by Amy DuBoff
Cris’ pulse spiked, startled after the quiet. “What was that?”
“Entering the containment lock for the subspace shell around Headquarters,” Trisa stated. She folded her arms and leaned back.
She said that like it’s a normal thing. Cris leaned back on the seat and tried to relax.
Eventually, the elevator slowed and came to a rest. Cris’ heart-rate quickened as the doors opened, revealing a circular lobby surrounded by elevator doors. The floor was dark gray marble with decorative black inlay. This is way fancier than I pictured. Trisa headed straight across the lobby, entering a surprisingly decorated hallway. Cris looked around in wonder at the carpeted floor and wood paneling, with show weapons and holopaintings lining the walls. They went past several offices before the hall ended in a set of double wooden doors.
“Here is the office of the TSS High Commander,” Trisa said. “This is his jurisdiction and you are his subordinate.”
“Understood.”
“All right. Go in,” she said.
Cris nodded. Trisa swung one of the doors inward, and she directed Cris into the High Commander’s office.
Cris’ first impression of the room was that it was too ornate, like the hallway, to serve much practical purpose. He had been brought up with the utmost luxuries, but he had always been under the impression that the TSS would have no use for elaborate furnishings. He did have to admit there was good taste behind the selection of the leather couch and carved wooden desk, but it all seemed superfluous until he examined the items more closely. The couch was facing an extensive viewscreen integrated into the side wall. The desk was decorative, but its touch-surface top also served as a workstation. The display cases likely held the High Commander’s personal combat implements, rather than purely show weapons, as Cris had initially thought. Once he looked at it that way, Cris realized the TSS simply had style.
The High Commander stood on the far side of the room across from the door, seemingly staring out at the snow-capped mountains depicted in a holopainting on the wall. The moment the door closed, he turned to look at Cris. He wasn’t presently wearing the tinted glasses typically worn by Agents, so Cris could clearly see the peculiar eyes associated with advanced telekinetic abilities. The eyes were the High Commander’s natural gray color, but they seemed to be slightly bioluminescent—glowing with a captivating inner light.
The High Commander stepped forward and stopped in front of Cris. “I’m High Commander Jason Banks,” he said with a voice of obvious authority. “You’re Cristoph Sietinen, I presume.”
Cris nodded. “Yes, sir, I am. I go by ‘Cris’ most of the time, though.” He looked the High Commander over. He had dark hair and appeared to only be around thirty-years-old, though that seemed improbable given his rank. He carries himself as if he were much older. He must be at least a decade older than he appears.
“Well, Cris, you’re a difficult person to find.” Banks looked at him levelly.
Resisting the urge to squirm under the High Commander’s scrutinizing gaze, Cris ventured a smile. “Then I accomplished my aim. Until you found me.”
“You were careless. It almost got you killed.”
He’s not messing around. “In retrospect, I would have done things differently, that’s for sure.”
Banks sighed. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”
Cris faltered. What does he want me to say? “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean. It’s unbecoming.”
Stars! Maybe aligning with the TSS was a mistake. “Then what do you want? You brought me here. I was perfectly happy on the Exler, minding my own business—”
“Hardly!” Banks’ glared at Cris, stern. “Do you realize what would happen if the general population heard the Sietinen heir was threatening the Priesthood?”
He knows about that? “How can you defend the Priesthood? They hate people like us.” Cris felt his face flush. “I thought the TSS of all organizations would see things my way.”
Banks laughed. “Your way? You have so much to learn.”
Cris was taken aback. “Maybe I should just go.”
“Go ahead. It wouldn’t surprise me.”
What’s his problem? Cris glanced toward the door but stood his ground. “You went to an awful lot of trouble to find me, only to let me walk away.”
“I’d rather you walk away now than when you have a ship full of people counting on you,” the High Commander replied.
Cris crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t abandon my crew.”
“You ran away from Tararia,” Banks shot back. “Why should I expect you to be any more loyal to the TSS?”
I’m not disloyal to Tararia. I’d just rather be here. “I want to learn about my abilities.”
Banks looked skeptical. “And once you’ve mastered them? Given your track record, I would expect you to walk away whenever something new and interesting caught your eye.”
“That’s not why I left.”
“Well, I have no idea what will make you stay here.” The High Commander shrugged. “Jarek and Dodes brought you in because that was their last standing order, but after the way you’ve behaved, I don’t know if I want you to be part of the TSS.”
Stars! Is he serious? “So you’d turn me loose, knowing the Priesthood will kill me the first chance they get?”
Banks’ eyes narrowed. “I’m simply not convinced you’re cut out to be an Agent. The TSS isn’t a good fit for people who like to take the easy route.”
Cris stared back at the High Commander with disbelief. “You think it was easy for me to leave Tararia? I didn’t want to go. I just knew if I didn’t, I’d be stifled for life.”
“The TSS won’t exactly give you freedom, either,” Banks stated. “We can teach you how to use your abilities, but it’s a lifetime commitment of service in return. I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
“I was born into a lifetime of service.” That responsibility isn’t new to me.
