by A. K. DuBoff
“Is she meeting with anyone right now?”
“No—”
“Then please put my call through.” Wil had to work to keep the annoyance out of his tone. Almost anyone else would have immediately passed through a communication marked from someone of his social station. He didn’t like to pull rank on people, but common decency was expected.
“One moment.”
Wil couldn’t help noting the lack of a ‘sir’ or ‘my lord’. He disliked honorifics as a rule, but this felt like an intentional personal slight.
The screen went to the Monsari crest of a glowing orb against a black backdrop.
When the image returned, a stern woman in her fifties was staring back, looking none too pleased. “Williame Sietinen. I’m surprised to hear from you.”
“Hello, Celine. I should state upfront that I’m calling on behalf of the TSS, not my family.”
“I never know with you lot anymore. You seem to have worked your way into every corner of the Empire’s dealings.”
“We serve the people. If they decide they don’t want us in those roles, we’ll make no effort to cling to them.”
“You must be pleased with the latest election polls.”
“Our only pleasure is in a job well done.”
She gave a mirthless smile and slight nod. “Yes, of course.”
The Monsari Dynasty had had more leadership turnover than most. It wasn’t uncommon for Heads to remain at their post into their eighties or nineties, skipping a generation and passing on leadership to their grandchildren. Monsari, however, tended to only have a Head remain for twenty-some years before the next generation took over. By contrast, Wil’s grandfather had remained as the Head of Sietinen for six decades. It would be interesting to see how tenure evolved under the new governance system established after the Priesthood’s fall.
“As I was saying, I wanted to reach out on behalf of the TSS,” Wil continued. “We’ve begun an investigation into the incident involving the Andvari.”
Celine tensed too quickly at the mention of the name. “Oh? What does that have to do with us?”
“Based on the documentation we’ve reviewed, it appears that the Andvari was under contract with one of your subsidiaries.”
“We have dozens of subsidiaries and thousands of independent contractors. I don’t keep track of all of their dealings.”
“But you have heard about this particular incident?”
“Yes, of course. The board makes a point to be aware of any situations resulting in a serious injury or casualty. For continuous improvement purposes.”
Right, ‘continuous improvement’. More like ass-covering. Wil nodded. “Naturally. So, I imagine that this review included a briefing on the nature of the ship’s contracted business.”
“An overview.”
“How do you account for the Andvari being in the Kyron Nebula?”
“Salvage.”
“Yes. But it was in restricted territory.”
“They weren’t authorized to go there.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you or any of your subsidiaries would skirt legality in such a manner. I’d only like to know what they had been contracted to do,” Wil pressed.
“Salvage, as I said.”
“Salvaging what, though? They were in a remote, restricted area.”
“Ship scrap.” Her gaze was slightly unfocused, as if she was resisting the urge to look away. No doubt, her statements were lies.
“I could see DGE ordering that kind of operation, but what interest does MPS have?”
“That’s not relevant. They had a quota to deliver, and the consequences of how they went about accomplishing that objective is on them alone.”
Wil wasn’t sure what to make of the woman’s hedging. It didn’t take a telepath—or even a trained investigator—to tell that she was hiding something significant. Frankly, he expected more poise from a seasoned politician.
“I was in no way suggesting their deaths were your fault. I’m simply trying to understand the circumstances.”
“I have nothing more to say on the matter. Best of luck with your investigation.” She ended the call.
Wil leaned back in his chair, staring at the blank screen. Whenever the High Dynasties weren’t forthright, much bigger issues weren’t far behind. Time to take another tactic to get answers.
CHAPTER 11
Jason savored the crisp air flowing into his flight mask as he soaked in the view of the starscape around him. No workout would ever provide an outlet for his nerves in the way running maneuvers in a fighter could. He’d rather be out in the real thing, but the simulator was an acceptable substitute for now.
“I saw a lot of sloppy maneuvers out there on the practice course, so we’re going back to basics on maneuvers, practice tightening them up,” Jason said. “Get in your squad formations and watch.”
He moved his simulated craft in an example pattern through the course. “See how the curves connect? Always be looking at least two moves ahead. Set yourself up for the next maneuver.”
He backed off his craft to a good vantage for watching the students run the simulated course. In turn, he had the members of each squad go, offering real-time feedback to each student.
“That’s better. I can tell you’re more confident in these sims than out in the black. Practice will improve that,” he said after the final student had completed their run of the course. “For now, though. Let’s mix things up.”
Jason loaded in a new course, this time one that required more aggressive transitions between the different obstacles. He’d noticed that several of the students were too loose, so this would push their comfort zone. Alisha should excel, so long as she didn’t try to clip the corners.
The students started their run-throughs in the same order.
“Good job, Hamlin. That was much tighter, but don’t baby your throttle. You’ve got the thrust; use it next time,” Jason said.
“Yes, sir.” His voice was lacking some of his usual enthusiasm.
