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

retired for the night. She stood alone in the family gallery, lights dimmed, wearing only a see-through gown.

“I expected to have advance notice,” she said when Brother James appeared, as if he were standing three feet away.

“You’re not in charge, Celia.”

She despised looking upward at any man. Yet his sheer mass cowed Celia. He was light-years from Earth, unable to hurt her, yet Brother James owned her. She made the deal; if she turned back, he’d find a way to destroy her.

“Nonetheless, Brother James, this is poor timing. If we might talk at a predesignated hour …”

James laughed. “Of course, Celia. I’ll arrange a predesignated hour. I’ll make sure one of my ships arrives at your home by wormhole and levels your Chancellor palace with an energy slew.”

“I am your ally. Remember that.”

“What you are, Celia, is a tool. And I’m going to use you until I have everything I need. If you don’t betray me, I’ll deliver all those secrets you crave. Anything else, well … you will never see it coming. Understand?”

She had no choice. “Yes. What do you need?”

“So far, your efforts have produced a perfect symphony of chaos. The bulk of the Guard ships are days from Earth. You’ll have control. I am about to make a move of my own. I intend it to be decisive.”

“What move?”

“Shut up and listen to me. I have just learned of a complication. Samantha intends to fight back. She believes she can stop the war before the Guard arrives.”

“How? She’s a pretender at best.”

“Who you underestimate. Her father trained her to be a killer, and she is one of the wealthiest Chancellors in the world. I need you to stop her rebellion. But Celia, she is not to be harmed. Do you understand? Kill her rebellion but save Samantha for me.”

She threw up her hands. “I suppose you still refuse to tell me why she is so important to you?”

His scowl, combined with the heightened glow in his eyes, sent tremors through Celia.

“If she dies, nothing else matters, and you get nothing from me.”

“Fine. Yes. I understand. But my intelligence has reported nothing of this. How do you know what’s she planning?”

His scowl disappeared. “Do you remember what I said last time?”

She nodded. “You are the first day and the last day.”

“Yes. And I have agents where you would never think to look.”

She shrugged. “Of course, you do. And why not? You’re a god. Yes? Isn’t that what you told me?”

“You don’t believe.” He backed away. “But you will. Save Samantha, kill all the others. I don’t give a damn about them.”

“Of course, Brother James. I’ll take care …”

James disappeared, and the communicator went dark.

Celia felt it in her bones: This deal would be her downfall. She reached too far this time.

She gathered up the communicator and retreated on cat’s feet, quickly chasing away the regrets and replacing them with a to-do list. She needed to begin with her Boston contacts and reassign one of her mercenary teams. How had a bewildering child such as Samantha Pynn dodged her surveillance network? There would be hell to pay if she found anyone on her NAC payroll shirking their responsibilities. No one in the Americus Presidium was supposed to breathe without her being told of their activities.

This should have been locked down. Was Finnegan Moss as inept as she suspected him to be?

She returned to her personal suite, prepared to change into more suitable dress. Her heart leaped when she turned on the lights and discovered him sitting upright in bed.

At any other time, she would have given herself to Finnegan. He was a beautiful man, as powerful as many of the ex-Guard estate owners she bedded during her ascendancy. Pectorals were her favorite, and his bulged with the nuanced balance of shine and chest hair she preferred.

“And where you have been?” He asked.

“A Chancellor’s business never ends. Yes?”

He lit a pipe and inhaled poltash.

“Claiming the world for yourself is a full-time job,” he said.

“Should have been done long ago.”

“You might be right, Celia. Anything I can do to help?”

She hesitated. Maybe crawling under the sheets wasn’t a bad idea, after all.

“Actually,” she said, “I have a problem with a neighbor of yours. Perhaps you can offer a suggestion or two. Yes?”

45

Hinton Transport Station

Philadelphia Redux, NAC

 

B RAYLLEN HELMUT HATED THE FAMILIAL displacement agent. Her perfume reminded him of a fragrance worn by the bully who tortured him during his final weeks aboard the Ark Carrier Newton. She smelled of condescension and disdain, though she smiled with the gentle flavor of a mother’s substitute. Her assurances of exciting opportunities with a new descendancy seemed patronizing. Not once from her introduction at the Pynn estate to their arrival at Hinton did she mention the twins’ parents.

When they disembarked on Tier 26 Platform G, the woman called Miss Lavender – she never mentioned a first name and Brayllen didn’t want to know – ran off a checklist of procedures. They were to stay in an overnight landing at the station while the necessary oversight panel finalized their displacement docs. In the morning, they’d leave for their new home in the Brasilia Collective.

“Warmer there,” she said. “Considerably more humid. But more opportunity for you to grow. The NAC is overcrowded.”

“We’ll be adults in a few months,” Brayllen pouted. “Why can’t we have temporary independent status?”

“Afraid we do not operate that way on Earth. You will have a more flexible glidepath if you are legally tied to a descendancy. Yes?”

She wore too much lipstick. He hated green eyes. Her nose was malformed. She hated her job, and she hated the twins. She was an invisible cog, a nobody, foisted on the twins by the woman who claimed