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

For Michael, none of his life made sense. Living in a grand estate with a staff of twenty. Enough money to buy allies and assassinate enemies. A proto-African turning a middle finger toward the Chancellory’s old guard. Death waiting outside the gates and light-years across the galaxy. A former friend – now a raging psychopath – setting his eye on the woman of Michael’s dreams.

You’ll never have her, you motherfucker.

That night, Michael gave all his heart to Sam, going to places he had kept locked away as he grew from reckless teen to man. He loved her in the most creative positions he knew, determined tonight would not be forgotten in the dangerous struggle ahead. She vowed often to be with him “to the end,” something that always seemed perilously close.

There were worse ways to go, Michael assured himself.

16

Equatorial settlement Peshawan

Colony: Brahma

177 light-years from Earth

R IKHI SYED LOVED TO CHASE THE SEA on a rare clear day, but nothing topped those moments when the planet’s rings went into eclipse to create a breathtaking light show. The sun’s rays flickered in and out while trying to peek through breaks in the rings. Noonday fluctuated with dawn and dusk. Rikhi skip-jumped along the Omanpuri Shelf by himself, seeing how close he might come to the edge of the slippery granite cliffs. The turbulent Sea of Awan thundered as it smashed against walls as old as the planet.

Rikhi never wanted to go back home. If he fell, would anyone notice? When – if ever – would the cry go out for a missing boy? His one attempt at running away failed when he stumbled upon a Unification Guard training outpost ten kilometers from Peshawan. The peacekeepers asked no questions; instead they dumped him at the settlement’s gates in the middle of the night. Don’t try it again, they warned. You will be target practice next time, indigo.

As if he weren’t already that in Peshawan.

Rikhi didn’t understand where he went wrong. He mastered the local Farheesi dialect in addition to the universally required Tier 2 Engleshe within two years after his parents adopted him. Smartest boy in his class, by far. Yes, there was jealousy but few threats or outright bullying. His peers always seemed eager to befriend him before falling silent and distant within days. Their eyes turned down, and they spoke to him in muted tones. His parents, Muhar and Neela, dismissed his concerns and insisted he keep trying to find friends.

Rikhi disappeared into the shadows and opened his ears. He hid around dark corners, behind walls, under beds, and inside closets. He discovered an uncharted reality and saw why he offended so many.

Very simply, he wasn’t one of them. His skin wasn’t brown enough, his hair not dark enough, his eyes too much the color of the sea. He was a few inches taller than other children his age. Muhar and Neela refused to speak of his adoption except to insist Rikhi was Brahman by birth. Few believed them, though they were among the most influential business owners in Peshawan.

Now, six years after he arrived, Rikhi felt the undercurrent shifting strongly against the Syeds and his four brothers and sisters. The drought turned everyone sour; the poisoning of the fields destroyed community goodwill. Peshawan was dying, and no one from the Guard or the Chancellor Sanctums offered assistance.

When Rikhi ended his jump-skip along the cliffs, he returned to the town and found a clamor in the central square.

“Their fault, their fault,” protestors chanted, surrounded on all sides of the square by a chaotic array of street bazaars. In unison, they pointed north toward the Indira Reclamation plant, which sat on a high plateau five kilometers away. They blamed its runoff from innezium mineral processing on their barren fields, which failed to produce despite their functioning irrigation systems.

“Chancellors do not care about us,” said the most vocal protestor, Timur Haqqani, from the base of a monument to the settlement’s founder. “They only care about innezium for the cooling systems on their Ark Carriers.” Rikhi kept his distance as he listened, but he’d become familiar with the message.

Timur asked the angry crowd: “Remember the stories of what happened on Hiebimini many years ago? No? That is because the Chancellors put out the fire before it spread to every colony. They do not wish us to speak of brontinium or their great secret. They wish us to believe they are the same divinities of old. But they have lost their way, and we must organize for the sake of all Brahmans.”

A man burst through the cheering crowd and confronted Timur.

“You do not know the truth, Haqqani. Even now, the Chancellors are working on a plan to restore our lands and make them fertile again.”

Rikhi heard his father’s signature tone, arrogant as always. He didn’t know whether to envy Mahur’s courage or run to his rescue. The crowd was pushing and shoving, and Rikhi could not see to the center from his vantage point.

“Stupid old man,” Timur said. “We know the truth now about the Syeds. You do not want to stir trouble because you have valuable contracts with the Chancellory.”

“We all do, Haqqani,” Mahur responded, showing disrespect in not addressing Timur by first name. “We receive stipends every month, as we have for generations. They will lead us through our troubles. Speak this way of the Chancellors, and they will take away our stipends – and your family will find you without a head.”

“Are you threatening me, Syed?”

“I would never harm a Brahman.”

“I am not so sure, Syed. You will choose the Chancellors ahead of your own, just as you did with your fifth child.”

Murmurs of agreement cascaded through the crowd, most speaking Farheesi. The accusation pierced Rikhi’s heart.

“You are a crazy man, Haqqani.”

“Am