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

“I don’t understand. Why go this route instead of negotiating?”

“My guess? Negotiating takes too long. There’s something else at work.”

“Like what?”

“I think we’re about to find out.”

She said those words as the lift opened to underground corridors. The lighting was dim. When they stepped out, Grandover pointed to his right and said:

“Our holding cells are fifty meters in that direction. They are empty, even of a place to sleep. For those of you who complained of your accommodations above, rest comfortable at having avoided true imprisonment. Follow me.” He turned left.

Sam thought Grandover found a confident, arrogant voice since seeming subservient to Celia’s whims during the conference.

The corridor ended at a windowless door that almost disappeared inside stark, nondescript walls.

“What’s inside here,” Grandover said, “should be familiar.”

It wasn’t. At least not at first. The chamber was stark, its walls high, and ceiling spotlights cast bright circles onto the chamber’s floor. A viewing platform overlooked them a full level above.

Sam’s peers did not speak, but Grandover did.

“I see it in your eyes. You remember. It happened here, two years ago. James and Valentin Bouchet. Their blood stained these floors. One of them died here … until he was reborn. But of greater importance, a monster was given birth in this chamber. You all saw it during the inquest. You read Perrone’s journals.

“Our current nightmare began that day. A quarter-million humans have died at that creature’s hands. If he has his way, millions more will follow. He has attacked the colonies, and he recently struck at Vasily Station. We believe it is only a matter of time before he and his psychopaths turn toward Earth itself. And since we have failed to ascertain their military capabilities, we are vulnerable. A divided Chancellory and an Earth embroiled in civil strife leave us open to a catastrophic future.

“We have no desire to harm noble Chancellors of great repute, like you. What we wish to do is end the strife and unite Earth against this threat. We are Chancellors. By birth, by tradition, by inviolate law. We stand elevated at the crème of humanity.

“There will be blood in our streets. Yes. It cannot be helped. But in short order, every Chancellor of good faith will flourish, and every Solomon who disavows these radical notions of equity will continue in peaceful service to the Chancellory.”

Lucinda jumped in. “And what of those who don’t?”

Grandover licked his lips and looked away. He blinked his eyes twice and tapped his right temple.

“You’ve been listening?” He paused. “Would you like to answer?”

He threw open a holocube, fingered it, and tossed out a window large enough for everyone to see.

Celia Marsche was drinking wine.

“I don’t believe any of you have ever visited my summer estate. Look at this view.” She turned her head, and Ericsson Fjord dominated the window. “It’s remarkable. Yes? I invite each of you – and your families. We should reestablish our relationship on sounder footing.

“To your question, Lucinda, please understand. I have no interest in harming a single Chancellor. Especially our dear Miss Pynn.”

Sam heard the irony drip off the woman’s slippery tongue, Sam’s terror deepening as many eyes fell upon her. Celia continued.

“When you go home today, enjoy your life as you always did. No one will monitor your movements. Surely, that would violate the Chancellor Treaty. All I ask is that you allow the Guard and its associates to do their job. We can’t have this equity nonsense come between us. Once we cleanse the agitators, we’ll be free to move forward as a unified people.”

Sam felt sick. She knew what Celia meant, but Lucinda argued.

“What do you mean by ‘cleansed?’”

“They’re a virus,” Celia said. “They have to be eliminated. I realize this will cause employment disruptions. However, there are ninety million of them. A small culling will make little difference.”

“You intend to slaughter Solomons?”

“The Solomon Treaty is clear: Acts of insurrection against the Chancellory are punishable by death. Thousands of Solomons, whether acting on their own or at the behest of misguided Chancellors, have directly or indirectly brought death to thousands of our people. We have looked away for too long.”

“The Presidiums and the Sanctums will not stand for this.”

“For the first few days, perhaps. But they’ll come around when they consider the reputation of their descendancies. They’ll turn over their Solomon insurgents for public execution. No right-minded Chancellor would risk all by hiding this virus.”

The rumbles echoed through the chamber, but the passion Sam heard in the conference room two days ago was muted.

“Admiral Grandover,” Celia said, “I think it’s time to allow these fine and worthy Chancellors to return home. I’m sure they have important business to consider. Yes?”

“Agreed.”

“And please, all of you, come visit me before summer’s end. The fjord and the forest are magical.”

She sipped wine as Grandover scrapped the holowindow.

In the silence that followed, Sam thought only of Michael. As they were escorted back to the lift and finally to the docking platforms, she saw stunned despair in their eyes. They knew nothing of being ambushed until now, and they were as paralyzed with terror as Sam.

She tried to encourage further meetings, to not give up the fight. They were non-committal. Lucinda promised to be in touch in the coming days, but her 82-year-old voice trembled when she mentioned concerns about her grandchildren, some of whom lived on Ark Carriers far from her protection.

Seven miles removed from the GPM, Sam’s stream amp catalyzed. She searched her admin stack for messages from Michael. She opened a holocube and tried to find him, but his amp did not respond.

“No,” she whispered. “It will not end like this. I’ll find you, sweetie. I promise.”

28

Danielson Outpost

Appalachian Mountains, southern range

 

M ICHAEL WANTED A DRINK. HE’D GONE thirty hours