Web of Truth (Cadicle #4): An Epic Space Opera Series

by DuBoff, Amy

  The scout passed by Ethan’s hiding place, and he darted out in pursuit.

  With Ethan’s first shot, the scout took a sharp dive down toward the asteroid.

  “I’ve almost got him…” Ethan gave chase. He opened fire again, concentrating on his opponent.

  Shite! He’s not even watching where he’s going. Wil was fixated on the monitor as Ethan closed in on the scout. He could already see how the scenario would play out.

  “There!” Ethan exclaimed as he fired a well-aimed shot. The enemy ship executed a dimensional jump just in time to avoid the blast. His own jet was left on a collision course.

  “Boma—” Ethan’s jet clipped the asteroid, and his monitor instantly went black.

  Wil shook his head with exasperation. “Primus Team Leader is down.”

  Low curses sounded across the comms.

  “Reorganize,” Wil instructed.

  “All right, regroup at my location,” Michael jumped in. “Spread out.”

  The jets reformed near Michael, fanning out to face the approaching enemy vessels.

  “Hold the line,” Michael instructed. “Distract them while Trion Squad slips through.”

  Wil let out a slow breath. It was a similar strategy to others they had already tried, but at least they had spread out rather than clumping together like previous attempts.

  The enemy wave approached—six squads of five jets, greatly outnumbering the Primus Elites.

  “Only fire when you have a clean shot,” Ian cautioned.

  “Ready to go,” Tom said.

  Wil crossed his arms and watched his men engage in battle.

  “Evasive maneuvers.” Michael broke from the formation and began a series of gentle, random rolls. The other Primus Elites followed his example, dodging the enemy fire.

  Suddenly, the enemy jets broke from formation and darted forward. Half of the jets reformed in a staggered line while the others targeted the TSS jets.

  “Make an opening for Trion!” Michael ordered. He spun around to focus his fire in a midsection of the barrier separating them from the target. The rest of his squad assisted with the assault, destroying three of the Bakzen jets. It wasn’t much of an opening, but it would have to do.

  Without hesitation, the Trion Squad dashed through the wall of enemy crafts. They all made it through—barely.

  “Now that’s how it’s done!” Curtis, the Trion Squad Leader, cheered. But the celebration was short-lived.

  A second wave of enemy jets rounded the asteroid, heading straight for the Trion Squad.

  “Shite,” Tom breathed, and he rolled his key away from the squad. “I’m going for the target.”

  “We’ll cover you,” Curtis affirmed.

  Tom rounded the asteroid just as the main fleet received the first blasts from the full-on enemy assault. As each jet was disabled, its corresponding monitor went black.

  Within moments, only half the Primus Elite jets remained.

  The Trion Squad put up a good fight, but they, too, were soon disabled under the relentless enemy fire.

  The fleet was decimated, leaving only a scattered few survivors, who were also eliminated.

  Though it started out better, the scenario ended like all of the previous simulations: defeat.

  “You’re making some progress, but it looks like you aren’t ready to fend for yourselves yet,” Wil said into the comm. “For starters, you attacked the scout every time. Sometimes a more covert approach is warranted. This scenario requires patience and stealth. Wait for the scout to pass, then launch a small party for a precision stealth strike before the enemy can mobilize their units.”

  “I was going to try that next,” Michael grumbled.

  “Even so, there’s a bigger issue,” Wil continued. “When we do get into combat—which is inevitable—we need to be able to react faster and work together seamlessly. That’s going to take a different approach entirely.” With the reliance on comms and verbal commands, the enemy had already moved by the time Wil’s men could act. The orders and reactions needed to be near-instantaneous, like their opponents. A telepathic connection…

  Wil tabled the thought as the training pods swung open and his men climbed out, frowns on all their faces. They lined up in front of him.

  “What did you do wrong?” Wil asked them.

  The men stared down at their feet.

  “We were focusing on the moment and lost sight of the big picture,” Ian replied.

  “Yes. And?” Wil prompted.

  “We underestimated the enemy,” Michael said, finally looking up toward Wil.

  Wil nodded. “They’re fast and ruthless. The parameters I set for this training AI are generous compared to the real thing.”

  “I didn’t blow up myself this time,” Tom jested. “So at least there’s that.”

  Wil cracked a smile. “Fair point. I’ll take incremental improvement over none at all. Next time, I’ll walk through the strategy step by step. I’ll get you thinking just like me.”

  Ian snorted. “Yeah right!”

  “Well, close enough,” Wil replied. “I won’t always be there to hold your hands. If I tell you to take out an enemy base, I need to be confident you can do it on your own while I’m planning the next move.”

  “Teach us and we’ll listen,” Michael affirmed.

  “Absolutely,” Ethan concurred. “And could we get access to the simulators without you? Aside from tactics, the flight controls are still a barrier. Some of us more experienced pilots could help out the newbies during study time.”

  That’s not a bad idea. I’m glad they’re wanting to step up. “I’ll make the arrangements.” Wil searched the tired faces. They were disheartened and needed a quick win. “I know it’s already been a long day, but how about we run through some freefall formations?”

