by Amy DuBoff
Can I forgive myself for what I’ve done? Wil searched the faces of the two people closest to him, seeing their eagerness for him to be the person he was before. I can’t be that same person again, but I owe it to them to try to find a way to live with this new reality—to find a new purpose for my life. “Okay, we’ll go home.”
Cris nodded. “Good, because there’s also the matter of a new High Commander.”
Wil shook his head. “No, I can’t.”
“I’m willing to step up as interim High Commander, until you’re ready to assume the position,” Cris offered.
Wil rose to his feet. “It’s yours. At this rate, I never want another command.”
“Okay, I’ll keep the chair warm for you.” Cris attempted a smile.
“When can we leave?” Wil asked.
Cris and Saera exchanged glances. “I guess we could take one of the smaller ships and head out now,” Cris said.
“All right, then let’s go.”
* * *
To Michael’s surprise, their return home wasn’t met with even a Militia guard reception. As he walked down the spacedock concourse with Wil, Saera, and Wil’s parents, he felt none of the joyous return home he’d always envisioned. The TSS spaceport was devoid of life, and the subdued energy of normal space made everything dim after experiencing regular exposure to the rift.
They made their way down to the moon’s surface and boarded the central elevator. The five of them stood in silence as the elevator descended through the shaft to the heart of the moon. With the facility leaderless after Banks’ death, they were the chosen few to reassemble the broken pieces of the TSS. Michael wished in some ways that he’d been able to stay in the rift with the other Elites to help tend to the aftermath of the war, but Cris had requested his presence at Headquarters to lend emotional support to Wil and Saera. While Michael doubted he’d be much help on that front, it was an excuse to see Elise sooner.
As they rode in the elevator, Michael glanced over at Wil, who was staring sullenly at the floor in much the same manner he had during the journey home. I hope being back here does him some good.
A thud outside the elevator signaled that they were entering the subspace bubble around Headquarters. The dampening effect on Michael’s abilities took effect immediately—as though he were reaching out to grasp at smoke.
“I guess there’s not a need for the subspace shell anymore,” Cris commented.
No more Bakzen to protect against. Michael nodded but chose not to reply when he saw Wil’s grimace deepen.
“It does keep the trainees in check,” Kate said.
“Limiting exposure to abilities doesn’t help with training, though,” Saera pointed out. “I’d support bringing the facility into normal space.”
Cris cracked a smile. “That’d be quite a feat if we could pull it off. Transitioning the whole facility from one plane to another…”
Kate placed her hand on his arm. “Let’s take it one step at a time. We have a lot of other transitions to make before then.”
Somberness quieted them yet again.
Eventually, the elevator slowed and the doors opened to Level 1.
Elise was waiting for them in the lobby. She lit up when she saw Michael, but quickly turned her attention to Cris. “Sir, welcome back.”
“Thank you for keeping everything in order,” Cris replied. “Anything to report?”
Elise shook her head. “No, sir. It’s been quiet since Saera left.”
“All right, I guess we’ll get settled in.” Cris took his wife’s hand. “Wil, did you want to go over any of the staffing?”
“No, it’s up to you,” Wil mumbled.
Cris and Kate stepped out of the elevator.
Elise hesitated in the lobby. “Sir, did you need anything else from me?”
“Not right now,” Cris replied. “I’ll give you a call if I have any questions.”
“Of course, sir. Anytime.” Elise darted onto the elevator, flashing a coy smile to Michael. “Hi,” she greeted in his mind.
“Hi,” he greeted back. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too.” Elise threw her arms around Saera. “Welcome home! Next time I won’t let you leave me behind.”
Saera hugged her back. “I won’t, promise.” She released her friend. “We’ll catch up soon, but I need a little down time first.”
Elise glanced at Michael again. “Of course, take your time.”
Cris and Kate waved goodbye as the elevator doors closed.
Saera selected Level 2 on the control panel next to the door. “Residential wing okay?” she asked Elise.
“Works for me.”
They exited into the residential corridor on Level 2, and Saera escorted Wil toward their quarters. Elise hung back with Michael, waiting for their friends to round a bend in the hallway.
Michael was overcome with an unexpected wave of nerves as he found himself alone with her. “So, how are you?” he asked when Wil and Saera had disappeared from view.
Elise stepped forward and embraced him. “I’m so glad you made it home safely.”
He wrapped his arms around her, savoring her warmth. “I was one of the lucky ones out of the thick of battle, for the most part.”
Elise pulled back slightly, her dark eyes searching his. “I think being on the lead command team qualifies as being in the thick of it.”
“Not as much as some people.”
“You mean your friend… who was hurt?”
Michael took a deep breath. “Tom and the rest of them were the ones who made a real difference. I had it easy.”
“You made a difference as far as I’m concerned.” Suddenly, she stretched up her toes and gave him a quick kiss.
His heart leaped as her lips brushed against his—soft and inviting. He stood in shock for a moment after the unexpected advance.
