Crossroads of Fate (Cadicle #5): An Epic Space Opera Series (2 page)

“Not fair!” Tom, one of Ian’s best pilots, interjected with a slight flush showing through his dark complexion. “You’ve been monopolizing it with that stupid game of yours for the last two weeks.” He folded his lean arms across his chest.

“Hey, I happen to have an incredibly high score and can’t stop until I crush that tough guy from Urulan VIII at the end of the tournament tomorrow,” Ian shot back.

Ethan laughed. “We all know that ‘tough guy’ is actually a thirteen-year-old girl, so…”

Ian’s face reddened. “That’s beside the point—”

Wil threw up his hands, suppressing an amused grin. “Rights to the entertainment system are beyond my purview. Enjoy your afternoon.” He began to draw himself telekinetically toward the door.

Before he’d gone a meter, most of his men dove for the door, brushing past Wil and Saera in one dark blue mass. Only Michael hung back, always the most composed of the group.

“Can’t have the viewscreen if I get there first!” Tom declared as he hurled himself through the doorway into the gravity lock.

“But I called dibs!” Ian protested, vaulting in after him.

The rest of the men quickly slipped inside before the door sealed shut, leaving their three senior leaders still floating in the center of the training chamber.

Saera giggled. “All right, then.”

Wil shook his head, resuming his slow pull toward the door. It would take two minutes for the lock to be prepared for them to exit; no need to rush. “Maybe I didn’t instill enough ‘no one left behind’ message in the training.”

“They’re aware of others when it matters,” Michael said in his comrades’ defense.

Wil touched down on the wall, grabbing a handhold. “I know. They should enjoy this relaxation time while they can.”

Michael’s brow furrowed as he gripped the wall next to Wil. “Simultaneous observation was the last step, wasn’t it? We can’t really train anymore away from the rift, despite what you said.”

“No,” Wil confessed. “It won’t be long now before we go.”

“Why the hesitation? We’re ready,” Michael said.

“Yes, you are, but…”

“Ever since you got back from the Aesir, you’ve been different. Today is the first time you’ve actually attempted simultaneous observation since then. Now, I don’t want to say it seemed easy for you—since it’s not something I can do, so it’s not my place to pass judgment—but it certainly didn’t seem like you were straining. It was almost like you’d done it before.” Michael searched Wil’s face. “What happened with the Aesir? Why have you been avoiding the rift?”

Wil cast his gaze down. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

Saera tensed next to him. “The important thing is that now we know simultaneous observation
is
possible. We need to be a team, just like we’ve trained to do.”

Michael’s blue eyes flitted between them. “You both know something you’re not telling the rest of us.”

“It’s my job as a commander to evaluate the facts. I’ve told you all the critical information,” Wil replied.

“What about as your friend?” asked Michael.

“As your friend, trust me when I say you’re better off not knowing what I know.”

The gravity lock chirped that it had returned to zero-G.

Wil released the hatch, and it slid open with a hiss. “I know it’s maddening to have things kept from you, but all the shite happening behind the scenes is not an inner circle you want to be in.”

Michael hesitated before climbing into the gravity lock. “I trust you.”

“Likewise.” Wil swung into the gravity lock, followed by Saera. “I promise, I’ll tell you everything when the time is right.”
Assuming I make it until then.

His friend nodded. “Understood.”

The gravity lock silently activated, drawing Wil and his companions toward the floor. After a minute, the outer door slid open when the gravity had equalized with the passageway outside the lock.

“I’d like to go over the logs from the session,” Wil said. “For now, let’s keep this new development between us, okay?”

“Of course,” Michael replied. “I’ll tell the others to keep their mouths shut.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, I should probably make sure that Tom and Ian haven’t locked each other in some sort of telekinetic death-vice.” Michael glanced down the hall toward the central elevator.

Wil cracked a smile. “Sometimes I’m thankful for the telekinetic dampening effect of subspace.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Michael gave a parting wave and jogged down the hall.

