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

hours of light. In the meantime, Maya, you have survival gear in your bag?”

“Yes.”

“Then we test the river water. If it’s potable, we fill up. We can’t predict where our journey will take us.”

“Just for once,” Michael said, “I wouldn’t mind predictable.”

44

T HE DR29 SWEEP EXHAUSTED Michael. Unfiltered sensor gradients delivered data in huge packages, often in the form of biometric and climatological readings exceeding Michael’s ability to grasp. He needed every breadcrumb which might point to Salvation’s footprint, and breadcrumbs were what he received. The sweep ground-pounded every square foot of surface and up to a thousand feet in the atmosphere, pushing outward to a ten-kilometer range. Great for a scientific team mapping an uncharted world; not so much for a guy whose patience was almost shot.

The AI produced beautiful graphics, creating a far more immersive experience than virtual reality. Indeed, he saw the land far away at three hundred sixty degrees, like a whirling dervish running a marathon. Yet Michael mumbled to himself and frequently cursed at the AI to clarify its readings. He didn’t expect the great fortune of stumbling upon a human (immortal or otherwise) in short order, but if anyone ever walked this terrain or flew a vehicle using Carbedyne nacelles, he might establish a pattern which could be tracked.

When Michael interpreted the biometric data, he saw a familiar trend: The clusters of varied ecosystems were primitive in their construct, arising in the past few months or years. Yet the trees were often big enough to have existed for generations. The AI did not reconcile this contradiction, no matter how often Michael demanded an explanation. At one point, he sat alongside what Aldo called the Bengalese River and asked the sweep to track the river’s flow. Soon, he found the source: A tiny lake eight kilometers northeast. It twisted and turned to the ruins of Messalina, where the land dipped precipitously. Two miles on, a series of small waterfalls flowed into another lake, this one snaking through a high forest of cedars, poplars, and birches. It narrowed again at the edge of the range.

He began to understand Aldo’s initial reluctance to believe they landed on Hiebimini. This world bore no resemblance to the old one. It was pristine, like a freshly planted garden in springtime.

Eden without that damn apple tree.

A prospect which, Michael decided, was too good to be true. He agreed with the others: This went beyond human science. But if they were dealing with God in another form, would the end of this story turn out any better than the original?

He took a break, retracting his helmet while the sensors continued their work. He looked down the river’s edge and saw Maya and Aldo taste-test wild berries growing on vines amid the rocks. Where would they go next if Michael found nothing usable in the initial sweep? Dare he chart a course, knowing full well they might be headed away from their target? For all the remarkable tech embedded inside the DR29, the trio had few advantages over the first explorers charting early America’s western frontier:

They were alone. Life beyond the horizon was a mystery. They were hundreds, maybe thousands of miles from civilization.

He thought back to Ericsson Station. His fellow spec-ops wiped out by an enemy in black and bronze. Percy Muldoon trying to hold them off until his final breath. Soldiers of the Guard willing to kill everyone on the Admiralty’s orders.

All gone, but to what end?

“Why us?” He muttered. “This ain’t luck. It can’t be random.”

He remembered Maya’s words when she gave him new hope of finding Sam. “Some paths are unshakeable,” she said. “The smallest of choices form a greater math than we can understand. Call it the algorithm of life. Whatever else happens, this must be the future.”

“If it must be,” he said, “then we’re meant to find the way.”

These words were treading dangerously close to the message he was taught in church from an early age: ‘God has a plan for you.’ Michael never saw such evidence growing up, and lately he doubted God existed – in this universe or any other. But if there is a path …

A nearby splash broke Michael from his reverie.

He expected to see Maya or Aldo, but the uniformed soldier wore the same colors and body armor as Michael. His face was distorted by rage and grief, bent on revenge.

Lt. Kal Carver leveled his blast rifle and fired a volley of flash pegs. Michael reached for his weapon but was too slow. Just like the first time, his armor took the initial impact.

He blinked again, and Carver disappeared.

“What?”

A blast of searing pain radiated above his left eye. Michael cursed and tried to shake it off. He caught Maya and Aldo staring, having noticed his distress. A couple of deep breaths later, he felt fine and offered a thumbs-up.

“Clear your mind, Cooper. Focus on what’s ahead.”

He threw open a holocube and sorted through the data package looking for clues to Salvation’s footprint. He found a curious set of numbers emanating from a location 7.4 kilometers east-southeast. The AI clarified these as potential airborne radiation signatures, but they were microscopic and scattered indiscriminately. He ordered the AI to investigate further. Look for them on land. Dig as far down beneath the surface as possible.

Radiation? From what?

Michael saw human movement beyond his cube and swiped it away.

Kal Carver took aim from the far side of the river, again unloading his blast rifle. This time, Michael responded before the flash pegs reached him. Strangely, he had more time. The projectiles, twinkling as they advanced, slowed as they neared Michael’s side of the river.

So did the river. Then it dissolved.

The flash pegs advanced, but now he faced them with nowhere to retreat: Ericsson Station, the corridor outside the Anchor lab.