“I’d like to give us a shot,” Elise stated matter-of-factly.
A happy tingle spread through Michael’s core. He took her hand. “I’d like that.”
“All right.” Elise grinned. “Now, let’s go find you some proper Agent quarters.”
* * *
Cris stepped into the vacant High Commander’s office. Banks’ office…
His heart ached from the loss of his longtime friend and mentor. Though their relationship had been rocky at times, Banks was always more of a father to him than his own blood relation. He had been with Cris along every step of his career in the TSS, had filled in as a surrogate grandfather for Wil. Even though Banks was fulfilling his responsibilities to the Priesthood, that didn’t change the fact that there was genuine affection between them. More than a friend, he was part of the family. The loss left a void that could never be filled.
“I guess this is yours now,” Kate said from behind him.
“Wil said he didn’t want it,” Cris replied. “I’m not sure I do, either.”
Kate came forward and slipped her hand into his. “Everyone needs a leader right now—a familiar face to offer some consistency. You’re the best person for the job.”
“Maybe Taelis will want to take over.”
Kate raised an eyebrow. “Are you inviting mutiny?”
“Good point,” Cris smirked. “Besides, he’ll probably want to retire. I can’t imagine going back to administrative tedium after spending four decades in a warzone. All of those people in the Jotun division deserve a break.”
“I’d say we do, too, but we haven’t had it nearly as bad.”
“I think I have a few years left in me.” Cris’ handheld chirped in his pocket. The call was from Taelis.
“Nice timing. I’ll leave you to it.” Kate gave him a quick kiss and showed herself out of the office.
Cris directed the call up to the main viewscreen. “Hello, sir.”
“Hi, Cris. You left in a hurry,” Taelis’ image said from the screen.
“We were able to convince Wil to travel back here. Needed to keep the momentum while we had it.”
“Hopefully that’s a sign of improvement,” Taelis said.
“I’m trying to be optimistic.”
The High Commander nodded slowly. He seemed to take in Cris’ surroundings. “Is that the High Commander’s office?”
“It is. I was just making sure everything was in order.”
Taelis drew a deep breath. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Me either.” Cris hung his head. “We’ll arrange for a memorial service here. I think that’s most fitting.”
“Yes, good,” Taelis replied. “I take it you’re in charge at the moment?”
“Wil’s in no position to command right now, so I’ve stepped up as interim High Commander.”
Taelis’ tilted his head. “I didn’t expect him to break like this.”
“He led the destruction of an entire people.”
“They were the enemy!” the High Commander shot back.
“They were innocent. The Priesthood is the real enemy. They created the Bakzen, then decided that it was a mistake. Wil was also created. Used. He empathized with them, I think. The Bakzen were only trying to survive.”
Taelis scoffed. “Do you know how many of us they killed?”
“At least we survived. The Bakzen are all but extinct now, thanks to us.”
“They never should have been created in the first place.”
He is a pawn of the Priesthood. I can’t reveal my intentions yet. “At least the war is over now.”
“It is,” the High Commander agreed. He released a slow breath. “It will take a while to change my mindset.”
“What are your plans?” Cris asked.
“There is no longer a need for H2 or the Jotun division. I would like to live out my remaining days in some quiet corner of the galaxy. I just have a few remaining details related to fleet decommissioning to attend to. There’s also the matter of Aram Laensir.”
“Oh, right,” Cris muttered, remembering the would-be Bakzen sympathizer they’d apprehended in H2. “May as well let him go. There are plenty of other people who hate those with telekinetic abilities—he can’t defect to the Bakzen now.”
“My thoughts, as well.” Taelis sighed. “I hope we can begin the process of unification.”
That’s my new mission. “Indeed. I’ll look after things here as best I can,” Cris told him.
“I have no doubt.” Taelis paused. “I’ll make sure all the important information gets transferred to your account.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And Cris… I’ve come to understand why Banks was so fond of you. I trust you’ll make sure we never end up in a position like this again.”
Maybe he’s not such a pawn after all. “Yes, sir.”
Taelis inclined his head. “Take care. The TSS is in good hands.” He ended the transmission.
Cris took a moment to let the words settle in. Banks had always talked about Taelis as though he was completely aligned with the Priesthood, but perhaps that was not the case. He might be a resource to help fill in some of the missing information about the Priesthood’s involvement in the Bakzen’s creation, but if Cris was wrong about his loyalties, he’d place himself in a dangerous position. It was a matter to investigate further when everything else was settled.
Turning to more pressing matters, he logged into the Mainframe to check the latest messages and reports that had gone to Banks’ account, since no routing had been set up to a new contact yet. Only 1,357 unread messages, all marked as high-priority. The next few days are going to be great.
He closed out of the email application. The screen defaulted to a desktop view, and one of the icons caught his attention. It was simply titled: “For Cris.”
