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

James stood over Ilya, who took his last breath and looked skyward. The Jewel whispered, “He feels the love of his wife and remembers the voice of the daughter he left behind.”

“What happened after The Father escaped?”

“Escaped? Or set free?”

“Tell me.”

“We embraced each other high above the planet. We encircled Hiebimini and breathed upon it. We destroyed the brontinium and redesigned the world.”

James considered everything he saw and heard, pivoted about, and found himself stuck again in the white forest. Ignatius sat upon a white stump, his legs crossed.

“The choice is simple, James. When you next blink, you accept one of two outcomes. You surrender to death but preserve your humanity. Or, you accept the delusion of godhood and become their nightmare.”

He considered the options. He thought of the beaches of Pensacola when he was a boy. He thought of Earth cities turned to ash. He understood the journey this Jewel laid out for him.

“You knew this moment would come.”

“There was no certainty, but causality recommended it.”

“Do you have a true name or a true face?”

“No, by the creators’ design.”

James smiled as he wrapped a hand over the man’s shoulders.

“You’re wrong. Your name is James Bouchet. It always will be.”

The Jewel’s eyes faded and darkened. James continued.

“The original Ignatius Horne did not end tyranny. His truth set no one free. But he started humanity down a new path. What he started, I will finish. And you,” he said, tightening his hand around the Jewel’s neck, “will always be ME.”

He squeezed with fury. Bones snapped, and the world created by the Jewel trembled. The white forest dissolved.

James blinked again, his future sealed.

Know me.

Flash pegs shattered against his bodysuit, and he returned indiscriminate fire. Down below, soldiers fell and the Major ran.

Too late.

The dark washed over him in an instant of exultation, a furious joy born a million years ago. It coursed through his blood. He heard the echoes of the dark consume Rayna. They fell into each other’s minds and saw the limitless stars waiting for them.

They spoke in unison.

Show them who we are.

Two Berserkers acted as one.

61

O PHELIA WILLFULLY COMPROMISED her principles when she allied with Emil and Sexton. She told herself she was working for the greater good of the Chancellory. Her reward might not show itself for decades, but she would leave behind the legacy of a great rebirth for her people.

Now, as she wiped away her tears and pushed sloppy hair out of her face, Ophelia questioned everything – foremost, her decision to rescue the hybrids.

She sat in the passenger cabin of the Passaic Dawn, staring across the aisle at the ship’s pilot, who slumped over, his eyes open and a pulse laser hole over his heart. He didn’t want to turn back after Valentin ordered full atmospheric burn. He wanted nothing to do with escaped criminals. He was a reasonable man – though Ophelia couldn’t remember his name.

What she did remember was Valentin enraged, dragging him back to the cabin and shooting him point-blank. He claimed the pilot would have to be killed at some point anyway; he knew too much. Their escape must be clean.

In his fury, she saw the same ruthlessness as all the others who wielded unlimited power without consideration of principle or human decency. Bouchet, Marshall, Perrone. The worst of the Chancellory.

Yet as much as Ophelia wanted to blame others, she could not look past a mirror. I knew what they were. I would gladly have traded places. I am no better.

With that, she pulled herself together and returned to the command deck, hoping to see a calmer Valentin.

The Passaic Dawn settled into a hover five kilometers east of SkyTower. The late-afternoon sun went into full eclipse behind the structure, which itself dominated the cloudscape, expanding more than a mile across. Even from this distance, it seemed more like a great wall than a cylindrical tower.

Valentin settled into the pilot’s chair, the navigation cylinder swirling around him. He was studying ship movements when Ophelia fell into the co-pilot’s seat. He appeared all business, as if the execution moments ago was forgotten.

“What is the plan, Valentin?”

“Any moment now,” he said. “Just watch. You can’t miss it.”

“They won’t do this, will they?”

He did not break focus but from the floating graphics.

“They have to. The truth compels them.”

Her heart jumped. “What does that mean?”

“It means we have exposed these generations for their lies. I shut my eyes until I met my brother. He has shown me the future we must have. As did you, Ophelia.”

“And what is this future?”

“James said it best. It’s the one we create after we tear down everything else.” He inhaled, as if breathing in the fragrance of the sweetest rose. “We will tear it down, Ophelia.”

“But … he was speaking in metaphors. Yes? Not …”

Valentin seemed at peace when he ignored her.

“Here we go. Scramjets are beginning attack run.” A warning beacon called out. “They will be in position to fire in fifteen seconds.”

“What? Why aren’t you doing anything? We have to …”

Valentin pivoted to Ophelia. He placed a finger over his lips.

“Watch. We will remember this the rest of our lives.”

The initial blast shattered the dampening sky and filled the command deck with a fiery glow brighter than the sun. When the initial wave retreated, Ophelia saw the full magnitude.

A crevasse opened in SkyTower, a firestorm hurling destruction outward, the concussion and debris obliterating anything in the vicinity. The warning beacon died when the Scramjets became ensnared in the mouth of the nuclear wave.

“No. No.” Ophelia whimpered. “Not this way.”

The storm sliced through the tower in an outward radius. Wispy cloud banks glowed yellow