Broken (25 page)

"That’s it," he said, pointing. "That’s where he is."

"How do we get in?" Monica asked. A high fence surrounded the place. "Is there a gate?"

"There," said Parker. A gap in the fence, bordered by two guard towers, stood near the ship and control building. "Can we get through?"

Michael knew the answer. He’d seen it sometimes. "Yeah. Floor it. They’re not expecting anyone."

Parker shoved the car into high gear. The machine whined with power and surged forward. They raced towards the guard towers, sailing right between them. No one tried to stop them; there was no echo of gunfire, no running feet. Michael couldn’t believe their luck.

"Head for that building!" he called. "Go!"

They roared towards the control building. "You sure about this?" Wayne asked.

"Trust me," said Michael. The police car screeched to a halt.

"Guns out!" called Wayne. "Move!" They poured out of the car and ran for the building. No one seemed to know they were there.

Michael prepared to knock down the door, but found it open. He ran inside, followed by Wayne—

—And found himself face to face with ten Confederation soldiers. He skidded to a halt. The American Liberation Army pounded past him, ,and stopped dead.

The soldiers opened fire. Wayne, Kent, Parker, and Banner fell without a sound, without ever firing a shot.

No!

"Cease fire," commanded a calm, sharp voice.

Michael's mouth fell open; he  started to shake all over.
He knew that voice
.

A tall, gaunt man wearing a Confederation Army uniform strode forward. Behind him floated Sky Ranger, still in the uniform of the Black Bands.

"Hello, Michael Forward," the thin man said crisply. He frowned. "I’ve been waiting for you."

[CHAPTER 24]

B
efore he could make a move, soldiers had bound Michael's hands. Broken and Monica were quickly restrained, as well.  "Control room," the thin man ordered. "All three of them."

 Michael glanced back. Kent, Banner, Parker, and Wayne lay motionless on the ground, riddled with bullets. Blood pooled around their eerily still forms.

“Wh... why did you kill them?” he demanded shakily. No one answered.

 He hadn’t seen that end for them. Had he?
The thin man’s troops opened fire.
Could he have stopped it?

 They'd followed him. Was it his fault they had died? His mind reeled. Beside him, Monica marched mechanically, in shock.  Broken, on the other hand, was alert; her sharp gaze followed Sky Ranger's every move.

They were hustled down a flight of stairs, deep into the warren of below-ground corridors that made up the majority of the base. The thin man calmly strode in front of them, silent and composed. Sky Ranger floated  at his shoulder, attentive to his every move..

Michael felt like throwing up. This was it. This was
it
. Nothing could change what was going to happen now. He didn’t even glance around to check. He knew there was no hope. Meeting the thin man was death.

At last, they arrived at a drab doorway marked "Command and Control." The thin man placed his thumb on a scanner, then typed in a code; the door slid back.

"Man your posts," the thin man told the soldiers. "And get rid of the bodies of the insurgents."

They saluted crisply and marched off. The door slid shut behind them, leaving Michael, Monica, and Broken alone with Sky Ranger and the thin man. Ian was nowhere to be seen. Where were they keeping him? Not that it mattered. Ian's fate was all but sealed, Michael thought bleakly.

He stared at the floor, trembling, unable to think of anything worth saying.  What was the point? All the possibilities now meant death.

The thin man regarded him with interest. "You shouldn’t be so afraid, Michael. I have no intention of hurting you."

“You killed the people I was with,” Michael retorted.

“Ah. Yes, they were armed and presumably dangerous. These are not safe times; you of all people should know that. ...But it wasn't as if they mattered to you, is it? They were just a means to an end.”

Michael kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

"You’ve come quite a long way," said the thin man. "And with very few resources! I’m impressed. Have you ever considered joining ConFedMilPol? That’s the military police, technically, but the Administration has promised that we’re going to be a lot more than just that in the future. And you know… we are. I’ve seen it. You understand
that
, I assume." He bared his teeth in a narrow, wolfish grin. "Sky Ranger here is going to join, as soon as his tenure with the Black Bands is done. Aren’t you, Sky Ranger?"

