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

“While you were interviewing the twins, we were conducting autopsies on the other children – Carmen and Freida. They did not die from neurological damage sustained when their stasis pods decompressed.” He unlocked his hands and lifted his right, holding a pea-sized crystal between thumb and forefinger. “They call it Narcissus. Experimental tech. Banned. Acts like a bleeder but survives for months, cloaked from neural scans. Records everything in proximity but worse, infiltrates admin stacks and stream coursing amps for a hundred meters. Invisible infiltration.”

Pat nodded. “Spies.”

“How did it kill them?” Sam asked.

“The tech failed prematurely. It releases a neurotoxin when the host is in danger of capture.”

“And the twins? Are they …?”

“No.”

Her fury tempered her relief that James would submit children to this horror.

“What happens to the twins now?”

“Run more tests, extract any memories they overlooked, assign them to a temporary caretaker. Before any of that, I need the two of you to return with me to headquarters. I cannot submit a mission report with such limited supposition.”

“In other words,” Sam said, “you need something firm about James. Something actionable hidden in his message.”

“Yes. Even if it’s your best guess, I can massage the details.”

Sam couldn’t believe the incompetence of the Guard she once dreamed of joining. But she also needed this to be over.

They followed him with urgency, Sam making note of other diners’ curious eyes. Was a spy sitting among them? Did they recognize her from the SkyTower inquest?

“One question,” as she walked abreast of the major. “Why are you speaking about these matters in public? Can you be sure …”

“I’m not an idiot, Miss Pynn,” he said. “I am wearing an audio baffle – a military distortion field. Anyone monitoring our conversation would see or hear gibberish.”

“That tech is the province of the Admiralty,” Pat said.

“And I am their emissary on this station. You will find …” He hesitated. “You will find …” He stopped. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” The women spoke in unison.

“A tremor.” He looked around, as if needing confirmation. “I’ve been here three years. I know the rhythm of this station.”

Confirmation came when Sam and Pat reacted to a vague rumble far beneath them. Lancaster double-blinked and tapped his amp.

“Lancaster to Station Watch. Sit-rep.”

A holocube emerged, showing a three-dimensional schematic of the station’s rotating core.

“A striking bolt has dislodged?” He said to no one Sam could see. “Engage the redundant barrier. … What do you mean systemic? How long until catastrophic failure? … No. I don’t care about those numbers. Is this sabotage? … An educated guess will suffice.” He tossed his hand inside the cube and enlarged to focus on a flashing green vertical structure within the station’s core. “Strap in and execute Fullstop Protocol. … I don’t care. Do it.”

Sam looked around. Many diners were leaving their tables, becoming animated. Many pointed toward the stars. That’s when Sam recognized a change. The star field, which once moved with a steady pace against the station’s rotation, neared a stand-still.

She felt light as Pat grabbed her hand and told her to hold on. The major cursed.

Her feet left the floor. Pat and every other diner levitated inches off the surface, too, many grabbing hold of their tables.

“What’s happened?” Sam demanded.

“GravBelt,” Pat said. “The core generating artificial gravity has failed. It’s stopped rotating.”

“Cudfrucking …” Lancaster raged as he rose steadily with the rest. “It hasn’t failed. It’s been sabotaged.”

“What does this mean for us?” Sam said. “Can they restart it?”

No one answered her questions.

The next rumble was louder, shaking the facility. A brief splash of yellow glow rose from a docking quay far below.

Sam couldn’t see over the edge, but levitating diners adjacent to the panoramic portal could. They screamed.

That’s when Sam saw dozens of tiny contorted shapes floating in space. Human bodies gleamed as they rose to meet the sunlight.

 

6

Entilles Club

Boston Prefecture

 

M ICHAEL TOOK TWO HITS IN THE BACK while he shot dead the first attacker. The body armor built into his faux leather jacket absorbed most of the pulses, but he felt sharp jabs beneath his left clavicle and behind his right lung. As he swung about, Michael used the technique he practiced thousands of time during what he called “Rikard’s assassination training.” He aimed for the head.

“If their eyes aren’t hidden by a helmet, that’s your target,” Rikard taught him. “Assume everything neck down is shielded.”

The Ingmar Pulse Gun, Model 16, which Michael learned to love like a best friend, delivered a muted sizzle and a bullet-sized compression of super-heated plasma. He shot twice, frying a hole through a man’s right eye while gouging out his nasal cavity. The attacker crumpled to both knees and slumped into death.

Michael’s burns intensified, the pain radiating as if hot irons pressed into his back. He let loose a string of profanity, as much a response to the pain as to his own stupidity for not seeing the trap sooner. He’d been shot once before since joining the equity movement, but taking a blow from a thump gun at fifty meters was a paper cut by comparison.

Michael bent over and gathered his breath. When he no longer thought he’d vomit, Michael pushed through the pain and approached the second man he killed. He gathered the loose sidearm.

“Dumbass,” he said. “Didn’t they tell you? I don’t die when they shoot me in the back. Aim for the head next time. Dumbass.”

A voice inside his head returned.

“Michael? Michael, are you there? What happened?”

“What happened, Rikard, is you’re gonna buy me a new goddamn leather jacket. I’m telling you, it’s the sous chef. She’s gonna take out Moss.”

“We’re moving into position now, but Michael, if you’re wrong and we kill Alise, we will never come back from