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

that will change history. These events must form a perfect chain of causality. The most important will take place at Vasily Station. Use your contacts within the Admiralty to dictate the actions of their station officer. When the event occurs, the Guard must contact Samantha Pynn and demand her presence at Vasily.”

“Pynn? Your friend who disavowed you? What does she …?”

“None of your concern. After she arrives, other events will follow, both on Vasily and on Earth. The consequences will be immediate. The Guard will make a series of mistakes in their search for us. This will undermine confidence in the Admiralty. You will have the opportunity you missed with Perrone.

“Arrange a civilian coup. You will know which admiral is willing. Simultaneously, prepare for an offensive against the Solomon insurgency. You have assassins at your disposal. Order them to strike before the Guard takes a direct combat role in resolving the Chancellor civil war. In a matter of weeks, you’ll have full control of the Guard, the Solomons will be put down, and a united Earth will hail you as a hero. I have transferred logistical details into the communicator. You will find them on your admin stack.”

She couldn’t tell from sincerity in those glowing, menacing eyes.

“You paint a rosy picture, but your terms make no sense. What do you gain if we resolve our internal conflicts?”

“You’ll see.”

“And you expect me to agree based on ‘you’ll see’?”

“I also ask you to make sure Samantha Pynn is not harmed.”

“Why? What is her role in …?”

“You’ll see.”

“And the other friend you plagued us with? Michael Cooper?”

“Your assassins will be free to kill him. It will be a mercy. He won’t survive for long without Samantha anyway.”

“But you just said …”

“You’ll see, along with everyone else. Do we have a deal?”

“I don’t trust you.”

Brother James smiled, showing teeth. “That’s what Johannes Ericsson said three thousand years ago. But he made the deal.”

Celia couldn’t recall ever feeling so inferior.

“What are you?”

“The first day and the last day.”

She was speechless. The perfumes she smelled when he first appeared had soured. Every instinct said no, no, no. But Johannes whispered to her across time and demanded Celia be bold.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. You cudfrucking monster. Yes.”

27

Great Plains Metroplex

24 days after the attack on Vasily Station

 

S AM CRIED MOST OF THE NIGHT AWAY. She was angry – at Celia Marsche, at the Admiralty’s shocking allegiance with the hardliners – but mostly at herself. For her naivete, for her inability to misread the warning signs. For her sheer stupidity to believe the Chancellory would negotiate through reason and compassion. And then, as the first night of her imprisonment dragged on, tears fell for Michael. Her amp forcibly nullified, Sam couldn’t warn him of the trap they’d walked into.

The Admiralty called it “protective custody under emergency declaration,” but Sam understood the truth. They were holding opposition Chancellor representatives in silentium until publicly announcing the Guard’s official position on the civil war. They’d be sending out new orders, recalling battalions of peacekeepers from deep-system and colonial service. It would take days to establish a visual presence in cities the Admiralty considered most at-risk and weeks to blanket Earth.

She protested from the guest suite where she was confined. She heard full-throated howls from her peers close by, but she was told to be glad she wasn’t locked in a cell. The officers who guarded the guest rooms must have been part of the coup; they looked upon her with the same demonic possession as Celia Marsche did in the conference room, right before Sam fainted. As the hours dragged on, and Sam ate bland morsels from a food kiosk, she hoped the silence meant the situation was unsettled. Perhaps other Admirals were fighting back; maybe a countercoup would set things right.

She wished Pat were by her side.

Thirty-eight hours after the hardliners took control of the Admiralty, her suite’s door pixelated. Sam rose from the sofa and wiped her red, puffy eyes. New Supreme Admiral Bastian Grandover entered, hands behind his back, shoulders tall and firm, nose up. He was accompanied by the officer who had ignored Sam’s protests.

“Put on your shoes,” Grandover said. “Follow me.”

“No. Not until you tell me why you violated my rights as a citizen.”

“No rights have been infringed, Miss Pynn. Emergency statutes give us broad discretion inside the GPM. You’ll be home by sunset. Now, put on your shoes.”

“What is the emergency?”

“Anything, or anyone, that threatens the health of the Chancellory is an emergency. Does Major Engel need to escort you in bindings?”

She bit her tongue and followed instructions. She was stunned when she met her peers waiting for her in the corridor: Ezekiel Mollett, Lucinda Blanche, Evan Augustine and Malcolm Rainier. Her closest allies stood up for her after Celia tore her down at the conference. They were joined by other Solomon sympathizers who the Admiralty must also have imprisoned. She saw the defiance in their eyes, but no one spoke.

“This is how it will be done,” Grandover told them. “We will escort you to an area of interest beneath the facility, where we will share a few words. Once we are finished, you will be free to leave. Your staff and pilots will be waiting for you in your ships. Your amps will catalyze once you exit the GPM cascade.”

Like a herd, they followed Grandover and three officers into a lift. Sam stayed at the rear, huddling close to Lucinda. As they descended, she whispered:

“Is this as bad as I think?”

Lucinda was pale. “Worse, I fear.”

“How did they pull this off?”

“I’m not sure, but it would take a much bigger alliance than Celia Marsche and this bastard.” She nodded toward Grandover. “There must be strong support in the chain of command.”