Broken Read online

  "He will be," Michael said gamely.

  The thin man threw back his head and laughed. "Ah-ha-ha! Well! Oh, you still think you can manage it… but that possibility is almost gone. I’m sorry. It can't be easy for you to let it go; you were so obviously attached to it. So. You can really only do two things, right now, my boy. You can join us, or not."

  Michael shivered, not wanting to look into the thin man’s eyes again. Not now.

  "If—if I don’t join you?"

  The thin man shrugged, the motion awkward and jerky. "Oh? Well. I don’t know. I won't shoot you! But it won't be all that nice, either. You won’t be set free, even if you do join. Loyalty must be earned, I’m afraid. If you decide against it… even I can’t say what will happen to you. But they’ll never let you be a free man again. They might even kill you."

  Slowly, hesitantly, despairingly, Michael glanced into the thin man’s eyes.

  A thousand possibilities unfolded. In each of them… Ian became Alexander. Alexander would rule the world. There was no hope.

  Michael’s heart sank. He closed his eyes and fell to his knees, defeated. It had all been for nothing.

  "Have you been looking into my future again?" the thin man asked gently. "You must have seen that there is no hope. I’m sorry, my son. Do you mind if I call you that? I have no children. You’re the closest thing there is on this world to someone who is like me… does that make sense? Don’t you feel it, too?"

  Michael loathed the thin man. He had despised him since he first saw him in a vision when he was just a little boy.

  But he did understand. He and Joe had been inseparable, because Joe understood. Joe was like him.

  "I had someone, once," Michael whispered. "His name was Joe. He was like me. He wasn’t my father… not really. I said he was my grandfather, but he wasn’t. He was just an old man who saw the same things I did, in the same way… He took me in after my parents died." He risked another glance at the thin man. "So yes. I do understand. When he died… it was like a part of me had passed away, too. Didn’t you have anyone like that?"

  The thin man shook his head in sorrow. "No. Never. I always had to find my own way. My son… you were lucky to have your Joe. I'm sorry he left you alone. But now there’s another way, another chance for you to be with people who understand. Yes? You can join us."

  Michael shook his head. "No."

  The thin man pursed his lips. "It isn’t as bad as you think it’s going to be. It won’t be, if you join us. You’re the key, really. You could live, be happy, and make a contribution to humanity."

  "You must accept what is, though," the thin man said.

  "A man doesn’t stop because he’s afraid," Joe had said.

  "Will you join us?"

  "All men want to live in freedom," Joe had said. "It gives them hope to control their destiny, even just a little. You can hope the future will be better than today. We need that. Don’t lose your hope, Michael…"

  Michael just stared at him.

  The thin man’s face took on a thoughtful expression. "Maybe it’s easier to show you. Sometimes I do this for President Peltan. I don’t think you can do it, so it’ll be a little bit of a shock, my son."

  He reached for Michael.

  As soon as his finger touched Michael’s hand, the world changed.

  [CHAPTER 25]

  -FUTURES-

  Michael stood in a musty, peaceful wood-paneled room. The thin man appeared next to him, holding his hand. "Ah. This is the palace we’re going to build. Isn't it something? We'll import the wood from Earth. We’re on Calvasna now. And look. There he comes."

  A young man, maybe in his mid-twenties, smartly dressed in a black military uniform entered and sat at the table in the center of the room. Ian. Michael knew him instantly—he had seen him so many times before in so many futures. Several advisors and other men entered after him and sat on the opposite side of the table. One of the advisors, he realized with a shock, was himself. Older, and grown a little fatter, but definitely still Michael Forward.

  He had never seen this future when he looked in the mirror. How was that possible?

  "Mr. President," one began, "The transition is a little rocky so far. There are elements in the Party who are still very loyal to President Peltan… we have moved close to many of their leaders. Just give the word."

  Alexander/Ian considered. "Why should we let them live?" he asked. His voice was cold and hard. "We need to send a message."

  "Perhaps," the older Michael said evenly. "But perhaps a better message would be to let them live. To round them up, but then show mercy."

