Crossroads of Fate (Cadicle #5): An Epic Space Opera Series (9 page)

“Sounds good to me,” Rey agreed.

“Have any scenarios been programmed for us to try?” Tom asked Chelsea.

“I had prepared some basic target practice, but I think you’d be bored with that after a couple seconds,” she replied. “Let me find one of the advanced training modules we use with the veteran pilots.”

“That’s right! Advanced to pro levels on Day One!” Sander exclaimed.

Tom lined up with the course, eager for the simulation to begin. “Ready when you are.”

*       *       *

The Conquest wasn’t as homey as TSS Headquarters, but Michael was happy to have a room to himself after five years of sharing his personal space. Still, it felt good knowing that at least the other Captains were nearby.

His new quarters consisted of a main room with a double bed, desk, and wardrobe, and an adjoining bathroom. A single window above the bed provided an unobstructed view of H2, where the Conquest was still docked to finish Wil’s inspection. They’d head out to the field for further telekinetic calibrations any day, but for the time being, the main goal was to get settled into their new residence.

Michael reclined on the bed, thankful it was an optimum firmness for his liking. As he settled into the pillows, he grabbed his handheld from its charging pad so he could check his email. As he was scanning through the message list, a notification dropped down from the top of the screen: “New chat request from Elise Patera. Accept?”

Michael’s heart leaped.
Why is she writing me?
Their conversation his last night at Headquarters was one of the only times they’d corresponded for any meaningful length of time outside of class. Though the banter had been easy and natural, he’d figured that would be the end of it.

Curious, he opened up a secure chat exchange over a subspace relay to Headquarters. “Hi,” he typed.

“Hey!” typed back Elise.

“It’s good to hear from you,” Michael replied.

“I’ve been thinking about all of you over there. I haven’t heard from Saera yet. How’s it going?”

“So far, so good. We have a new cruiser with telekinetic relays—I’m anxious to test it out.”

Elise took a moment to respond. “Nice! I hate being stuck on the sidelines.”

“Where did you end up?”

“I’m still right here at Headquarters. They assigned me to teach a handful of navigation and interplanetary biology classes when the more senior Agents were called into the field.”

She’s one of the lucky ones.
“Be thankful. I have a feeling it’s going to get pretty bad out here.”

“Still…”

“Besides, you’re not on the sidelines,” Michael continued. “The trainees are lucky to have a good teacher.”

“You flatter me.”

“It’s true!” he insisted. “Your class presentations were always some of the most entertaining.”

“If you say so,” she yielded.

“And hey,” Michael wrote without fully thinking through the statement, “this way I won’t have to worry about you being in danger.”

Elise didn’t respond right away. “You’d worry about me?”

I barely know her.
However, as he thought back over their limited time together, he was struck by her genuine sweetness and gentle spirit. Being in the thick of battle would ruin her; not all Agents were meant to use their power for destructive ends. “I know you could hold your own out here, but I feel better knowing you won’t have to fight.”

“What about you… Out there on the frontlines with Saera, Wil, and the others…”

“We’ll be fine,” Michael assured her.
We’ll be the Bakzen’s biggest target. They already tried to take us out from within once.

“I’ll be thinking about you, all the same.” Elise paused. “I hope you really can end the war quickly.”

“We’ll do our best.”

The chat indicated that Elise entered text, but then deleted it. Eventually, another message came through, “Will you message me, when you get the chance? It’d be nice to stay in touch.”

To his surprise, Michael found his heart warmed with the thought. “Gladly.”

“Okay, good! Now, be careful out there.”

“Always.” Michael picked his words more carefully this time, “I’m glad you wrote me.”

“Me too,” Elise replied. “I think we could all use a good friend right now.”

*       *       *

Banks paced across his office.
What am I supposed to do?

With Wil settled into H2, Banks’ attention had fully shifted to his investigation into the Dainetris Dynasty. As he looked over the results of the genetic analysis again, there was no mistaking that he had finally found a match.
The only living Dainetris descendant.

Pieces of the woman’s file were fanned out over Banks’ desktop. Vital statistics, known associates, occupation. Nothing about her stood out, and yet she was the sole survivor of what had once been the second most influential High Dynasty.

There’s more to this than I can see.
The Aesir’s words had been gnawing at the back of Banks’ mind for days.
Why do the Aesir want her to have a son? How am I supposed to convince her to do that?

He examined the woman’s picture. She had a sadness in her pale blue eyes that soured her expression, despite the natural beauty passed down from her genetic legacy. But, it had been generations since the Dainetris name was one of power. The recent years had not been kind.

Does she know anything of who she is?
Banks rubbed his eyes.
I guess it’s time to take a trip.

Wil let the energy feedback from the Conquest wash over him. It buzzed in his ears and made his skin tingle as he gripped the handholds on his podium in the Command Center, becoming one with the ship while it floated in open space on the outskirts of the uninhabited system near H2.

