Crossroads of Fate (Cadicle #5): An Epic Space Opera Series (7 page)

Fear and self-doubt overwhelmed his consciousness, willing for himself not to be the perpetrator. Thoughts of his TSS family flitted across the surface—the good times he’d spent building and creating were enjoyable, despite the ever-present war as the backdrop. Nothing pointed to betrayal or ill intent.

“Are you working with the Bakzen?” Wil asked him, both spoken aloud and within his mind.

“I don’t know,” Nolan responded, unable to speak anything but the truth.

“Where did the Bakzen find you?” Saera asked, her words echoing in Wil’s consciousness as he heard them out loud.

Nolan shuttered, his eyes fluttering as a spasm wracked his body. “Lordan,” he stammered.

“When were you on Lordan?” Wil asked.

“Four years ago,” Nolan forced out. “Relief efforts. After Bakzen attack. So much smoke…”

“Have you heard of it?”
Saera asked Wil.

“Not specifically, but I don’t keep track of the individual Bakzen raids.
” Wil returned his attention to Nolan. “How were you contacted?”

“Not there.” Nolan shook his head. “Called afterward. They found me,” he punched his fists against the sides of his head, “in my mind.”

Wil telekinetically pinned the engineer’s limbs to his seat so he couldn’t hurt himself. “How did they relay orders?”

Nolan’s breath was labored. “Video communications. Told me what to do. Made me wipe record after.”

Wil dove deeper into Nolan’s mind, searching for evidence of the interactions. He navigated through the sea of memories, finally arriving at a vault anchored in the greatest depths. Forcing open the lock, a collage of commands poured forth—all the actions Nolan had performed under the Bakzen’s influence without conscious awareness, relaying information and implementing subtle acts of sabotage.

One of the memories stood out to Wil. His gut wretched with instant recognition when he saw a video feed through Nolan’s eyes, and the face staring back was a perverse mutilation of someone Wil had once known well. The last time he had seen that face was as he lay bleeding out on the floor of the secondary communications room in TSS Headquarters—the day that Arron Haersen revealed himself as a traitor. Except, this video was recent, and Haersen wasn’t the same. That could only mean one thing: not only was he still alive, but he was working with the Bakzen. He was
becoming
a Bakzen.

Wil recoiled with terror, heart pounding in his ears. He released his hold over Nolan.

Saera withdrew from Nolan’s mind, as well.
“What is it?”

“That was Arron Haersen—at least, that’s who he used to be. I’d recognize him anywhere after what he did to me, but he’s changed…”
The rest needed no explanation.

In front of them, Nolan was slumped forward, breath ragged and perspiration on his brow.

“I’m sorry!” Tears welled in Nolan’s eyes. “I didn’t know. I didn’t have any control. I—”

“We know, Nolan. You weren’t acting on your own accord,” Wil assured him, stepping forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The distraught engineer searched Wil’s face. “Please, don’t kill me!”

Wil shook his head. “No, of course not. We can likely find a way to undo whatever control the Bakzen have over you. It’s just a matter of time.”

Nolan hung his head. “All I ever wanted was to help.”

“You have,” Wil told him. “Laecy is repairing the relay conduits right now—the Conquest will be fine. You still helped deliver the ship I needed.”

“I’m glad,” Nolan murmured, his trembling beginning to subside.

Wil beckoned him from the chair. “Now, let’s get you to Medical so they can start working on a cure.”
I need to tell Taelis that Haersen is with the Bakzen.
Haersen and Tek—that was a duo worth destroying.

*       *       *

Banks startled at the chirp of an incoming communication from Taelis.
I wasn’t expecting to hear from him so soon. That’s either good news or bad.

“Hello, Erik,” Banks greeted the other High Commander, stepping toward the viewscreen on the side wall of his office.

Taelis appeared more worn than usual; definitely bad news. “It’s been an eventful day so far.”

Banks’ heart sank. “What happened?”

“We discovered that one of the engineers had laced some of the telekinetic relays in the Conquest with Detno.”

Stars!
“Is everyone okay?”

Taelis dismissed the inquiry with a wave of his hand. “Everyone’s fine—they caught it in time, fortunately. Repairs are almost complete.”

“That’s a relief!”

“The larger concern is that he was under subconscious influence of the Bakzen. He didn’t even know what he had been doing,” Taelis revealed.

“Like on Kaldern?”

“I’m afraid so. But there’s more… Apparently your former Mission Coordinator, Arron Haersen, made his way to the Bakzen. He’s still with them now.”

That’s a name I never thought I’d hear again.
“Was he also under the influence of the Bakzen when he shot Wil?”

