by A. K. DuBoff
Now, the realization that this whole time there’d been another threat brewing called into question so much she’d held as certainty. A group of people within the Empire—she could deal with that. But the Rift, the tear in reality filled with untold power? That was another matter entirely. Anything coming through the spatial anomaly was bound to be formidable in a way not even the TSS may be prepared to address.
“We don’t know anything for certain,” her father reiterated. “I’ve sent Jason to interview the survivor of the attack, to learn what he can about what we may be facing.”
Raena sincerely hoped that he was wrong about all of it. Revisiting an ancient feud with an advanced alien race wasn’t in her five-point plan for the year.
“All right, and if the attack is connected to this broken treaty and Jason’s vision?” she asked.
“Then we might be going up against an enemy we can barely see, let alone have any way to fight.”
“How do you mean?”
He looked off-screen for a moment. “I’d rather not get into the specifics until I hear from Jason. I’ve already said more than I should.”
She nodded reluctantly. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate the heads up.”
She knew he wouldn’t have shared the information if she wasn’t his daughter. Still, there were times she wished she didn’t need to navigate the political nuances between the TSS and Taran government—that she could just be a nobody living with her parents in her childhood home on Earth again. Everything had been a lot simpler back then.
“I know this information is worrying, but I didn’t want you to be caught off-guard.”
“Yeah, thanks. You know how I’m good at compartmentalizing.”
“Which is why I knew you could handle it. How are you doing otherwise?” he asked. There was no mistaking that it was a question from her father, not the TSS High Commander.
Raena tried to quiet the thoughts swirling in her head. “Things are pretty good. Ryan and I have been busy getting the new DGE shipyards up and running. We also started a new scholarship program for technical studies that’ll feed into a job placement initiative.”
“That’s a great idea. And I heard the ship leasing program got rolled out.”
“Yeah, we’re still working out the kinks with that one. It sounds straightforward enough to hand a wanna-be captain a starship and guaranteed cargo transport contracts, but we’ve had issues with some of the dealers.”
He smiled. “I heard that, too.”
“I guess everyone would run a galactic corporation if it was easy, right?”
“Very true. I think you’re handling everything brilliantly, from what I’ve seen.”
“We’re trying, at least.”
Her father nodded. “Well, it’s good to see you. I wish this call had been under better circumstances. It’s been too long since we’ve spent time together.”
She smiled at him. “It has. You should come to the island. I think you’ll be impressed with the transformation.”
“I look forward to seeing it. We’ll schedule a trip after this situation is resolved.”
“I’d like that.”
He looked away from the camera again then back at her. “I’ll let you return to your day. Give our best to Ryan. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
When the call ended, the viewscreen briefly changed to the SiNavTech logo before automatically turning off.
Raena slouched in her seat. Everything always comes back to the Rift.
Even though it had been years since she’d visited it, she could still feel the pull of its power like she was there—intoxicating, addictive. The way it heightened abilities was both a blessing and a curse to Agents and others with Gifts; they could be stronger there, but too much time spent in its exotic depths made being in normal space feel empty. She didn’t want to imagine what kind of entity might permanently dwell in such a place of pure, unmitigated power.
She reached out telepathically to Ryan on the other side of the estate. “An invasion might be coming. We need to be ready.”
CHAPTER 3
Under the best conditions, Jason found it difficult to sleep on a spacecraft while traveling through subspace. After seeing the image of the leviathan wrapped around the Andvari, there was no way he could nap.
He stared through the side viewport as the mesmerizing blue-green light of subspace swirled around the ship like flames in a campfire. How much is out there that we don’t know about?
Since learning about the Taran Empire, he’d believed that the civilization had things pretty well figured out. After all, they had mastered gravity manipulation, spatial jumps, and planet bio-optimization. But the prospect that there was another race out there that dwarfed them in both scope and ability was beyond terrifying. And if there was this one race, then how many others might be lurking in the shadows?
Following the meeting in the wee hours of the morning, he’d quickly packed a travel bag and then hopped on a TSS transport ship to the other side of the galaxy. The fact that Tarans possessed technology capable of traveling such a vast distance in a matter of hours still astounded him, even after all of these years—a feat he’d loved in books and movies as a kid but that seemed like an impossible reality. Of all the things that had become available to him upon being inducted into the Taran Empire after his childhood on Earth, subspace travel was among the most thrilling.
Since sleep was out of the question and real-time communications were impossible during a subspace jump, he spent the duration of the five-hour journey reviewing all available information related to the attack on the Andvari. The events seemed routine enough at first, but it quickly devolved into a bizarre account of a seemingly haunted ship and crazed crewmembers. Given the outlandish claims, it made sense that his father wanted a firsthand reading of the key witness. Unfortunately, it appeared that the witness had, in fact, been unconscious for most of the alleged events. Jason tried to force back the sinking feeling that the trip might be a fruitless exercise.
