The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

  “So does Rosa Marteen. Did you know they’ve been together for a few weeks now? He spends most nights in her dome.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She sat up. Michael saw the frown. “Are you going to talk about it?”

  “What?”

  “The war. Rikard’s side is on the verge of victory. Three months ago, they were on the edge of defeat.”

  “Your point?”

  “How did they turn it around so quickly? I know you two have been communicating since the war began, and he’s one of your dearest friends. How did they do it?”

  He shoved his toes deep into the sand.

  “Look, we were his last hope. I gave him what I could without tripping any red flags. Body armor modifications, convex gradient upgrades, and uh, maybe the graviton weapons.”

  She gasped. “Michael, you didn’t.”

  “Look, I know they’re nasty, but he needed a game changer, and I wanted those damn things off Aeterna. They helped us win The Last Day’s War, but I wish Valentin built something less gruesome. They can’t be traced, so we aren’t violating the Systems Treaty.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Me, too. Seventy million people have died on Earth. I played a role in bringing them closer to war. If I can save lives in the long run, babe, I’m not going to look away.”

  “It’s OK, sweetie. I know how much you care and how it hurts. Some days, I wish Valentin was here. I thought you two were helping each other deal with the pain before he left.”

  It was four years since Valentin disappeared without a trace. Middle of the night, a Scramjet, Slope coordinates unknown.

  “Yeah, well. He tried. But I wasn’t a substitute. I don’t think he ever reconciled his feelings about James. I’d like to think he’ll come back someday, but nobody wants to live forever if you can’t think of a reason to live for tomorrow.”

  They tightened their hug and watched Daniel in his bliss.

  “Speaking of living forever,” Sam said. “Too bad Aldo can’t. He told me last month it would take him centuries to catalog every nuance of nature on this planet. He said he’s going to try.”

  “Yep. Said he wasted fifty years killing people and saluting assholes. He asked if there was a way to reverse time.”

  Sam groaned. “We’ve been down that road. Never again.”

  “Hmmph. You ready to eat, babe? Think he’s ready? I packed us a helluva lunch. I think we have finally perfected peanut butter.”

  “Oh. Well. We can’t wait for that, can we?”

  Daniel, of course, was the test subject. If the four-year-old demographic liked peanut butter Aeterna-style, it was a surefire hit.

  He ate the sandwich with gusto, separating it into small bites and making a mess, but after he washed it down with fresh mango juice, he asked for seconds.

  “You like that, buddy?” Michael asked.

  “It’s gooey. I like it, Daddy.”

  It happened without warning.

  Suddenly, Michael was home again.

  Albion, Alabama. The Alamander River. Eight years old.

  Sitting on the rocks eating PB&Js with Jamie.

  Michael ate his sandwich while the boy he just met showed off drawings in a sketchpad.

  “Cool, huh?” Jamie said. “Still trying to get my characters right. I just need to keep practicing. They gotta be different from everybody else. I’m Jamie Sheridan. Come down to the river much? I like it down here. Gotta name?”

  “Michael Cooper.”

  “Good to meet you, Coop.”

  Jamie flipped the pages until he came to the first empty grids.

  “You wanna try, Coop? It’s fun once you get the hang of it.”

  Michael closed his eyes and prayed the moment away.

  “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

  Sam reached over and wiped away a tear as Michael opened his eyes to the present.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing wrong. It’s just … time. It messes with my head. Like I’m unstuck.”

  “It’s OK. When you have all the time in the world, I suppose that’s bound to happen once in a while.”

  Michael dried his tears and shook off the past. He grabbed Daniel around the belly and tickled him.

  “Hey, buddy, you wanna play periscope?”

  Daniel screamed, a shrill monstrosity he had yet to grow out of.

  “Per-i-scope! Per-i-scope! Let’s go, Daddy.”

  Michael lifted Daniel and settled the boy on massive shoulders.

  “OK, Danny. We’re going out to sea. What do you say to Mom?”

  “Bon voyage!”

