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

his beard. “You’re insubordinate, Michael, but you’re not crazy. On the contrary, you wouldn’t be more right if you knew what you were talking about.”

26

T ELL ME. PLEASE. What am I missing?”

Cabrise let go of the guardrail and stepped away. He reared back and studied the height of the Void, where lightshows danced in neon waves.

“I think you already know the answer,” the Commandant said. “But you lack the courage to face it. Truth is a painful whore.” He twisted his body to follow the patterns across the breadth of the crevasse. “Some scientists believe the Void explains the entire nature of the universe. They just need to crack its code. Hmmph. They’ll never pull it off. Why? Because they’re afraid.”

“Of what?”

“The answers. More to the point, what they do with themselves after they learn those answers. Imagine that? Take the biggest mystery off the board, and everything else becomes anti-climactic. Yes?”

“I’m not like them, Commandant. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“That would be your first mistake, Michael. And please, since I have apparently agreed to play my part in this subterfuge, let’s address each other as men, not soldiers. Yes? My name is Aldo.”

Michael pulled from the pipe. “Thank you, Aldo. Please, tell me what you know.”

“If by ‘know’ you mean ‘with certainty’,” he said, using air quotes, “I must disappoint. But I have half a century of service to draw upon, so I can speculate with considerable reliability. Michael, how much do you know about the Admiralty?”

“Not much. A few names and faces. Why?”

“The hierarchy was established centuries ago. Eleven Admirals to form the GPM Central Staff. Eight Step Admirals, two Rear, and a Supreme. In the old days, they delivered a unified vision to the Fleet Admirals – men and women like me. Strength, solidarity, adherence to the vision of Elevation Philosophy. The Great Plains Metroplex was hallowed ground to a soldier.” He sighed. “The Fall of Hiebimini changed it all.”

“How?”

“Solidarity took a back seat to paranoia and individual ambition. Those who decided the end was a foregone conclusion worked to enrich themselves and their descendancies. Commanders like me became an inconvenience. I was their scapegoat for what happened on Hiebimini. Michael, I believe you know of such Admirals. Yes?”

Michael realized Aldo was right. “Perrone.”

Aldo frowned. “Augustus Perrone. Disgrace to the uniform. The SkyTower inquest dragged all his nasty deeds out of the shadows. What you don’t know is how close it came to cracking open all the sordid machinations inside the GPM. A consortium of hardliners pushed back against the Sanctums to shut down the inquest. Publicly, they blamed Perrone and Maj. Sexton Marshall for everything. Balance the slate with two civilians – the Bouchets – and you have a clean resolution. Four villains. All dead. In the meantime, the shenanigans resumed, but with civilians pulling the strings.”

Michael knew this part well. Supreme Admiral Bastian Grandover ordered Guard troops back to Earth to wipe out Solomon insurgents, all the while following the dictates of a lunatic, Celia Marsche.

“If Rear Admiral Poussard hadn’t intervened, I’d be dead.”

“You mean if she hadn’t relieved Grandover of his position. Internal coups never happened before Hiebimini. They weren’t necessary. Solidarity guaranteed stability and demanded honor. None of those exist today. Not in this Guard. And not, I assure you, in Supreme Admiral Angela Poussard.”

“I don’t follow. She supported my efforts to help fund this mission. Col. Doltrice told me when I started training that I’d never earn the uniform unless it was approved at the highest level. I assumed he meant Poussard.”

“Yes. She granted special exemption. At the time, you held favored status. You were close to the Solomon leadership, which meant you were off-limits. None of them thought you’d actually earn the uniform. Forsythe, Doltrice, Nilsson. But when you did, you became a convenient tool, an extra gun to defend this station. Worse yet, all those kills made you a local legend.”

“Worse? What do you mean?”

“A tool is convenient until it’s not. Michael, you must have heard the chatter. You’re the prototype for the new Guard. Skilled, dynamic, cold-blooded – and not a Chancellor.”

“I’m not here to be a prototype. I’m here to rescue the woman I love. It’s all that matters to me.”

Aldo clasped his hands over his chest as if declaring victory.

“Which brings us to the beginning and, dare I speculate, the end.”

“Meaning what?”

“Three days ago, you learned Poussard might strip Samantha Pynn of her status as prisoner of war. Yes? If in fact she does this – and I would be stunned if she did not – she will reclassify Samantha as an enemy collaborator. She’ll do this not because she believes it to be true; she’ll do it out of fear. A fear that if she doesn’t, one of her Rear Admirals will claim her chair and bring ruin to her descendancy.

“This is how they operate, Michael. Once Samantha is discarded, they will ask, ‘Why are we protecting Michael Cooper? He offers no strategic value. He’ll serve no purpose joining the invasion. His very presence leaves a stain on the long, proud tradition of the Guard. He asks too many questions. He assassinated Chancellors.’”

Michael stowed his pipe as the truth rammed him in the gut. Aldo put the finishing touches on his deductions.

“Earlier, you asked, ‘What am I missing?’ It’s simple.” Aldo pointed a finger between Michael’s eyes. “You are what’s missing. They’re going to take it all away from you. Hiebimini. The uniform. And, if you resist, maybe your life. They almost did the same to me years ago, but I had leverage. You have none.”

Michael said the words, “No. They won’t go that far,” but didn’t believe them. He was foolish to think anything had changed. Chancellors. Motherfucking Chancellors.

“Michael, you and your friends have been nothing but trouble since