by Amy DuBoff
“Right now, my future is acing this chemistry midterm,” he replied, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But don’t worry, Katie, darling. Nothing will keep us apart.”
Kate placed the back of her hand on her forehead. “But Brent?”
“I shall challenge him in a duel, and win.” Jason turned on his tablet. “After this chemistry test.” He withdrew into reading his notes.
Raena laughed to herself and turned her attention to her own notes. Despite the snafu with the alarm, she could already feel it was going to be a good day.
CHAPTER 5
With serenity once again restored to the house after the twins were off to school, Wil took a few minutes to finish reading through the morning newspaper. Such print media had become hard to come by, but after an entire life surrounded by instantaneous electronic communications, he’d come to enjoy the quaint, tactile experience and scent that accompanied the ritual. It felt like a window into a distinct element of Earth culture and he wanted to make the most of the experience before technology took over completely, as it always seemed to on worlds with Taran origins.
Most of the news would have been depressing had Wil not had a broader perspective on the conflicts. Wars between cultures were inevitable and economic disparity could be found everywhere. There was fighting on Earth for the time being, but one day the people of the planet would realize that they weren’t alone and in that moment they’d be united.
After sixteen years of living on Earth, Wil had often pondered when would be the right time to make the Taran civilization common knowledge. Taran officials had discussed the matter with the governments of Earth over the years, but human society didn’t seem quite ready—not until at least some of the cultural conflicts had been resolved. To be out among other Tarans, the people of Earth would need to gain a new level of tolerance and understanding that had thus far eluded many of the planet’s citizens. Although, based on the people he’d met, Wil was confident that that time would come—and soon.
Humans were curious by nature, and the government could only hide the TSS’ presence on the moon for so long. Conspiracy theorists were already quite close to arriving at the real truth. As far as Wil was concerned, if anyone asked him directly, he saw no reason to deny anything. But even then, he suspected that they’d laugh it off, like Saera’s family had when she’d returned from a many years’ absence.
Wil finished his review of the financial section in the newspaper, then folded it and placed it on the coffee table atop the others from the week. It would appear the economy would hold out at least one more day.
Time to get to it, I guess. He dragged himself from the couch and headed toward the basement.
When he had begun looking for houses with Saera after they’d decided to move, there were several important features: the house had to back up to greenspace; it needed to reflect a typical upper-middle class lifestyle; and it needed to allow for the excavation of a basement. It’d taken some time to find the right home and the right contractor, but they had ultimately accomplished their goal to create an entire sub-level.
Wil jogged down the carpeted stairs and headed across the game room toward the false wall that led to the Secret Lair, as Saera had dubbed it. The wall was only moveable via a telekinetic tug, so there was no worry of the twins accidentally finding their way inside. He grabbed the wall with his mind and pulled until the wood panel swung inward.
Beyond the opening, lights automatically illuminated along a stairway leading downward, parallel to the back wall of the basement.
Wil descended the stairway with its smooth, stained wood walls and entered into a replica of the master closet and bathroom from the upper floor of the house. Except, rather than everyday street clothes, this closet contained TSS uniforms for Saera and him.
He stepped over to the sink to wash the newsprint from his hands, and then carefully reached into each eye to remove the tinted contact lenses concealing the natural bioluminescent glow to his eyes. Such contacts were critical to their attempts to blend in with the native Earth population. Despite fine-tuning the design over the years, they still bothered him after days of continual wear. He blinked and gave his eyes a couple seconds to adjust to the lack of lenses.
Once his vision normalized, he retrieved a clean Agent’s uniform from the closet and got dressed. The uniform, complete with tinted glasses, always felt more comfortable than even loungewear—it was a part of him after practically spending his whole life in the TSS.
Looking the part of an Agent, Wil stepped up to a sliding door on the far side of the dressing area, identical to those found in TSS Headquarters leading from quarters into a hallway. The door was outfitted with a typical TSS entryway bioscanner, just as a precaution in case someone did manage to enter the sub-basement without an invitation. Wil placed his hand on the scanner and the door slid open with a slight hiss.
Inside, the square, four by four meter room was dominated by a metal archway in the center of the space. In its dormant state, the arch appeared almost sculptural—energy conduits on the surface forming complex patterns of interwoven lines. The inner plane of the arch was smooth besides a narrow groove that ran around the entire interior and across the threshold below the arch.
Wil immediately felt calm in the arch’s presence—his connection to his real home in Headquarters. Of all his inventions, the arch remained his favorite, allowing instantaneous travel through subspace between two fixed points without a craft. The attempts to name the process had resulted in some awful suggestions, but they had eventually settled on Telekinetic Spatial Dislocation, or a TSD arch for short. That singular device had allowed Saera to retain her position as Lead Agent and for Wil to retain his sanity while still calling Earth their official home. If only their neighbors had the slightest clue what his daily commute was like.
Of their relationships on Earth, only Michael and Elise knew the truth. They had a TSD arch in their own home and followed much the same commute schedule. After so many years, the routine was a natural part of all their lives.
