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

Within seconds, cheers erupted from Praxis followed by confirmation inside the station. The Major completed another stop elsewhere on Euphrates and then emerged “home” as promised. He walked out the far end of Anchor Alpha.

The observers exploded in cheers and applause. Michael wanted to be deliriously happy. He was a crucial step closer to Sam. Yet it was just a step. Too many questions flooded his mind – practical questions no one here had yet to address. Moreover, he hated to see Frances Bouchet revel in the moment. This woman deserved death, not praise. She cupped her hands together and smiled with disarming nonchalance along with her team.

They did it, Michael thought. The shittiest humans ever made can travel anywhere in the blink of an eye. What the fuck can go wrong?

24

M AJOR NILSSON COMPLETED A nonstop, quadrangular circuit in twenty seconds. He covered 2.8 light-years round trip in less time than Michael would have taken to say his wedding vows, if given the chance. Amid the congratulatory handshakes and speeches, Michael’s mind ran amuck.

He understood at once what the strategy would be for an assault on Hiebimini: Jump in on top of the targets with an armada, destroy everything on the ground before Salvation (or Sam) even thinks about running for cover. If they could calculate targets with this precision from light-years away, the word invincible would become an understatement. He recalled Capt. Forsythe’s warning about Sam: The Supreme Admiral would not consider her a prisoner of war. She’d be on her own during an invasion.

Maya sauntered to his side. “That went well. Are you pleased?”

He tried to force a smile. “Not the word I’d use.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I mean, this is what I wanted, and yeah, the damn thing works. But I don’t feel like I expected. Something’s off, Maya. It’s like a good magic trick. The illusion is a hell of a thing to behold so long as the magician never gives up his secrets.”

“You believe this to be an illusion?”

“The jump itself? No. In fact, now that I think about it, maybe this whole damn thing went too well.”

“Meaning?”

“This was supposed to be the first live test transporting a human between Anchors. Shit. This went off without a hitch. Too damn easy.”

“Michael, are you being paranoid again?”

“Yes and no.” He pointed across the lab to the scientific team. “Look at those folks. Shaking hands, smiling, making nice. But they’re acting like it’s all routine. Maya, they should be whooping and hollering more than anybody in here. They built the damn thing. And what about Frances? I never saw her so much as clap.”

She shrugged. “Some people choose to maintain a certain sense of decorum, even in their moments of greatest triumph.”

“Or they’re cold fish. Or they got something to hide. Back on first Earth, our spaceships were run from a place called Mission Control. I remember a video of how those folks reacted when America landed on the moon for the first time. A roomful of pencil-neck geeks all dressed the same, jumping, cheering, hugging each other like little boys that just won the biggest damn game of their lives.” He pointed again at the science team. “These people right here, I’d lay you a hundred credits they knew this would work because they’ve done it before.”

She grabbed his hand in the same comforting vein that refocused him after a drunken tirade two days ago.

“Even if you’re right, Michael, don’t assume you’ve landed on a Chancellor conspiracy. Frances might have insisted they verify it works before putting everything on the line today. Remember, she has a great deal riding on this.”

“Yeah. Her fucking life.”

“Strong incentive. Yes?”

Michael took a deep breath and committed to a new tack.

“Excuse me, Maya. I need answers, and people are chatty when they’re flying high.”

He ignored Maya’s objections and maneuvered through the celebrants until he reached a cluster including Frances Bouchet, half her science team, and Maj. Nilsson. He smiled and waited patiently as Oliver Huron explained certain technical nuances he intended to embed in the tracking system. By and large, no one paid Michael any mind as Oliver held court. Michael glanced over at Nilsson, who seemed unaffected by the experience. Just before their eyes contacted, Michael noticed a subtle change. Something missing.

“Third Lt. Cooper,” Nilsson said, “you must be ecstatic.”

“Yes, sir,” he said with a side-nod salute. “Excuse my language, sir, but it definitely qualified as a what-the-fuck moment.” As small chuckles arose, Michael refused to miss a beat. “I was noticing, sir. You entered the Anchor with a cube of some kind. I didn’t see you return with it.”

Nilsson raised a brow and shared his surprise with Frances.

“Like a true soldier, 3-L-T Cooper has an eye for detail. Yes?” He pivoted back to Michael. “The cube recorded black matter emissions during transit.”

“Makes sense. What happened to it?”

“I left it with Emil Bouchet on Euphrates. The data holds greater consequence on his end.”

“And what’s your husband doing out there?” He asked Frances.

“Your 3-L-T has a penchant for questions, Major.”

“He does.”

“For the record, Michael, my husband’s operation supplements our own, and his responsibilities are compartmentalized. That’s a rather long word. I trust you know its definition?”

Michael smiled along with the others. “Oh, sure. My mama taught me that when I was five. I was reading picture books by then.”

He never saw Frances look as smug, which meant she was queuing up her greatest hits of proto-African bon mots. He refused to give her a chance.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you people, all right?” He pointed to the Anchor. “This thing here is awesome. You people are gonna be like gods when the historical streams are posted. Get my speed? Yeah, so, there’s a couple of nagging bits I figured