  Alexander/Ian seemed to consider this.

  "Perhaps," he finally admitted.

  Michael nodded. "Life is worth a lot, but not everything."

  * * *

  Time froze. Everyone stopped in place.

  The thin man leaned down to whisper in Michael’s ear. "In the end, he only kills about a third of them. Some of the rest of his enemies become his greatest servants. Without you there… it’s much worse. Most die. By being there, you save lives!"

  * * *

  The scene shifted. The same room—maybe a little dimmer. Alexander/Ian still sat at the head of the table, wearing a far crueler expression.

  "Mr. President," the same adviser began, "The transition is a little rocky so far. There are elements in the Party who are still very loyal to President Peltan… we have moved close to many of their leaders. Just give the word."

  Alexander—Michael couldn't think of him as Ian now, not like this—nodded sharply. "I can think of no reason to keep them alive." No one else said a word. "Do what you must. Purge them, so we can move forward."

  * * *

  "This," said the thin man grandly as time froze again, "Is your impact. A better Alexander. A better man. He’ll crush his enemies. He’ll kill many, yes. But far fewer with you to guide him. He is more… humane? See here…"

  * * *

  The scene shifted entirely. A garden path. Alexander, younger here, spied several women strolling along, laughing and talking, and walked up to them, grinning like a wolf. "Ladies."

  They shrank back, afraid. He pointed at one. "You. Come with me. Now."

  She burst into tears. "Please… please…"

  He grabbed her and shoved her out ahead of him. "The rest of you… later. I’ll send guards."

  Two men dressed in pristine white Army uniforms advanced. They froze before they reached the women.

  * * *

  "You don’t want to see the rest. That’s without you. But with you, he’s much better. Believe me,” said the thin man. “You civilize him."

  * * *

  The scene shifted. Michael and Alexander talked in a room somewhere. Alexander was far younger—still a child.

  "I can have anything I want, can’t I?" Alexander said.

  Michael nodded. "Most things. But not everything."

  "Father says I’ll be in charge someday. That I’ll be President. Then I’ll have everything I want. More." He looked angry. Michael sighed and placed an arm around the youth. Alexander didn’t flinch or back away.

  "In fact, I think you’ll have less. Being president is a terrible responsibility. Look how it ages your poor father! …And, I want you to remember…" and here he seemed to look directly at Michael and the thin man, "Always try to be the best man you can be. And never give up hope."

  * * *

  The thin man frowned, perplexed; had he not expected Michael to say that? Before he could collect himself , the scene shifted again. A slightly older Alexander.

  "But he’s a servant," Alexander whined. "Why shouldn’t he do what I want him to?"

  "Because he’s also a man. A human being. Men aren’t just playthings." The older Michael sighed. "I wish your foster father would realize that some days."

  Alexander’s eyes widened. "Like last night?"

  Michael nodded. "Your father…" he stopped and thought for a moment. "All men want to live in freedom. It gives
them hope…"

  "Huh?" Alexander said.

  The thin man looked faintly puzzled for another instant, then regained his composure.

  Michael was struck with a sudden thought.

  * * *

  The scene shifted again.

  "You see? You make him a better man. You help to shape and mold one of the greatest men who has ever lived. That’s what I’m offering. That chance. And even better," the thin man said. "You’ll get the chance to live."

  They were in a small apartment… maybe on the palace grounds somewhere? It was hard to tell. This was the bedroom.

  Michael was there, sitting on the bed. He seemed older than in the previous visions. Someone came into the room. She had black hair, streaked with gray. She wore a kind smile, but her eyes seemed heavy and sad. "And how are you? How are things up there?"

  My God. It’s Monica.

  Michael smiled back at her, and they touched lips lightly. "Bad. As always. You know."

  Monica nodded. "Yes. I heard from Alice today. She says that her husband is going to enlist."

  "That’s a terrible idea," Michael grumbled. "Going to be war soon."