“Delroe, you’re up.”
Alisha took her craft out from formation and dove into the course. To Jason’s relief, she seemed to have taken his feedback last session to heart, striking the ideal balance between aggressive lines and safety. In short order, she completed the course without a single misstep.
“Really well done,” Jason told her. “That’s exactly what I was talking about.”
“Yes, sir!” The pride came through in her voice.
He worked the group through several other courses and offered notes. On the whole, the group was coming along exceptionally well. If he could get them to fly that way in real fighters, they’d be in business.
They may need to put those skills to the test sooner than later if we find ourselves in another war. It was a grim thought, and he was quick to dismiss it. With the discovery of the original treaty, there was a renewed chance for a peaceful resolution.
Jason completed the lesson with practice flying in formation, turning as one. The students were much less adept at the synchronized movements than they were at running a course individually, but they’d come a long way since when he’d started working with them. It would be rewarding to polish their skills and see them come into their own.
With the practice complete, Jason ended the simulation and the pods popped open with a hiss. To maximize the simulation effect, they were kept pressurized just like a real cockpit.
Jason hopped out of the pod and waited for the students to line up. “You’re doing great,” he told them. “I’m feeling good about these improvements. I think we can resume the space flights next week, as I’d hoped.”
There were broad smiles from half the students, but the others ranged from mild enthusiasm to expressionless.
“What’s wrong?” Jason asked.
“Nothing,” Bret muttered at the same time Wes said, “What’s going on with the protests in the Outer Colonies?”
That’s not what I expected them to be thinking ab
out right now. Jason tucked his helmet under his arm. “I couldn’t give you any specifics. I don’t know any more than what’s been in the news reports.”
“Does that mean the TSS isn’t responding?” Wes asked.
“It means I don’t know. Why does everyone think I’m privy to each decision the TSS makes?”
“Because the High Commander is your dad.”
“Like any officer, he briefs me when I’m needed, and the rest of the time our other very capable field Agents take care of the rest.”
“I have family on Duronis,” Bret said. “I can’t help being a little worried.”
“Naturally. And I sympathize with your position, but I don’t have any additional information to share. I will say that, typically, that kind of domestic disturbance is handled by the Guard.” Even if Jason did know more, he wouldn’t be able to share anything classified with the students. Withholding information like that was his least favorite part of being an Agent—aside from paperwork, perhaps. However, his father was about as open and honest as leaders came, so rarely was Jason placed in a position of needing to overly temper his statements.
The students still looked worried. Jason softened. “Nothing has come through official channels. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves and worry about nothing,” he tried to assure them.
As far as he knew, right now that was true. He could only hope it would stay that way.
— — —
Lexi descended the stairs into the underground storeroom tunnel. The place gave her the creeps. People always joke about plans being made in the shadows. I didn’t think it would be so literal!
Oren had summoned her to another cryptic meeting. There’d been no discussion of the odd mini-speech from that Magdalena woman afterward, and everyone had just gone back upstairs like they were having a perfectly normal afternoon. The only indication that the gathering had been real was that Shena’s awestruck expression had persisted for the rest of the day. Lexi had wanted to ask for more information about the mysterious leader but had thought better of it; questions might be taken as questioning, and it was better to fake reverence. The woman was clearly some sort of idol for the Alliance’s movement, so that was all Lexi really needed to know for now.
Oren and Shena were waiting in the tunnel when Lexi arrived, and Josh came down the stairway soon after. The staggered movements were, apparently, a tactic to keep the uninitiated from picking up on the secret meetings. Stars know it worked on me!
But for being one of the ‘initiates’, Lexi wished she had a better handle on what was going on. She’d been saying that for days now, and she didn’t expect it to get better. She was caught up in a surreal daydream that was quickly trending toward a nightmare.
Melisa wouldn’t have supported any of this. But that had never been in question when Lexi had caught wind of the Sovereign Peoples Alliance and how several women had gone missing in their wake—her dear friend included. Melisa was more than a friend, though. She was a sister. Even more so than her half-sister, who was her solitary living blood relative of any note.
So, when Melisa had disappeared on Duronis, Lexi had gone to investigate. There was no sign of Melisa at first blush, but Lexi’s telepathic gleanings told her that she had been a part of the Alliance before she went missing. In that same silent probing, she’d also learned that the Alliance was on the lookout for young, unattached women like her with Gifts. So, she’d kept her own abilities secret and started looking around. She kept thinking that she might be on the cusp of discovering what happened to Melisa, and then she’d have another bizarre twist thrown her way that would set her back. Only sheer determination kept her pressing forward.
What are they planning, and is any of it related to Melisa? She had to stick around until she got answers, no matter her feelings about the Alliance. Earning their trust would be the only way to get the truth. And, at all cost, she must keep her abilities hidden. Fortunately, she was good at that.
“Thank you for including me,” Lexi said to the small group as they gathered at the center of the tunnel.