Banks knew he was going to his death. Were these his final wishes? Reluctantly, Cris opened the file. It read:
Dear Cris,
You’re reading this because I’m dead. I was never much of one for theories around time dilation, but maybe these sorts of letters are a loophole.
I wish I could have said goodbye properly, except the bomaxed war had to get in the way. I spent my whole career preparing for other people to enter the fight, so I suppose it’s fitting that I go out this way defending our home. I hope it worked—but then again, you wouldn’t be reading this if it hadn’t.
I want you to know that you were the only son I ever knew. You were my family and despite all the secrets I had to keep from you, you were always my most trusted friend. I hope that the coming peace is every bit as wonderful as we’ve dreamed it to be. Enjoy every moment you share with your loved ones and cherish those times. Learn from my mistakes and live with no regrets.
Life is complicated. I didn’t always know what the correct action was, but I’m confident you’ll figure it out. I have sealed some information for you that will unlock when the time is right. I entrust you to the safekeeping of my legacy.
Give Wil, Kate and Saera my regards. Perhaps we will all meet again in another lifetime.
- Jason
By the end, Cris’ vision was clouded and his throat tight. His path may have been designed by the Priesthood, but Banks had made the TSS Cris’ genuine family. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. I owe you my life.
CHAPTER 29
“Wil, please say something,” Saera pleaded from the doorway of the bedroom.
Her husband didn’t so much as glance up from writing on his tablet as he sat cross-legged on the bed. He’d been furiously typing for days with no indication about the nature of the project.
Whatever person Wil used to be was buried somewhere deep. On the rare occasion he did look at her, she sensed only pain and sadness in his gaze. Gone was the love, the desire, the excitement to be in each other’s presence. It would be easier to live with a stranger than to watch him deteriorate without explanation.
“What are you working on?” she asked again, expecting silence.
“Someone else needs to know,” Wil replied.
Surprised, she almost choked on her own breath. “Know what?”
“The truth about the Bakzen.”
Very few people knew yet about the Priesthood’s involvement. The members of Wil’s Command Center crew were the first to put the pieces together after the final battle of the war. They’d gone to Cris as the most senior officer, but Saera was the only one with the insights to fill in the missing pieces when they asked; by that point, she had no reason to deny anything. The war was already over. No sentiments of the morality of their actions would change the outcome.
Even as word spread within segments of the TSS, there was an unspoken understanding that the information was sensitive. In particular regard to those who’d spent their whole careers—given their lives—to the Jotun division, divulging that all the fighting had essentially been a civil war against their divergent Taran kin would only result in heartache. There were too many nuances to explain or justify. All that mattered for the present was that Tarans could begin to recover. No more resources dedicated to endless fights, no more raids and threats of attack. They could begin rebuilding, and hopefully make it a better future.
“What are you saying about the Bakzen?” Saera asked.
Wil paused his writing. “The facts, or as close to fact as records indicate. I suspect the Priesthood will attempt another data purge. I don’t want the rest getting lost.”
“We won’t let it.”
He stared at his hands. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to see it through myself.”
At the risk of him shying away from her as he had since he first sent her away, Saera moved to her husband and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Up close, he was noticeably thinner and pale compared to his usual self—worn from lack of sleep and a poor appetite.
Cautiously, she reached out her hand toward his. To her relief, he allowed her to take it. A spark passed between them. Her heart leaped; their connection was still there, even if he was ignoring it.
“I would do anything for you,” Saera murmured.
“I would for you, too.” Wil looked away again.
“So come back to me.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“So explain it to me,” she urged. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Saera, you’re perfect. You’ve given me far more than I deserve.”
“After what you’ve been through? You deserve anything you damn well please!”
He scoffed. “You have no idea what I’ve done.”
“You won the war, just like they wanted.” She rubbed his hand. “You’re a hero.”
“Do you know how many people died because of me? I’ve been trying to add it all up—”
“No, don’t even go there,” Saera interrupted. “That is not a line of thinking worth pursuing.”
“I need to tell the whole story. I need to put it in perspective,” Wil insisted.
“What good will any of that do? It won’t bring them back.”
“At least they won’t be forgotten.”
“They won’t be,” Saera assured him. “Word of the war is going to spread whether or not people know the whole truth. To move forward, they don’t need depressing details about the past that can’t be changed—they need leadership and inspiration. They need someone to show them a new future where we can be united rather than divided—where leaders put others before themselves.”
“I’m not that person, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“You are!”
Wil scowled. “I’m far too selfish.”
“After giving your whole life to others?” Saera asked, incredulous.
“There are some things I could never give up.” He paused, taking her other hand in his. “I could never put anyone else before you.”
For an instant, his hard façade opened and the love in his touch was there again. Saera reached out to him through their bond—tantalizingly close to the fulfillment she’d been thirsting for since he’d first shut her out. But the wall was already back. “What about yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“Would you put yourself before me?” she clarified.
“I would try not to.”