  Sam cracked up. “Honey, that’s my line.”

  “Oh, yeah. I remember. I’ll see you soon!”

  “Close enough. Bon voyage, honey.”

  Michael carried him into the lake walking backward.

  “This might be a long trip,” Michael said. “Take a nap, babe. Tomorrow’s gonna be here before you know. Lots of meetings.”

  “Danny, your father is a meanie.”

  “Hey, Maya’s due back. Bringing fourteen ambassadors. You’re going to have so much fun, Lady Samantha!”

  “It’s always work with you, Michael. You two have fun.”

  “Per-i-scope! Per-i-scope!”

  Michael walked out until the water reached his shoulders.

  “You ready, Captain Daniel?”

  “I’m ready. Down periscope!”

  He descended slowly, allowing Daniel the maximum suspense. The boy knew what to do before the water consumed him.

  Michael sat upon his knees on the sandy bottom. The water was pure and clear. He saw fifty yards in any direction. Schools of fish. Submerged plants swaying in a gentle current. Sunbeams like spotlights on a stage.

  His son on his shoulders.

  It was impossible. It was perfect.

  He never wanted it to end.

  From Frank Kennedy to my readers:

  I can’t express how grateful I am you read The Impossible Future saga. I hope you enjoyed the journey and were satisfied by the resolution. Now, before you go, I have two questions for you.

  No. 1: Would you please take a moment to tell others what you thought of this series? You’re a valued reader, and I appreciate your comments. Here’s your path to writing a review or leaving a rating.

  No. 2: Do you want to know how it all started? Long before the Chancellors met their match and the Collectorate collapsed? The Father Unbound is a prequel that tells the story of Trayem Hadeed, who learns the truth about the Chancellors as a child and leads a seemingly hopeless revolution against the 3000-year-old empire. This sweeping story – an epic thriller of father and sons, their ambition, obsessions, and frailties – is told in The Father Unbound, which relates a generational saga spanning half a century, long before Hiebimini became Aeterna.

  Finally: There’s a path forward in this universe. It’s a new series called Beyond the Impossible. If you purchased this box set during the pre-order phase, I have included a special bonus: In the Shadow of the Rings, which is a prelude to the next series. It introduces you to the series protagonists and also includes great artwork along with a timeline of events in the Collectorate. Enjoy!

  - Frank Kennedy

  March 1, 2021

  frankkennedy.org

  In the

  Shadow

  of the

  Rings

  By Frank Kennedy

  c. 2021 by Frank Kennedy

  All rights reserved

  THOSE LEFT BEHIND

  The Chancellors ruled humanity for 3000 years. They dominated Earth long before space travel. In time, they led exploration across the solar system and beyond. They discovered thirty-nine habitable worlds that would eventually become colonies of their empire, the Collectorate. The Chancellor caste, supported by its invincible army, the Unification Guard, claimed Earth for itself. They cleansed Earth of all races and ethnicities but their own, migrating them to the colonies.

  They granted these col
ony worlds sovereignty with conditions. The Chancellors received a percentage of revenue from each world’s most valuable natural resources. In exchange, the Chancellory stationed Ark Carriers – massive city-ships – in orbit. The Carriers housed battalions of Guard soldiers, who were charged with silencing all violence conflict on the colonies.

  Stability was maintained. Alliances were forged. Interstellar commerce flourished. But the Collectorate, which was carefully constructed over centuries, fell in a matter of months.

  In Standard Year 5358, the colonies became sovereign in every way. For many, this was long overdue liberation. For others, shock and dismay. They looked inward, stunned at the notion of charting their own destiny. Economies destabilized. Some races sought new alliances to fill the vacuum of power and restore interplanetary trade.

  On the ringed planet Hokkaido, population 2.1 billion, a tenuous peace is threatened by new ideologies, food shortages, clashes between the rich and poor, and a threat potentially deadlier than any Unification Guard battalion.

  The map to a new and dangerous future is about to be drawn. Its origin? The island chain known as The Lagos. The early lives of two notable residents of The Lagos are related herein.