“I should get to work,” Saera said with a huff, tugging on her auburn braid. “I have some assignments to grade.”

“I’m still surprised you volunteered to instruct that class.”

She shrugged. “Someone needs to teach the next generation. So few Agents are left around here.”

Wil couldn’t argue that point. Many of the Agents he’d been around his whole life had recently been deployed to the rift’s Jotun division in preparation for the final battles of the war. Headquarters was eerily empty.
Soon we’ll be gone, too.
He returned his thoughts to the present. “I’ll need the viewscreen in the living room to go over the data.”

“Is there any chance you can use the one in your office?” his wife asked with pleading jade eyes. “I was hoping to get in some quality couch time with a glass of wine. It’s the only thing that takes the edge off of poorly constructed navigation proofs.”

Wil’s chest constricted. “I guess I could work in a study room—”

Saera crossed her arms. “So you’re still avoiding the administrative wing?”

“Just one specific place, and unfortunately my office happens to be nearby.”

“Avoidance isn’t healthy, especially when it’s an old friend and superior officer.”

Wil sighed. “I know.”

“Good. Now get to work!” Saera shooed him playfully with a wave of her hand.

Not so easily swayed, Wil pulled her in for a quick kiss, capitalizing on their few private moments together.

She kissed him back and relaxed into his arms.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” Wil murmured as he pulled back.

“All right. I’ll see you for dinner.” She squeezed his hand as they parted at the elevator lobby, taking separate cars to their respective destinations. Wil put his tinted glasses back on and gathered his thoughts. Achieving simultaneous observation would certainly fast track the rest of his officers’ training. They could be pulled into the war at any moment.

Once on the destination floor of Level 1, Wil darted from the elevator lobby to his office down the same corridor as the High Commander’s office. He’d been avoiding Banks since their last conversation following Wil’s revelations with the Aesir three weeks prior. While Wil understood the High Commander’s reasons for keeping so much from him, he had opted to avoid any further confrontations for as long as possible. He just needed to slip into his office and close the door before anyone spotted him.

Of course, the best-laid plans didn’t always work out.

Just as he was about to duck through his office door, Wil spotted his father approaching in a hurry.

“Wil, CACI said you were headed this way. I just saw the raw logs from the training session this afternoon. Did you—?” Cris started.

Shite! I wasn’t even thinking about the automatic data upload to the Mainframe.
Over the years, Cris had asked enough questions about daily training activities that Wil had shared the logs with him so he could avoid filing a formal daily report. The upload included automatic flags when new benchmarks of telekinetic intensity were achieved. It was no wonder his latest feat had triggered an alert. “Not here,” Wil muttered under his breath and dashed into the comparative safety of his office.

Cris followed Wil before he had a chance to close the door. “This is the last place I expected to find you.”

“Saera needed our quarters to herself.” Wil kept his gaze down.

“Wil, did you achieve simultaneous observation?” Cris pressed.

Wil took several seconds to respond, weighing his options. Lying would only delay the inevitable. “I think so. The rift doesn’t extend this far so I can’t be sure, but I saw normal space and subspace.”

His father looked him over, his awe visible even through his tinted glasses. “What changed?”

“I stopped trying to resist.”

Cris’ brow knit. “How long have you been resisting?”

“I’ve been holding back ever since I met with the Aesir.”

“Why?”

“The rift isn’t a good place to be.”

“So you’ve said,” Cris said under his breath. “I don’t know what happened out there—since you refuse to talk about it—but we have to move forward.”

“I am. I’m doing what you told me to do.”

Cris frowned. “In that case, you know that you have to meet with Banks about this development.”

“Yeah.”

His father groaned. “It’s been weeks, Wil. What did he say that upset you so much?”

“Like I told you before, it’s not anything I can discuss.”
There’s no need to make others endure the truth about the Bakzen’s origins.

“That’s not a satisfactory explanation.”

“This is between me and Banks. I’ll talk to him when I have something productive to say.”

Cris sighed. “I’m pretty sure that achieving simultaneous observation warrants an immediate discussion.”