Controls for the arch were set in a pedestal situated off to the side midway between the door and the arch. Wil connected with the telepathic neural interface and activated the arch.
A hum of energy filled the air as the arch charged, drawing power from the micro geothermal generator installed beneath the floor. White light emanated from the energy relays along the surface of the arch, glowing in the room’s dim light. With a crescendoing hum, an event horizon formed within the archway like a rippling wave, warping the view of the wall behind it.
Wil reached out to the portal telekinetically to test the connection, extending his consciousness through to the other side. It was sound.
Without further delay, he strode confidently through the arch and was enveloped by the shifting blue-green light of subspace.
The transfer only lasted a moment. Wil stepped out of the arch in the common room of the Agents’ quarters he’d shared with Saera for the first six years of their marriage. He reached out telepathically to the arch controls and deactivated the portal.
Though the arch took up more room in the living space than he or Saera liked, they couldn’t argue with the convenience factor of the destination, just as Michael and Elise had opted for their own arch.
The brief trip through subspace left Wil feeling energized and he took a moment to let the telekinetic charge dissipate from his body. Ever since the end of the war, he was always cautious to not draw too much. The appeal was always there, though, beckoning at the back of his consciousness. Part of him thirsted for that same power that had destroyed the Bakzen homeworld, but he couldn’t allow himself to go down that path.
Once he felt centered, Wil exited the quarters and made his way up to Level 1 for the scheduled meeting with the other senior officers. Due to the difference between Earth’s twenty-four-hour clock and the twenty-five-hour clock observed by Tararia and the TSS, it was impossible to keep a synced schedule between both locations.
In this case, however, the standard TSS meeting happened to correspond to a reasonable hour relative to the Eastern time zone on Earth.
Per custom, the meeting was held in the conference room adjacent to the High Commander’s office. Michael, Ian, Ethan, and Curtis represented the Primus Elites, and Scott as well as a dozen other Agents rounded out the group. Normally, Cris and Saera would moderate the meeting as the High Commander and Lead Agent, but SiNavTech term negotiations had taken them to Tararia for a week-long visit. In such rare instances where both of them were gone, Wil stepped in as the most senior Agent to be acting commander.
All the other Agents were already gathered in the room, leaving only three empty seats. Wil bypassed his usual spot and sat down at the head of the oval wooden table.
Ian glanced at the other Primus Elites and smiled at Wil. “This is almost like old times.”
Except I still have no interest in having that kind of leadership responsibility again. “This is way better. We get to talk about budgets and all kinds of fun administrative details.”
Marsie Katz folded her hands on the tabletop. “Speaking of which, do you have an update on the new flight simulators?”
“There was a complication in production,” Ethan replied. “Something about a titanium shortage.”
Wil frowned. “That’s new.”
“Rather,” Ethan clarified, “the main processing facilities have some sort of worker’s strike going on that’s messing up the whole supply chain.”
“Great.” Marsie leaned back in her chair.
“Is there any workaround?” Scott asked.
Ethan shook his head. “Not unless you have access to a private mine.”
Wil thought for a moment, running through the SiNavTech partner contacts. “We might. I’ll look into it.”
“On that note, there’s also the matter of budget,” Michael chimed in.
And this is why I didn’t want to be High Commander. “What about it?”
“Many of the raw materials for the final phase of renovations have been coming in significantly higher than the original bid,” Michael explained. “Apparently the ores market is going crazy right now.”
Wil rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “How over-budget are we?”
“Around thirty million credits,” Michael replied, sounding apologetic.
That’s way more than we could make up with any short-term contract. Wil drummed his fingers on the tabletop for a couple seconds. “All right. I’ll wire it from my personal account. We need to get the new training facilities up and running for this next term.”
The room fell into an awed silenced.
“I always forget you can just do that,” Ethan murmured. “Just make tens of millions appear.”
Wil bowed his head sheepishly. “It’s not appearing. Really, it’s worthless until it gets spent. This is a good cause.”
“Thanks, it’ll help a lot.” Michael flipped through the other notes on his tablet. “Otherwise, the classroom renovations are almost complete and the new Trainee dorms are done.”
“Enrollment is up again this year, just like we hoped,” Scott added. “Almost all those new rooms will be filled.”
The next generation of Agents—and hopefully one of the last that will graduate while the Priesthood is still in control. “Good, I’m glad everything is coming along,” Wil replied.
“There are some matters of promotions and reassignments,” Michael interjected in the ensuing pause.
Wil inched back in his chair. “Can’t that wait until my father returns?”
“Some of them, but we need to figure out staffing for the training year. We only have two weeks left to get everything in order,” Michael reminded him.
At least for the time being, it appeared there’d be no way around the administrative responsibilities. “All right, let’s go over everything.”
* * *
Cris glowered at the SiNavTech Executive Division Manager on the other side of the conference table. “Now you’re just being unreasonable.”