  KARA SYUNG

  Songs were written about her deeds, but primarily in association with her role during the War of Nine. For during those years, she received her greatest fame – and infamy, some might say. As one would expect, her own people viewed Kara through a different lens than off-worlders. Regardless of ethnic or political divisions, her life beginning in SY 5365 is well-documented. Resource bytes are available in the central stream archives of most worlds – especially those involved in the war. Therefore, I will not rehash these tales.

  Rather, I set my interest on her formative years. When we study historical figures of note, we often overlook the factors that shaped them long before the world paid them proper due. My investigation into the pre-War life of Kara Syung took me to a place I knew little of: The island system known on Hokkaido as The Lagos. I unearthed stories of a unique culture struggling to maintain its identity after the fall of the Collectorate. I also found Kara was more complex than I imagined.

  The following stories are loosely based upon my research and extensive interviews of survivors.

  - Dr. Orson Baatch, SY 5430

  1

  The Bullabast Tree

  Standard Year 5357

  K ARA SYUNG BECAME A GYMNAST when she climbed bullabast trees. She braved their unpredictable twists and knots. She swung upon and flipped over the foot-wide fingers that bent jagged to simulate an elderly hand unable to close a fist. She leaped between trunks and dangled from the narrowest branches. At the end of her exercises, she reached the clusters, where misshapen and spindly green fruit hung. She peeled off the slender shell of a bulla and tore into its pink, sugar-sweet flesh. The juice made a mess as it streamed down her chin.

  She wasn’t supposed to be here. Much too dangerous, her parents said. The family estate had more than enough drone harvesters to retrieve the elusive fruit. What they failed to understand was that Kara did not climb the bullabast to capture fruit. She sought out the clusters because the giant leaves above the bullas – each thick as rubber but as soft as leather – formed a treehouse of sorts.

  A perfect cubby inside which she could disappear.

  The estate’s largest tree – the focal point of the west garden – towered over the gazebo where the Syung-Low clan hosted frequent revelries. They also used it as a convocation for their business partners, many of them Hokkaido’s greatest seamasters. For those gatherings, young ones such as Kara were forbidden. At least, that appeared to be the rule. Kara noticed a disturbing trend: Her slightly older brothers, Lang and Dae, joined with increasing frequency.

  She made a point of climbing the tree an hour before the business guests arrived, having dismissed her personal staff on the excuse of visiting her best friend, Chi-Qua Baek, at the neighboring estate. Kara learned how to manipulate the torso-sized leaves to allow her a sneak peek upon the gazebo. The amp bead in her left ear magnified the audio.

  Many guests were repeat visitors, often executives from the planet’s leading seamaster corporations – Nantou Global and Hotai Counsel – both based here on the island-city of Pinchon. From time to time, however, trade negotiators and competitors from the continent came bearing gifts and a subservient tone, not unlike what Kara heard from the estate staff. They spoke of environmental and political challenges unlike anything present on Pinchon, alluding to problems that seemed alien. Kara heard stories about the hardships on many other colonies of the Collectorate, but her schooling suggested the two billion residents of Hokkaido lived as grand an existence as any outside the empire’s home world, Earth.

  The prices for Kohlna fish were rising too rapidly, the negotiators told her parents. Many of the poorest Hokkis in megacities such as Puratoon, Senjo, and New Seoul struggled to afford enough Kohlna meal to feed their families. Her parents thought these claims to be ridiculous, insisting the supply of Kohlna was infinite, and processors moved at the fastest pace in history.

  “Who are we to feed the entire world?” Her father asked. “You can farm twenty percent of the continent. It’s not our fault if your agricultural policies are inefficient and antiquated.”

  Every time Kara’s father made this claim, the negotiators responded with the same but.

  “But Honorable Syung, you know our problem does not lie with our policies. The land is in decline. You have seen the reports. And the domed hydro-gardens do not produce at a rate to meet population growth.”

