by A. K. DuBoff
Wil sat alone in his office in the morning, running through the most likely scenarios for how the coming weeks and months would play out. Too many variables prevented an accurate prediction, but one thing was clear: no matter what happened, the Empire would be better off if the TSS and Guard were working together.
The rivalry between the two organizations went back as far as anyone could remember. The Guard was, without question, older—tracing back to when the Taran Empire was confined to a handful of settlements across the territory now known as the Central Worlds. The police force and military had no doubt been separate at one point, but the Guard and its Enforcers had become a joint symbol of Taran law and order.
Meanwhile, the TSS had spent much of its existence on the fringes of society. The Priesthood had formed the TSS only a few hundred years prior in order to train Gifted soldiers—a necessity upon realizing the danger the Bakzen posed. But, with such abilities outlawed among civilians, those in the TSS were equal parts awe-inspiring and pariahs. They set up the TSS in old structures previously occupied by the members of the Priesthood who broke off and became the Aesir. It was no wonder so many people viewed the TSS and its Agents with apprehension. Wonder, fascination, respect, too—but there was also fear there, knowing the power they wielded.
Only within the past few years, following the Priesthood’s fall, had such abilities been legalized for common use, as they had been before the Priesthood’s meddling. However, changing the public consciousness took more time than rewriting the law. Many people grew up learning that Gifts should be hidden and ignored. It didn’t matter how open a handful of Dynasties were with their abilities; many civilians would continue to denounce those with Gifts, no matter what. Only time and patience would heal the divide.
As a result, the Guard was viewed as trusted protectors while the TSS remained a strange quasi-military-but-also-academic institution. Their strengths were complementary, and each held value. Yet, it was still too soon after the broadcasted images of TSS ships facing off against the Guard during the final fight to bring down the Priesthood; people weren’t ready to fully move past their differences.
But if we don’t, this fight is already lost. Wil felt it in his core. I have to try.
The best way to work toward unity was by reaching out. He briefly considered running the idea by the other senior Agents but decided that there wasn’t anything worth discussing. It was the most sensible action—and it was prudent to confirm that the Guard was willing to play nice before anyone else was brought into the conversation.
He’d only spoken with the Tararian Guard’s leader, Admiral Jakob Mathaen, on a handful of occasions over the years. Their last exchange had been professional but curt when the TSS had been asked to lend a hand in dealing with an incursion in a remote Outer Colonies system. Hopefully, the successful outcome of the joint operation had established a measure of goodwill.
Wil called Admiral Mathaen’s personal handheld, not wanting to have to explain himself to an administrative assistant.
The TSS logo swirled on the main viewscreen while Wil waited for the vidcall to connect. No doubt, the admiral was cursing under his breath while he tried to figure out why the TSS High Commander might be calling.
After nearly a minute, the image on the screen resolved into a hardened older man with squared jaw, close-cropped graying hair, and dark eyes that were pinched in intense focus. “High Commander Sietinen, what can I do for you?”
“Hello, Admiral. It’s past time we have a frank conversation, one-on-one, leader-to-leader. Are you somewhere private where you can speak freely?”
The admiral inclined his head slightly. “I’m listening.”
“I’m sure you’ve already been informed about the destruction of the Alkeer base.”
“Yes. My condolences.” His deep voice held genuine sympathy; a good sign there was a heart beneath the gruff exterior.
“Especially now that the unrest in the Outer Colonies has escalated, my intention is to minimize future Taran loss of life. It goes without saying that we are facing an unprecedented external threat.”
“I suspected that might be why you were calling.”
“It shouldn’t have taken a tragedy to open this dialogue, but here we are. We need to set aside our differences and start working together.”
Mathaen drew in a long breath. “The differences have been significant.”
“There’s no point dancing around our friendly rivalry over the years. The Guard has been the butt of many of our jokes, as I’m certain we have been of yours. But underneath that, I know there’s a foundation of mutual respect. We’re both committed to protecting the interests of the Taran Empire, even though we’ve sometimes found ourselves on opposite sides of conflicts. However, in this case, the civil disputes pale in comparison to the outside danger. Our very existence as a race might be at stake. We’ll need to be a united front in order to stand a chance against what, by my estimation, will be a full-on invasion.”
The admiral didn’t reply at first. He rubbed his chin, studying Wil on his screen. “Have you talked about this with anyone?”
“No. It’s a non-starter if you don’t have any interest in putting our petty differences aside.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it? The two people in charge of the Empire’s most preeminent armed forces and we’ve never had so much as a friendly chat.” The admiral shook his head.
“Like a relationship with a bad relative, isn’t it? Only calling when one of us needs something.”
He chuckled. “We should really change that.”
“That’s why I wanted to reach out now. I think a lot’s been left unsaid. The way everything went down with the Priesthood was… awkward.”
“It was.” He sighed. “And for that, I owe you and your people an apology. I was following orders, and I know you won’t fault me for that. Still, I should have been more willing to listen when you began presenting evidence of the Priesthood’s corruption.”