“Our mission is bigger than any one of us,” Oren replied. “We must grow our numbers with those who share our vision.”
“I am happy to pledge my support to a cause worth supporting.” The statement itself was true. Never said I thought the Alliance was worthy.
Oren and the others nodded with approval. “Now that the word is out and others are starting to wake up to the injustices, we must continue to open their eyes.”
A crate had been taken off one of the shelves to serve as a makeshift table for a holoprojector. Oren activated the device and brought up a rendering of Duronis. More than a dozen red dots appeared around the globe.
“Here’s where we’ve had the most activity to date,” Oren said. “We’ve been advised to set our aspirations higher.”
“Easy,” Josh said. “We need to disrupt the planet’s supply line. The connection to the outside worlds. That’s what will make people realize how important it is to be self-sufficient.”
“What do you mean by ‘disrupt’?” Lexi asked.
“You know, just make life a little difficult.”
Oren was staring with intense concentration at the three-dimensional rendering. “No, this is about showing them the High Dynasties are not our friends. It can’t come back on us as causing ‘disruption’.”
Shena crossed her arms. “They need to be responsible.”
“There are ways to arrange that appearance.” Oren nodded slowly in thought. “Perhaps an accident at one of the facilities?”
“One that the media would have to cover,” Josh said. “I can help nudge them in the right direction.”
Shena nodded. “That’s the key. We need the story to get out there, get people talking. And then we can guide the narrative.”
“What kind of ‘accident’ could do that?” Lexi asked, not sure she really wanted the answer.
“No need to worry about that. Our tactical team will take care of the details,” Oren dismissed. “Now, let’s work on the narrative. Once we have that, we’ll know exactly what we need to do.”
Lexi bit back the follow-up questions that flooded into her mind. We’re just crafting a story? We’re going to trick people into believing it? What happened to sharing the truth about life in the Outer Colonies?
She didn’t like it one bit. But at least she was part of the conversation. Maybe, in time, she’d find a way to really make a difference. And, if nothing else, she was one step closer to gaining their trust and finding her friend. Hang in there, Melisa. I’m going to figure out what they’re up to and find you.
— — —
The conversation with Celine Monsari left Wil confused and concerned. Everything from the woman’s rude assistant to her evasive non-answers suggested she and her corporation were up to something shady.
Do MPS’ dealings with Renfield have any connection with the other activity on Duronis? That potential funding web was too convoluted to unravel yet.
Before he could proceed with any line of investigation, Wil needed to know how the MPS energy cores actually worked.
Like most tech controlled by the High Dynasties, the proprietary secrets were closely guarded. Only a small handful of people understood the finer points of the SiNavTech beacon navigation network and nav consoles, just like the confidential operations of VComm’s telecommunications network. MPS was no different. If anything, the energy cores were the most secretive of all.
Wil knew how they functioned in a theoretical sense—essentially, drawing energy from a pocket universe. So long as the connection was maintained, there was near infinite energy potential. The Perpetual Energy Modules—or PEMs, as they were typically called for short—could be scaled to fit any number of applications. Most critically, they were the energy source for all starships and shuttlecraft. It was the only existing technology within the Taran technological scope capable of fulfilling the astronomical energy needs of propulsion and maintaining spatial d
isruptions to vent exhaust into subspace.
Without PEMs, there would be no interstellar commerce. No more Taran Empire. End of story.
The seriousness of the circumstances made it critical that Wil learn everything he could about the technology and anything that might hinder production capacity. The problem was getting accurate information. Without question, no one within MPS would share secrets about the PEMs’ operation. There was only one other place Wil could turn to potentially find out more about the technology: the Aesir.
Wil’s relationship with the Aesir was one of the most complex and challenging to navigate in his life. In terms of raw ability, the group was closer to being peers than other Tarans. Having left the rest of the Empire before the Priesthood’s widespread genetic interventions, they offered a window into the race’s past. Wil had been welcomed among them as the Cadicle, heralded with almost religious reverence for his advanced abilities being the next phase of Taran evolution. But with Saera and his other personal ties to the rest of the Empire, going to live among the Aesir wasn’t a viable option.
The temptation was there, though. Life would be a lot simpler amongst a population of people who were all Gifted and embraced their abilities. Plus, their advanced tech was designed with bioelectronic interfaces to enable telepathic link with machines. Everything felt right when he was with the Aesir. Yet, their magnificent cities hidden in spatial rifts near the galactic core would never be his home. He limited himself to short visits to ensure he never got too comfortable. His responsibilities to the Taran Empire had to come first.
He’d fostered a number of relationships with members of the Aesir over the years, but his most trusted friend was Dahl. The man was over twelve-hundred years old and still looked forty. Such incredible longevity was one of the most striking aspects of the Aesir’s culture. Cellular renewal therapies had extended many of their lives beyond a thousand years, making death a choice when a person felt they had lived a full life rather than being a ticking clock beyond their control.
