  Aldo chuckled. “Eh. Young people.”

  Dax threw out a holowindow.

  “They’ve opened an external commlink.”

  “Excellent. Can we achieve visual?”

  “Coming through now.”

  Aldo took one gander at the command bridge and was not nearly as shocked as the people gawking at him.

  “Cabrise?”

  Forsythe and Poussard spoke in unison.

  “Well, how about this?” Aldo said. “They sent a Supreme. I asked for one of you lot thirty-eight years ago when this planet fell. Hmmph. I should have known this wasn’t your idea, Forsythe. You have a nugget of morality. You wouldn’t have stranded forty-three people in that mountain unless she told you otherwise.”

  “Cabrise,” Poussard said. “I don’t know how you pulled this off. But you have betrayed fifty years of service in the Guard. You will die for this.”

  “Actually, Supreme Admiral, I had forty-nine and a half years, a few of which I enjoyed. Let’s chase the bottom line, shall we? You opened a comm to surrender. Your next tactic is to buy time. Nope.”

  He turned to Sgt. Dax. “Ready?” She nodded. “If you have anyone in the landing bay, I suggest you evacuate. In sixty seconds, it’s going to be reconfigured.”

  He crossed his arms and waited. Poussard resisted, but even she wasn’t a fool. She ordered the evacuation.

  After a minute, Aldo turned to Dax.

  “Fire. Single slew.”

  A hole opened along the portside underbelly, where shuttles and Scramjets used to land. Debris jettisoned into space.

  “So much for the Anchor,” Aldo told Poussard. “The Scramjet to your starboard has a lock on life support and antigrav. I don’t want to go there, Admiral.”

  “What do you want, Cabrise?”

  “First, I accept your surrender. Second, I think we should talk. There’s a big beautiful liner waiting off your bow. From the diagnostics I’m seeing, you shouldn’t need more than six or seven escape pods. Oh, and leave your weapons behind. Remember, you surrendered.”

  “I never said anything of the sort.”

  “That’s OK, Poussard. It’s understood.”

  “Why, Cabrise? Why work for these monsters?”

  Aldo shared a smile with Sgt. Dax.

  “Poussard, I’m not working for them. I’m doing it to save that planet. We didn’t deserve it the first time we destroyed it. I’ll be cudfrucked if the Chancellory gets a second go-round. That planet is a miracle. It’s a paradise. Nope. Not anymore. This time, the Admiralty is going to listen to Aldo Cabrise.”

  He told Dax to cut the connection.

  “So much for my fifty-year medal of service.”

  71

  B ODIES LITTERED THE CITY, none wearing black armor. Most were Guard soldiers who penetrated the lines but never had much of a chance. Others, mangled and burned, fell from the sky along with their decimated attack ships. Parts burned, metal twisted in flaming heaps, and liquid Carbedyne created a noxious stench. However, the city’s brontinium structures held firm, barely scarred.

  Michael came across two soldiers alive and groaning, their bodies held together by Guard synthetics but little more. He wore the same uniform until a few hours ago. Took an oath. Killed for the Chancellory. If these soldiers asked why, would he say it was all for love? Would they believe him? Would he believe it himself? Michael didn’t hate them, but they were suffering, so he put them down.

  Five blocks toward his destination, Michael ran into carnage of a different kind. Residents of JaRa lay dead, their bodies riddled by flash pegs. They seemed familiar, despite the deep wounds. He walked around, took a closer look.

  Of course. They were the hybrids who assisted Rayna on stage, who cut an incision into each of her baby daughters.

  “What happened here?”

  He remembered when they left the stage, they carried the babies away wrapped in cloths. The invasion started soon thereafter. Perhaps they ran afoul of the Guard?

  “Oh, shit.”

  He looked up the side street facing north. One soldier in Guard red and gray was slumped over. A tiny huddled mass lay at his feet.

  No. Let it be. You’re going after James. Don’t lose focus.

  Yet instinct drove him forward. There was more here than a grotesque distraction.

  Up close, he saw the truth. She was a Colonel. Blood soaked her chest, starting from a hole at the base of her throat. An exit gash on a similar line protruded from the base of her skull. Michael needed no detective work to predict what sort of weapon did this.

  A baby lay still in the red-soaked cloth.

  “Fuck me.”

  He followed a trail of blood north another block. A second Guardsman, a Lieutenant, took three flash pegs to the face and a blade to the gut. But he did not possess a baby.

  Michael looked south and double-checked the tracker for the Jewel composite energy. Nothing. The hybrid dies, the Jewel dies. That’s helpful to know.

  The blood continued. He aimed his rifle at the corner of the next
street. The tracker detected a strong signal as he crossed into the open. Joy, rage, hope bundled into one excruciating moment.

  Rayna sat against the building. She cradled her other daughter.

  The knife was still there, exactly where Sam delivered it. Two holes in her chest bore the signs of laser searing. She bled from her mouth.

  Michael didn’t see a weapon, but he took no chances.

  “Where is she?” He said. “Where is Sam?”

  She gazed as if she didn’t remember him or care any longer. Michael retracted his helmet.

  “You are still here? Go away, Michael Cooper.”

  “Where is Sam?”

  “I killed Samantha Pynn, you idiot.”

  “No, Rayna, you didn’t kill her because you can’t. Sam is an immortal.” He threw in a smile for the hell of it. “Surprise!”

  She tried to laugh but coughed blood instead.

  “Ah. Is good joke on Rayna. No?”

  “What happened here?”

  “These soldiers try to take my babies. They came to take my babies to Earth, but they will not do this now.”

  Fucking Chancellors. He tried not to have sympathy for this monster. She was bleeding out, and he couldn’t tell whether the child was alive.

  “You’re dying, Rayna, and you know it. Where is Sam?”

  “Michael Cooper, you are stubborn asshole.”

  “Yes, I am. But you know where your husband is, and I’m sure he knows where Sam is. If you tell me, I’ll try to protect your sons.”

  For an instant, he saw the light of recognition in her eyes.

  “You will never be able to kill James. He is not like rest of us. Jewels protect him. They tricked me.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “They told me you would come. I saw Samantha Pynn die at my feet and Michael Cooper die in my husband’s breath. But this thing did not happen. They wanted me to die. They set me up. They wanted James for themselves. Very selfish, these Jewels. Very bad.”

  Her voice faded, her eyes rolling around in her head.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll kill James and save your sons. Just tell me where he is.”

  The vacant stare said everything. Rayna Tsukanova would never speak again.