by Amy DuBoff
“I’m just really confused about what’s going on.”
“I wish I could offer you a deeper explanation, but I can’t get into it. Believe me when I say I’ll be more focused without her here.”
Michael frowned. “In the past five years, it’s always been the opposite.”
“Circumstances change.” Wil met Michael’s gaze, his exposed eyes pleading. “Please, just trust me on this.”
How can I trust him when he’s so obviously making a huge mistake? Despite his misgivings, Michael nodded. I need to stay in his good graces so I can keep an eye on him.
Saera returned to the living room with a travel bag slung over her shoulder. “All right.” She came to meet Michael by the door, but focused on Wil. “Good luck. Let me know if you need anything.”
Wil gnawed on his lip, then stepped forward and embraced her. “Thank you.”
They parted from the hug, and Wil rushed off in the direction of the Command Center without another word.
Saera took a moment to gather herself, releasing a slow breath. “Let’s go.”
Michael walked with her in silence down to the hangar. This isn’t right. We need her here.
He hated feeling so helpless. More than witnessing his commander make a terrible strategic decision, he was unnerved to witness cracks in a relationship that he had never seen falter. Everyone relied on Wil to be level-headed and calm, but this decision gave a very different impression. Michael shuddered to think what the sudden change might mean for Wil’s overall state of mind. For the time being, Michael decided that the best he could do was damage control to quell any rumors that might compromise Wil’s authority. We can’t give up on him. We have nowhere else to turn.
When they arrived at the hangar entrance, Saera bit her lip. “Look after him, okay?”
“I always have his back. You know that.”
Saera swallowed. “He’s further down that dark path than I realized.”
Having already witnessed a taste of that earlier in the morning, Michael was torn. “Maybe you should stay. Go to the Vanquish…”
“He’d know, and I don’t want to make things worse.” She looked down. “Besides, it seems like I’m part of the problem. If that’s the case, then maybe some time away will help him get over it faster.”
“Or,” Michael realized, “maybe this is just an overreaction to Cambion and he’s worried about you being here in a warzone—that his concern will become a distraction.” This ship is the Bakzen’s top target, and I wouldn’t want someone I cared about here, either. I hadn’t thought about it that way until now.
Saera nodded. “That’s how he tried to justify it at first, but there’s something else he isn’t saying. Regardless, there was desperation in his tone—like me leaving was a last resort option.”
“I caught that, too. How do we help him if he won’t tell us what’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t be being escorted off this ship if I knew the answer.”
Everything we’ve worked for could unravel if we’re not careful. “I’ll keep watch. I promise.”
“Okay.” Saera gave Michael a hug. “Thank you for always being there for us.”
“Hey, someone has to be the dutiful sidekick, right?” He pulled away and chuckled in spite of the tension. “Remember when we used to play Alien Invaders in my backyard? I never thought we’d actually be out saving the galaxy one day.”
She let out a pained laugh. “Go figure.”
Michael placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get through this,” he assured her. As Saera boarded the shuttle, Michael sent a quick note to Elise on his handheld: “Saera’s coming home. Wil isn’t himself. Hopefully it’s temporary, but Saera will need your support.”
A response came back almost immediately: “I’m on it. Does this have anything to do with Cambion? It’s all over the Taran news.”
“I don’t know what’s going on between Wil and Saera,” Michael wrote back. “The whole fleet is talking about Cambion, too, but we need to stay focused on the frontlines.”
“Understood. I’ll keep an eye on Saera. Take care.”
“You too.” But if Wil was cracking, there was no guarantee that any of them were safe.
* * *
In his wildest speculation, Haersen had never imagined that Wil would choose one person over an entire planet. All the same, he couldn’t be more pleased with the decision.
Tek’s top advisors were gathered around the conference table, each sporting a grin that unnaturally stretched their coarse skin over their heavy cheekbones. Their red eyes shone with exuberance—they had achieved a major victory worthy of celebration and weren’t afraid to gloat.
“How much of the population survived the initial bombardment?” General Gerek asked.
“Approximately ten percent,” General Komatra replied, “but more importantly, we were able to confirm distribution of our neuro control agent to two hundred million of those survivors. That gives us more than enough drones to take Tararia.”
“All that we have to do now is get them to the planet,” General Iko stated.
Gerek’s smile faded. “That’s a huge population to relocate.”
“We can’t move them ourselves,” Komatra clarified. “The entire point is to have them as sleeper drones. At most, we can implant a subtle message to direct them toward Tararia, but the journey there must be on their own terms.”
“It could take weeks or months for enough of them to gather,” Iko objected.
“Then so be it,” Tek stated.
The other officers fell silent, turning to their commander for guidance.
“Those plans are for future endeavors. Today we celebrate,” Tek continued. “We have dealt a significant blow to not only Tarans and the TSS, but also directly to their leader. I looked into his eyes and saw defeat.”
“The TSS’ lost resources on Cambion are only a temporary setback,” Gerek pointed out.
