The

  Untaken

  Path

  Book 7: Beyond the Impossible

  Frank Kennedy

  Dedicated to all those who know when they turned the wrong way.

  c. 2022 by Frank Kennedy

  All rights reserved

  ASIN: B0B8W9YY3J

  To my amazing readers:

  Welcome to the SEVENTH book in this series. If you haven’t read the previous six, I’d recommend you READ THEM HERE first.

  Every reader is valuable, and I’d love for you to become part of my literary family. Go to www.frankkennedy.org and sign up for my newsletter, which will provide an opportunity to receive free additional material, updates on the next release in Beyond the Impossible series, as well as other offers connected to my work. Additionally, follow me on Amazon for product updates.

  PART ONE

  GATHERINGS

  “Which human suffers the greatest loss: The one who rejects the existence of God, or the one who gives himself to God?

  “This is, of course, a trick question. History demonstrates how both paths can lead to horrific outcomes. For this discussion, I will focus on the Holy Risen Church. Its savage crusade is well documented, but how it gave rise to the first trans-universal proxy army is a tale that goes directly to the core of the fragile human psyche.

  “Most historians focus on the Splinter Effect, but I believe they have lost the plot. What arose on Bolivar and Zwahili Kingdom must be attributed to an inherent flaw all humans have possessed since the dawn of our species: The fear we are not worthy.”

  - Hortencia Colon

  Preamble to her treatise: Mythology and the War of the Nine

  1

  Warship Scylla

  Above Hokkaido

  Standard Day 166, SY 5367

  B REAKFAST ON THE BIGGEST DAY of Kara Aleksanyan’s life consisted of eggs nested in avocados plus toast, mango jam, and absurdly expensive café. The only thing better would have been eating this in bed with her husband, a routine she’d gotten used to in the weeks after their wedding.

  Cando took a shine to domestication. He enjoyed waking early, running through a brisk workout then delivering breakfast to their quarters on a rolling cart. They never had a proper honeymoon; too damned much on the agenda. Cando insisted breakfast in bed was a gap-filler until their calendar opened up or they solved the Swarm problem – whichever came first.

  Private meals were no longer an option. The Hokki delegation to the Tranteum Conference had settled onboard, and Kara thought it bad form for their lead ambassador to eat in private while everyone else visited the galley. This was the delegation’s first shared meal after an informal gathering over drinks and fish rolls last evening.

  Kara made the right choice. Twenty Hokkis engaged in vivid conversation while they ate, twinkles in their eyes and no atmosphere of pretension. Most of these people were power players but with a notable difference: Only three hailed from The Lagos. True to their mission, the diplomatic team represented the entire planet, ninety percent of which resided on the continent. Kara bottom-lined it for Cando after the first get-together:

  “It’s nice to wander through a roomful of Hokkis who are looking out for each other instead of themselves.”

  “You don’t think their idealism will wear off?” Cando said as they undressed.

  “Oh, I’m sure cracks will form after negotiations intensify, but Jen Won did a masterful job assembling the team. You know, there’s an old joke about my people: If you find a selfless Hokki, hold on for dear life or he’ll slip away. Well, I’ve read their bios, and I think Jen made sure not to let go when he found the perfect fits.”

  “No doubt, hon. He set you up in the big chair.”

  “OK, so the man’s not perfect.”

  “In my book, his taste is spot-on. Ambassador Aleksanyan. You never saw those words in your future.”

  “It’s a mouthful,” she said between kisses. “Were you surprised I dropped my maiden name?”

  “My manhood wasn’t, but the logical side of my brain said you might have been hasty. I thought you were concerned your image would take a hit if you didn’t keep your family name.”

  “I was.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  She wanted to shower with her husband.

  “They know I’m working for Hokkaido. I gave up everything I had for my world. If people can’t see that … well. Plus, I like all those A’s. First letter in the alphabet, you know.”

  “Is it? Interesting. I thought it was because you loved me.”