  Kara’s father, the Honorable Perr Syung, No. 2 Executive at Nantou and political liaison with the continent, spoke with a stern countenance while his wife, Li-Ann, sat in silence at his side with a dutiful half-smile.

  “This problem,” Perr Syung said, “has been building for too long, and the solution remains simple. Only the obstinance of clans like yours stand in the way of progress.” He pointed to the sky. “They have the answers. Almost certainly willing to help, if you Freelanders would swallow your pride and ask for assistance.”

  Her father’s words cut deep. The man he insulted bowed his head. Was it the reference to the Chancellors? Was it a reminder of the schism between Hokkis that deepened with each generation? Either way, the dialogue might only deteriorate from here. This was not the first time Kara witnessed such a turn.

  Perr invoked the Chancellors, who orbited Hokkaido in great city-ships called Ark Carriers. These ships, each of them miles-long, parked themselves above the planet centuries ago, shortly after colonization, and never left. Dozens of generations of Chancellors lived and died aboard the Carriers, but most rarely ventured to the surface. They were the ruling caste – wealthier, taller, with longer lives and invincible military – and they made sure the Hokkis never forgot. They also possessed supreme technological artistry, always willing to dispense their knowledge for a price.

  The Freelanders, however, turned inward as colonization from Earth became little more than an asterisk in history. We cannot rebel against the Chancellory, they argued, but we can forge our own way without their guiding hand. We will be like our ancestors, who once dominated Earth’s Korean Peninsula, and forge a culture based on harmony with the land. Although many Modernists dismissed these ideas and even claimed the original Koreans were rapacious industrialists, the schism deepened. The continent developed a Freelander mentality, while The Lagos and other nations of the Greater Oceania saw the relationship with the Chancellory for its true benefits.

  “We have contracts with the Carrier fleet,” Perr Syung told the continental negotiator, “as well as distribution to five other colonies. We have committed our supply lines to four billion customers. Our profits benefit all Hokkaido. If we reallocate product to Hokkis, wealth will be diminished, as will our reputation among our clients. I suggest agro-production will accelerate if you bring Chancellor science teams into the equation.”

  The negotiator expr
essed his disgust at the notion but also pointed out what everyone under the gazebo understood all too well. Hokkaido’s true wealth did not lie in fish and its many ancillary products; rather, the greatest profits orbited the planet in quadrillions of rocks, large and small. For centuries, the Chancellors exploited the acenomite mining operations in the Kye-Do rings, taking increasingly larger percentages of the profits in exchange for providing help from their military, the Unification Guard, when called upon. The deal was similar to most of the thirty-nine colonies: Mineral rights were shared, and the Chancellors provided free law enforcement at the end of Mark 10 blast rifles.

  “If they see the Hokki people as desperate,” the negotiator said, “the Chancellors will always consider us children. Even if they lose interest in acenomite, they will not leave us alone. They have dominated the human race for three thousand years. Nothing angers a Chancellor more than to see arrogant indigos try to survive on their own. Why can the Hokki people not work together to build wealth and prosperity without Chancellor intervention?”

  “If we were capable,” Perr said, “we would have done so centuries before now.”

  It was his last word on the matter, but Perr did not leave the negotiator without some hope. Using a well-honed technique, Perr promised to appeal to the boards of Nantou and Hotai to plateau price increases for the next six months and increase production of Kohlna meal by two percent. He assured the visitor this would be achieved with patience and discipline.

  Kara saw the twinkle in her father’s eyes: He wasn’t making a concession. The offset in profits would be recovered another way. She wondered which clients would feel the next gut punch.

  Sometimes, ten-year-old Kara lingered in the bullabast tree to contemplate what she heard, deciding which of her many questions might be answered when she confronted her brothers later on. Lang and Dae, twelve and thirteen years old, resented her queries, suggesting she was too young to understand complicated matters of the seamasters. Besides, they argued, she’d never stand on the executive board of Nantou when she grew up, so what concern were these issues to her? Leave the future to us, they said.