Wil slumped into the chair behind his desk.
“Except, I know that conversation is the beginning of the end. No more hypotheticals—the start of real actions with real consequences.”

His father eased down onto the front of the desk. “The sooner we start, the sooner it will be over.”

“I can’t picture an ‘after’. My entire life has been building to what’s now right around the corner.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that the future never works out quite like you imagine,” Cris replied. “We’ll get through the coming months—helping each other, like we always do—and then we’ll deal with the rest.”

Wil grimaced. “You make it sound so straightforward.”

“No, it won’t be. But it can be done.”

The words of encouragement had little substance, but somehow Wil was comforted. “I think I’ll need a few more of these pep talks before all this is over.” He cracked the hint of a smile.

“Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks.” Wil took a deep breath and let it out. “I should start reviewing the logs from this afternoon’s session.”

His father rose and stepped toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it. Hang in there, Wil.”

Few activities were duller than proofreading sample contracts, as far as Michael was concerned. How such activities were pertinent to his training as a TSS officer in the Bakzen war had never been explained to his satisfaction, but the assignment was due later that afternoon so he wasn’t in a position to argue.

He flipped over to his back with his head propped up on a pillow and his tablet resting vertically on his chest. A quick glance to his left revealed that the two other Junior Agents currently in the room appeared equally enthused with their own assignments. Bran occupied the farthest of the three beds on the same wall as Michael’s, and Connor was on the leftmost of the two opposite them, which framed the entry door. The three of them and the two additional members of their unit had shared the room since their first day in the TSS. Wil had offered them an upgrade to Junior Agents’ housing after two years, but the Primus Elites had unanimously declined; the quarters were their home, and sharing the same space offered the best opportunity for collaboration.

“Is it just me, or are these assignments getting more and more tedious?” Bran commented when he noticed Michael stir.

Michael sighed. “It’s not just you.”

“Maybe Wil is running out of things to teach us?” Connor speculated. “Before the breakthrough with simultaneous observation yesterday, things had been pretty slow for a while.”

That might not be far from the truth.
Michael leaned his tablet back on his knees, looking over at his friends. “It may seem pointless now, but we’re getting valuable skills that’ll come in handy one day or another.”

Bran shrugged. “Well, I’m anxious to kick some Bakzen ass.”

“Same here,” Connor agreed. “Being awesome at reading supply logs won’t win a space battle.”

“I know,” Michael yielded. “For whatever reason, Wil seems to be delaying our deployment.”

“It’s not like we’re going on vacation. I can understand why he’d want to put it off,” Bran said.

“That doesn’t change the sense of urgency,” Michael countered.

Connor nodded. “That’s true. All these years, it’s been motivational talks about how we don’t have time to waste and everyone’s counting on us to swoop in and end the fighting. Then Wil meets with the Aesir, and now he’s done nothing but drag his feet for weeks.”

“Something happened out there,” Michael murmured.

Bran frowned. “I don’t like that he’s been so quiet about it.”

Michael shook off the doubt. “He’s still the same leader we’ve always trusted. He’ll step up, like he always does.”

Shouts of dismay erupted in the common room of the Primus Elite quarters.

What now?
Michael set down his tablet and rose from his bed to investigate. “Is the tournament still going on?”

“I think so,” Connor replied. “Sounds like it’s not going well for Ian.” He and Bran got up to follow Michael to the common room.

Their bedroom was situated on the front left of the adjoining common area, closest to the shared viewscreen. A dozen of the Primus Elites were gathered on the two innermost plush couches oriented toward the screen. Ian stood in front of the black couches in the space normally occupied by the coffee table, which had been propped on its side against the front wall. His eyes were fixed on the screen—knees bent and arms extended, poised for action.

A three-dimensional hex grid displayed on the viewscreen depicted a fantastical battlefield with a party of five characters on each side. One of Ian’s characters, which looked to be some sort of troll, was kneeling on the ground panting. Above it, a massive barbarian was shaking a club victoriously above its head.

