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

“Hold on,” Valentin said. “Here it comes.”

The concussion shook the Passaic Dawn. Command deck controls flickered for a few seconds then stabilized along with the ship.

The storm expanded. Small ships in the tower’s “temperate travel zone” – shuttles, uplifts and cargo transports – burned and fell toward the Earth like lit matches.

Horrified but unable to shy away, Ophelia looked far north and south to realize what the Berserkers wrought. The blazing nuclear crevasse arrived at either horizon, racing to intersect the multiplying eastern devastation.

The hybrids took a slice out of SkyTower in seconds. Even her worst nightmares never went this far, never dared to imagine monsters of such scale. She was trying to fool herself again.

We should have killed them.

“Horrible,” Valentin said. “Beautiful. Necessary. Remember this, Ophelia. You were here when the future began.”

She expected to see madness in his eyes, but Valentin instead looked to be in love. She saw no disquiet in his soul as he fingered the controls and set a new course.

“We have to be quick. The fires are dying but the tower might come down anytime now.”

“Wait, what? We’re going in?”

He smiled. “James and Rayna are waiting.”

“No. How could they have survived? I thought …”

Valentin opened his DR29 and tossed it into the navigation cylinder. Ophelia studied the schematics. Nine levels of SkyTower were wiped away, save for the outer girders. Two levels above the base of the devastation, a pair of red blips activated.

“We’ll do great things,” Valentin told her. “All three of us. I’m sure we could use your help. What do you say, Ophelia?”

As the Passaic Dawn accelerated, Ophelia buried her face in her hands and cried.

62 

A S THE WORLD ENDED AROUND HIM, James wrapped Rayna in a loving, protective embrace. They calmed the storm within as it raged outward, spreading feverish destruction in every direction. Unlike the first time he unleashed the Jewel’s intensity on Earth, James directed the nuclear torrent to open its blossoms to the western and north quadrants of his family’s compound, while Rayna consumed the southern and eastern zones.

He saw humans atomized in a blink then the wealth and trappings of god-wannabes turned to ash and hurled out among the clouds, left to fall as gray showers upon the surface. He heard the Transport Core shatter and implode, the furious flames spiraling for miles up the series of great lifts connecting Earth to low orbit. The lifts exploded, crackled, and fell, an arsenal of fiery debris tumbling down shaft.

The inner rosette of weight-bearing supports melted away, caught in the storm’s heart. The outer girders resisted, their job to hold up this monstrosity for an eternity. But James heard the cracking, felt the buckling. Eternity had an expiration date.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the murky yellow reflections of a western sun shining through the distant opening. Scattered fires and explosions pockmarked the sudden expanse. Sections of the base of what used to be Level 8 collapsed, creating new fires and outbreaks. The new ceiling – once the roof of Level 16 – glowed as orange streaks expanded. It was cracking and would fall in minutes.

He floated with Rayna, their gravity-modifier boots lowering them at a gentle pace. They wrecked their bodysuits, the fabric torn and in places burnt. They tapped off their helmets, which were blackened and bent. James was exhausted, and Rayna appeared spent. A red glow appeared in the corners of her eyes, a reflection of his own.

He kissed her.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her. “How does it feel to be born?”

“Is very hard work. We are good now? All the others … they are behind us?”

“Yes. They deserved this. They will never try to hurt us again. I promise.” The kiss was stronger this time. “How many children should we have?”

Rayna thought for a moment. “Will they be gods like us?”

“Even better.”

James intended to keep his promise. The work of making a new family would begin today.

63

Four months later

Pacific Riviera

Pynn Outpost

M ICHAEL COOPER BROUGHT THE UPLIFT to its softest landing yet. He was getting the hang of it. One more week until he achieved full licensure in short-range navigation. More important, he’d open a revenue stream. The coastal outposts were a growth industry for Solomons. The data was clear: Chancellors were fleeing the cities, looking for refuge with distance between property lines.

“Take advantage,” Rikard told him instream. “You’re building a future. We’ll need people everywhere after the war dies down.”

Rikard admitted to being jealous. He and Matthias wanted a place on the west coast after losing everything in New Stockholm, but those dreams had to wait. Matthias’s business took a hit after the disaster; Chancellors weren’t as interested in his bio-art. Rikard struggled when his name was linked to Ophelia Tomelin.

“Once the opportunities pick up,” Rikard told him, “maybe I’ll drop in, and we’ll talk about a partnership.”

Rikard always ended their streams with the sideways thumb. He never told Michael every detail about the underground movement, but he revealed enough. Four days earlier, Michael matched Rikard’s signal for the first time. Rikard said he was pleased.

“I have a feeling, Michael. You will be one of our best.”

Michael felt it, too. The long night far behind, Michael found days of peace, purpose, and – to his amazement – acceptance. Still, he appreciated having the flash pistol on his side pouch.

Outside the uplift, he smelled the ocean. It came in on a strong breeze. Gulls cackled. A storm moved onshore two kilometers north.

He almost forgot to log his distance, so Michael tapped his amp and threw open a holocube log. He spoke into it.

“Standard day: 29. Tally: 14.77 kilometers, 5 rotations. Stack data to licensure bureau.”

When the data vanished into a vortex, he threw away