As usual, the negotiations had hit a wall one hour into the discussion. Cris and Saera were trying to stick to their talking points as they laid out the new transit plan with Fredrik, the SiNavTech representative. He was head of the Commercial Division of the corporation, which Cris found bothersome since the TSS was closer to a government entity than a private company. Negotiations about the TSS’ ability to use the beacon network shouldn’t be treated in the same way as a Baellas clothing shipment.
Fredrik flashed a prim smile and folded his hands on the tabletop. “The TSS contracts are up for negotiation, and these are the new terms. It’s not unreasonable to revise contracts that haven’t been updated for a century.”
“On the contrary, that’s a good precedent to maintain a positive relationship with one another,” Cris countered.
“I’m afraid SiNavTech’s business priorities have shifted in the twenty years since the terms were last agreed upon.”
Cris let out a coarse laugh. “I see. Allowing the TSS to move freely so it can offer military protection, moderate conflicts, and operate in general is no longer a priority?”
“It’s not meant to hamper the TSS’ operations,” Fredrik countered. “We simply recognize that TSS funding has been an issue recently and we wish to protect our interests going forward. We simply can no longer allow free use of the SiNavTech network.”
“You got the independent jump drive for free and now you want to impose a per-jump rate on all TSS transit. That’s insulting.”
“My understanding is that the independent jump drive arrangement was with Wil himself and not brokered through the TSS.”
“A meaningless technicality.”
Fredrik shook his head. “Regardless, past dealings have no bearing on these new terms. Now that the TSS is transitioning to more academic pursuits, the original transit terms no longer apply.”
“And now we’ll have to pay per jump.”
“Or you can enroll in an annual unrestricted use contract,” Fredrik offered.
“I can’t believe anyone pays that. You want us to spend one billion credits a year just to maintain our same level of access to the beacon network? That’s unacceptable.”
“Well, TSS transit comes at a premium because of the longer-duration nature of the jumps. The extended locks put more wear on the infrastructure.”
“That has no foking basis in reality and you know it.”
Saera stirred next to Cris and flashed him a warning look. “Shouting at each other won’t resolve this.”
Cris exhaled slowly. “The mechanical stress of beacon locks is isolated to the ship. Jump duration doesn’t make a bit of difference when it comes to the beacons.”
Fredrik consulted his notes on the tablet in front of him. “The latest reports from the Infrastructure Division say otherwise. My instructions for the term negotiations were clear.”
This is the first time we’ve brokered a deal with SiNavTech since I became High Commander. It can’t be a coincidence. “Did those directions come from Reinen himself?”
“It was a board decision.”
“So, yes. Well, you’ll just have to tell him that—”
Saera cut in, “There’s a middle ground here where both organizations can achieve a mutually beneficial outcome.”
“That requires the other party to also be dealing in reality,” Cris stated, not caring that his tone was terser than he’d otherwise allow in a professional setting. Just when he thought he’d made headway with his father accepting his chosen career in the TSS, something like this always seemed to come up.
“I’ll be frank,” Fredrik said, “I’m not pre-authorized to go below nine-hundred million credits on an annual contract. I can tell that is still well above your acceptable threshold, so I recommend we adjourn and reconvene after you’ve had the opportunity to reevaluate your finances.”
Or I can talk with my father directly. Dealing with intermediaries isn�
�t going to get us the kind of outcome we need. He nodded. “Appreciate your candor. I agree that we won’t be able to reach an agreement within that budget.”
Fredrik inclined his head. “Very well. I’ll relay your feedback to the board and we’ll take it from there.”
“Thank you for your time,” Saera said, but Cris could tell the words were hollow.
They exited the conference room and Cris led Saera to a small room down the hall reserved for private calls.
“Wow!” Saera exclaimed as soon as the door was closed. “Are they completely insane?”
“I can only view it as a deliberate attempt to bankrupt us,” Cris said with a heavy sigh. “Which makes me think this is more personal than a matter involving the TSS.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a sneaking suspicion that my father is doing this to get my attention. I’ve heard rumors that he’s preparing to retire, and this has always been a family business.”
Saera rolled her eyes. “And as soon as you agree to come take over the company, the TSS will suddenly have very favorable terms again.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Aren’t those kind of backchannel dealings illegal?”
“On paper, yes. In reality, that’s how the entire civilization operates.”
Saera crossed her arms. “That figures.”
“Question is, what do we do?”
“Well, are you willing to give up your position in the TSS?” Saera asked.
The question caught Cris off-guard. “I certainly don’t want to.”
“But would you consider it?”
I always knew I’d one day come back to Tararia to take over SiNavTech. I just figured it would be on my own terms. He swallowed. “I do acknowledge my responsibility and won’t turn away from where I’m needed. But, we have a lot going on in the TSS right now. This isn’t a good time for a change in leadership.”
“Can’t argue that. Maybe you could just agree to a transition timeframe with your father and he’d loosen the contract terms on good faith?”
“I don’t see that working, but we could try.”