  "That’s why, apparently." She sighed and sat next to him. "I’m so glad I at least have you close by."

  He placed a hand on hers, and looked into her eyes.

  She smiled. "See anything?"

  "You and me getting older. But together, at least."

  "Well, that’s a relief." She sighed and put her head on his shoulder. "I love you."

  "I love you, too." He paused for a moment. "Don’t lose hope. Nothing’s ever broken forever."

  "What?"

  * * *

  "So you see," the thin man said hurriedly as the scene faded out. "Life. You want life. I know you do. The alternative is… hm. You know perfectly well."

  The control room shimmered back into view. "You could die here. Today. You don’t want to die. I know that much."

  And of course, he was right. Michael didn’t want to die. A small, traitorous part of him started to consider what the thin man was offering.

  "What use is there in dying for something, when there’s no hope at all?" the thin man asked. "You could live. You could live with your sweetheart for another fifty, sixty years. No, it won’t be perfect. But what ever is? The point is, you’d be alive."

  The thin man touched him again, and Michael was surrounded by beautiful, exhilarating images. Rain fell gently on his head, cool breezes blew in his face as he laughed. He looked out of a viewport at the green curve of a planet below. He kissed his wife, and took her in his arms. She was so happy. She was so beautiful. He sat and read lines from a book he loved, a warm fire crackling next to him. The sky was blue overhead. He could see for miles. For miles… life was sweet.

  * * *

  And then the thin man withdrew his hand and the visions disappeared. The air was hot and thick. He could hardly breathe. "All flashes of what’s possible," he said. "But you won’t have any of them if you continue to resist what’s inevitable. So. Join us."

  Michael sank back. There was nothing else he could do. It was over.

  All that was left was deciding to live or die.

  Of course. Of course he had.

  Don’t give up hope.

  Nothing stays broken forever.

  All men want to live in freedom.

  Joe had said all of that. Michael, the older Michael, had repeated them. Why?

  Because, Michael thought, maybe he figured out that it wasn’t worth living that life, just to be alive. Maybe he remembered this. Maybe he's warning me, trying to change the past.

  But he wanted to live, to ignore the warnings and stay alive, stay breathing. So what if life wouldn’t be perfect?

  Nothing stays broken forever.

  But there was no hope. There was no way out.

  Nothing stays broken… Broken.

  He glanced over at Broken’s inert form. A spark of life returned to her glassy, open eyes as he watched.

  —She flew, joyous and free, laughing and radiant as the sun’s splendor… through the skies of Valen.

  [CHAPTER 26]

  Michael caught his breath. There was hope. No wonder the thin man had shot her.

  The thin man followed his gaze, and saw Broken start to stir. He shot her again. She went limp.

  "Stop!" cried Michael. "Please!"

  The thin man glared. "I’m sorry. But we can’t have her coming back to life and interrupting us." He glanced over at her. "Ugh. I… dislike her. I dislike most other Extrahumans. Don’t you, my son?"

  Michael said nothing, praying for Broken’s survival. Could she withstand this? He needed more. A very small glimmer of a plan had started to form, but he needed her back.

  The thin man continued. "I mean… the power some have… it’s abominable. Isn’t it?"

  "Sure," Michael agreed, a little dazed.

  "A lot of chaos could come of them. But they won’t be a problem forever, hopefully."

  "You seem to get along with Sky Ranger."

  The thin man smiled again. "He’s a fool," he whispered. "But don’t tell him so!"

  Michael suddenly had a flash of inspiration, remembering his visions. "You’re going to destroy Union Tower. You’re going to lie about it to Sky Ranger!" he said. "Aren’t you?"

  The thin man’s eyes narrowed. "Why do you think that?"

  Michael looked at him piercingly. "I saw it. I see the future, remember? I saw you telling him three different things about the Tower. They were all lies, weren’t they? You’re going to do it yourself."

