Crossroads of Fate (Cadicle #5): An Epic Space Opera Series (16 page)

Haersen quickly stepped to the side to avoid the tablet hurtling toward him from Tek’s outstretched hand, thankful for his improved reflexes thanks to the Bakzen gene therapy. The device shattered when it hit the concrete wall of the Imperial Director’s office, raining components onto the smooth, gray floor.

“Stop them!” Tek spat.

“It’s not that straightforward,” Haersen tried to explain again. The most unfortunate aspect of his position was that he was often the bearer of bad news. Other Bakzen soldiers had resisted his presence for years, but when they realized that they could funnel the less favorable messages through him, he suddenly had a new purpose.

Tek’s sorrel eyes flashed with seething anger. “You assured me the Dragon’s presence in the war would not alter our momentum.”

Haersen gulped. “I’ll admit, the TSS has been far more successful in the three weeks since he’s taken command than I’d anticipated.”

The Imperial Director slammed his fist on the touch-surface desktop, causing the display to flicker. “There has to be a weakness. How do we exploit their Taran ideals?”

It had been so long since he’d been among Tarans, Haersen was starting to forget what life had been like. His mind raced, trying to invent a plausible answer to tell his commander, even if it would lead to another dead-end strategy. He just needed to bide some time to give Tek the opportunity to calm down. In his current state, Haersen didn’t expect to make it out of the room in one piece.

“Relationships,” Haersen said at last. “Tarans are driven by their relationships. If you want to get to Wil, you need to go after those he cares about.”

Tek shook his head, his face twisting into a sneer of disgust. “Family. I’ll never understand why Tarans feel such loyalty to others that are no more than imperfect genetic copies of themselves. I’d never stand to see such variation from one generation to the next.”

“It’s more than just genetic relations,” Haersen continued. “Their love relationships run even deeper. Wil has a wife.”

“That’s right. He does…” Tek mused. He leaned against his desk. “But how do we use that to our advantage?”

Sensing he was out of immediate danger, Haersen stepped forward from his sanctuary by the exit door. “He keeps her close. We would need to scatter the TSS. We need to catch them by surprise.”

Tek flicked his wrist. “Reactions to surprises are unpredictable. No, we need to present an immediate threat—something that would force them to divide in order to overcome.”

“The expansion of the rift?” Haersen offered.

“That’s still too localized.” Tek stroked his chin. “We need something that will threaten their very connection to each other.”

Haersen perked up. “An interruption to communications?”

“Or more. I have an idea, but we’ll need to stage a distraction to mask its deployment.”

“The new hybrids would make for quite a spectacle—the TSS has yet to see them in action,” suggested Haersen.

“Yes, good,” Tek sat back down at his desk. “Track the fleet movement and give me your projections for their next targets. I’ll make the other arrangements.”

Tek bobbed his head. “Of course, sir.” Whatever Tek had in mind for the TSS, they wouldn’t see it coming.

*       *       *

Tom pierced the dimensional veil into normal space just in time to avoid another blast from a Bakzen combat jet.
“They’re getting feisty,”
he commented to the other Primus Squad pilots.

“
It’s because we’ve been kicking their asses for the last three weeks,”
Sander replied.

Indeed, the TSS was in the dominant position. Veterans couldn’t stop commenting how the tide had turned—the TSS was finally making a meaningful dent in the Bakzen forces. Tom knew he and his friends were good, but he wasn’t sure they were
that
good. It was entirely possible the shift in momentum was just due to improved morale. Regardless, he wasn’t about to turn down his share of the congratulations.

Their current assignment had taken them on yet another assault to take out a Bakzen supply line. Such missions were becoming routine after a few dozen variations. They had learned just how to strike the freighters and disable their jump drives without damaging any cargo; after all, the supplies were a valuable resource to the TSS, as well.

“Heads up, the Bakzen launched a probe or something,”
Rey alerted as they made their final approach toward the target freighter.

Tom spotted the object in question. It was plain and oblong, heading at high velocity—almost like a coffin. Two more identical objects shot out after the first. Simultaneously, the cylinders blew apart, revealing three bodies. Except, the Bakzen didn’t bury their dead in space.
“Stay clear. It could be a—”

The three Bakzen soldiers detonated in a blinding flash.

Instantly, the subspace comm and nav locks in Tom’s jet cut out, and deafening buzzing consumed his senses—blurring his vision and vibrating within his skull until he felt like his head was going to explode. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He had been somewhere, but the sense of place was gone.

Reality restored around him. The jet’s control panel was flashing red, mirroring the warning images at the edge of his vision. Maneuvering thrusters were non-responsive.

“Shite! What happened?”
Tom asked his friends.

“I blacked out for a second. Fok!”
Sander’s jet weaved to the side just in time to avoid an enemy missile.

Tom realized his own course was leading directly into enemy fire. Instinctively, he dove the jet down to avoid a barrage of weapon’s fire and found that the craft was under his control again.

“I’ve still got the shot. Going in,”
Rey said.

Tom swung his jet around to see Rey’s jet take out the cargo freighter’s jump drive. A clean hit—the ship wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Pull back!”
Tom ordered.
“I don’t want to risk encountering another one of those things.”

He headed back toward the hangar of their accompanying cruiser ship. The jet’s controls seemed to be back to normal, but he didn’t want to take any chances. As soon as he landed, he powered down the jet and scrambled out of the cockpit.

The other Primus pilots seemed equally eager to get out of their jets, based on their hasty movements.

Sander slipped off his helmet. “What the fok was that?”

“It looked like people.” Tom’s stomach turned over.

