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

a pile of dead Mongols: Alayna Rainier is a savage. This woman goes places I never heard of, and I broke the laws of physics during my first tour. Bring Col. Broadman to the party, and the four of us will put on the greatest show in the fucking Collectorate. Get my speed, Cooper?”

The door slipped shut. “Maybe another day, if there’s still time.”

“Good point. You sharing the jube?”

“We never had that promised drink after the Anchor test.”

They exited the lift at Level 2 into a narrow passage, facing a pair of women out of Percy’s league. The two soldiers laughed about it all the way to the Commons, where six of the nine tables were empty. Percy retrieved a pair of glasses from the dispensary, and Michael chose a corner table farthest from curious ears.

Michael twisted the lid off as Percy made himself comfortable and removed a pipe from a chest pouch. He tapped the end twice and inhaled a batch of poltash.

“I never smoked until I met you, Cooper. This weed grows on a man after a while.” Michael poured him a shot of jubriska, which Percy tossed back as the smoke streamed out his nostrils. He handed the pipe to Michael, who pulled a long puff.

“Good stuff. I’m gonna pour another, but slow down this time.” Michael topped both glasses and set aside the bottle. He raised the glass and waited for Percy. “To the Anchors,” he said. “To saving Sam and ending those fucking terrorists.”

“Hoo-yah,” Percy shouted. “Victory is morality.”

Michael’s stomach twisted into a knot. “You know, it’s crazy, Muldoon. I always used to hate that slogan.”

“Why?”

“Well, it gives you a free pass to do whatever the hell you want so long as you win.”

“True enough. What changed your mind?”

“For one, I joined the Guard. Nobody in this outfit plays for anything but total victory.” He threw back another shot. “Second, I remembered something I was taught in school on first Earth. ‘History is written by the victors.’ That’s why there ain’t a whole helluva lot of history written by people like me.”

Percy leaned forward, nodding with a surge of intellectual curiosity he was not known for.

“This first Earth … you rarely talk about it. Must have been awful.”

“Not always, but I put it behind me. I’m a different man now, especially since I joined the Guard.”

“As a soldier, yes. As a killer, yes. But still …” Percy drew an imaginary circle around Michael’s face. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, Cooper, know this. There are four planets filled with proto-Africans. Not everyone as black, but close. They’ve been writing their own history for a thousand years. They’re victors.”

Michael knew the names: Zwahili Kingdom, Mauritania, Boer, and Moroccan Prime. He studied what he could, although the Chancellory historical database in Tiers II and III offered only cursory overviews.

“Were they really the victors?” He asked Percy. “All those centuries, the Ark Carriers were hovering in orbit. Whenever wars or other conflicts needed to be put down, the peacekeepers rained from the sky and snuffed out the problem. The laws went through Chancellor Sanctums. Do the indigos sound like victors to you?”

Percy’s eyes searched for a response. Michael saw the confusion.

“It’s OK, Muldoon. Seriously. Nothing ruins the mood like talking politics. Look. You’ve been good to me from day one. I know how everybody else feels about having a PA in the squad.”

“I’ll admit, Cooper, it wasn’t easy. Couple of us did tours over the PA worlds. The rest, like me, heard all kinds of stories. The first time I saw your black face in that uniform, I felt sick to my stomach. The Admiralty said I was supposed to be your brother? Cud.” He took a drink and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial level.

“But don’t go telling anybody I said this. You’re the only interesting cudfrucker in the whole team. The rest of these assholes, they’re like every Chancellor I grew up with that wanted to be in the Guard. They killed at kwin-sho, they spout Elevation Philosophy like a fucking religion, and they want to slaughter as many different indigos as they can before their tour’s up. They see what’s happening to the Chancellory but they’re in denial.”

Michael dared to hope. He grabbed hold of the moment.

“There’s a term for it, Muldoon. ‘Spouting the party line.’ I get suspicious when a Chancellor doesn’t.”

“Dude. Why do you think I’m whispering?”

Michael laughed without thinking. “Damn. You called me dude.”

“Got it from you, Cooper. Like a lot of words and ideas I never heard before.” He leaned back and inhaled poltash. “Guess our stay in this fine little hellhole is coming to an end soon. Thought about what you’ll do after it’s all over?”

“What do you mean?”

“After we leave here and take Hiebimini. Think you might stay with spec-ops, or transfer to another duty? You’re a fine soldier.”

Michael chose his words with care. “Assuming I’m still alive? Frankly, Muldoon, I don’t have a clue. You know why I’m here.”

“Sure. Rescue your woman.”

“She ain’t my woman. She’s the love of my life. I can’t think past her. Get my speed?”

“More or less.”

“Besides,” Michael said, teeing up a line he knew would draw a laugh, “you think a dude like me could have a career in the Guard?”

Percy tried to hold it in, but the smirk was proof positive.

“When you put it that way … yeah, right. If you were assigned to a Carrier battalion, they’d space your black ass inside a week.”

“What? You think I’d last that long?”

“Carriers are huge. Lots of hiding places.”

“Good to know. So, as you might imagine, my options are limited.” Michael poured another round. “I’m curious, Muldoon. You ever been in love? I’m talking true love, not what you feel after a good