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

word: Solomon. The admiral mentioned it when they met. “I hear a few live among the Solomons,” Perrone said while musing about Michael’s African heritage. Yet Rikard was not black. Far from it – pale, Caucasian features, freckles, red hair, barely six feet tall, the slender physique of a runner. His two-piece uniforn of black trousers and collarless blue shirt was indistinctive but for a silver medallion over his heart. From his vantage point, Michael thought it took the form of three overlapping crescent moons. He did not have a chance to inquire.

“That admiral lied to us,” Brey shouted. “He let us believe we would walk and then …”

“Perhaps,” Ophelia said. “But his methods make no sense. What did he have to gain?”

“He knew our location, Ophelia,” Rikard added. “He intercepted my distress protocol. Who else but him?”

Ophelia shook her head. “Whoever paid the mercs to kill us and the Jewel. Augustus Perrone could have had us executed on the hillside. No witnesses. If he wanted us dead, this was …”

“Imprecise,” Patricia said. “Frighteningly so, I fear. I knew a few ABD cannon masters in my service, and their precision is beyond dispute. Firing slews from orbit is a complex maneuver. They do not miss their targets. They can incinerate specific enemy profiles from fifteen thousand kilometers. I have seen indigos melt in front of me, consumed by slews smaller than you, Rikard.”

“What are you suggesting?” Ophelia asked.

“Two possibilities. One, they missed intentionally. The admiral sending us a message to stand down. Leave the Jewels to him. Or two, a rogue element holding proprietary UG tech. Perhaps the Chancellor who paid our enemy. Either way, it was outside the military chain and not as seasoned in targeting energy slews.”

“Either way,” Sammie said, “we got lucky.”

Michael added, “What the hell we gonna do now?”

“Continue what we began,” Ophelia said, opening her stream amp. “I will find out soon enough if Augustus Perrone is behind this. In the meantime, we need to make sure we are not being tracked. Rikard, I assume you can initiate blind flight?”

He nodded. “Officially, I have no idea, but unofficially …”

“How long can you scramble the ship?”

“Ten minutes. Enough time to drop from the stack-grid and emerge with a reassembled identifier. You understand this only works inside the NAC?”

“Oh, I have no intention of leaving the continent, Rikard.”

“You good with this?” Rikard asked Patricia.

“Why ask me? Dr. Tomelin is our employer. We’ll do our jobs. You fly, I’ll fight. Let’s run an internal scan for dorsal disruptors before you enter blind flight.” The chief turned to Ophelia. “If any of us is carrying a tracker, blind flight will make no difference.”

“You suspect someone here is an infiltrator?”

“Not the first today. More likely, they’d have no idea. The UG plants these on indigos with regularity. One more suggestion: I can acquire more weapons and associates. The six of us will hardly be enough to meet our objectives.”

“Excellent. We’ll talk. Rikard, do as the Chief suggests.” She turned to the teens. “We’re not backing down. I intend to find James. As we discussed, Samantha, your good fortune will assist us. Michael, I’ll do all I can for you. But now, you two should lock into still-seats. You’ll be no help until we land.”

Michael saw Sammie’s indignance at being shunted aside. He took a measure of comfort that someone else felt as useless as he. They backed into the cushioned vertical slats of the still-seat pod. Brey showed them how to trigger their slat’s magnetism. They rubbed their hands three times, laid their catalyzed palms against the slat, and a gentle suction grabbed them, head to toe.

“It will hold you against any stress,” he said. “To release, close your fingers into a pair of fists. Step away. Simple. Close your eyes, you’ll be asleep in two minutes. Trust me – it’s a deep sleep.”

Michael was exhausted and would have accepted the advice were he not stupefied by the constant attempts on his life. The slat allowed minimal movement, but Sammie moved her lips. Perhaps planning ten steps ahead, like any good Chancellor? He wondered what Ophelia meant when she referenced Sammie’s “good fortune.” Michael felt like the idiot who missed the punchline.

Moments later, when Patricia appeared before the teens with a palm-sized blinking cube, Michael’s despair thickened.

“Both,” the chief announced. “Subcutaneous transponders. Likely planted through dermal nodes.” Before either teen could speak, she told them, “We call them bleeders. Proprietary UG tech. Each of you has one at the base of your brain stem. Had to be the admiral. He welcomed both of you – a handshake, Samantha. A hand on your neck and shoulder, Michael? Yes?”

“I don’t understand,” Michael said. “What’s a bleeder?”

“Temporary tracker and intelligence-gatherer. Links to your neural system, records everything you say and do. Transmits through the closest open stream, then it dissolves. No evidence.”

“Everything?” Sammie said. “But why us?”

“Good question,” Patricia said. “Bleeders have a lifespan of two standard hours. Perrone must think you have strategic value.”

Michael’s stomach twisted. “Hold the fort. He knows everything we said since we left the hillside?”

“If not yet, soon. Both Dr. Tomelin and I opened our streams.”

Michael pegged himself as more than an idiot. He was a genuine sucker. He remembered how the admiral questioned their scripted tale about his wife and son’s heroic deaths. And Perrone’s words:

“I find time reveals all.”

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

“I am really starting to hate you people.”

 

14

Intercollectorate Presidium of the Unification Guard

Great  Plains Metroplex, North American Consortium

T HE GPM HAD NOT CHANGED SINCE AUGUSTUS PERRONE first landed here thirty-nine years earlier to begin his career. The great cathedral of the UG government remained exactly as constructed seven centuries ago. It was dedicated at the height of the Collectorate’s