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

a fool as the words crossed his lips. He was fishing, and they knew it. Ursula crinkled her lips in confusion.

“So, you believe we should test our transference in advance?”

“If my brother approved. He’s touched every Chancellor and rogue plus half the immortals. I am concerned he might be stretching himself thin. I know he is frustrated at not having been able to extend his control of life and death to the rest of you. In this case, he might value assistance from the other Jewels.”

There it was. A stupid maneuver executed without sufficient planning. Valentin knew they’d take the idea to James. He’d respond with a scathing tantrum accusing Valentin of overstepping his bounds. Rayna would intercede then demand a greater role in every upcoming military operation.

If James was hiding something from him, if there was a deeper reason for his refusal to touch Rikhi Syed, surely the circle of Jewels knew about it by now.

“Very good then,” he told Bartok and Ursula. “I’ll let you back to your business. Apologies if I intruded into your …” He stammered when he realized the hybrids weren’t paying attention. The tiny red dots in the corners of their eyes brightened to a twinkle.

They smiled as if in triumph.

“What?”

Ursula waved across the production line. Valentin pivoted.

James was running in their direction, smiling ear to ear, like an eight-foot tall predator unchained for the first time.

“It’s happening, Admiral,” Bartok said. “A Guard communique.”

Instinct told him to open a holocube. He tapped into his command stream and threw up a window onto the bridge.

“Kane, report.”

Valentin’s executive officer, Major Rafael Kane, the third oldest immortal in existence, responded.

“It’s stunning, sir. We intercepted deployment orders from the Admiralty of the Guard.”

“Deployment where?”

“They are sending one hundred battalions to secure Earth.”

“Secure it from what? Do they expect we’re going to invade?”

“Negative, sir, they’re …”

James interrupted. “They’re locking down Earth before their war gets out of control. They’re deploying battalions from twenty-six colonies. Twenty percent of the entire Guard.”

Valentin was dumbfounded, but Bartok and Ursula were ecstatic.

“It’s incredible, Brother James,” Bartok said.

“You were right,” Ursula added. “You’re always right. But how?”

“Yes,” Valentin said. “How?”

James slapped him on the back. “I told you it was coming. Chaos. Big, beautiful chaos. This is the final piece we needed.”

The reality overwhelmed Valentin. His brother was right.

“They’re opening the back door for us.”

James exploded in laughter rivaling a roar.

“Now let me see your smile, brother. I need to see a smile.”

Valentin complied, but his heart was not pounding with joy. He was the Salvation Fleet’s admiral, yet his brother somehow orchestrated a massive military maneuver behind his back.

38

Pynn compound, Boston Prefecture

Five days after redeployment of the Guard

 

B UYING MERCENARIES AT THREE TIMES the market rate was so simple, Sam’s only problem was in shutting the door before too many rats crawled in. They came in all shapes, from disgraced peacekeepers to retired officers itching for new action to civilians whose families sought greater leverage. A few, she suspected, were double-dealing Celia Marsche by jumping ship from the assassin teams dispatched to kill Solomons like Michael.

She met them in a cottage on the compound’s periphery alongside Merton Bayfield, her estate manager and chief recruiter. Once she’d given the order, he needed only to sort through a few contacts to find the necessary headhunters. Sam spent hours preparing her words and her attire. No sari for this lot; she wore a combat-ready bodysuit equipped with sidearms.

“I’ll come right out with it,” she told the twenty mercs she settled upon. “I don’t trust any of you, and I doubt you give a damn about me. You got your own agendas. I get it. One of my best friends was a merc. Maybe you heard of her. Patricia Wylehan?” A few nods. “If you got even half her honor, we’ll make this work. You survive this war, you’ll be the richest mercs in the Collectorate. You want off Earth? You can buy your own ship.”

The youngest of the team, a sixteen-year-old beast who left the Guard under dubious circumstances, asked a question Sam expected.

“What are the chances we take care of this business before the Guard locks down the planet?”

Sam snuck a glance at Merton, who coached her response.

“In six days, battalions will start taking control of the intersystem ports,” she said. “Our sources say the goal is to wrap a noose around Earth within ten days. Not even small commercial vessels will pass through the orbital blockade after the last capital ships arrive from the outer colonies. Full martial law. It’s simple: You have five days to finish operations. That leaves you enough time to high tail it off Earth or disappear to rural outposts and lay low.”

She didn’t mind the skepticism in their eyes or their uncertain body language. Though she was the shortest person in the room, Sam enjoyed being in command, of laying down the stakes in a take-it-or-leave-it style. Maybe Daddy wouldn’t be ashamed after all. Sam felt her blood running cold. No fear, no compromise.

Not this time.

A merc old enough to be her father said, “Then I recommend we start cracking. What’s the plan, Miss Pynn?”

Yes. Daddy would be proud.

“We work in two phases: Intel-gathering and combat. I will be taking a team of six in my Scram to the Moss compound. If they play it smart, they’ll let us in without firing a shot.”

“And if they aren’t smart?”

“You have big guns. Use them.”

“Copy that, Miss Pynn.”

The rush heated her blood. “We intend to establish an alliance across Presidiums. It’s the only way to prevent Guard control.”

“Alliance?” The young beast sounded skeptical. “You think Finnegan Moss is going to respect us riding in hot?”

“It’s a