“That’s unclear,” Taelis replied. “He may just be a genuine defector. Either way, it explains why the Bakzen have known so much about our supply routes and procedures in recent years.”

“That is does.” Banks shook his head. “Is there any record of their conversations?”

“No, Wil only found out because of a memory deep in the engineer’s mind. We checked the communications logs and there’s no evidence—the records must have been erased immediately. There’s nothing to cross-reference with other potential collaborators.”

Banks wilted under the weight of the implications. It was one thing for civilians to begin acting irrationally, but TSS soldiers turning against us at any moment would be disastrous. “How many others might be acting against their knowledge?”

Taelis shook his head slowly. “It’s impossible to know. Medical is trying to discern the nature of the influence. Whatever it is, we’ll have to come up with some kind of detection tool and counter measures, if there are any.”

It could be anyone within the TSS. Or any supplier, family member
…
“What else can we do for now?”

“Agents will need to perform thorough mental assessments on everyone—clear a team to initiate interrogations, then have the cleared Agents perform an assessment of others.”

That was fine, in theory, but it would serve as a major distraction from the work at hand. “We don’t have that time or energy to spare.”

“Is there another choice? It’s too big of a risk to go unchecked.”

Banks sighed. “It is.”
We’re in a terrible position either way.
Unless the Bakzen’s intent was to divide us?

“I’ll have all available Agents vet those around them. If there’s anyone else who’s been compromised, we’ll find them.”

“I can do the same here,” Banks agreed. “The question is, what do we do if we find anyone else?”

Taelis hesitated. “We can’t turn them loose into the general population. The only options are imprisonment or execution.”

Banks was unwilling to compromise on one point. “I won’t execute anyone just because of something they
could
do.”

“Where can we possibly hold suspects?” Taelis asked, worry pitching his voice. “We barely have the resources to support our troops, as it is. Besides, putting all the Bakzen’s potential drones in one place would make it a target—and one we’d have no way to defend.”

“There might not be that many.”

“Or maybe it’s half our soldiers and we don’t stand a chance.” Taelis exhaled heavily, slumping against the front of his desk. “Maybe we’re better off not knowing.”

“There are risks either way.” Banks had seen enough to know that the ripple effects of an investigation might be more difficult to manage than the hypothetical actions of a Bakzen accomplice.

The other High Commander paused to consider the counterpoint. “If we stay quiet, at least morale would remain intact. That may be the most valuable commodity we have right now. We have no way to know if the Bakzen will exert influence, or when. If someone isn’t committing active sabotage, they’re still a resource to us.”

A cold reality, but Banks had to agree. “So, we tell everyone to keep an eye out for suspicious activity but otherwise continue normal operations?”

“It’s an option. And maybe the best one, given the alternatives.”

Banks frowned. “Alerting everyone to the danger might be counterproductive. We could quickly find ourselves overwhelmed with finger-pointing and mass hysteria.”

“Can conditions truly deteriorate so quickly?”

“It’s happened before,” Banks cautioned.
Like when Tarans first ostracized the Bakzen and started the war.

Taelis let out a slow breath as he contemplated the options. “Then we tell only the most senior officers—those who have proven level-headed in such matters. With any luck, Medical will be able to pinpoint the cause of the telepathic influence before it becomes a bigger issue.”

“Yes, I agree. That’s the best course.” Concern continued to gnaw at the back of Banks’ mind. “Except, even if we’re able to address the breach within the TSS, there’s still the civilian population…”

“That’s too large a task for us to tackle at the moment. We must focus on the internal concern, for now.”

“All right,” Banks conceded.

Taelis’ shoulders slumped further. “Yet another reason to end the war as quickly as possible.”

“That’s in Wil’s hands now. He’ll deliver.”

The other High Commander nodded. “We’re counting on it.”

Saera was still queasy from the interrogation with Nolan.
He was innocent, despite his actions. How many others will live with that burden?

A chirp from her handheld pulled her back to the present. It was from Wil: “Just got the all-clear from Laecy. Can you get the Primus Elites settled in for the night?”

Establishing some sense of familiarity and home was just what she needed. “I’m on it,” she wrote back.

The Conquest’s hangar was completely empty when she arrived. Saera milled around the cavernous space while she waited for the transport shuttles carrying the Primus Elites from the Vanquish. It felt wrong to just stand around idly waiting, but there was little else she could do.
Soon we’ll have a clear sense of direction, once Wil has a plan.

The minutes dragged on, and eventually Saera sat down on the floor with her back against the cool, metal wall. Bored, she pulled out her handheld and started playing a puzzle game. She had just passed Level 17 when the proximity alarm for the outer hangar door sounded.
Finally
.