“Fok!” Ian swore under his breath. “Don’t fail me now, Morg.” He brought up a character menu for the troll with an upward swipe of his hand, scouring the item list.

“Just use Galinda to cast Cure,” Curtis suggested while he played with a short strand of his curled, dark hair between his thumb and forefinger.

“No, I need her Gale attack to knock back the archers,” Ian dismissed, his eyes never leaving the screen. He selected a medpack and used it on the fallen troll.

Ian then swept his hand to activate a tall, female figure with blue skin and pointy ears. He mimed raising a staff above his head and fanned his arms outward, causing the onscreen character to release a wind blast toward a group of enemy soldiers holding longbows. The enemy archers all stumbled backward two hexagonal spaces.

“Ha!” Ian declared triumphantly.

In retaliation, the barbarian standing over Ian’s troll readied its club for another blow.

“Not so fast.” Ian jumped up and to the side, causing his newly healed troll to dart out of the way before the barbarian could strike. He spun around and swung the troll’s ax in an arc over his shoulder to strike the barbarian’s ankles.

The barbarian cried out with surprise while Ian simultaneously activated his three dormant characters to launch an assault on the opponent player’s combat units. Within moments, the battlefield was ablaze with fireball attacks cast by a sorceress on the enemy team.

Michael leaned against the doorframe, taking in the action as Ian and his opponent slowly wore down each other’s forces. The other Primus Elites gasped and cheered with each attack, completely captivated by the game as it unfolded before them. In time, the battle came down to Ian’s caster—Galinda—and the sorceress in the opponent’s party.

“How is the game won, anyway?” Michael whispered to Bran.

Bran didn’t take his eyes off the viewscreen. “One of the players needs to collect the Essence from the other team’s slain characters.”

Like absorbing their souls?
Michael scowled. “Sounds kind of morbid.”

“It’s just a game. Shh,” Connor hissed.

Ian continued to wave his hands in a throwing motion as Galinda cast her spells onscreen. “Ah ha!” he declared. “Power attack is ready.” He cupped his hands in front of his chest and an orb of energy began to form in front of Galinda, radiating purple sparks.

When the orb was the size of her torso, Ian thrust his hands forward and the orb shot directly for the remaining enemy character. The sorceress opponent fell to her knees, then all the way to the ground.

An orchestral fanfare sounded. The Primus Elites burst into exuberant cheers.

“Now
that
is how it’s done!” Ian directed Galinda on a path through the battlefield to collect tiny white orbs that appeared above each of the fallen enemy characters. When all the orbs had been collected, the music swelled and the Essence orbs combined into one sphere, which merged into Galinda’s chest. A white halo appeared around her, and the staff in her hand transformed into a new weapon with intricate carvings and a glowing white orb on the top. The fallen characters from Ian’s party rose and turned to Galinda. She victoriously thrust her staff into the sky.

Ian grinned. “Thank the stars that’s over!”

“Now you just have to defend your title next year,” Curtis said with a smirk.

“Oh, I will!” Ian declared.

Hopefully we’re done battling the Bakzen by this time next year and we can get this life back.
Michael inched back into the bedroom, remembering his unfinished contract review assignment. “Congratulations, Ian.”

“Thanks!” Ian replied, his eyes radiant with victory. “Glad to see you finally joined in.”

“Sorry, I’ve been pretty preoccupied with another fight.”

Ian nodded. “I guess we all will be soon enough.”

Michael withdrew the rest of the way into his bedroom. Though he had remained on the outskirts of some of the group’s social activities, there was an unquestionable bond between them. Seeing them become so enthralled and connected with one of their own playing a game, he liked to think that was a good indication they would make it through the war to come. Except, when lives were on the line, there would be no safety net—no chance to try again next year, or revert to a previous save and try again.

He shook off a sudden chill.
We’re about to enter into the unknown. I hope we really are ready…

*       *       *

After weeks of avoidance, Wil finally found
himself sitting across the desk from Banks in the High Commander’s office. On a rational level, he knew they needed to find a way to work together—somehow. But, the wound was still raw.
He lied to me about the Bakzen for my whole life. How am I supposed to trust him again?