When the transport ship reached its exit beacon, time seemed to elongate for a moment during the transition back into normal space. Stars began peeking through the blue-green sea of light, and then the ethereal fog dissipated, leaving only an inky starscape.
“Five minutes until docking,” the pilot announced over the comm.
Jason sighed. No doubt, the day was going to turn into a shitshow; he felt it. Better to get personal business out of the way so it wouldn’t be a distraction later.
He pulled out his handheld and initiated a vidcall to Tiff. It was still earlier than when she usually got up, but he couldn’t wait around until after breakfast.
The screen resolved into a video of her face. She rubbed her copper eyes with one hand and rolled over, showing her dark-brown hair fanned out over pillows.
“Woke up thinking about me?” she asked with a smirk.
“More like didn’t go to bed.”
“That rough a night, huh? You look like shite!”
“Yeah, good morning to you, too. Tiff, I’m really sorry, but I might not be around tonight.”
“Canceling again?”
“I just arrived at Prisaris. I took a transport out here in the middle of the night.”
Her eyes went wide. “Fok, is this about that attack?”
“Yeah, it might be complicated. I’ll know more soon.”
“Shite, okay. I can’t argue with that excuse. Sorry for being bitchy.”
“I would have wondered if I’d called the right person if your first words were anything else.”
She raised her nose with feigned superiority. “If nothing else, I’m consistent.”
“And much more reliable than me, these days.”
“When are you going to be home?”
“I’m not sure. Could be this afternoon. Or maybe a couple of days.” He really hoped an extended stay wouldn’t be necessary, but he couldn’t rule out any possibility.
“Okay, well, let’s get togeth
er when you’re back.”
“Of course.”
She nodded. “Good luck, Jace. I hope it’s not anything too serious.”
“Me too. Talk soon.” He ended the call.
As the transport ship positioned for docking, the Prisaris base came into view outside. Originally a shipyard, the facility’s most prominent attribute was still its sprawling spacedocks. Since the TSS had limited production needs during peacetime, the docks were now barren skeletons, glowing slightly in the icy white lights mounted along its length. The few ships present were docked around the central hub, which the TSS had transformed from civilian administrative offices into a functional base with medical facilities, an investigative unit, and even a complement of TSS Militia soldiers.
Publicly, the TSS’ combat-focused operations had been scaled down over the past thirty years, since the end of the Bakzen War. Now, the Tararian Guard—the TSS’ counterpart—was the go-to for conventional military engagements; the Guard’s peacekeeping division, the Enforcers, handled most civil disputes. By contrast, TSS Agents with their rare Gifts, served the role of specialists to call in for novel situations requiring a more calculated approach. Though mediation and negotiation were always an Agent’s first choice, would-be troublemakers had a tendency to surrender when they saw their companions flung across the room by an invisible telekinetic force.
Facilities like the Prisaris base were remnants of the older TSS from wartime. While Jason admired the recent move toward academia, he was steadfast in his opinion that the TSS served a vital role in the Empire and needed to keep its combat skills sharp. It was one of the leading reasons he’d volunteered to be a flight instructor—to help shape a new generation of TSS officers who could be equally skilled in offense, defense, and diplomacy. New threats like this situation in the Rift emphasized how critical it was that they not let their guard down.
Once docked, Jason sent a quick note to his father: >>I’ve arrived. Heading to the interview now.<<
A response came right away. >>Don’t do any kind of astral projection near the Rift until we know what we’re dealing with.<<
An oddly specific order, but one Jason was inclined to agree was for the best. The last thing he wanted to do was figure out how to counter an attack while his consciousness was detached from his physical self. >>Understood.<<
On that ominous note, Jason went to wait by the access hatch. As soon as it swung open with a hiss, he saw an Agent with bronze skin and black hair pacing at the base of the transparent, arched gangway leading to the station.
When the Agent noticed the hatch open, he stopped in place and went rigid with his arms at his sides. Even from meters away, Jason could sense his nerves. However, it was unclear if it was from meeting one of the TSS’ highest-ranked Agents or due to the situation.
With the hopes of setting the man at ease, Jason gave him an affable smile as he approached. “Hello,” he greeted as soon as he was an appropriate distance away.
“Agent Sietinen, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” The other Agent extended his right hand, palm up, in formal greeting.
“Jason is fine.” He returned the traditional gesture.
“I’m Agent Trevor Jenson. It’s a relief you’re here. Everyone is pretty shaken up.”
“Happy to assist.” Jason made a high-level telepathic assessment of the other man, judging his abilities to rate in the Sacon range of strength.
The Agent met Jason’s gaze, giving a subtle telepathic acknowledgement of the probe. “The senior Primus Agent, Hylsaen, who commands the base happens to be dealing with another field assignment right now, of all the bomaxed timing.”
“Isn’t that how it always goes?”
Trevor sighed. “It’s normally nice and quiet out here. An easy patrol assignment. None of us were expecting it to turn into the front lines again.”