  Michael suddenly remembered the archivist in Union Tower, who had been wearing Reformist pins. He’d seen the man's future. Had he been planting a bomb? "Let me guess," said Michael. "A saboteur on the inside? Someone who’s been there a long time? …The archivist? I met him. I saw some things that didn’t make sense. But now…"

  The thin man aimed his pistol back at Michael. "I think you had better not say anything about that. Yes. We need to get rid of them. They’re dangerous. They have to die. In fact…" he checked his watch. "Ah. Ah! It should already be done. We’ll blame it on terrorists. Let Sky Ranger chase them around for a while, get some exercise. It does everybody good."

  "You’re evil," said Michael, letting some of the horror he felt creep into his voice. Come on, Broken, wake up. I need you.

  "Enough of that," snapped the thin man. "You’re a fool if you believe that evil exists. That’s something for fairy tales, isn’t it? Evil villains? Men are neither good nor evil by nature. Isn’t that so?"

  "Men can do evil," Michael said, "Even when they think they are doing good."

  The thin man expression turned to a scowl. His grip tightened on his weapon, trained on Michael's head. "Is that what you think? Hm. I think it’s time for you to give me an answer. Join us."

  Michael wanted to. God, how he wanted to.. Life. Fresh air. Love. The possibilities were intoxicating.

  But some things were worth so, so much more. Joe had been right.

  "No," Michael said.

  The thin man jabbed the laser pistol into the soft flesh of Michael’s hand again. "I’m sorry. I have to convince you, my son. It's for your own good. You'll see."

  He squeezed the trigger. Michael’s hand exploded into flame, searing the flesh. Agony—!

  He cried out, trying to clutch it, to put the fire out, something—

  Before he knew it, the thin man was at his side, smothering the flames with a wet towel. Michael howled from the terrible pain, rocking back and forth on the ground. Both his hands were covered with charred skin, bones gleaming pearl-white through the blackened flesh.

  "You’ll get new hands," the thin man assured him. "Wonderful things, best technology available. First rate for us, yes. Don’t fret. It will hurt for a while. But pain is temporary, and sometimes illuminating.”

  "The Union," Michael gasped. "Union Tower…"

  At once the thin man rounded on him, no longer kind and soothing.
"Say nothing of that! Not if you value your life!" He pointed the pistol at Michael’s legs. "I’m warning you."

  Michael sobbed quietly. The thin man sighed. "I’ll wait until you’re more yourself. You’re coming with us. We’ll work on you there. You’ll come around. I believe you will, Michael, I've seen it." He tried to smile at him. "You’ll forgive me someday. I’ve seen that, too."

  The thin man left Michael curled on the floor as he busied himself with the controls scattered around the room. As the initial, searing agony ebbed, Michael’s pain-fogged mind wandered to Monica. What must she be thinking? Where was she?

  Would she ever escape?

  "Mon… Monica," he gasped. Delirium was taking over.

  "Eh?" said the thin man. "Oh. The girl. Your girl, or she will be. She’s fine, as far as I know. Just down in a cell. Come with us, and she’ll come, too. If not… well, we may let her go. I don’t know yet. I’ll probably have to check her out, first. She’s UNP, isn’t she? We may send her to a prison colony. Yes, we’re starting those up, now. Cheaper than jails here, I should think. Just drop them off and your problem is solved. Very neat. She may go to one of those for a time. But she may not. I can’t say. She did commit some acts of terrorism."

  "Broken…" he managed to say. "Let her go…"

  "Not possible," he said. "The Science Ministry so rarely gets to study Extrahumans, and I’m afraid we just blew up most of the rest of them on this planet! What a grand idea of the former regime, to put them all in one place. I wonder if they had something like this in mind. A ruthless bunch, those. Wrongheaded in so many ways. But refreshingly ruthless. The Science Ministry will study her, yes. It probably won’t be very nice for her, but..."

  They wouldn’t let her go.

  She wouldn’t fly free, unless… they succeeded. He made a valiant attempt to stay conscious, to keep thinking, keep planning. He shivered violently, sick to his stomach. He focused his eyes on Broken’s limp body. She had bled a lot. Did that matter to her? Please wake up.