Banks tilted his head. “But you ran away.”
“I didn’t run away!” Cris insisted. I left, but I didn’t forget my responsibility. I’ll be there when it matters.
Banks stepped toward Cris. “Take some personal responsibility! You’ll make a piss-poor leader if you always blame others for everything that doesn’t go ‘your way.’ So do you want to keep running, or do you want to man up and do something that really matters?”
It took all of his will to keep Cris from cowering as the High Commander approached. I was only trying to be true to myself. “All I’ve ever wanted is to find a real home.”
The High Commander softened. “We can give you that, Cris. But I need to know that you’re fully vested. You have so much potential—we can unlock abilities that you never dreamed possible. But I can’t let you gain all that power and then go rogue.”
Cris straightened. “I only left so that I could become the kind of leader Tararia deserves.”
“You’ve gone about it pretty poorly,” Banks said.
Cris looked him in the eye. “Then show me another way.” I need the TSS now. I don’t have anywhere else to go.
“So you do want to be here?” Banks asked.
“Yes. Please, just give me a chance.”
Banks let out a slow breath. “Even if I do let you join, I don’t know where we’d place you.”
Cris looked down. “Find a place. I need to be here. And not just because it’s away from the Priesthood—this is the only place where I can learn to become my full self.” Besides, no one has ever put me in my place like he did, especially knowing who I am. That’s the kind of push that will help me grow.
Banks was silent, pensive. He cocked his head slightly as he looked Cris over from head to foot. “You demonstrated you already know how to handle yourself, as far as hand-to-hand combat is concerned. What about telepathy?”
Does that mean I’m in? “I received some basic lessons from a Court Advisor, but I haven’t practiced much since I
left the family compound. With things as they are on Tararia, I was never able to practice anything too advanced.”
Banks nodded. “That’s what makes things so tricky. You already know more than any other incoming Trainee. Yet, even if we enrolled you directly as an Initiate, you don’t have the requisite experience in free-fall spatial awareness training.”
Cris hung his head, growing increasingly more concerned about his prospects with the TSS. “No, I don’t.” What would I do if he turns me away? Would I even be safe at the Sietinen estate?
“One of the few options available,” Banks continued, “would be to put you into an apprenticeship with an Agent for a few months to catch you up to a second or third year Initiate class. Would you be comfortable with that arrangement?”
I’ve lived my whole life with private tutors—why would I be uncomfortable? “That would be fine. Whatever you think is best.” Just please let me stay.
Banks evaluated Cris, seeming to weigh something that was unseen. “Very well.”
Cris perked up. “Does that mean I can join?”
The High Commander nodded. “Yes. I just wanted to make sure you were here for the right reasons.”
He was testing me. “I like to think I am.”
Banks smiled. “I can see that. Now, I don’t suppose you have a preference for an area of specialization?”
Cris shook his head. “No. I’m sorry, but I am not familiar with the different classes of Agents. One of the few TSS-trained people I know is my former combat instructor from the Tararian Guard, but he was Militia.”
“I see,” the High Commander said. “Well, since you certainly won’t be in Militia, I suppose you could be placed along the Command track with an Agent in Primus, our top class. With your background, you’re a natural fit for a leadership role, so a support position in the Sacon or Trion Agent class doesn’t make sense. Though we select only a small number of trainees with the highest potential for Primus—especially the Command track—I’m not too concerned about you meeting the requirements of the designation. If you apply yourself, I’m sure you could graduate as one of the best in your cohort. You have too much potential to fail completely.”
“Sir, what is this ‘potential’ that keeps being brought up? Does it have something to do with what I did at the spaceport?”
Banks paused for a moment. “Everyone has an innate level of telepathic and telekinetic ability, which varies greatly among individuals. Those abilities manifest in different ways. From what I heard, you created a spatial disruption at the spaceport. We often call it ‘stopping time,’ but it’s actually telekinetic dislocation—you hovered on the edge of subspace, where the perception of time passage is different. Very few can do it.”
“So why me?”
“Luck of the genetic draw,” the High Commander replied with a slight smile. “It is a sign of potential in other areas, too. You can go far.”
“Lucky me, then.” Cris said. Is that really it? “I’ll try my best to live up to your expectations.”
Banks nodded. “Just apply yourself.”
I’ll do what it takes to succeed, but what does the TSS want in return? “There is another question, sir.”
“Yes?”
“A few weeks ago, I had an encounter with a merchant. He spoke of a war in the outer territories. He said that the TSS told their trainees the truth about what’s going on at the end of their first year.”
Banks swallowed, barely perceptible. “You can’t believe everything you hear at spaceports.”
“But, is there a war?” Cris pressed.
The High Commander took a deep breath. “There is mounting tension with a race called the Bakzen. We suspect it will escalate to full-out war within our lifetime. Since the TSS is a lifetime commitment, we need individuals who will be steadfast to the cause when the time comes. So, we give our trainees the chance to leave after their first year if they are not willing to participate in a war, should they ever be called upon.” He looked Cris in the eye. “Does that change your decision to train with the TSS?”