Tek nodded. “Yes, but the emotional damage will run much deeper, I’m told.” He glanced at Haersen. “We have tied Cambion’s devastation to a loved one, and thereby inserted a wedge that will continue to drive the TSS’ trusted leader away from his support team well after the initial loss of the planet wears off. As soldiers, we tend to think in terms of physical combat as the greatest measure of victory, but we have to think like our enemy. We have targeted the fragile Taran heart and mind—if we can’t attack directly, we’ll just let them destroy themselves from within.”
“An attack on… emotions?” Komatra raised his brow with skepticism.
“Don’t worry,” Tek replied to his officer. “Have no doubt—the Dragon has been weakened. Only time will tell by how much.”
CHAPTER 20
Just one battle at a time. I can do this… Wil’s pep-talk to himself didn’t produce the result he’d hoped.
Since Saera’s departure a week prior, he was finding it difficult to concentrate and even more difficult to maintain simultaneous observation for the longer battles. Cambion’s destruction was still far too raw for him to be able to separate Saera from that horrific scene in his mind. Until that was possible, she couldn’t be anywhere near him, lest he reveal what he’d done.
Despite his attempts to close off all emotion, he missed Saera—the companionship, counsel, love. But experiencing that connection would come with the price of looking her in the eye and seeing what he had traded in return. His difficulty with concentration was more than missing Saera, though. There was the guilt—a festering wound deep in his soul that grew more burdensome with every death in battle.
To make matters worse, constant chatter about Cambion’s decimation filled the TSS communications network between active battles, spreading reports that mass panic was threatening to send the general population on other worlds into riots. For once, it was clear that the Taran public sensed the danger of war coming to their own doorsteps. Losing a remote colony was one thing, but the capture of a major Taran world had far-reac
hing ripple effects.
Yet, Wil and his team had to concentrate on the frontlines. They couldn’t take their eyes off the end goal or the future losses might be even more devastating.
“Wil?”
Michael’s voice returned Wil to the present in the Strategy Room of the Conquest. The fleet was awaiting his orders for the next coordinated strike.
“Right, so we need a simultaneous strike on both bases,” Wil said, trying to remember what he’d been saying before his mind began to wander.
“Yes. And the collector complexes…” Michael prompted.
“We need to keep it quick and stealthy,” Wil continued, remembering his place. “Disrupting the power grid at both sites simultaneously will allow us to bring down the Defense Barrier.”
“That’s not a certainty,” Curtis interjected. “Yes, the simulations show that those are the two main power stations for the grid, but it’s impossible to know if there are backup systems or how the internal structure works.”
“I need to go on the information in front of me, and all the data indicates that this is our best bet toward eliminating one of the biggest obstacles standing in our way before we can take the Bakzen homeworld,” Wil stated. “We need to eliminate those sensors if we want any chance of a surprise strike—otherwise, they’ll see us coming, even with a subspace jump.”
“I’m not arguing that point, just your proposed methods,” Curtis clarified.
Wil folded his hands on the tabletop. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Well…” Curtis stared at the sleek tabletop. “I don’t know what to recommend.”
I understand his hesitation. It is a crazy plan. Wil activated the holographic diagram of the two Bakzen bases again.
Sutan and Haelo were solar systems at either end of the Defense Barrier in relation to Tararia. What appeared to be solar collector installations were erected near the stars, which supported the theory behind the Defense Barrier’s power source. The problem was that the equipment around such collector installations was highly reactive—they couldn’t go in blasters blazing like any other firefight. One stray weapons discharge and the resulting explosion from the collectors would take out the whole fleet within the solar system.
It would have to be a small, precision strike—in and out as quickly as possible, jumping away before detonation. By any measure, dividing up the Primus Squad was a perfect solution. Except, they always worked in a team of four and the mission was extremely risky. Two jets wouldn’t stand a chance against the Bakzen defenses if they were caught, given a warship and two cruisers were stationed at each facility. The Primus pilots would have speed, agility, and stealth on their side, but sometimes sheer numbers and brute strength were the better advantage.
“Okay, so two members of the Primus Squad at each location,” Ian said. “Is that enough?”
“For that kind of precision strike? Absolutely,” Ethan confirmed. “But they’d be totally foked if everything doesn’t go exactly as planned. They’ll need to jump away before they can confirm a strike in order to avoid the explosion. If they hang back…”
“We’d be out our best pilots and lose some of our closest friends,” Wil vocalized the statement they were all dancing around. “I know the risks, but they’re the best chance of pulling it off, and it’s the most efficient way to bring down the Defense Barrier.”
Eventually, all the officers murmured their agreement.
“All right, I’ll relay the plan,” Ethan agreed. “Let’s hope it works.”
* * *
Tom studied the details of the Primus Squad’s latest orders alongside his fellow pilots. “Are they insane?” he said when he finished reading the brief.
“That’s my conclusion.” Sander waved his hand to return the brief to its starting point, showing a holographic projection of the solar collector facility at Sutan.
Andy crossed his arms. “It’s one thing to send in a whole fleet against the odds, but relying on just two jets… There’s no room for error.”
“May as well be a suicide run,” Rey scoffed.
