Crossroads of Fate (Cadicle #5): An Epic Space Opera Series

by Amy DuBoff

  Tom waited—duty and his commitment to avenge his family driving him to make sure they had accomplished their mission. He magnified the target on the heads-up display. The hatch blew apart as the blast connected; it would reach the inner target in any moment.

  A shockwave fanned out from the hub, racing toward Tom’s position. He slipped the ship into subspace—but a moment too late.

  The jet jolted backward as it caught the front end of the shockwave just as he entered subspace. His head hit the back of the seat hard, dazing him. Agonizing seconds passed with his ears buzzing and vision blurred, trying to regain his senses in time for the exit at the rendezvous with the Conquest.

  The cloud of subspace lifted. Tom struggled to focus. “I’m hit,” he relayed to the others.

  Red flashed in the corner of his vision, indicating damage to the ship. How bad was it?

  All the controls were sluggish, and the starboard thrusters were completely non-responsive. He reached out telekinetically to assess the external damage to the ship—the entire front maneuvering array and half the nose of the jet were completely gone. I’m foked…

  Under the best circumstances, it would be a rough landing. Far worse was that fact that he was only separated from the cold vacuum of space by a single, fragile interior wall barely thick enough to maintain the pressure. While his flight suit would protect him, a rapid depressurization would throw the jet off-course during landing.

  “I’m going to need guidance assistance,” he alerted Andy. Telekinetic lead lines should help him land safely. It was his best—and only—shot.

  “I’ve got you,” Andy acknowledged.

  The ship buzzed with telekinetic energy as Andy’s tethers wrapped around the craft. Tom extended his own guides toward the Conquest to set his course and try to slow the velocity of the ship.

  The Conquest was in sight. Just a little further…

  His jet wasn’t slowing to landing speed. “Pull me back!”

  “I can’t—not alone.”

  With no way of slowing down, Tom directed all his energy to making sure he was at least lined up with the hangar door. Distance was closing fast. There was nothing more he could do. “Help!” he called out to Ethan, hoping the Captains on the Conquest could offer additional tethers, but he knew by then it was too late.

  His jet passed through the entry force field and slammed against the metal deck plates nose first.

  The wall by Tom’s right leg buckled. Shards of metal curled backward, slicing into his thigh down to the bone. The jet lurched to the side, driving the twisted metal deeper.

  He cried out in pain, but couldn’t hear his own voice over a crescendoing buzz in his ears. Dark spots danced across his vision. Crafts whirled by outside the clear dome of the jet’s canopy as he spiraled uncontrolled across the hanger.

  The jet struck the back safety net, thudding to a halt as the broken metal side panel sliced straight through his femur. Tom gasped for air through the incomprehensible pain closing in around his consciousness. Blood… so much blood.

  Someone called to him from outside. Andy?

  “Help!” Tom managed to croak. Telekinetically, he ripped back the cracked upper canopy of his jet.

  Have to stop the bleeding… He sent energy to his fingertips, directing searing heat at the wound above his knee. He gaped in horror as the skin cauterized—but it wasn’t just a surface gash. The leg had been sliced completely off.

  He gagged, using every modicum of his remaining willpower to keep from vomiting inside his helmet.

  “Fok!” Andy exclaimed from above, peering over the lip of the cockpit.

  “It— It’s sliced straight through,” Tom stammered.

  “I’ll get the medical team. Don’t move.” Andy disappeared.

  Gripped with panic, Tom struggled to breath inside his helmet. He reached toward his throat and groped blindly for the seal, his hand shaking.

  Cool air rushed to his lungs as the helmet released. He gulped it in.

  Footsteps echoed across the hangar.

  “We’ll get you out,” an unfamiliar voice called up. “Stay still.”

  Tom waited in the pool of his own blood while the medical staff worked with the jet maintenance crew to remove the remaining starboard side panels around the cockpit. When the final panel was thrown to the ground, the head medic was finally able to get a proper look at Tom’s injury.

  “It’s gone, isn’t it?” Tom asked her.