“The TSS was launching a coup. You were right to resist.”
“Even so, I’d felt in my gut that there was something rotten going on with them for years. Part of me regrets not taking action sooner to be on the right side of history. You made a courageous move, and the Empire is indebted to you.”
“No one owes me anything,” Wil said. “All I’ve ever wanted is to work toward a better future for my loved ones. This case is no different.”
“And, to that end, I agree that we’re facing a tremendous threat. Possibly the most significant of our lifetimes.”
“This is far worse than the Bakzen, trust me.”
“You’d know better than anyone.”
“So, we’re in agreement to move forward as a unified front?”
“Heartily.” Mathaen nodded. “But one question: who’s in charge?”
“I think we’ll need to see how that plays out.” Though Wil didn’t want to press the issue, he had rather strong feelings that it should be him. With the transdimensional nature of their enemy, the TSS was in a far better position to assess and respond.
Based on the way the admiral was looking at him, the thoughts may as well have been spoken aloud. Still, he didn’t seem ready to admit as much. “As a team, then?” he proposed.
“Agreed.” Wil nodded. “Now that we’re in alignment, there’s some information you should know about this enemy, and it won’t be easy to hear.”
—
The rest of the conversation with Admiral Mathaen went surprisingly well. As it turned out, the admiral had been wanting to reach out to Wil for some time to begin building rapport. Though he had almost two decades of experience on Wil, he made no attempt to diminish Wil’s authority of command. If anything, he’d been shockingly complimentary.
Unfortunately, joining forces with the Guard wouldn’t be enough on its own to prepare the Taran Empire for the confrontation to come. The aliens would no doubt be back, and likely in greater numbers. Too many Taran worlds would be utterly defenseles
s. Stars, maybe none of the worlds stood a chance against them, but the TSS and Guard needed to at least make a show of support so their people didn’t think they’d been abandoned.
The Taran Empire was at a crossroads. Wil could see it plainly before him, as much as he wished that wasn’t the reality. They’d been heading toward the inflection point for centuries, though the interventions of various players had done a good job of delaying the inevitable. Now, they faced not only a potential civil war over the appropriate form of Taran leadership, but also were squaring off against an outside threat with capabilities beyond their comprehension.
Part of him wondered if the Aesir had anticipated that things would come to a head in his lifetime. When he’d first met with them decades before, they’d indicated that he was positioned to be a guiding voice for the Taran people. It was a role he was reluctant to fill, fearing his own shortcomings, but he kept finding himself in situations that necessitated he speak for the collective well-being of his people.
Now, the transdimensional aliens—whatever they were—would force him to take action at an unprecedented level. The TSS was the best equipped to deal with their unique nature, and he was the organization’s leader. The responsibility fell to him.
He’d been sitting at his desk in the High Commander’s office for the last hour trying to figure out the best way to proceed. There were countless political and military factors to consider, and he was running through the possibilities to determine the best way for the pieces to work together. Slowly, a plan was forming. No doubt, it would take work to convince others it was the most sensible approach.
A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts, and Michael entered at his indication.
“Am I interrupting?” his friend asked.
“No, just thinking.” Wil straightened in his seat. “In fact, there’s something we should discuss.”
Michael closed the door behind him and took a seat across from Wil. “I’m all ears.”
“This alien threat is going to test us in new ways,” Wil began. “We need to have a coordinated front to fight them.”
Michael scowled. “I’ve been dreading this conversation.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s confirmation that we’re facing another war.”
Wil nodded. “If we’re lucky, it won’t come to that.”
“I worry we used up all of our good fortune with the Gatekeepers. I wouldn’t count on that strategy working a second time.”
“Agreed, which is why preparations are in order.”
Michael looked down at his hands in his lap.
“Can I count on you to follow me again?”
“Always.” He looked up. “But stars, do the wars always need to have you at the center?”
Wil laughed. “Sorry.”
“All right, so what’s the plan? How do we protect against an enemy this powerful?”
“I’m not sure, but we certainly don’t have a chance to look out for worlds that don’t have any of their own defenses.”
“I hate to think of a planet being un-made as easily as they dispatched the Alkeer station.”
“We can’t rule out anything, but precautions are common sense.”
“Planetary shield, orbital fortifications…” Michael began listing off.
“Exactly—not that we can be sure conventional shields will be effective against this enemy.” He sighed. “Nonetheless, we need to do what we can. And, unfortunately, our very own TSS Headquarters is vulnerable at present. If anything happens to Earth, the base inside the moon would, obviously, be compromised.”
“Yeah, good luck installing a planetary shield in secret.”
“It would be impossible. There’s only one viable option.”
His friend gaped at him. “No, you can’t be suggesting—”
“We need to bring Earth into the Taran fold.”
Michael shook his head dismissively. “They’re not ready.”
“Will there ever be a good time?” Wil asked.