  “Maybe that too.”

  The shower that followed was lukewarm and long.

  They had finished most of their breakfast the next morning when Jen Won invited himself to their table. The Prime Minister of the New Seoul Province had surrendered his early title of lead ambassador to Kara. He called it a prudent move, putting star power ahead of political experience. The Hokkis needed a young, fresh face the people could rally around, he insisted. Public polls taken after her appointment bore out his prediction.

  “Good morning,” he said, sitting down with his tray. “I hope I’m not a bother. I won’t discuss business until the meeting.”

  “Did you sleep well?” Kara said.

  Jen sipped café.

  “It was awkward, but I managed. When I was a young man, I stayed overnight in an Ark Carrier. I twisted and turned the entire time. I never felt welcome. It wasn’t meant for us Hokkis, of course. It’s different on Scylla. An impressive ship that belongs to us, more or less.”

  “Why was it awkward?”

  “It’s a ship of war. It reminds me of where we’ve been, where we might be headed. When I took a stroll through the connector bridge, I thought of that array of missiles surrounding me. I thought of all the cities they could level in a matter of minutes.”

  Cando rubbed jam on his toast.

  “Protecting the peace requires strength, Jen. No one is entirely comfortable with those weapons, but I think everyone is damn pleased we have them.”

  “In time, massive fleets will patrol every system, Cando. It’s a frightening proposition, but if that’s the price for protection, who am I to argue?”

  “We’ll see,” Kara said. “Tranteum is going to bring out some very fierce discussions on the matter.”

  “As long as your husband is named Supreme Admiral, I’m sure the negotiations will be pragmatic and agreeable to all.”

  “I’d settle for most,” Cando said. “These forty planets have never worked together. Don’t expect anything to be unanimous. As for Supreme Admiral – or whatever they’ll call the position – I doubt they’ll want a man from Beta universe to run their navy.”

  “I happen to believe that’s precisely why they’ll choose you. Most military expertise belongs to the Aeternans and the Earthers, both of which are viewed with understandable skepticism. History has a long arc and is easily forgotten, but their crimes are still fresh in memory. They will not be allowed to administer this navy.”

  Kara detected Cando’s consternation. Already, this had become a tiresome conversation. More than anything, Cando awaited a resolution at Tranteum so he could move on with the necessary work. He’d assume whatever role the delegates preferred.

  “The conference will take place on an Earth vessel,” Cando reminded Jen. “I’d say we’ve already given them leverage. Capt. Cortez has told me many stories about the UG Admiralty. They’re a fearsome lot. Put nothing past them, he said.”

  Jen picked up his fork but ignored his food. He wore thin eyeglasses beneath bushy brows. Combined with his salt-pepper beard, Jen carried the distinguished air of a professor.

  “Ah, yes. The legends of the Guard Admirals. They are legion, Cando, but they surrounded themselves with strong marketing teams. Their propaganda was endless and, to be fair, quite brilliant. However, they were never outnumbered thirty-nine to one. Plus, they allowed the greatest empire in human history to collapse in months. Their credentials are suspect, at best.”

  “True. And every time they look over at the Aeternans, they’ll see the people who brought down their empire. Those conversations will be delicate, if not downright dangerous.”

  Kara studied Jen’s plate of prawn cakes and fresh fruit.

  “To put it mildly. Jen, you haven’t eaten a bite,” she said. “I thought you promised not to discuss business.”

  Jen closed his eyes and leaned forward, as if about to pray.

  “Oh, I’m a silly man, Kara. I drive my wife mad by twisting every quiet moment into a conversation about global concerns. I’m a political creature. My apologies.”

  “Accepted.”

  He ran his fork through the stack of prawn cakes and pointed to Kara’s dish.

  “I should’ve gotten what you’re having. I used to love nested eggs in avocado when I was a child.”