Sky Ranger nodded. "It’s an honor to serve, sir." He drifted to the ground and sat in a chair.

"You could be part of the Extrahuman unit we have planned. There wouldn’t be very many, just a select few." He smiled. "I’ve seen you do just that, you know. I’m like you. I see—"

"I know," Michael said bitterly. "I’ve seen you say that a thousand times."

"Have you? ...I didn’t realize I was so important to you. This must be a crossroads in your life, in one fashion or another."

"If you can see, you know it is," snapped Michael, straining at the bonds on his wrists. He was held fast.

"Yes. I
can
see, and far better than you in many ways. I see huge, general trends. I see the great span of history arching away down a thousand possible paths in front of us. I gather you can just see… details? And only when looking directly at a person involved?"

"Yes," Michael admitted.

"…What did you see when you looked at the boy? I’m curious."

Michael said nothing.

"I think I know what you saw. You saw two possible futures. One in which he grows up far away…  on Valen, I believe… and another in which he is raised with us. You and I. Right?"

Still, Michael said nothing.
Yes.

"Come now! I often have trouble seeing the details. I’d love to know what you saw. I’ve never met another Prescient, even one as different as you. Tell me."

Michael shook his head slowly.

"All right," said the thin man. He withdrew a pistol and shot Broken in the head. She crumpled to the ground, dead. Michael jumped, but still said nothing. Monica screamed. "Take her to a cell," the thin man instructed Sky Ranger. He nodded and scooped her up, ignoring her wails and kicks as they flew out the door.

"Now we’re alone," the thin man said. "Oh, I know she’ll wake up. She does. I’ve seen this moment, too, of course, and I’ve seen her. Remarkable sort of person. Very useful. Sometimes. So. Tell me. What did you see? The boy...?”

Michael studied the concrete for a while. The thin man adjusted a setting on his pistol and pressed it against Michael's palm.

"I have some flaws,” he said conversationally. “One of them is extreme impatience, and a tendency to overreact when I don't get my way. It's all in my personnel file. So. When I fire this, it's going to burn your hand. The flesh will peel back and blister. Bone will show if I do it long enough."

 Michael cleared his throat, still looking away. He hoped the thin man couldn’t see him shake. "I saw… an alliance between the races. Us, the Rätons, and the Rogarians. He made it happen. There was peace… and everyone was free."

The thin man snorted derisively. "Oh, glorious. Freedom. Wonderful. And what else? The alternative?"

"I saw… him at the head of armies. He… he destroyed everything, everyone who stood up to him. Everyone hated him. Everyone feared him."

"Ah." The thin man regarded him, interested now. "Sorry about the threats,” he said as he pulled the pistol away from Michael's hand. “I just need you to know how serious I am about all of this. …And now, hearing you, I think I understand why you’re doing what you are. It finally makes sense to me. You see these various futures from the perspective of individuals, not from the grand view of history. Let me tell you how
I
see it, shall I?"

Michael didn’t want to hear, but listened anyway. What choice did he have? The thin man started to pace fitfully around the room, gesturing rapidly. "If you had your way, he’d go to Valen and grow up to lead a rebellion against this government. He would cause anarchy and disorder in so doing. Yes, he would cobble together the alliance you spoke of, but it would last a mere hundred years, if that. A century only! Then chaos again. Warring states. Worse than now! That’s the most likely path, there; I see few real deviations from it. And then? Who knows? The possibilities are too numerous to count. Chaos. It rarely turns out well for us, though.

"The other possibility, if we get our way—which we shall—runs like this. He will grow up to believe that humanity is great, that we have a magnificent destiny to fulfill. When he comes of age, he’ll take the reins of government from that fool Peltan." He snarled as he spoke the president’s name. "Peltan! A figurehead! A politician! A demagogue, really. Nothing but a political man driven by a child's ideology. Well, our boy will be something else. A new Alexander. A new Caesar. He’ll
lead
us, oh yes. We’ll grow stronger and stronger under his command, conquering planet after planet from our neighbors... he will be the emperor of mankind, and beyond!"