“Wil wouldn’t do that to us,” Tom told them. “We’re the best, remember? We can do this, no problem.” This is the chance to make a real impact. This can be revenge for my family.
“Are we looking at the same diagram?” Rey asked, incredulous. “Because I see a one-meter-wide target that would need to be hit from a range of three kilometers, and we’d have to jump before confirming impact.”
“Not to mention,” Andy added, “that if our aim is off and we need to take a second shot, the whole solar system explodes before we can jump away. Or, if we go within the three kilometer radius of the detection grid and they fire on us, the resulting firefight may—again—lead to the whole solar system exploding with us still in it.”
Sander let out a sarcastic laugh. “At least the mission would succeed either way, since the facility would be destroyed, so it’s all okay.”
“We knew our lives would be on the line when we agreed to be on this team,” Tom reminded them. My parents and sister weren’t supposed to be the ones in danger. I couldn’t protect them on Cambion, but we can make sure the Bakzen won’t hurt anyone else.
“It’s one thing to risk our lives in the line of service and duty,” Rey replied. “This is a shite plan. There’s a difference.”
“So… what? We run it up the chain?” Tom asked, not sure how to address the team’s resistance.
“Ethan can’t be onboard with this,” Sander muttered.
A moment later, Tom detected a telepathic link beckoning at the edge of his mind. He opened his consciousness to the communication.
“We have some concerns about the brief,” Sander relayed through the link to Ethan.
“Were the orders unclear?” their Captain replied.
“No, but—” Rey started to protest.
Ethan cut in, “Then you’ll make the necessary arrangements and proceed.”
“Was this your idea?” Tom asked.
“No,” Ethan replied. “Straight from Wil. There’s no talking him out of it. You guys can do it, don’t worry.” He disconnected from the link before anyone could voice additional protests.
“That was super helpful,” Andy huffed.
Tom headed toward his locker. “You heard him. Let’s go.”
Reluctantly, the others followed.
“Andy and I will take Sutan. Sander and Rey, you’re on Haelo,” Tom instructed as he pulled his flight suit and helmet engraved with his name from the locker.
They acknowledged the orders with a curt nod and retrieved their own suits and helmets.
Once dressed, they headed across the hangar to their waiting IT-1 jets.
Tom’s jet powered up as he approached, detecting his telepathic presence. After months of coordinated maneuvering together, he and the jet were fully in sync. The telepathic link with the jet automatically solidified as he climbed up the side handholds leading to the cockpit. He dropped down into the molded seat and secured the oxygen connection and flight harness. When he was settled, the transparent dome slid closed above him. He initiated the pre-flight check.
“Comm check,” Sander’s voice came through the speaker in Tom’s helmet.
“Check,” Tom replied, echoed by the two other pilots.
“Primus team check,” Tom initiated the telepathic link, reaching out to Ethan as their connection to the central command structure.
“Check,” Ethan and the others replied simultaneously. After a moment, Ethan continued, “Head out when ready.”
Tom released a slow breath. “Here we go.”
The four jets taxied toward the door of the hangar along an open central path. Technicians moved off to the side to clear the way for them to pass.
Each jet’s engine revved on the final straight-away to the door, gaining enough momentum to break through the force field separating the hangar from space.
Once free, Tom and Andy arced to the left while Sander and Rey headed to the
right.
“See you on the other side,” Sander called out as he vanished into subspace with Rey.
“Jump coordinates confirmed,” Andy said. “Ready?”
Tom initiated the jump. “Let’s go.”
After two minutes, the two jets emerged from the blue-green cloud of subspace just beyond the outside edge of the invisible proximity detection grid.
Three kilometers away in front of them, a warship and two cruisers were stationed in defensive positions around the target complex. The solar collector station glistened in the starlight—a golden sail floating in the emptiness, with four wings fanned outward from a central hub. It was that hub, through a narrow hatch leading to a vent tube, they needed to strike. Unfortunately, the hub rotated around a central axis, and the hatch was out of their current line of sight.
“Shite! There’s no way to make the shot from here,” Tom relayed to Andy and Ethan.
“We can’t wait for it to rotate…” Andy replied through their near-instantaneous communications.
Detection grid or not, they were still vulnerable to visual recognition. “Reposition. We have no choice.” Without hesitation, Tom envisioned his destination seventy-degrees from his present vantage, which would align him with the hatch and hopefully still outside the threshold of the detection grid. The ship hummed in response to his silent command, sending a flash across his vision to confirm the jump coordinates.
The jet slipped through subspace toward the destination. When he emerged, he’d have virtually no time to line up the shot. Let’s hope I come out in the right place…
Normal space re-solidified around him. The hatch was in sight, but a warning lit up on the heads-up display. He’d misjudged the distance without any visual reference points—he was within the three kilometer sensor zone. Shite.
“Fire!” Andy shouted in his mind.
Tom sensed the location of the hatch and lined it up. Purely following instinct, he took the shot.
The energy blasts from their ships careened through open space. He held his breath, waiting for impact.
“Fall back!” Andy’s shuttle slipped into subspace.