  “Really? I hated these things growing up. Mother didn’t care for raw avocado. She preferred Chef to make a sweet mash to pour over Kohlna. Disgusting. Now I can’t get enough of them. Firm and well-salted. Poached eggs in the nest.”

  Nostalgia washed over Jen’s eyes.

  “My mother never made a meal without asking what I wanted. She was heartbroken when avocados became too expensive.”

  “Was that after the farms …?”

  “Yes. The orchards south of Puratoon died. Within two years, we went from finding cheap avocados at every street
vendor to hearing whispers about the ‘special stock’ imported from The Lagos, headed uptown to auction markets.”

  She grabbed his free hand.

  “I’m sorry, Jen. That crime will live with us forever.”

  “Indeed. The sad thing is, most young people in New Seoul don’t even know what an avocado is. Perhaps in a few years the soil will make a comeback and we’ll plant new orchards.”

  “Here.”

  She picked up her uneaten avocado and set it on his plate.

  “No, please. I …”

  “Go ahead. A little taste of childhood.”

  He used a sheepish grin to accept her offer and dredged a spoon into the combination. Jen savored it.

  “Mmm. Almost as good as Mother’s. I see what you mean about the salt. Thank you, Kara.”

  She met Jen Won on her wedding day, when he first offered her the job of Hokkaido’s Ambassador for Intergalactic Affairs. To Kara’s great surprise, they developed a strong chemistry while building proposals in advance of Tranteum. Jen was a revelation: A Hokki who held dominion over millions of people yet gladly walked among them like one of their own. He was a far cry from the false demigods raised in Haansu. He had every reason to hate anyone born of the House of Syung-Low, but he buried his animus. Twice, he opened his home to the Aleksanyans for dinner.

  “He’ll be an amazing asset at the conference,” Kara said after breakfast, en route to C&C. “I just hope the other delegations chose their people as wisely.”

  “Don’t count on it, hon. Outside of a few Aeternans, the other planets haven’t seen the Swarm up close. They won’t take the same care because they don’t have the same sense of urgency.”

  “They’ve seen the vids and read the Talon reports. That should be enough.”

  “It wasn’t in Beta. The free worlds never believed they’d be next in line until the Swarm flagship jumped into their system. The people of Alpha saw a brief battle with three ships, two of which we knocked out quickly. This will be a harder sell.”

  Kara understood Cando’s skepticism. Negotiating the terms of the conference took four months of fine-tuning parameters. Non-Alliance worlds did not want to conduct business on Amayas Knight’s warships. Any planet that offered to host the conference fell short of unanimous consent, for reasons ranging from practical to petty. When everyone agreed to a location in a neutral system, only Earth’s unity government presented a vessel deemed worthy of a huge gathering expected to last for weeks.

  The first delegations would rendezvous with that ship within the next twelve standard hours, Hokkaido leading the way.

  “I’ll have to emphasize the point to our team,” Kara said. “Hokkis and Talons must build the strongest case.”

  They entered a quiet C&C. Acting Capt. Paul Ochoba sat at Nav, where he was most comfortable, next to Hiro Parke on comms.

  “Any word from Ham?” Cando said.

  “Silence.” Hiro shrugged. “I take it as good news. They would’ve arrived at the target by now, and the Captain vowed to maintain silence until he had something tangible to report.”

  “This is one hell of a wildcard to throw in the mix. Today of all days.”

  “Agreed. Ham thought we’d have this nailed down months ago. The Inventor is a clever bastard.”

  “He’s been stalling from the outset. Let’s hope whatever Ham learns won’t compromise the conference.”

  Before Amayas first returned to his hidden home base, Paul planted a tracking device into the Nav of one of his Scramjets. Amayas returned with Hermes a few times minus the Scramjet, and refused to disclose his home. Ham suspected he discovered the tracker. Fortune smiled three days ago when Amayas rendezvoused with Scylla using the tiny craft. While the leadership briefed the Inventor on their conference plans, Paul removed the device and studied its travel history.

