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

they do, Michael. Their entire lives have been shrouded in deception. But I wonder. Must all timing be inconvenient in order to avoid suspicion? Is luck not part of the grand equation of life? Given enough effort, are not all things possible? Just a thought. I’ve had too much to drink.”

Michael stumbled through the past few years as luck’s great beneficiary, whether dumb or manufactured. He couldn’t be the only recipient. Maya’s wisdom leveled his paranoia.

In time, he decided to place all his hope in manufactured luck, orchestrated by the very monsters most of humanity thought were still dead. Ninety-eight standard days passed since the revelation, buzz grew of a coming demonstration of the Void’s awesome power, and Michael’s impatience to find his way to Sam intensified.

In place of paranoia, he filled the time by becoming a monster of his own making, in this case one who killed Mongols with gleeful abandon. As the sun rose on the other side of the Void, and laser fire engulfed the slope outside the fortified research station, Michael completed a quick descent from a high cedar branch, opened a Lin’taava sword, and engaged the enemy.

4

T HE BATTLE DEVOLVED INTO CHAOS. The Mongol strategy threw off the team’s usual precision. All seven opened audio streams through each other’s DR29s, and Nilsson barked orders without his typical air of discipline. But no one on the team fell, which gave Michael hope as he plowed through the enemy.

He stepped over two Mongol women who he shot through the head and chased three others who were making their way up a stone run, their final challenge before reaching the landing platform outside the station. They hopped from ragged boulder to boulder, showing dexterity. The instant Michael opened fire, they dropped for cover. A storm of flash pegs impacted on the field of stone.

The choreography surprised Michael. All previous incursions showed little use of the topography as a tactical weapon, but these three appeared to have rehearsed, as if they knew this area intimately. Stone runs like this were common near the ridgeline, formed long ago when the land crested after the Void’s arrival. Arranged in all manner of shapes, the boulders were as tall as peacekeepers and suffused with enough hollows between for clever hiding spaces.

Michael surveyed his comrades and looked for the closest member who wasn’t pinned down or fully engaged.

“Muldoon, lock me. I’ve got three about set to make a run for the platform. Come at me from 27.4 north.”

“Oh my,” Percy Muldoon said. “Eager little cudfruckers, they are. Hold your Ingmar tight.”

“For it,” Michael replied in the Guard combat language of confirmation and replaced the Lin’taava sword with his laser gun. “I’m going to swing over, lay down suppression fire, see who pops.”

“Hold on five, Cooper. Nearing position. Hold two, one, and …”

Michael jumped onto the closest boulder, hesitated when he didn’t land with firm footing, then opened fire with both weapons, intentionally delivering the barrage in the direction where he knew one of the three to be hiding. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the others raise up. They returned fire until Michael shifted his flash pegs toward them. He hit no one, but they managed to snag him twice with laser blasts – over the right collar bone and above the left groin. He jumped down and reassessed, the aches deep, his body armor searing. He would feel this all day.

“Locked on,” Muldoon said. “I’ve got an indigo at 36.2. Clear shot. Set your aim for 33.9 and 33.1.”

Michael adjusted his DR29 targeting command, which connected directly to both his weapons. Then he waited for Muldoon to strike first. He needed to leap up two seconds after Muldoon’s shot, catching his intended targets in the back as they reconfigured for the new enemy at their flank. Michael trained for this “companion” technique dozens of times, but this was his first chance to execute it in combat.

In the instant before he was supposed to jump, Michael’s groin seized up. He felt an agonizing spasm and reached for the spot. The body armor absorbed most of the blast, but remnants broke through. He was bleeding.

“Fuck me.”

“What’s that now, Cooper?” Muldoon said.

“Nothing. Do it, Muldoon.”

Percy fired the shot. The remains of his target splattered across the nearest boulder as Michael pushed off. He led with his right leg as he leaped, but he landed awkward and stumbled forward. Nonetheless, his targets emerged as predicted. He laid down fire, shredding the enemy at 33.1. However, his Ingmar aim missed, and the Mongol at 33.9 retreated, but only for an instant.

Either a surge of unparalleled valor or a determination to die must have fueled the remaining Mongol, who leaped atop the boulders and raced toward Michael. He did not, however, fire his weapon.

That’s when Michael realized what was happening behind him. Percy made the moment clear.

“Rifter incoming. Down, Cooper. Down.”

Michael danced on one leg and turned to face a steady stream of laser fire. He took three hits in the chest but continued a steady volley of flash pegs even as he fell backward, slamming against the jagged rock of a man-size stone. He stared upward, fire coursing through his lungs, and realized his mistake.

The Mongols were too clever by half, more than anyone anticipated. They didn’t come here planning to win. Their goal was to reduce the numbers of their enemy, to improve the math. They spun traps and encircled individual fighters then tried to overwhelm them – the only viable way to take out a soldier of the Guard.

Michael didn’t have time to admonish himself for not seeing the net being sprung; he had no intention of going out like this. He pushed himself up, threw the Ingmar aside, and took out the sword. He extended the blade just as the enemy reached his position.