The thin man exhaled sharply, savoring the vision. "What a grand future! Humanity will be safe and secure, our enemies will be trampled underfoot—! Ah. Ah, yes. It's very satisfying, a lovely happy ending. Why is this
not
the preferable choice?"

"The people—" Michael began.

The thin man waved him off. "Yes, yes, some people will die. But they’d die in that rebellion of his, too, wouldn’t they? And the chaos to follow?

 "Yes, some liberties we had taken advantage of… they might disappear for a time. They might not return. Does it matter, though, really? Think, boy. If you were faced with the possibility of creating the new Rome, would you not do it? If you had an Augustus in your hands, wouldn’t you use him to build that great empire? Or would you lead him against it, guaranteeing its destruction? Tell me, wouldn’t it be worth the sacrifices to build a new Rome for humanity? All the horrible corruption of the past, all the insidious alien influences… all washed away. A perfect, brilliant state."

 He smiled beatifically. "And now you know why
I’m
doing what I’m doing. I suppose it seems random and evil to you. It isn’t. Both of us want what’s best for humanity."

He stepped close to Michael, drawing his gaunt face near Michael's cheek. "So. So! You could be part of our New Rome, if you want. It’s your choice. Which would you rather? A century of peace? Or a thousand years of glory?"

He held the pistol to Michael’s hand again. “Answer.”

Michael raised his eyes to meet the thin man’s.

—"I’m sorry, Sky Ranger," said the thin man. "The Tower was destroyed by terrorist insurgents. I’m afraid there were no survivors."

—"I’m sorry, Sky Ranger," said the thin man. "Terrorists had barricaded themselves in the Tower, and the Union joined them. We had to destroy it."

—"I’m sorry, Sky Ranger," said the thin man. "The Tower was destroyed in an explosion earlier today. We don’t know what happened. We suspect the Rätons."

What?

Something new, even now?

He had never looked directly at the thin man. He had never read him. What did it mean?

"What are you going to do?" he breathed.

The thin man seemed confused for a moment. "Eh? Oh? Have you seen something?" He smiled. "Some wicked deed of mine, I take it?"

Michael shook his head, remembering to play his cards close for now.

The thin man sighed. "I wonder… How much of this conversation have you seen already? Do you see visions when you look in the mirror? Does it work like that?"

"Yes," Michael said.

"How upsetting!" murmured the thin man. "When my powers came upon me, I was a little boy, and it was most frightening. Was it like that with you?"

"Yes," said Michael again.

The thin man smiled again, this time more genuinely. "I must say, it is nice to have someone to talk to about… these things. You know. It’s rather lonely, don’t you think? And such power we have, such responsibility to try to set things right. I assume you didn’t know old Val Altrera?" Michael shook his head, trying not to think about the letter he'd left back in the hopper. "Ah. Yes. Well. He was before your time. His visions nearly drove him mad before he and his loony followers went off to form their paradise on Valen. How strange, that you should want to go there! Perhaps there’s a call… after all, you came to me. How odd indeed."

Michael watched the man move about the chamber, poking buttons and checking data on screens.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

The thin man pursed his lips. "You can’t see for yourself? Your vision is that intermittent? How terrible for you; that must be truly inconvenient. We are going to move the government to Calvasna, and I have preparations to make." He laughed at Michael’s expression. "Yes, I know, it’s an odd  thing to do, to move the capital to a colony world! But Terra City isn’t safe, and, to be frank, the President doesn’t really
like
it here. I don’t blame him. So hot and dry… why
was
the city put here? Oh, yes, this was President Hampton’s home state, was it not? Well, President Peltan is from Calvasna. The New Confederation can begin like the old did, in the home of its first ruler. And why not? Who will stop us? After this week, I think no one."