  No one was prepared for what he discovered. Why did the man set up shop two thousand light-years from Collectorate space? They theorized the revelation to death. Ham took Scramjet Horn and a small team into worm, hoping Amayas wouldn’t put up a fuss when forced to confess his activities.

  “There has to be a logical explanation,” Kara said. “He’s been fully supportive of the conference and turned over all his designs. I said it months ago, and I’ll say it again: He’s afraid of something, and I think it goes beyond the Swarm.”

  “More secrets? Just the sort of thing that can sink the conference, hon. Whatever it is, Ham will pull it out of him.”

  “Before or after we leave for Tranteum?”

  Tranteum, located off Nexus point 73 on the Fulcrum, was an uninhabited system with four gas giants orbiting a red dwarf. Chancellor scientists studied it centuries ago, but it held no commercial value and was located twenty light-years from the nearest Collectorate world. Nothing said “neutral” like Tranteum.

  “When do you meet with the delegation, Kara?” Paul asked.

  “Two hours. I thought it best to give them time to relax a bit, get a feel for the ship, before we sat down to business.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Not at all. These are my people, just like our crew. If you ask me again at Tranteum, I might see it another way.”

  “You really think the conference will take two weeks?”

  She shared an uneasy glance with Cando.

  “Jen says so, but that’s optimistic. If this thing is successful, we’ll remake the galaxy. At least, our corner of it. Everything’s on the table, and we’ll have a ship full of diplomats and bureaucrats. I think a month is more realistic.”

  “Even then,” Cando added, “they’ll have to take the results back home for ratification. We’re staring down oblivion and moving at a slug’s pace.”

  “Interesting analogy,” Hiro said. “The latest report says more than two million have volunteered for a navy that doesn’t exist. If this takes too long, they’ll lose their nerve.”

  Cando sighed. He didn’t agree with setting up recruitment centers before training facilities and resources had been allocated, but the more militant politicians wanted to strike before the headlines faded and indifference about the Swarm kicked in.

  “That’s my number one issue at Tranteum,” he said. “Then we’ll figure out how to pay for the fleet.”

  Paul snickered.

  “You mean these worlds won’t happily spend trillions of their own credits to build war machines?”

  “Unfortunately, Amayas set a bad precedent. He stole from the Chancellors and subsidized the Alliance to keep them in line. I’m sure the Chancellor delegates will demand recompense.”

  The nomad fleet planned to send a small delegation to the conference in return for guaranteed settlement on a colony. No one – including the Earth government – liked the idea, but they conceded for a simple reason. The fleet had the largest per capita veterans of the Unification Guard, and the new navy needed as many trained soldiers as possible.

  “You’re going to have so much fun, Cando. I’m sorry I won’t be at your side to watch the carnage.”

  “Thanks, Paul. If I don’t survive, I hope you’ll be good enough to attend my funeral. I so love a …”

  Hiro snapped his fingers.

  “Excuse me, Cando. I have an incoming for Kara.”

  “Who is it?” She asked.

  “Jin Kloon.”

  “KumTaan? What now? Put it on open speaker.”

  “Got it. You’re on.”

  “Mr. Kloon, this is Kara Aleksanyan. How can I help?”

  For a split second, she expected to hear tragic news about her mother. She had not spoken to Li-Ann Syung in five months, and the parting did not go well.

  “Ambassador Aleksanyan, I understand you are leaving for the Tranteum Conference in a few hours. Yes?”

  “We are. Has something happened?”

  “I’m afraid so. A difficult bit of news. It hasn’t yet gone public, and I thought you should know given your past associations.”

  Her chest tightened.

  “Go ahead.”

  “The last Hotai conspirator, Park Doon, was about to go on trial for the crimes he committed alongside Ya-Li Taron and Weeb Lowe.”

  “Was?”

  “Yes. Mr. Doon hanged himself in his cell. By itself, a tragedy. But further complicated by another discovery. His wife and young daughter were found at home. They were poisoned.”