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

“What if I weren’t asking as a soldier of the Guard?”

“Then I would ask why you’re wearing the uniform of one. At any rate, I wouldn’t share military secrets with civilians. The Presidium reps are here to oversee funding and management of this project, not to play a role in military strategy. As I told you last time, Third Lieutenant, your job is to kill the enemy until the station no longer needs defending. Next time pursue the proper channels. I have to go.”

The gentler, sympathetic features that drew Michael to Forsythe from his first day aboard Praxis seemed to have disappeared. Forsythe did not raise his voice, nor did he sound antagonistic. It was more a feeling Michael couldn’t pinpoint. The paranoid voice whispering in his ear said Forsythe looked like a man who was being closely monitored, perhaps even from just off-screen.

Michael put aside that looney notion and arranged to meet Maya in the Commons for a meal. The atmosphere among the diners was lively; those who weren’t present at the Anchor test surely heard the results. Were they counting the days until they might leave this mountain?

Maya brought her kiosk mélange of vegetables and synthesized meat to their table and sighed before taking a bite.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Beg pardon? Looks to me, all is right with the world.”

“Michael, we haven’t shared a meal in weeks. And you weren’t exactly celebrating this morning.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Food looks like shit, but that’s OK. Take a few bites. I’ll do the same. Just a couple of old friends breaking bread.”

She followed suit and then nodded across the room.

“There’s three of your team huddled in the corner in a cloud of smoke. They’re sharing a bottle of something red. You sure you wouldn’t rather be with them?”

He saw Kal Carver, Elizabeth George, and Matthew Learner of spec-ops when he entered and spent every second hoping not to be invited into their group. He didn’t need the distraction now.

“The red liquor is Hansen rum,” he said. “Ever tried it?”

“No. I heard the horror stories, Michael. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Sure. But again, just treat whatever I say real casual. OK?”

“How’s this?” She faked a tinny laugh, as if responding to one of his better jokes.

“Awful. You want to draw attention, keep doing that. At any rate, I’ve been asking questions, and the answers ain’t exactly …”

“What you want to hear?”

“Or they just ain’t answers. I got the brush off from Forsythe, and I felt like Oliver Huron was trying to tell me something without spilling the hooch.”

She laughed. This time, no fakery.

“What’s a hooch?”

“Who cares? What do you hear from Aldo Cabrise?”

“Since the test? Nothing out of the ordinary. We had a meeting to review duty assignments. He seems upbeat. Why?”

“Has he said anything about shutdown plans? Evacuation?”

“Nothing specific. But I know Frances Bouchet will give the word when the work here has finished.”

Michael dug into a dish combining brown rice with corn and a stringy legume native to Tamarind.

“Let’s put it this way: Does Cabrise tell you everything that comes down the pike?”

“Of course not. I’m his aide, not his advisor.”

“So, in theory, he might know what the Admiralty has in mind. He commanded two fleets. He must have connections in the GPM.”

“Connections, yes. Friends, no. Or so he tells me. Michael, if you want to talk to the man, you know where his office is.”

He dipped a spoon into a mango tart with a mushy crust.

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking that’s too public. I can’t afford to get in trouble with Nilsson. He’s my commanding officer. Look, I had this kooky idea. What if Cabrise accidentally ran into me someplace where nobody would be looking?”

She pushed her dish away. “And you want me to set it up.”

“Yes, please. You know where.”

“This is a gamble, Michael.”

“It’s like you told me the other day. Some paths are unshakeable. Nobody is coming between me and Sam.”

Michael loved trapping people with their own words. She agreed to his request and vowed to stream him the time. Yet his stream amp remained silent for more than a day. When the message finally arrived, he had little time to scurry into position.

He arrived at the Void viewing platform, which was predictably empty. Over the past day, he heard relief and excitement about the project nearing its climax, but also a repeating theme: Everyone not on the scientific team was eager to leave the Void behind. It might have helped them make history, but they considered this arguably the most dangerous location in the Collectorate.

Michael wore a minimal version of his Guard attire: Only the Ingmar; no blast rifle, no Lin’taava sword. He leaned against the far end of the barricade, a casual demeanor, smoking his pipe. He blew rings as he waited. Ten minutes later, he heard footsteps, which he dutifully ignored until prompted otherwise.

Aldo Cabrise, the longest serving member of the Guard, seemed put off at first. He pivoted this way and that, double-tapped his amp, and gripped the guardrail as he amped in a message to Maya. He lowered his voice, but still within Michael’s earshot.

“She’s not present, my dear, and if what she has to say is vital to operations, Ms. Rainer knows where I live. Please acknowledge and respond, Maya.” Seconds later, he tapped again and added, “I do not appreciate subterfuge or misdirection. If she is not here in two minutes, I am revoking your creds for the next week. Yes?”

Michael pulled hard on the pipe and filled his lungs. After a moment of the sweet embrace, he blew out a forceful smoke stream, aimed for the Void. The strange gravitational fluctuation altered its course, as the stream held its form but drifted upward until finally impacting the energy epidermis.