The Impossible Future: Complete set by Frank Kennedy (mini ebook reader .txt) 📕

in a firefight. Some observers did not want to return. They fell in love with a simpler life on the other Earth. They lost interest in the Chancellory.”

The Admiral nodded. “We have had our share of rogues go native on the colonies. How did they die?”

“They died protecting us, sir. Jamie, Michael, and I. We were in hiding, and they were preparing to move us when the attack came. If you knew my father, sir, you know he was always prepared, like any good Chancellor. He rigged our house with explosives. After the battle was over and my parents, and … Agatha and Christian … were killed, I took out most of the rest with a remote detonator.”

“Hmmph.” The admiral nodded, peered off into the western sky, and absorbed the news. “And that was it? A clean sweep? The three of you decided to cross the fold?”

“Almost. Two avoided the blast and chased us. We killed them in self-defense. By then, the authorities were after us. We had to run.”

“Three children? Why blame such affairs on you?”

James tightened his stomach. Careful, Sammie.

“They had reason. Two years ago, the observers pretending to be Jamie’s parents were murdered. The police suspected Jamie but they never proved it. This year, I killed a man during Dacha training. My father was preparing me. A witness came forward, and they questioned me. They were investigating me and my father.”

Sammie was returning to form faster than Jamie expected.

“Dacha, you say? Impressive, Samantha. So, you had reason to run, and they prepared you to return here regardless.” He turned to James. “And you had no choice once the Jewel was triggered. But this one,” he pointed to Michael, “confuses me. He is the odd squirrel out. I have met no one of proto-African descendency in two years.” He stared at Michael’s features.

James offered Michael a side-glance, hoping he got the message. Don’t do it, Coop. Keep it shut.

“On the other hand,” the admiral continued, “I hear a few live among the Solomons, and more than a billion on Zwahili Kingdom.” He spoke to Michael. “I have a peacekeeper in my attachment who was stationed there. He might be more an expert than I. No matter. Do you have a surname, Michael?”

Michael gesticulated before he opened his mouth.

“OK. Seriously. Admiral. First, I want to say that those guys,” he pointed to the peacekeepers, “are the bomb. Wicked. Sick. Whatever you want. That thing they did,” he pointed to the sky and imitated their descent with his arms, “big time. Major skills. Right? So, look here. I’m with Jamie and Sammie because they’re my best friends. Like, ever. You get my speed? I got caught up in all their family shit … the observers, and all that. And I went with it and I never looked back. Oh, and my last name is Cooper.

“And another thing,” he said, glaring at Ophelia. “I’m getting this serious vibe that people like me ain’t real welcome around this part of the universe. I’m not a damn African. I’m an American, and I thought we were past this shit.” He took a breath and stepped back. “So, yeah. That’s my deal. Admiral.”

Perrone released a long, guttural laugh and placed a fatherly hand on Michael’s neck and shoulder.

“Mr. Cooper, I only understood half of what you just said, but I find myself entranced. I cannot tell if you are so dimwitted that incoherence comes naturally, any more than I can tell whether Samantha lies as well as most Chancellors. I find time reveals all.”

He pivoted to James. “And there he stands, the reason for all this …” he cast a glance over the battlefield. “Turbulence. You cut a less impressive figure than I expected, but the family resemblance is striking. I understand you are eager to meet them. Yes?” James nodded as the admiral continued. “As I was eager to reconnect with my own. To be honest, I never saw Agatha more than ten days per standard year, and that was sufficient. So, according to your friends, she died heroically. Yes?”

“She did, sir. She went down fighting.”

“Complaining, most likely. What was your relationship to her?”

“She was my English teacher, and a very good one, sir.”

“Imperious and condescending, more likely.” He drew within an ear’s breath. “And Christian? He was a year older than you.”

“He was a compassionate leader. An athlete. Very popular in the community. He would have been a good man.”

He kissed James on the forehead and walked away.

“You may be death incarnate, the future of the Chancellory, or so they say, but you are a dreadful liar, James Bouchet. My wife was not capable of raising a son befitting that description.”

He stepped away from the teens and admired them all.

“Well-intentioned lies are not erased by a noble heart. But you are children. You will learn soon enough.”

He motioned the closest peacekeeper to his side and whispered. The soldier nodded and headed inside the ship.

“We will depart shortly, but two matters I cannot leave unresolved.” He spoke to the mercenary known as “the Chief.”

“Captain Patricia Wylehan. Seven years in the Guard. 20th Battalion Commander. Ark Carrier Fortunus.” He approached the woman, who seemed to James far less imposing than she did in battle. “Then the family incident with the Moleska Presidium. A great shame. Yes?”

“Yes, Admiral.” Her voice lost the deep, imposing texture of battlefield leader. James felt a touch of sympathy.

“I will be direct, Patricia. I have little use for the venal politics that led to your family’s disgrace or how it destroyed your career. But I have far less use for what you became. There are two kinds of fighters I despise. Those who leave the Guard for a nativist ideology – at least those miserable sods chose to believe in something. But mercenaries? Your lack of allegiance, your