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

the cube and tapped off his amp. He was glad to be home.

The aroma coming from the kitchen took him back to another world. The spices, the shrimp, the fish. Gumbo? In the Collectorate?

He found her stirring a pot while the recipe drifted overhead. He came home to a similar tableau every evening, a love she found during her recuperation. When she saw him, Samantha froze the recipe holocube and set her stirring spoon aside.

“You change the lighting in here or something?” He asked.

“No, but you ask every day.”

“Well, seems you’re more beautiful every time I come home. How about I slide on over and get some loving?”

They wrapped tight and disappeared into the usual pre-meal of lips, tongue, and the desire to put dinner on the backburner in favor of a jaunt in bed. They only had a month’s experience since Samantha received medical clearance for strenuous physical activity. Each day they found new strategies and new positions.

Samantha proposed more adventurous techniques, insisting her body could handle them, but Michael recalled how fragile she was those first weeks. How the assassin’s laser pulse sliced her spinal cord and ripped open her stomach. How, after Chancellor technology rebuilt her and set her to walking in two weeks, he feared a fatal setback at a moment’s notice. How they argued on the thirtieth day of her recovery until she laid down an ultimatum: Move forward or out.

“She’s a hell of a woman,” he told Rikard when asked how Samantha was recuperating. “She’s growing into the Chancellor these lunatics need. They’re gonna be coming to her for lessons one day. You watch. She’ll show ’em what’s for.”

He told her about Rikard’s movement. She had no problem with it, even said the time for change was coming.

They kissed to the bouquet of gumbo until a timer went off.

“Hold the thought,” she said, reaching behind the pot.

This was ancient-world cooking in Chancellor terms, but Samantha wanted it no other way. Most Chancellors relied on Solomons and automation to make their meals.

“Your beard is filling out nice,” she told him.

He rubbed along the jaw line. “Yeah, I like it. Then again, it was your idea. So, how did things go with the presidium today?”

She rolled her eyes. “Better than the first meeting. I tell you, sweetie, those people are in a state. They’re looking over their shoulders thinking other presidiums are moving against us. They want me to sprout fresh ideas because I’m their little miracle gal.”

“Look, those jerks probably been carrying on the same way for generations. They can’t get out of their own damn box. I can’t blame them. There’s two or three assassinations every week. The shit going on with some of them families is nasty. I heard a rumor today about a hit job and reprisal on an Ark Carrier.”

She stirred the gumbo. “I heard it, too. The Catalan system. If this spreads through the carriers, where will it end?”

“Yep. They’ll eat each other alive, and the future won’t matter.”

“I think it will come down to the Guard. Eventually, they’ll make a move. Some already want soldiers in the cities. There hasn’t been a combat deployment on Earth for eight hundred years.”

Michael tapped into his first-Earth education.

   “I recall a time when a bunch of redcoats walked the streets, and things didn’t go so hot for them. But I think we’ll be OK this time. The new weapons law seems to be working out. Still can’t believe they gave access to Solomons.” He tugged at his side-arm.

She sighed. “Nearabout every Solomon is somebody’s part-time bodyguard. Chancellors who didn’t serve in the UG want others to kill for them, and there aren’t enough mercs to go around.”

“The Chancellors are fools. When this civil war ends, they’re gonna revoke the weapons law. They’re gonna want these back. Not happening.”

She focused on the gumbo. “Is that what Rikard says?”

“Him, me, others. Chancellors, too. You’ve heard it.”

“Yes, Michael, I’ve heard it.” Her tone deepened. Whenever she transitioned from ‘sweetie’ to ‘Michael,’ the conversation headed south. “Revolution is not a given. If the Solomons are smart, they’ll use leverage to strike a compromise. I think the Chancellory would allow property ownership to avoid all-out war.”

“Maybe. But can you see these people giving away their domination of Earth without a blood fight?”

“Michael, please. Just stop. OK? You’re passionate, but … everything was so beautiful a few minutes ago. Every time we talk about these issues …”

He hugged her. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know how to bring down a room. Let’s just eat dinner and have a quiet evening.”

She thanked him with a kiss, but he felt her tension as she pulled away. He assumed her meeting with the Americus Presidium did not go well. This was only her second attendance. He didn’t ask about the agenda the first time, and he wasn’t now. Solomon knowledge of presidium business was illegal under the Solomon Economic and Ethics Treaty. They decided weeks ago to protect themselves by not discussing details – the only part of their lives off the table.

Instead, Michael backed off and watched her find peace as she perfected her gumbo. He’d never seen her this beautiful. Taller by an inch, hair close-cropped for presidium appearances, a flowered sari in gold and lavender. A woman of sixteen. Assured, confident. Everything her parents wanted shy of a peacekeeper rank.

Dinner on the oceanfront balcony was perfect. The gumbo wasn’t what he remembered from trips to Louisiana, but it was close enough. She chose the perfect wine. Then again, she bought only the best wines. She burned through credits faster than he thought wise. When she bought out the other owner of their property share plus the pieces of land on either side, he worried – until she showed him the financials. She could spend this way for