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

When the rifter emerged above him, Michael decimated the engine with flash pegs and shielded himself as the rifter exploded. Shrapnel ricocheted around him, but Mongols fell as well. For an instant, three had Michael in their sights. He wriggled his way onto his feet and matched fire for fire, his helmet taking two direct hits. The DR29 blacked out for a second then regained composition.

A Mongol fell on top of him, blasted from behind by Muldoon. His Tuvaan brothers continued to fire, sending laser after laser into the dead man’s back, hoping the shots might pass through. As Michael threw off the corpse, he rolled to avoid more direct hits and lifted his blast rifle to finish off the enemy. He wasn’t fast enough. A Mongol jumped down, landing on the rifle and aiming his laser at Michael’s head, looking for the kill shot at the neck brace.

He never fired. He stood in awed silence as a Lin’taava sword drove into his intestines.

Michael pushed off and ran the sword through the enemy, who spewed blood as he collapsed. Michael swung around with his right arm as the final enemy lunged, sword in hand, only to be greeted by a chest-opening storm of flash pegs.

“Cooper. Sit-rep.”

It was Nilsson.

Michael unleashed a barrage of mental curses.

“Enemy is down, Major.”

“Muldoon, assist Cooper.”

“For it.”

Percy arrived in seconds. Michael realized the pale sky was brightening and the sounds of chaos dimming. The team was checking in, reporting the same everywhere: “Enemy is down.”

“Cudfrucker,” Percy said when he saw Michael. “Cooper, your armor is smoking. Never seen that before.”

“Tell me about it. Think I’m gonna need a backup.”

Percy laughed; he was a man known for finding humor in life’s tricky moments. Michael, however, found nothing funny here. Apparently, incursion fifteen ended the same as the others – a battlefield of Mongol bodies. But for Michael, this felt too close to defeat.

An hour later, as he was being treated for his considerable wounds in the station’s medpod, he wanted to share his concerns with Nilsson, who visited to commend Michael for his courage.

“Cooper, what if I said the doctor wants you to convalesce on Praxis?”

“I’d tell him to fuck off. Sir. Who needs him, anyway? I got holotools and synthetics. I’ll meet those assholes when they come back tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if they will, Cooper. They made a mess of themselves. They’ll need time to devise another losing strategy.”

The aches arose everywhere, but Michael had been here before – far too often, for his liking.

“Sir, they’re getting smarter. I heard they tried the same snare tactic on Carver. Almost took him out, too.”

Maj. Aiden Nilsson, like most veteran peacekeepers, was a broad monolith with rock jaws and searing jade eyes, the product of lifelong infusions of brontinium extract. He terrified Michael on day one of training, but they spent enough hours sharing drinks for Michael to see a softer, more reasoned side. He was a hardliner among Chancellors, opposed elevating Solomons to full citizenship, yet respected and – Michael came to realize over time – loved each member of his team as if they were sons and daughters.

“Yes, Cooper. They exposed our No. 1 vulnerability – our numbers. Unfortunately, we’re the entire security blanket for this facility. I’ll analyze our options.”

“Sir, you misunderstand my point. And I apologize for interrupting. I’m the newb.”

“No, Cooper. You’re a proven member of our team. Speak your mind, Michael.”

“The Mongols aren’t the real threat. Never have been. We all know it’s just a matter of time before wormholes open up outside. We’ll have a goddamn army of immortals and hybrids storming the place. If the immortals don’t wipe the floor with us, one of those Berserkers will.”

“Yes. If they come, they’ll kill us all. But time may be with us.”

“How do you know?”

Nilsson smiled. “There have been developments.”

“With the Anchors?”

“Yes, but also far beyond Tamarind. I don’t wish to raise your hopes prematurely. Capt. Forsythe and Col. Doltrice are assembling the intel reports. We’ll be meeting in two hours.”

“Just spec-ops?”

“Spec-ops, the civilian leadership, and the engineering team.”

The three had not met simultaneously in weeks. Michael sensed huge developments.

“Good to hear, sir. We’ve been inside this mountain too long.”

“You know what they say about all good things. Yes?”

Nilsson turned to leave, but Michael wasn’t finished.

“Sir, I joined spec-ops for selfish reasons, and I don’t apologize for them. But I would not give back a moment of these last four months. You tried to beat the holy fuck out of me until I quit, but I needed to feel that pain. Whatever my path might be, I’m damn well ready. I owe that to you, to Broadman, to all the team. Even the ones who still don’t think I deserve it.”

Nilsson massaged his beard, a pencil-thin streak along his jawline.

“No. None of us think you deserve it. You aren’t a Chancellor. But Cooper, you earned your place anyway. See you in two hours.” On his way out the door, Nilsson added: “And Cooper, heal quickly. I’d hate to declare you unfit and ship you off to Praxis.”

Michael laid down in the medpod and ordered the holotools to resume therapy. While he assumed Nilsson’s parting comment was a joke, Michael was in no shape for another bout of combat today.

As the tools penetrated and sealed his wounds, and the synthetics entered his bloodstream, Michael found a brief and much-earned shuteye. As always, Sam dominated his thoughts. He had not touched her, had not told her how much he loved her, in five months.

Earth seemed a universe and a lifetime away.

5

T HE FIRST DAY MICHAEL ENTERED the research station, he was struck by a sense of déjà vu. He didn’t need long to understand why. The corridors of the base,