“People?” Andy asked as he removed his flight gloves. “Why would the Bakzen eject their clones into space with a bomb?”

“No concern for life,” Sander muttered.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Tom replied. “I think the people
were
the bombs. It was like they detonated. The shockwave spanned the dimensional planes—I think that’s what messed with each jet’s neural interface, since it reads telekinetic energy.”

Rey frowned. “Wait… an inter-dimensional bomb. Is that how the Bakzen formed the rift?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Tom found himself even more unnerved by what he’d just witnessed.

“Stars!” Sander exclaimed. “If that’s the case, I can’t even imagine how many clones it would have taken to create the rift—it’s massive! Hundreds of thousands, at least.”

“What disturbs me more is that we’re past the edge of the rift,” Tom pointed out.

Rey caught on. “So, they’re still expanding it.”

“Living inter-dimensional bombs to expand the rift…” Andy shuddered.

“I can’t imagine using a person like that,” Sander said, his face twisted with disgust. “Just when it seems like the Bakzen couldn’t get any worse.”

Tom shook his head. “How much better is the TSS, really? There have been plenty of suicide runs over the course of the war.”

“At least that’s voluntary,” Rey countered.

“Are you sure the Bakzen’s actions aren’t?” Tom shot back.

The communication console in the hangar chirped before he could add more.

Andy, who was standing closest to the console, opened the comm channel. “Hi, Wil.”

“Is everyone okay?” their commander asked over the speaker.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Tom replied. “The subspace disruption from the explosion just messed with the telepathic link for a few seconds.”

Wil let out a slow breath. “It took out subspace communications, too. We just got the network back online right before I called.”

“My head’s still a little fuzzy,” Tom admitted. “Is the battle over?”

“Yes, we captured the cargo freighter. Good work,” Wil replied.

“Did you see the subspace explosion?” Tom asked.

Wil paused. “Yeah, I saw it. Felt it, too.”

“Were those Bakzen clones?” Sander asked.

“I’m afraid so,” their commander replied. “I didn’t think they’d resort to using them in battle like that.”

“What else do they use them for? Expanding the rift?” Rey asked, seeking confirmation for his previous hypothesis.

“Near as I can tell,” Wil responded. “It’s a shame they only use their power to destroy—it could just as easily be used to mend…” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re all okay. We’ll regroup in the morning. Nice shooting.” The call terminated.

“More mysterious knowledge he gleaned from the Aesir?” Tom speculated.

Sander sighed. “He always seems to know more than he’s telling us.”

“No matter now.” Tom rubbed his temple, trying to ease a lingering echo of the explosion. “Let’s get some rest.” The next fight could wait for another day.

*       *       *

Michael collapsed on his bed with a groan. He attempted to massage the small of his back with his knuckles, but it did little to relieve the cramps from hours spent in the same position at the podium in the Command Center of the Conquest.

The weeks of battles had long since blurred together. Skirmishes fought in monotonous progression, supply lines cut off only to have others formed. The Bakzen were quick and adaptive, but the TSS did have the upper hand. As much as Michael wished he could take a break, he knew he had to continue pushing forward with his comrades.

All the same, he was worn down. Lack of sleep, a poor meal schedule, and little exercise were a wearying combination that was exacerbated by constant telepathic exertion.
How much longer can we keep it up before we start making critical mistakes?

He dismissed the thought and rolled to his side, trying to quiet the replay of the day’s events churning at the back of his mind. Even with his eyes closed, sleep was still elusive.

Rather than lay uselessly in the dark, he decided to start a puzzle game with the hope that it would distract him enough that he could unwind for the night.

Michael opened up his handheld and was about to launch the game when a chat message from Elise dropped down from the top of the screen: “Hi!”

His heart leaped unexpectedly. They’d exchanged a handful of emails over the last month, but real-time chatting never seemed to work out due to his grueling schedule. The correspondence was his one escape from the day-to-day reality of the war, and he was thankful they’d stayed in touch. He eagerly opened up a secure chat exchange over a subspace relay to Headquarters. “Hey! Sorry I haven’t written for a while.”

“I figured you’ve been busy,” Elise wrote back. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No, it’s good to hear from you,” Michael replied.

“I didn’t expect to find you online.”

He sat up on the bed so he could write better. “You caught me in a rare moment of down time.”

“How are things going?” Elise asked.

“Making progress.” Though a true statement, it was hardly the whole story.
We’ll be out here for years, at this rate. This isn’t how I thought it would be.

“How are you holding up?”

“Well enough,” he deflected. “It’s a grind.”

Elise paused. “Is Saera doing okay? She hasn’t written for two weeks.”

“She’s been busy in the Command Center with us. We’ve been going for eighteen- or twenty-hour shifts.”

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“Take it one minute at a time.”

“Not even hour-to-hour?” Elise quipped. “It
must
be bad!”

Michael cracked a much-needed smile. “We’re making do. As long as we have our team together, we’ll be fine.”

“I have no doubts.”

“But enough about the war. What’s been going on with you?” he asked, hoping for a temporary escape back to the mundane.

“It’s been pretty quiet over here. We only have about a dozen Agents holding the training program together. Most of the younger Trainees are wondering why they’re even here.”

“That’s still about work. How are you otherwise?”

“Honestly? I’m taking it minute-by-minute, just like you.”

Michael frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… Headquarters is lifeless compared to how it used to be. This has been my home for the better part of a decade, and it’s so empty now. All my friends are gone—and in constant danger—while I’m back here teaching some classes. It seems so pointless compared to what you’re doing.”