  “Back to remedial class,” Kalin jested.

  “Just a change of pace,” Wil assured him. And a reminder that was once difficult is now second nature. “Now, wind sprints on the way to the gravity lock.”

  The men groaned.

  “Move!”

  * * *

  Saera rapped her fingers on the armrest of the couch in Wil’s quarters. He was late—again.

  Ever since the Primus Elites began training, she was lucky to get a few minutes alone with Wil on a given evening. She knew the training took priority over their relationship, but the frustrating part was they could have more time together—if only they didn’t need to meet up in secret. Just being able to sit side-by-side at breakfast would be a significant improvement, or getting to stay together overnight. It was fine at first, but all the sneaking around and the little missed moments of togetherness were adding up.

  The front door clicked unlocked and slid to the side.

  Saera rose to greet Wil. “Hey.”

  “Oh, hey.” Wil closed the door with a long breath.

  “Tough day?” Saera asked and walked over to him.

  “I’m exhausted.” He slumped on his feet, his face tight with worry.

  Saera wrapped her arms around him. “You need to take some time for yourself.”

  “When? I have three and a half years left to prepare everything.”

  “It’s not like it’s tomorrow. You need to make it through those years.”

  Wil took a deep breath and released Saera. “I’m trying.”

  Saera grabbed his hand. “Come on, time to relax.”

  He followed her lead toward the couch, but there was a hint of resistance. “I wish. I still need to go over the simulator logs for the day.”

  “I’ll help.”

  Wil smiled at her and gave her a light kiss. “I’m sure there are plenty of things you’d rather do than look at stats for reaction times and movement accuracy.”

  “I want to spend time with you. If this is all I can get, I’ll take it.”

  “I know I’ve been distant lately, I’m sorry,” Wil said, slumping further. “Maybe tomorrow—”

  “I’m going to Tarari
a tomorrow, remember?”

  Wil caught himself. “Oh, right. The citizenship hearing.”

  Saera crossed her arms in subconscious defense against the upcoming event. After her last experience on Tararia, she was reluctant to return, even if the hearing was to confirm her status as an official Taran citizen. There’d been a slew of administrative filings and vouchers over the preceding year to assume the birthrights granted by her mother’s dynastic status. The final step was the hearing to confirm her acceptance of governing Taran laws and to receive an imprint of the Alexri Dynasty’s crest. Once complete, the administrative barriers of her impending marriage to Wil would be removed, but the politics within the TSS remained another matter.

  “I’m sorry I can’t go with you,” Wil continued.

  “I know you’re busy.” Saera forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

  “But still.”

  Saera gave him a kiss. “I’m just looking forward to the day we don’t need to sneak around anymore.”

  Wil nodded. “I wish it were different.”

  “Well, why can’t it be? Once I’m confirmed—”

  “That has nothing to do with the TSS. The concern here has always been that I’m a senior officer and you aren’t yet.”

  “Graduation is still a ways off. Are we really supposed to keep it secret until then?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But this isn’t the right time.”

  “Then when is?”

  Wil closed his eyes and shook his head. “Saera, I don’t want to argue.” He opened his eyes and took her hands. “I love you. I know this is difficult, but it’s just the way it has to be for now.”

  Saera’s heart ached, but she released the tension with a slow breath. She leaned forward and laid her head on Wil’s chest. “I hate having to hide my love for you from the rest of the universe.”

  Wil rubbed her back with his hand. “Just for a while longer.”

  She nodded and swallowed. “All right.” There was no sense pining about impossible alternatives. “Now, I think we have some simulator data to review.”

  * * *

  Laecy wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Working inside an engine was its own distinct brand of uncomfortable.

  She slid the dolly out from under the jet and found that Richards was waiting for her.

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “I got the secondary ateron core installed. Now we need to test it.”

  “Is Wil coming back for the testing?”

  “I doubt it,” Laecy replied. “He has a wedding to plan and has been working around the clock with his group of trainees.”

  Richards scoffed. “A wedding seems ridiculous with all of this going on.”

  “He’s High Dynasty. Of course they’ll take time away from the TSS for it.”

  “I gave up on having a life outside the TSS years ago. Why should it be different for them?”

  I’d given up, too. But maybe all of this will really be over one day. “Regardless, we can’t afford the distraction of attachments.”

  “But Wil can’t, most of all.”

  Laecy removed the anti-static gloves from her hands. “Well, his fiancée is a Second. The kinds of attachments Agents have are something I don’t ever expect to understand.”

  “That, and you’re a loner by nature.”

  More by necessity. “I’m wed to my work.”

  Richards strolled over and leaned on the table next to Laecy while she put her tools back in the transport case. “I wish I could see you happy, just once.”

  “I’ll leap for joy when this bomaxed jet jumps like it’s supposed to!”

  “No, I mean really happy. Fulfilled.”

  Laecy met his soft amber eyes. She’d seen that look from him before, and she knew better than to engage. “There’s time for that after the war.”