It was yet another day of practicing with his crew to calibrate the Conquest and learn the nuances of its operation. Though rhythm with his team was lacking, at least the ship was living up to Wil’s expectations. Without fail, the ship responded to every minute shift in his attention: the weapons system charged in response to a thought of an enemy attack, extra power automatically routed to the shields with the threat of an incoming blast, and communications between the crew members effortlessly passed through the relays integrated into the ship. Yet, the fluidity from the practice sessions back home had been lost. There was a lag with his core team, some hesitation. It was subtle, but noticeable nonetheless.

I know it’s not the ship. Why aren’t we working well together anymore?
Ever since they arrived at H2, something had been off. Wil had been trying for days to get the rhythm back, but it still wasn’t right. It had been difficult to part ways with half his team, even though they were still in regular communication while they advised the fleet on tactics across the rift—putting their leadership training to use so Wil could focus on honing in his coordination with his Seconds on the Conquest. However, after spending five years together with only a handful of days apart, it still felt like part of himself had been displaced.

Maybe we need to mix things up.
Breaking from the standard calibration exercise, Wil focused on the beginning of a spatial dislocation wave.
Perhaps some subspace maneuvering…
The spatial dislocation wave radiated out from him, stretching slowly. The ship hummed in anticipation.

“Whoa, hold on!” Michael exclaimed. He let go of the podium at his station to Wil’s right.

Wil pulled himself back from his trance-like sync with the ship. “What?” The energy dissipated.

Ian, Ethan, and Curtis also released the handholds on their podiums.

At the front left console, Saera crossed her arms with disapproval.

Next to her, the newest member of the Command Center crew, Rianne, was watching with great interest. “Just incredible,” she murmured, tucking the bangs of her short red hair behind her ear. She was a seasoned Militia tactical officer and veteran pilot, and had been at the top of Taelis’ list for key ship personnel. For most of the previous week she had just been in an observational role, but based on her prior performance record, Wil had no doubt that her even temperament and experience would be an asset once they got into battle. 

“You can’t just initiate a spatial dislocation jump without any warning.” Michael’s brow furrowed.

“We might have to one day,” Wil countered. “You need to be prepared for anything.”
Now they’re outright resisting me. I never thought it would be my own team holding me back.

Michael’s eyebrows raised. “After we’ve been able to test that it actually works!”

“Yeah, I’d really rather not get lost in subspace…” Ian added.

“I wouldn’t let you get lost in subspace.”
Don’t they trust me anymore?

“Aside from that,” Ian continued. “I can’t compensate for the time lag from the spatial dislocation distortion if I don’t have any notice. Kind of makes it difficult to execute precision tactics.”

“My connection to the larger TSS fleet is at risk in the same way,” Curtis interjected.

Ethan held out his hands palm-down, gesturing for them to remain calm. “We can get used to it. I deal with it when the pilots make rift jumps in their jets, but having the dislocation on both sides of the connection will be tricky. We just need to practice.”

We’re running out of time to practice.
Wil took a deep breath. “Whatever we’re doing right now isn’t working.”

“No, it’s not,” Michael agreed.

The men frowned at each other.

Saera stood up and approached them. “It’s been a long practice session. Maybe you should take a break.”

“We won’t have the luxury of breaks soon,” Wil replied. “We need to build up our endurance.”

“If endurance is the goal, then we need a different approach entirely, because this is wiping me out,” Ian said.

“There are too many ties to hold.” Michael shook his head wearily. “It was easy in the zero-G isolation chamber, but there’s so much to keep track of now.”

What can we possibly do differently?
How can we stay more synced…?
Wil thought for a moment. “What if I bring you into the full distortion with me?”

Michael looked puzzled. “I thought the point was for us to anchor you?”

“That’s what we practiced, but that was before I knew about this ship.”

“Is that enough of a tether?” Curtis didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t see why not,” Wil replied. “The ship is a solid, fixed point. Even when executing a jump, it’s still a point of reference. I can link to the ship, and you can link to me.”

“It might work…” Michael mused.

“The only real way to test it is to try.”
If I bring them into the distortion, will they be able to see what I see?

Curtis looked around the group. “Right now?”

“We may as well.” Wil gripped the handholds on his podium.

A crease formed between Ian’s eyebrows. “Are you sure about this?”

“Just relax,” Wil assured him.

Reluctantly, the four men took their respective handholds. Saera sat back down at the front console to serve as their secondary anchor point through the ship.

Wil cleared his mind and focused on his position in space. He separated from his physical reality and extended outward. The signatures of those around him were faint, but he concentrated on his connection with the ship. It was a steady pull, bonding him to his sense of self. Through that bond, he reached out to the others who had formed their own bond with the ship. He worked his way through the energy pathways, finding common ties to bring them all together. Carefully, he brought his four Seconds to him, keeping them anchored to the ship through a central point. They resisted at first, then gave into his lead—placing complete trust in Wil to keep them tethered as they gave up their own connection with the ship.

With the single tether to the ship, Wil took them outward, hovering on the brink of subspace. As they approached the horizon, he centered his mind and took them through the dimensional veil.

“Fleet?”
asked Wil telepathically.

“Fleet check,”
replied Michael.

“Tactical?”

“Tactical check,”
replied Ian.

“Pilots?”