Cris looked inward. I have to stay, regardless of what may be going on elsewhere in the galaxy. The TSS can give me what I need. “No, sir. I would gladly fight with the TSS.”
Banks nodded. “That’s good to hear.” He paused. “You know,” he began, “I’m sure your parents would like to know that you’re safe and that they can halt their detectives. Since you’re seventeen now, once you sign the training contract, we can grant you immunity so they can’t bring you home against your will.”
Thank the stars! My parents would never consent to this. “Yes, I’ll let them know. Thank you.”
“I can draw up the contract now before you contact them,” Banks offered. He took a step toward his desk.
“That would be great. One more thing though…”
Banks stopped. “Hmm?”
“I would like to keep my true identity confidential. As you know, sir, the Sietinen family name comes with a reputation.” The last thing I want is to go back to that way of life. I can begin anew here, in a far better way than on the Exler. And with any luck, I will learn more about myself and become a more successful leader for it… to prepare for the changes on Tararia in the future.
“As you wish,” Banks agreed. “The contract must be with your legal name, but you may go publicly by something else if you like. Others do the same thing. Do you already have a name in mind?”
Cris smiled. “I went by ‘Cris Sights’ on the cargo freighter.” This is it! I actually got away for good.
High Commander Banks nodded. “Well, Cris Sights, welcome to the Tararian Selective Service.”
* * *
Banks sat down on the couch in the middle of his office, unsure how to proceed. Cris Sights, as he was to be known, was perhaps the most gifted student the TSS had ever seen. He was confident and insightful, but also quick to anger. Though that will mellow with time and the discipline of training. Banks sensed the power in him that Jarek had witnessed; was cautious of it. Cris was not someone to deceive, but that was precisely what had to be done.
The High Commander sat for a long while, pondering the situation. The Priesthood tried to kill him. Why? We can’t afford to start all over again. They can’t be foolish enough to think we could hold on that much longer… But why did they want him eliminated?
“CACI,” Banks intoned, directing his attention to the Central Artificial Computer Intelligence interface for the TSS Mainframe via the viewscreen on the wall, “contact the Priesthood. Let them know I want to talk to them immediately about Cristoph Sietinen.”
As expected, it did not take long for the call to be accepted. The life-like image of a figure robed in black appeared on the screen, piercing red-brown eyes shone out through the shadow cast by the hood. Banks stood to address the High Priest. “Thank you for granting me audience,” he said in Old Taran, the standard language of the Priesthood. The words felt strange compared to the galactic common New Taran.
“I was told you wanted to discuss Cristoph Sietinen.”
“Yes,” Banks replied. “We agreed that this was a TSS matter. Sending an assassin—”
The Priest gave a slight nod. “If we had been able to properly evaluate him a year before, as we wanted, it would not have come to that.”
What was there to evaluate? We already knew everything we needed to. “What is the problem with him, exactly? I thought he had all the qualities we hoped for.”
“He is too independent. Powerful, yes, but he will not easily be bent to our wills. Escaping from Tararia was proof enough, but he’s also publicly spoken out against the Priesthood.”
That’s what makes him perfect. We need someone with initiative. “It’s the child he will one day father that matters. In the meantime, the TSS can mold him. He is eager to learn.”
“For the sake of the entire Taran race, I hope you are right.”
“Your dissatisfaction with his brother set us back twenty years, as it was. You waited f
ar too long to decide what to do with him.” If only he had come to the TSS when we first extended an offer.
“We are aware. But he refused to embrace his abilities. We had no other choice.”
And so he met his end in a “tragic accident.” “The anti-telekinesis sentiment is dangerous. I’ve warned you—”
“You know the reasons why it’s necessary.”
“It’s crippled us—”
“Perhaps in a few more years we can reconsider.” The Priest’s level gaze was one of finality.
Banks looked down and took a deep breath to calm himself. “All concerns about Cris aside, we need to move forward with him. He’s in our custody now, and I’d appreciate you consulting me first if you have any reservations in the future.”
The Priest reluctantly inclined his head. “What does he know of our intentions?”
“Very little. I’m sure he’ll figure out that we’re keeping something from him, but there’s no cause for concern. As for the Bakzen, he will learn the standard story.”
“Good. You have your mandate.” The Priest ended the transmission.
CHAPTER 8
Cris quickly learned that life with the TSS was far more exhausting than he could have ever imagined.
Immediately upon leaving the High Commander’s office, he was ushered back into the central elevator and taken further into Headquarters facility. Without warning, he was run through a barrage of tests. Hours passed as he took written exams, was placed in all manner of scanners and was hooked up to more machines than he could count. Tired and cranky, he was beginning to regret his decision to join the TSS when suddenly it was over. An attendant handed him a set of light blue clothes and he was left alone in a small room to change.
Cris donned the pants, t-shirt, and jacket, then collapsed on the single, low bench in the room. He had no idea how much time had gone by, but it felt like days. What was I thinking coming here?