Saera jumped to her feet and stretched out some of her soreness from the uncomfortable sitting position on the hard floor.

The hangar door slid open, leaving only a force field between the interior and the vacuum of space. Two shuttles outside were slowing on their final approach. The vessels passed through the force field, one at a time, and came to rest several meters from Saera. The side doors opened, and the Primus Elites filed out.

“Welcome to the TSS Conquest,” Saera greeted as the men approached.

“Thanks,” Ethan replied. “So, this is the new flagship?”

“Sure is.” Saera examined the young men. They seemed a little travel worn—no wonder, after being cooped up in the Vanquish’s lounge for a whole day. “Let’s get you situated.”

Saera led the Primus Elite trainees up several decks to the residential area, requiring four trips on the lift to transport everyone. Once reunited, they made their way past a common area to a row of doors at the end of the hall, adjacent to the captain’s quarters by the lift. “Go ahead and pick out your rooms,” she said.

The men poked their heads into the quarters. “It looks like all of them are singles,” Curtis commented.

“I don’t even remember what it’s like to have my own room,” Ethan said.

“I’m sure you’ll all adjust.”
They seem a little upset about being separated. I guess if you spend enough time with a group, they can become an extension of yourself.

It only took a couple minutes for the men to work out the room assignments. Not surprisingly, they stayed clustered in their training groups.

“What now?” Michael asked, once everyone had deposited their minimal personal possessions.

“Now we wait for Wil.”
And the plan.

*       *       *

Wil had endured enough briefings for one day. The added complications with Nolan had only lengthened an already trying afternoon. At least now there was some sense of direction.

After the final meeting for the day concluded, he found his way back to the Conquest in short order. When he arrived, the Command Center was empty.
Quarters, perhaps?
Wil took the lift down one deck. As soon as the doors opened, he heard voices from down the hall. Despite his low spirits after discussing the Bakzen’s telepathic control with Taelis, the cheerful voices brought a smile to his face.

Wil found his men in a common room near the living quarters. Saera was with them, and she rose in greeting as Wil neared.

He looked around the expectant faces. “Hi, sorry to keep you waiting.”

Michael smiled back. “We’ve made do.”

“Good.” Wil stared at his feet, torn about the news he had to deliver. “So…” he began slowly, “the developments today have revealed just how vulnerable the TSS is right now. I was fully intending for us to remain here together, but that’s no longer realistic. I need some of you to integrate with the rest of the TSS fleet right away.”

The smiles faded.

“What about finishing our training?” Tom asked.

“The training is over. Everything we do now is for the war.”

The men nodded with understanding.

“Your new assignments will be sent to your handhelds shortly. You leave in the morning, so take tonight to say your goodbyes. It might be awhile before we’re all back together in person again.”

After living so closely for five years, the notion of being distributed across entire star systems would make it difficult for the men to part ways from their friends. Wil beckoned Saera away so the Primus Elites could have some time for farewells without the oversight of their commander.

“Don’t worry. You’ve trained them well,” Saera said in a low voice once they were down the hall.

“It’s not them I’m worried about.”

“Oh, come on! You’ve got this.” She gave him a gentle nudge with her shoulder. “I have no doubt that we’re going to win this thing in no time.”

He smiled back at her. “You’re right. We will.”
But at what cost?

They walked hand-in-hand to the captain’s quarters. The door slid to the side, revealing panoramic windows along the back wall. The space immediately inside the door was arranged as a sitting area with a couch and two chairs around an oval coffee table. A compact bistro table and two chairs were situated next to the left wall near a door leading into what Wil suspected was a separate bedroom.

“I already unpacked,” Saera commented as they stepped inside.

“Thanks,” Wil collapsed into one of the chairs across from the couch. “I guess this’ll be home for the next few months, or however long it takes.”

Saera took a seat across from him. “It’ll go quickly, I’m sure.”

“Hopefully.” Wil massaged his eyes. “First, I need to pick the rest of the crew.”

“Do you have a manifest of the candidates?” Saera asked.

“Taelis said he sent something over.” Wil pulled out his handheld and located a message from the High Commander. Several personnel files were attached. “It’s a pretty short list.”

“He does seem to always get straight to the point.”

“That he does,” Wil agreed. He projected the files on the nearby wall viewscreen.

Saera smiled. “All right. Let’s pick our crew.”

*       *       *

Haersen followed Tek along an upper grated walkway overlooking the hanger below. Rarely would they leave the planetary headquarters, but such a momentous occasion called for the Imperial Director’s presence.