“Primus team check,”
replied Ethan.

“Pilot command check,”
replied Curtis.

The responses were seamless, more instantaneous than they ever had been before.

“How are your external connections?”
Wil asked.

“I just pinged Kalin at the outpost in Antaris,”
said Curtis.
“The timing is good.”

“And faster among us here,”
Michael commented.

“All right. Let’s put it to the test.”
Wil ran his team through a series of exercises, dolling out commands for his team to relay tactical maneuvers while simultaneously testing all the Conquest’s battle systems. The timing was exceptional, and the ship’s systems responded to their every maneuvering command. Wil kept them tethered as he held the presence of the two dominant dimensional planes in his mind, orchestrating a scenario that seamlessly passed between the dimensional veil. The rhythm was back, and smoother than ever.

When the men began to tire, Wil returned them to normal space. “How was that?”

“You surpassed all the prior benchmarks,” Rianne reported, awe in her hazel eyes.

“Saera?” Wil asked.

“Felt solid to me,” his wife replied.

The ship can take it. What about the rest of my team?
Wil looked to his men. “Could you see both planes?”

“All I saw was a haze of the outside world. I think I was more here than there,” Ian said.

“Same,” Ethan agreed.

This wasn’t the full answer, then.
“I need to find a way for you to see what I see. Maybe project my vision on the viewscreen.”

“Then we wouldn’t have to put everything into words,” Michael stated.

Curtis placed a hand on his chin, pensive. “How would we keep our clear vision enough to see everything on the viewscreen?”

“This was a decent first attempt. I think we can get there.”
But do we have enough time to work out the proper balance?

Michael nodded. “Even so, I’m still concerned about the tethering.”

“Why?” Wil asked.

“It’s a lot for you to manage. It might be fine for these short spurts, but how quickly will you fatigue?” Michael looked Wil in the eye through their tinted glasses.

It will be easier for me to bear than anyone else. We don’t have another option—this is the only thing that’s worked in the way we need.
“I’ll be fine.”

“If that’s the direction we’re going, then it’s going to take a lot more practice to get our vision clear enough,” Ian commented. “Taking in the full sphere of the viewscreen is tough enough, even when fully connected with our physical self. How are we supposed to do that while tethered through you?”

Then maybe the viewscreen isn’t the answer.
“What if we just used the ship as a processor. The bioelectronic interface interprets thought, right? So, perhaps we can use the ship to translate my vision and relay it to you.”

“Except that
you’re
our tether to the ship,” Ethan pointed out.

“I’m more of a mental hub. You’re still physically connected through the podiums and that’s all the bioelectronic relays need,” Wil replied. “Plus, there’s no reason I can’t be a two-way conduit.”
It’s a lot, but I’ll have to find a way.

The men pondered the proposition. It was sound, in theory. They smiled tentatively, their enthusiasm returning.

I have my team back.
Wil took the handhelds on his podium. “Ready for a test run?”

Michael grabbed his own podium. “Let’s see what we can do.”

*       *       *

Walking into the secured incarceration wing in the center of H2 instantly set Laecy on edge.
Nolan doesn’t belong here. It’s not fair.

She understood why he needed to be kept away from the engineering operations, but she missed his expertise and companionship. With both Nolan and Aram gone, there was too much for Laecy to handle with Becca alone, and almost none of the engineering support staff knew enough details about the newest fleet upgrades to be of much use in her lab.

A Militia guard was posted outside of Nolan’s cell door. “Credentials,” he demanded.

Laecy activated the ID badge integrated into her jumpsuit.

The guard nodded and stepped aside from the door. He entered in a passcode and the door slid to the side, revealing a force field across the opening.

Inside, Nolan was lounged on a bunk along the back wall. He was reading on a rudimentary tablet without network connections, mitigating security risk. When he noticed movement outside the cell, he set down the tablet and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. “Laecy!”

“Hi, Nolan,” she greeted through the comm system into the room. “Sorry it took me so long to come visit you.”

“I wasn’t expecting any visitors. This is a pleasant surprise.” He stepped up to the edge of the force field.

“How are you?”

Nolan shrugged. “Bored. I wish I could help you out. I hate being stuck in here.”

Laecy nodded. “I could use you. Have they made any progress toward identifying a way to counter the telepathic influence?”

“The medical staff won’t say much when they come in to examine me, but I think they’re onto something. They started getting all excited the last time they came in—saying something about a ‘counteragent to the neurotoxin.’ ”

“That sounds promising.”
I need him back. We have so much to do…

“I feel fine,” Nolan murmured. “I just don’t understand how they got to me.”

“The Bakzen have always been crafty,” Laecy replied, “but we’ll find a way to stop them.”

Nolan cracked a smile. “I’ll get back to the fight as soon as I can. In the meantime, can you get me some better reading material? I can’t endure another mediocre detective story where I figure out the twist halfway through.”

“I’m envious that you actually have time to read something other than fleet reports and engineering diagrams.”

“Down time isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Nolan sighed.

“All right, I’ll see what I can do.” Next to her, the guard shifted restlessly on his feet. “I should get back to it.”