  He inched closer to her, enough that she felt his heat radiating toward her in the cool room. “You really think there’ll be an after?”

  “I have to believe that.”

  “I guess we do. For them.”

  Laecy nodded.

  “Your sister would be proud of you.”

  “And your parents of you.”

  Richards grinned. “Let’s not go too far. I’m not the Engineering Lead.”

  “You know more about bioelectronics than any scientist back at Tararia’s finest institutions. That buys some serious clout in my book.”

  Her friend looked down. “But not quite enough.”

  Laecy let out a slow breath. “You know that’s not it.”

  Richards studied her face. “So you are afraid to do something good for yourself.”

  Maybe I am. But that doesn’t change that he’s my subordinate. “Jack, we can’t keep doing this—”

  “That’s what you said last time.” He reached for her hand.

  She stepped back from the table. “If there’s ever going to be something between us, I want it to be done right. And that can’t happen the way things are now.”

  Richards bit his lower lip and eventually gave a reluctant nod. “Win the war.”

  “And then we’ll see.”

  He flashed her the warm, genuine smile that always set Laecy at ease. “All right. Let’s check the interface with the new core.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Life among the Bakzen remained a refreshing change from Arron Haersen’s former existence as Mission Coordinator with the TSS. After five years of gene therapy from the Bakzen, his transformation was well underway.

  He examined himself in the floor-length mirror he’d procured for his modest quarters. His skin had started to darken and was rough to the touch, covering a broader frame with enhanced muscle tone. With his head shaved, he could almost pass for a Bakzen drone from a distance, except for the brown tint to his luminescent eyes.

  Haersen gave himself a nod of approval before heading out into the hallway.

  His quarters were in a structure reserved for officers within a residential block of the Bakzen’s capital city. The Bakzen soldiers were still wary around him, even after years of living side-by-side. They knew his time with the TSS made him a former enemy, and they assumed that meant he had spilt Bakzen blood. Despite numerous attempts to explain his position, the officers continued to think of the TSS as a single entity—not caring that only those in the Jotun division were involved in combat. But, in some ways, it was better that they thought he was a TSS fighter. If they understood he was little more than administrative support, he would gain no favor.

  Cautious gazes followed Haersen down the hall as he made his way to the central elevator for the residential building. In regimented Bakzen fashion, the bulk of the officers were departing for their morning commute at the same time.

  Mass transit was most efficient when everyone traveled simultaneously, and daytime was the most practical for working hours because the abundance of solar energy and daylighting ensured practical operating conditions. To maximize the populace’s effectiveness, four major cities at equidistant points around the equator of the planet kept the Bakzen functional around the clock—rotating functions with the passing of the sun.

  Haersen had been stationed alongside Tek in the capital of the four cities. Being the seat of the Imperial Director, the city held the most critical of the Bakzen’s resources and its time zone set the standard for all forces operating outside of the home planet. Haersen had settled into his role as Tek’s assistant—running errands and offering an opinion when it was requested. Though he occasionally functioned as a punching bag, he was sure to always project a positive attitude and offer meaningful advice whenever he was able. As long as he remained useful, he would have a place among the Bakzen. And, he wasn’t about to go anywhere until his transformation was complete.

  The Bakzen officers made way for Haersen as he filed into the elevator. Years ago he’d stopped paying attention to their wrinkled noses and glower expressions. He knew he belonged there with them, regardless of what some m
ight think.

  The elevator descended the six stories from Haersen’s level in a matter of seconds. He strode out into the corridor on the building’s ground floor along with the other officers and boarded a maglev train to the military command complex at the center of the city.

  Haersen took a seat on one of the molded plastic benches along the outer wall of the train car. As usual, no one sat next to him. He was content to look out the square window at the magnificent city around him. Despite years of observation, he was still awed by the selfless dedication to the greater good illustrated by the Bakzen drones. Workers making repairs, cleaning staff tending to the robotic helpers, construction laborers erecting new buildings—there was never a need to reprimand or argue. Everyone knew their place and fulfilled their role without question.

  Only the officers demonstrated any sense of autonomy, but anyone that got too out of line would quickly be removed by the group. Except, perhaps, for Tek. He forged his own path, certainly, but he had a knack for going about it in a way that made others want to follow his lead. Haersen knew better than to question his tactics, having seen what happened to those who stood in the way of Tek’s ambition. Plus, there was no arguing with the results Tek had achieved. Especially not since he was letting Haersen go along for the ride.

  The train slowed as it entered the enclosed transit hub beneath the command complex. Officers streamed off of the train toward their designated posts.

  Haersen followed the familiar route through the central elevator up to Tek’s office on the fifth floor. The level was predominantly for high-ranking Bakzen officials. When Haersen was unfortunate enough to cross paths with one of the other officers, he needed to remain vigilant, never knowing when one might grow tired of Tek’s pet project and toss Haersen in a prison cell—or down an elevator shaft.

  Tek’s office was across from the elevator, situated at the front of the building. It afforded convenient accessibility, making it a position of honor.