“So,” Banks broke the awkward silence following their forced pleasantries, “you’re making progress with simultaneous observation.”

“I can do it now, if that’s what you’re asking,” Wil replied, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall behind the High Commander’s shoulder.

“Consistently?”

“It’s more of an ‘all or nothing’ thing. I’m past the threshold now.”

Banks folded his hands on the desktop. “Congratulations.”

Wil held in a scoff.
It’s hardly the accomplishment I dreamed it to be.

The High Commander searched his face. “Are you okay, Wil?” 

I don’t know anymore.
Wil swallowed.
It’s really not fair for me to be upset with him. He didn’t start the war… He was only trying to protect me.
He straightened in his chair. “I’ve had a lot to think about since I got back.”

“I know.” Banks paused. “I never wanted you to find out about the Bakzen like that. I should have told you sooner.”

Maybe, but I know why he didn’t.
“What’s done is done.”

“Still…”

Wil finally met the High Commander’s gaze. “Dwelling on past regrets won’t get us anywhere.”

“You’re right.”

“Regardless,” Wil continued, “as much as I wish I didn’t know that the Bakzen started out like us, in some ways, it’s a good thing to know. Their faults, their desires—it was all born from the same place as our own motivations.”

Banks nodded. “A fair point.”

“I don’t know how others would react if they knew the truth. I’ve told Saera, but anyone else…”

“I agree that it’s best to keep it confidential.”

“My men know I’m keeping something from them. They keep pushing me.”

“They’re a perceptive group,” Banks replied, cracking a slight smile.

“Yes. Annoyingly so, sometimes.”

Banks examined him. “How close are you to completing their training?”

Wil cast his eyes down.
That’s not what he’s really asking… I’d never engage them in this battle if I had a choice.
“They’ve honed their skills, but a lot of what they know is still only theory.”

“Then we’ll need to get them some real-world experience.”

“How? There’s no facility here that could possibly help us prepare any more than we already have.”

“Not here, perhaps,” the High Commander replied, “but H2 is set up for that very purpose.”

“It’s that time, isn’t it?”
I can’t avoid the war any longer.

“Everyone will be here to help you, Wil. We’ll win.”

*       *       *

While the conversation had been strained, Banks was relieved that at least Wil was talking to him again. He had enough to worry about without the added concern of infighting within the TSS.

Events were once again converging, as so often seemed the case. Wil’s new ability marked a turning point in the war, necessitating that the Primus Elites be deployed as soon as possible. That would leave Banks with some time to investigate the other matter that had been bothering him for the past few weeks.

The words of the Aesir Oracle were still fresh in his mind—a cryptic message about a Dainetris heir who had survived the dynasty’s fall more than one hundred years prior. A legitimate heir could have immeasurable influence on the future of Taran politics, shifting the balance of power. So long as the Priesthood remained in their position of absolute control over communications among the Taran worlds and had the final say in all policy decisions, there would be no way to make any meaningful changes without the added influence of a seventh High Dynasty. However, the return of the Dainetris Dynasty would not only remove the Priesthood from its present position as a tie-breaking vote, but the reemergence might also unveil what had brought about the dynasty’s downfall. If Banks’ instincts were correct, the Priesthood was to blame, but he knew them well enough to be certain they would protect their secrets at any cost. If a Dainetris heir had survived, the Priesthood must have a reason for permitting it.

Unfortunately, hunches weren’t useful. Banks still had a job to do. Before anything else, there was a war to win.

The latest report from High Commander Taelis at H2 in the rift suggested a new Bakzen offensive. Wil’s recent mastery of simultaneous observation had come just in time.

Banks set aside his thoughts about the Dainetris Dynasty and instructed the computer to call Taelis via the viewscreen.

The other High Commander answered after a minute, appearing agitated, as usual. “Jason, hi. Do you need something?”

“No, I wanted to give you some good news.”

Taelis grunted. “I could use it.”