The rows upon rows of matured hybrid clones beneath them in the warship’s hangar made for an impressive display. Their chestnut hair was sheared to stubble, blending in with their coarse skin that appeared more Taran tanned than a distinctly orange tint like their pure-blooded Bakzen counterparts. Each drone bore a constant scowl beneath their sorrel eyes. All of them had been risen to their full telekinetic potential—ready to fulfill their purpose in the war.

It was a shame they were only made to die.

Between the center rows, a sleek barrel one meter in diameter extended the length of the hangar, with one end pointed toward the exterior door. Fitted with pods to hold one of the clones, the device would launch its payload into space. When the pod depressurized, the clone would become fodder for expanding the rift.

“A magnificent army,” Haersen commented to his commander.

“They are,” Tek agreed. “Your first generation of Bakzen brothers.”

That was a fair assessment, given that they were only one generation removed from their Taran origin. Haersen’s own transformation would always make him an outsider, but at least he was advancing toward a more evolved state. In many ways, the hybrid clones were a step backward. The idea of willingly incorporating the inferior genetic matter of a pure Taran would have been an atrocity under any other circumstances. Except, Wil was different. Whatever selective pairings had led to his creation, it was enough to unlock a trait that the Bakzen had never been able to replicate. Though the Bakzen line would be diluted, it was to shape an even better future. When the next iteration of the hybrids was perfected, an even more powerful era for the Bakzen would begin.

Tek stepped to the railing and looked down upon the hundreds of clones who were about to be sacrificed for the greater Bakzen cause. “Such genetic potential wasted on mindless drones. We’ll eventually find out what they can become, but not today.” He strode down the elevated walkway toward the exit door.

Haersen jogged to catch up, cursing that the Bakzen hadn’t been able to modify his small stature.

They made their way to a lift, which carried them to the Command Center at the top of the ship. Suiting its warship designation, the entire vessel was simple and utilitarian to the Bakzen extreme, lacking any form of ornamentation or more than the most basic padding on seats. Walls were either riveted metal or plastic sheeting, and lights were placed at bare minimum intervals to cast the necessary illumination. After so many years among the Bakzen, Haersen was used to only having the essentials.

As soon as they entered the Command Center, Tek took the seat at the center of the room, leaving Haersen to sit in one of the four guest chairs along the back wall, two to either side of the entry door. The two Bakzen soldiers stationed at control consoles in the front of the room bowed their heads to Tek while four others posted at stations wrapping around the side walls of the oblong room rose to greet him.

Tek waved them back to work. “Ready the first drone.”

The domed viewscreen encircling the ceiling and floor shifted from a perfect rendering of the surrounding starscape to show the side of the warship and the exterior hangar door. A barely perceptible force field covered the opening, and the barrel of the launching tube thrust forward through the barrier.

“Bring up the rift map,” Tek instructed, straightening in his chair.

With a shimmer across the viewscreen, a purple overlay appeared, displaying a graphic representation of rift pockets in the surrounding space. The warship was positioned at the edge of the purple mass representing the rift.

Haersen gripped the armrests of his seat, his breath shallow with anticipation. If the test was successful, the new Bakzen drones without natural telekinetic ability inhibitors would be able to expand the rift far more efficiently than their previous brethren. With the rift corridors serving as guided tunnels to their destinations, no navigation beacons would be needed—the Bakzen could travel without detection and launch their attacks on the unsuspecting Taran worlds. The faster they could complete those pathways, the better.

“Deploy when ready,” ordered Tek.

The barrel of the launch assembly illuminated as a pod rocketed out into space. At the horizon of the rift, the pod burst apart, exposing the Bakzen drone to open space.

Any other living being would quickly depressurize and freeze in the vacuum, but the drone instinctively formed a subspace distortion around itself—just enough to maintain consciousness as it clung to life. It thrashed in weightlessness, contained in the bubble that spanned the spatial planes.

Eventually, it could hold on no more. The subspace distortion began to collapse, but as it did, the drone released all of its telekinetic potential in one last vain attempt to save itself.

A burst of white light flashed across the viewscreen. When the image resolved, a new purple extension appeared on the rift map overlay. The drone was gone.

“Two-hundred-eighty percent increase over previous benchmarks,” the soldier at the front right console announced.

Tek stroked his chin. “Nearly three times the impact of our previous drones. We had hoped for four.”

“Improvements for the next generation,” Haersen offered.

“Indeed. This will still speed our progress toward enveloping Taran territory in the rift.” Tek gazed out at the new tendrils of the rift extending before them. “Maybe the drones can even serve another purpose.”