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

to Earth, you have favored status, Samantha. We have named you Official Observer to Assignment. You should feel privileged. Yes?”

She refused to dignify the moment. The red pistils in the hybrids’ eyes created the effect of a surreal nightmare, from which Sam doubted she’d awake. From the periphery, she saw Valentin, who stepped off his rifter and threw away his holocube.

James pointed her toward the stage.

I can’t, she thought. I won’t.

How could it end this way? Why would the Jewels contact her only to allow her to die?

No. Something will happen. I’ll be saved. Valentin, please.

Michael. Are you here, Michael?

*

He was.

Michael moved with quiet grace from his hiding spot, his S-1 tracking the procession into the amphitheater. He remained camouflaged as long as reasonable, but he couldn’t stay hidden.

“Michael, stand down,” Valentin ordered through clenched teeth. “This is not the moment.”

“I got this,” Michael replied. “I’ll be so quiet, they won’t notice.”

He was fifty meters from the stage when he strolled out into the open. Slow and easy, he told himself. I’ll blend in. Just another immortal soldier. A little on the big side, but who’s measuring?

The hybrids were taller and more disgusting in person. The elaborate costumes looked more appropriate for a costume ball or a Disney parade. At least Rayna dressed the way he remembered during their brief encounter three years ago.

Michael moved closer. He sensed Valentin watching him. The other soldiers in black and bronze didn’t move, but surely some saw his approach. The hybrids stepped into the bowl and separated, opening a path to the stage which Rayna commanded.

There he was. Finally. Brother James in person.

Prepare to die, motherfucker.

James stepped aside next. One more hybrid to go. One …

She wore a yellow dress as bright as the sun.

What?

Michael’s heart melted. He dropped to one knee.

 

67

F IFTEEN MINUTES AFTER SENDING Maj. Nilsson through the Anchor, Supreme Admiral Angela Poussard grew anxious. Her officers were right: They needed to move Praxis closer in order to assure the most precise data. Once she sent the coordinates and attack orders to the UGT Hummel at the jumpgate, they were committed.

“There’s always an element of risk,” she whispered, enough to get Capt. Delano Forsythe’s attention.

“Are you reconsidering, Admiral?”

“I promised Nilsson an hour’s lead time.”

“He’s a fine officer and a survivor. He understands the greater mission comes first.”

“Forsythe, I despise indecision.”

“You haven’t been in this chair for many years.”

“How much closer will be enough?”

“To be sure of it, Admiral? Another hundred thousand K.”

Poussard pivoted to her navigator.

“Col. Johansson, restore system engines and move us in. Ramp speed plus thirty percent.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

The ship’s long-range telemetry sharpened in minutes. Images of a settlement created as if from an architect’s hand stunned the bridge crew. Even lines, broad avenues, sturdy buildings with geometric repetition. On the perimeter, evidence of extensive agriculture. More detailed analysis showed a complex geography of ecosystems unfamiliar to anyone who knew only of old Hiebimini.

Poussard halted movement and ordered engines silenced after closing the gap.

“Be honest, Forsythe,” she said. “What are we seeing?”

“Scientific impossibilities. Putting the city aside, the geology has to be the product of terraforming at a level far beyond our best practices.”

“Are you familiar with the classified reports about what happened here thirty-eight years ago?”

“You refer to the claims of an event influenced by aliens.”

“Yes. The one seen by thirty million people and disregarded as an atmospheric anomaly.”

Forsythe grumbled. “I’m surprised those records and CVids weren’t destroyed. It happened before you were born, Admiral. I know one officer who was there. He believes it was the greatest coverup in our history. Are you concerned he was right?”

“You’re asking if I think we’re walking into a trap.”

Forsythe leaned in and whispered. “We’re walking into something unprecedented. That’s the only certainty. If you think this is a trap, delay the attack.”

Poussard moved deeper into that indecision she despised. Activity with the scientific officers caught her attention.

“Lt. Brevard, what have you found?”

“Uncertain, Admiral. We’ve just begun receiving metallurgical data. From this distance, we can’t verify the precise nature of certain compounds. But there’s one mineral unique to Hiebimini, and it appears to be in abundant supply in that city. Brontinium.”

The announcement stopped all bridge activity. Poussard’s jaw fell as she considered the possibilities.

“You understand what this could mean?” She asked Forsythe.

“Yes, but it’s likely to be inert. If we …”

Col. Johansson intervened. “Enemy vessel detected! Forty-two K to our starboard. It jumped out of a wormhole.”

“A patrol?”

“Likely. I’m registering an MB-class Scramjet. Holding position.”

She turned to Forsythe. “Options?”

“We have no retreat, no offensive weapons. If they haven’t seen us, they will within seconds. It’s one Scramjet. They don’t know our capabilities. Transmit the package through the Anchor. At the very least, we take out those eight towers.”

“And the settlement?”

“If they have brontinium, pure or refined, we need to know.”

“Agreed. Capt. Forsythe, transmit order package Beta. Let’s put our troops to work.”

*

Aldo Cabrise regretted his decision as soon as the Scramjet entered Slope. His stomach flipped, and he could have sworn his body separated for a nanosecond, if such a realization was possible. His navigator, a girl of seventeen with short, white hair and a tattoo on her right cheek, ignored Aldo until inside the wormhole.

She swung around within the navigation cylinder and smiled with particular disdain as Aldo tried to pick himself up off the deck.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot to tell you to buckle in. You might want to do that now. We’ll be exiting Slope in thirteen seconds. It’s just as bumpy on the way out.”

Aldo looked for the closest island of safety. He stumbled toward a still-seat but