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

inevitable. See the man you must become. Instead, his stomach churned. He felt the press of his gun, tucked in his pants behind his back.

A whiff of smoke blew past carrying the fragrance of poltash weed. Samantha leaned in, wrapped an arm around Michael.

“There are no lessons for that,” she said. “Only time. I’m sorry we dragged you into our fight, Michael. You’re a good guy.”

“Sure,” he said. “Sometimes, good guys do bad things. Right?”

His eyes latched upon the stars – or more specifically, their strange configurations. He beheld an alien universe – the constellations unrecognizable, the glow of the Milky Way more luminous - the most striking sign yet how far from home he’d come. But something more specific bothered him: A tiny movement between two of the brightest stars.

At first, it seemed like the burst of a meteor hitting the atmosphere. However, this meteor did not swoosh across the horizon and burn itself out in a twinkle, like so many he’d seen. Instead, this object maintained a steady, vertical course, like a tear rolling down a cheek. Even as it lost its tail, the object held together – orange/red like Mars through binoculars.

“Sammie, do you …?”

The words fell short when he realized the object changed course. It lost its sunset shades, a compact orb now bright yellow. Michael didn’t have to guess its heading.

He wished he had said goodbye to his mother and father.

 

13

M ichael had a sneaking suspicion he would not die if he convinced himself to wake. He’d fall out of bed, see his belongings, and realize he dozed off waiting for Jamie to reply to his text about their school prank. No Christian Bidwell, no bullets in the back, no adventures with Wonder Woman, no lunatics from another universe. Most important, no energy weapon about to incinerate him.

Someone tugged him, another screamed, then he plunged forward as searing heat dressed him. Michael rolled in the tall grass and beheld flames rising twenty feet high after an energy slew smashed into the earth yards away. The fire danced, as if lava spewing from a volcano.

Sammie slapped him. “Coop! Michael! Snap out of it.” As he realized his hopes of a dream were dashed, Sammie told him to run. “They’re trying to kill us.”

He gathered himself up and chased after her. Most of the open pasture burned as they sprinted toward the shuttle, which whirred as it hovered inches off the ground. Ophelia Tomelin stood in the open doorway, begging the teens to hurry.

He heard nothing, save his own desperate panting. Another scream, a glance to the sky, and a furious sun exploded on the far side of the shuttle. Flames mounded into a halo. The concussion threw Michael from his feet and rocked the shuttle out of its hover. The ship rocked, jade green nacelles flickering on its undercarriage. As the pasture crackled, embers drifted around them.

“Reach,” someone told Michael, and he grabbed.

He regained his senses in time to leap onto the shuttle. The ship listing, Michael flipped and rolled to a hard stop against the supply compartments on the starboard bulkhead, banging his head. He winced as Sammie stumbled after him, but she grabbed one of a series of ceiling handles.

Ophelia, who reached an interlocking pod of what she called “still-seats,” signaled to the pilot all were onboard. Michael glanced forward and aft, and while he saw Brey locked into a still-seat, he did not see the chief, Patricia. The pilot, Rikard, who showed zero interest in Michael when they first arrived, struggled from the forward navigation chair. His still-seat, to which his upright body was magnetized, pivoted inside a cylindrical shield. He raced hands through kinetic holographic displays. Beyond him, the forward viewports glowed yellow.

And then a lurch. The ship buckled but rose.

Michael felt the shifting g-forces as the ship traveled laterally for several seconds, gaining speed although still listing. When it leveled out, Rikard fired the retros.

As Michael held on and rubbed the lump above his right temple, he looked up at Sammie. She was pale. A panicked warrior, those dreams of becoming a full-fledged Chancellor almost up in flames.

Ophelia ordered Rikard to take the shuttle to cruising altitude. As Michael found his footing, he saw movement aft. Patricia rose from a position behind the still-seat pod. She tapped her stream amp. Michael couldn’t hear what she said, but her thumbs-up was good enough. He turned in time to see Rikard respond in kind.

    “You’re OK?” Sammie asked him, examining his lump.

“You want me to answer that?” He laughed.

“We’re still here, Coop. I think …”

“Michael,” he said, with sudden conviction. “I mean, if you don’t mind. I reckon a guy named Coop ain’t got much chance in a world like this. If you get my speed.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “I do.” They shared a wide-eyed connection, and just for an instant, Michael thought she wanted to share something but pulled back. “We’ll talk.”

He looked past her to Ophelia, who disconnected herself from the still-seat. “How long you figure this bucket is gonna fly?”

She nodded toward Patricia, who repaired the damaged nacelle. The mercenary seemed the most confident since they met.

“Barring a direct hit from an energy slew, she’ll take us wherever we need. Four stable nacelles, enough Carbedyne to circle the planet three times.” She pointed to the pilot, who brought down his navigation cylinder and faced what was left of the crew. “Remarkable job, Rikard. That’s two narrow escapes today.”

“How about we avoid a third?” Rikard told Ophelia. “I am a trained INCC pilot, not a hero. I lift, I fly, I land. Perhaps an extra stipend for combat duty you omitted from my Solomon attainder?”

“Say no more,” Ophelia waved him off. “We will negotiate compensation another time. We have more pressing concerns.”

Michael recognized one