Humans had already moved beyond the confines of their planet. The year was now 2055 by Earth’s calendar, which was far longer than anyone had expected the secret about the Taran Empire to last. Wil had watched Earth’s technology evolve over the years, and while Taran shields could still hide the TSS’ presence, the sheer number of humans now roaming space was becoming an issue. Aside from that, he disliked secrets on principle, unless it was absolutely necessary. There was no reason for Earth to remain unaware.
“There’s still so much conflict—” Michael started to protest.
“I know.” Wil let out a long breath. “I watched it play out during the years I lived on Earth, and I’ve continued to watch from afar since. Those issues don’t change the fact that we can’t properly protect the planet until they’re aware that the rest of the Empire exists. And, moreover, that we aren’t the only space-faring race.”
“I worry that revealing ourselves might spark a world war.”
“I hate to be callous, but if it does, so be it.”
“How very diplomatic of you.”
“It’s a matter of adaptation and survival,” Wil stated.
“Rather cold to speak that way about the world that was your home for almost two decades.”
“I resided there, but that soil was never my real home. I care for Earth and its people, don’t get me wrong, but it’s one planet among fifteen hundred. And the humans… it’s interesting to see how petty people can be when they don’t have proper perspective about their place in the universe.”
“They’ve fought bloody wars over a difference in opinion about a few lines of scripture. I can’t imagine how they’d react to an alien race,” Michael pointed out.
“It’ll go one of two ways: either they tear each other apart in short order, or seeing that they are a mere drop in the cosmic ocean will unify Earth’s countries under a common banner. What greater test of humanity’s will to survive than to show them there are others roaming the stars?”
Michael drummed his fingers on the chair’s armrest. “All it would take is one politician getting twitchy, and the world could be lost to nuclear war.”
“That’s no different than everyday life. At least this way, there’s a chance to push the planet toward its next stage of evolution. Give Earth’s people a path ahead.”
“I get the impression that your thinking on the matter wasn’t solely altruistic.”
“Some of it is out of necessity,” Wil admitted. “It’s been a challenge over the last century to keep up with humanity’s expansion into the stars. Orbital stations, the moon, Mars. We’ve been diligent in our efforts to keep the local TSS presence need-to-know, but we’re rapidly approaching a point where we won’t be able to maintain secrecy.
“We’ve already had too many close calls with amateur astronomers and private astronauts. The civilian technology on the planet—as primitive as it is compared to ours—will soon outpace our countermeasures purely from a volume standpoint. Those resources we currently allocate to masking and scrubbing our presence would be much better spent elsewhere. Our focus should be on fortifying the Empire against outside threats, not keeping a rogue colony in the dark about their ancestry.”
Michael nodded. “I agree with the reasoning, but now? We don’t need more complications.”
“There’s another motivation that tips it over the edge,” Wil revealed. “I didn’t want to bother you with the details of the treaty text, but I should note that there were references to Earth.”
Michael’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“It’s confounding, I know. There’s no explanation about why the planet is important, but letting it get blown up because it doesn’t have a simple shield installed isn’t in our best interest.”
“No, you’re right. And we can’t get a shield in place without buy-in, which means open contact.” He groaned. “This is going to release a shitestorm.”
“In the short-term, yes. But it’s also an opportunity for
the planet to come together. I’d like to believe that country borders and social divides will take on new perspective when compared to a civilization spanning the galaxy.”
“In all fairness, though, there’s infighting within the Taran Empire.”
“True, but maybe we’re numb to the scale.”
“It’s possible,” Michael agreed.
“The people of Earth will have a lot of work ahead of them,” Wil continued. “We’ll need to strategize about how best to roll out the information, but I feel it must be done. Honestly, we’ve probably already waited too long to begin.”
“They might hate us for having sat on our hands while the world went through wars, pandemics, and natural disasters. So much of that would have been mitigated by our technology.”
“Yet, it wasn’t our place to intervene. We’ve remained at a distance because we’ve wanted to give them a chance to come into their own—despite the missteps.” That had been a particularly difficult part of life on Earth for Wil. There were a lot of smart, compassionate individuals, but society as a whole had taken some questionable actions. But, as his friend had pointed out, Tarans weren’t without their own issues, as the current unrest exemplified.
“Not to be a pessimist, but dropping the ‘there are aliens’ truth-bomb isn’t likely to fix those issues,” Michael said.
“No, but it can show them a model for coexistence on a scale that they could never have imagined.”
“It’ll be a new scale, all right! Most people probably won’t believe it.”
Wil leaned back in his chair. “Convincing them we’re for real will definitely be an initial challenge. But as we build trust and respect, coming from such different places, I hope some of that will transfer to how humans think about each other. Too many social movements have taken on a ‘you’re either with us or you’re against us’ stance. In the end, those tend to create further divides rather than bring people together. To unite, there must be mutual respect—even when someone holds a viewpoint in fundamental opposition to yours. For everyone to be on equal footing, you need to respect your enemy’s perspective and recognize that they hold their opinions with as much conviction as you hold your own.”
