The Impossible Future: Complete set Frank Kennedy (freenovel24 .TXT) 📖

He just reached down and healed her. Jamie, he was like a damn savior sent from God. Whatever he put in us, whatever that special juice, I reckon it kept us going this time, too.”

Patricia leaned back, appearing more frightened than impressed.

“Look, Michael, about him …”

“He can fix Sammie. He went to SkyTower. We need to bring him down here. I’m telling you, he’s got the power of life in him.”

“And death. No. I’m sorry. It’s too late anyway. Michael, we …”

A heavily-armed man raced into the room and pulled Patricia back. He did not whisper.

“Five minutes, Chief. We go or we’re stuck. It’s insane out there.”

“Thanks, Cam. Tell the doctors we’re ready for the stasis mods.”

Michael’s chest still blazed, but his impatience hurt more.

“What is going on out there?”

“Nobody is certain how it happened. There are rumors. But Earth will never be the same again.”

Two doctors raced into the room and launched a pair of flat stretchers. They tapped their amps and tossed out cubes, which they reshaped into translucent cylinders. As the first one hovered over their heads, the doctors raised and leveled Sammie’s bed. They dropped the stasis mod over her and refashioned it until the mod encased her like a cocoon.

A vicious whistle outside turned into an explosion that rocked the facility. The doctors and Patricia lost their footing. Michael rocked about under the yellow/green monitors. Patricia cursed then regained her composure. She raced to Michael’s side.

“Do you remember when we were walking to Rikard’s shuttle, after what happened at the fold? Remember what you asked me?”

Michael couldn’t unpack that segment of his memory, although he remembered the journey – mostly for how it ended, with energy slews from the night sky. He shook his head.

She obliged. “You asked me if I thought you would die if you stayed on Earth. I said yes. I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t know you as I do now. You will not die here. Not on my watch. And neither will she. We will get you out of the city, and you will heal. Might take some time, but as I said before, everything has changed.

“I have to go. I’m going to prep the uplift. You’ll be asleep in the stasis mod. I’ll see you again. Soon.”

She dashed away as the doctors turned their attention to Michael. He didn’t have a chance to thank her, but he had a hundred other questions, one leading into the next.

Just before the mod wrapped around him, Michael took one more look at Sammie. He made a promise.

Three words.

That’s all he planned to say when she woke.

52

Bouchet compound

Three hours earlier

 

O PHELIA TOMELIN DID NOT LIKE THE TONE of these voices. She gave up too much, made too many compromises, to see the deal change at the last minute. She despised everyone in the room – Emil and Frances Bouchet, Sexton Marshall, and the toads from the Marks Presidium. You made this deal because you had to, she reasoned. You breathed their oxygen because you had to.

Five minutes after the meal ended, the banter became more contentious, the conspiratorial whispers more insidious. She felt whatever morsels of leverage she held to be slipping away.

“No,” she told Emil. “I never agreed to this delay. You promised me a system-class transport with enough capacity for a crew of thirty. You own a fleet, Emil. Why are you backing down?”

“Calm yourself, Ophelia.” He sipped wine. “Your theatrics have not grown endearing with age. A smaller ship is docked at Hinton Station pending instructions. I will send the details to your steam stack with an adjusted timetable.”

“Why the delay, Emil?”

“The Marks Presidium has legitimate concerns. You plan to take my son and the Ukrainian off-world to rendezvous with the other hybrids then establish a base for their training and procreation.”

They incensed her. “You call it training. I call it education. They are starting new lives. They need cultural and social adaptation skills. We agreed to this months ago.”

“We did,” Maj. Marshall intervened. “Emil, if I may? Dr. Tomelin, agreements related to the hybrids were reasonable. But conditions on the ground changed. We did not foresee the deaths of so many observers. Then there is the flawed hybrid programming.”

The Marks Presidium nodded in unison, and she saw Emil and Frances share a suspicious glance.

“You call it flawed, Major. Yes, James and Rayna are non-compliant, and they are head-strong. They are angry for what they have experienced. We need …”

“They are nuclear weapons, Ophelia. Or worse.”

“As are the other hybrids. You don’t like losing control.”

“Over weapons of untold power? Absolutely not, Ophelia. I do not need Berserkers who think for themselves.”

“They can be re-educated.” She turned to Emil. “As long as they don’t consider us the enemy, we’ll have no issues. Once we receive the final reports about the other eight, we can adjust our plans.”

She caught Emil’s sly grin, an unusual giveaway from the most stoic man she knew. Frances and the Major followed suit.

“I should have known. You already have the report. When?”

Emil sighed. “Yesterday morning.”

“And why wasn’t I told?”

“Because,” the Major said, “you would have wanted details. We feared you might introduce a new variable.”

“What truth, Sexton?”

“The other eight are in our custody, some are already en route to the rendezvous site, and all are compliant. Perfect programming.”

Her heart sank. She saw their treacherous minds at work. As long as the math worked for them, they were happy.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” she lied. “All I’ve ever wanted was to educate the hybrids and give them the best possible future.”

“Which is why we kept you close.” Frances spoke up. “Your devotion has been impressive. Now is the time for practicality. We have eight compliant hybrids. Four