Jason shook his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Sorry.” He flushed slightly. “It’s just… you must have seen the image?”
“I have. But we can’t forget we’re TSS Agents. There isn’t anything we can’t handle.”
Trevor brightened a small measure. “Yes, sir.”
“Well, I’d rather know sooner than later how screwed we are. Shall we get to it?”
“Right, yes. The witness is being held in Medical.”
“Lead the way.” Jason motioned him forward.
The interior of the Prisaris station was significantly more utilitarian than TSS Headquarters, lacking the wood accents and warm painted tones that made the other base so inviting. Instead, the corridors were lined in brushed stainless steel with occasional accents in black, gray, or dark blue. Though stark, it complemented the starscape visible through the ample viewports along the exterior bulkheads.
“None of the Agents here have been able to get through to the guy,” Trevor said as they walked. “I feel awful for him. What he must have been through…”
Jason couldn’t imagine losing his friends in the horrific ways detailed in the report, let alone family. No wonder the survivor was messed up. “I’ll see what I can do.” The code of ethics for TSS Agents was specific about the use of telepathy in interview situations. Violations of the mind were a serious concern. In general, high-level gleanings were acceptable, but deeper dives required justification. Depending on what Jason found, he might be forced to take information the survivor wasn’t willing—or able—to give freely.
As they approached the door labeled as the entry to Medical, Trevor said, “He’s in one of the isolation rooms through here.”
Jason paused just out of sensor range from the automated door controls. “I reviewed the reports on my way over, but I’d like to hear your impressions before I go in there. Any anecdotal observations you’d like to share?”
The young officer shifted on his feet. “He’s not entirely coherent, as you’ll notice right away. The moments of lucidity seem to be tied to his mother. The Guard escorts who dropped him off also mentioned that he was talking about her when he first woke up.”
Jason nodded. “He probably had a close relationship with her. It appears he was supposed to take over the ship from her when she retired. A family business.”
“Yes, and with the destruction of the ship and the death of his mother, he’s lost everything.”
“Every action is magnified when you work with loved ones,” Jason said. I know a thing or two about that.
“Yeah, so, he’s still processing that, while also being messed up from whatever that telepathic assault was that knocked him out in the first place.”
“Has he seen the information that he was carrying with him?”
The other Agent looked down. “Sadly, that’s what… well, forgive the phrasing, but that’s what broke him. He was dazed before that, kind of muttering to himself. We had him look at it, to see if he could tell us any more, and he just… It was difficult to watch, sir.”
“All right, so thoughts of his mother level him out, and the attack sends his thoughts into chaos,” Jason summarized.
“Based on my limited interactions with him, yes.”
Jason began plotting his approach to the upcoming conversation. “Thank you, Trevor. I appreciate your insights.”
“Gladly.”
“Okay, time to get some answers.” Jason walked through the doors into Medical.
Compared to the dim hallway, the bright, white surfaces within nearly blinded him. He blinked to force his eyes to adjust as he took in the infirmary. Six beds stood perpendicular to the back wall, with a lab area behind a glass wall to the right, and two smaller rooms with opaque walls to the left.
A middle-aged woman dressed in white turned to face them, looking over Jason from head to foot. She had no aura of abilities, marking her as a doctor from the Militia division rather than one of the Agents who’d honed their Gifts for medical pursuits. Her brows raised with surprise upon seeing him. “Are you here to interview my patient?”
Jason noted she didn’
t add an honorific, despite him being dressed in Agent black. He didn’t care, but it was clear that she viewed the infirmary as her domain. “I am. And to potentially escort him back to TSS Headquarters for further evaluation, should I deem it necessary.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He didn’t want to pull rank unless it actually became an issue, so he let it go. “My understanding is his greatest injuries are to his mind. That is one of my specialties.”
“This is Jason Sietinen,” Trevor quietly hissed.
Recognition passed across the doctor’s face, followed by a pink flush. “Of course, forgive me. I’ll leave you to your evaluation.” She took a step back to allow Jason free access to the isolation room’s entry door.
Jason sensed the man inside before he saw him—radiating pain, confusion, and a projection of scattered thoughts. Without any concerted effort of telepathic gleaning, Jason was struck by the raw grief in the man; he was lost and alone.
I can’t treat this like an interrogation. He needs a friend. With that approach in mind, Jason activated the door controls.
As the door slid open, the young man inside didn’t so much as glance to see who was entering. He was younger than Jason had expected, maybe not even out of his teens. His blond-highlighted brown hair was mussed from too long without a proper shower, and the scent of stale sweat in the room confirmed it. The young man’s gray-blue eyes were cast downward at the seam between the floor and wall opposite the bed on which he sat. The only other furniture was a small table in the corner with an accompanying chair.
“Hi, Darin,” Jason greeted. “I’m sure you don’t feel much like talking, but I’d like to see what I can do to help.”
“There’s not a foking thing you can do.” Though the retort was barely above a whisper, the acidity of the tone had the presence of a shout.