  She nodded. “There’s too much damage to salvage the limb, but we’ll get you a new one.”

  He stared down at his severed leg. In retrospect, he realized just how much he’d taken it for granted. It was worth it… The Bakzen won’t recover from this.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” the medic said, wrapping her arm around Tom’s shoulders. “You’ll live to fight another day.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Wil waved his hand to minimize the crash report above his desktop. It was miraculous they all hadn’t died. Tom’s jet had nearly wiped out the other half of the Primus Squad that had already landed and a third of the maintenance crew when it crashed into the hangar. One lost leg was a minor price to pay for an otherwise successful mission, with both of the solar collectors destroyed by the two Primus pilot duos.

  “How’s Tom?” Wil asked.

  Across the desk, Ethan’s face was still lined with worry. “Drugged up on pain meds, so he’s great for now.”

  “And the others?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Shaken, but they’ll pull through.”

  The accident had hit close to home. Wil wondered if he’d be able to shake off his concern for his friends’ well-being. They were the only ones he trusted, so he sent them into the most dangerous situations, but the risks were becoming too great for him to stomach. First Saera, then the Primus Squad… His friends and his family were his weakness. I can’t allow them to be a liability any longer. “Going forward, the Primus Squad’s members will transition to ops coordination roles.”

  Ethan scowled. “They’re never going to go for that.”

  “Tom’s grounded for now, until Medical can grow him a new leg. I can’t keep worrying about the rest of them.”

  “So don’t. We knew about the mortal danger when we signed up. They’re the best pilots in the TSS—let them do their job,” Ethan implored.

  “The matter isn’t up for discussion.” Wil rose from his desk. “We’re late for the team meeting. I just wanted you to know in advance.”

  Ethan nodded, but his scowl persisted.

  I won’t knowingly send my friends into that kind of danger anymore. As awful as it is, the anonymity of the other pilots and ship crews makes it easier… Wil headed with Ethan out from his office through the Command Center to the Strategy Room.

  Michael, Ian, and Curtis were already waiting for them around the conference table.

  Wil and Ethan sat down in two of the empty chairs.

  “How are they?” Ian asked.

  “On edge but eager to keep going,” Ethan replied. “Even Tom. He said he’s going to kick some Bakzen ass as soon as the temp prosthetic is calibrated.”

  Ian cracked a smile. “Sounds about right.”

  “I’ll make sure he gets the best regenerative care,” Wil assured them. “It’ll take a couple months to regrow the limb, but he’ll be okay.”

  “He has too much fight not to be fine,” Curtis commented.

  “Very true. But with one person out, I’m grounding the whole unit. My decision to break them up was what allowed the accident to happen in the first place—three tethers could have prevented the hard landing. I won’t send them into battle down a person again.”

  “I begrudgingly agree,” Ethan muttered.

  Ethan would take Tom’s place in the field, but I need him here. We’ll find a way to work without the Primus Squad. Wil turned his attention to the real reason for the meeting. “We successfully brought down the Defense Barrier, but we still need a tangible path to finish the war once
and for all.”

  “What we’re doing already is working,” Michael pointed out. “Targeted strikes. The other Primus Elites have been doing a great job of preparing each target for us.”

  “Yes, they have. But why prolong the war? Though we came into this expecting months or years of fighting, it doesn’t have to be that way.” Wil stood up and paced across the Strategy Room, arms crossed. “Stars, the Defense Barrier is down now! Let’s end it while we have an opening.”

  “The Bakzen are still so spread out,” Michael countered. “What other choice do we have than one-off battles?”

  “We just need to hurt them enough so we can make a run for the homeworld. If we could make them concentrate their forces…” Wil mused.

  Michael tilted his head. “What are you thinking?”

  “Something that might be crazy enough to work.” Wil strode over to the center viewscreen on the wall and activated the holographic projector. After some inputs on the main panel, a holographic representation of H2 appeared in midair.

  His friend eyed the projection with confusion. “Are you suggesting we lure the Bakzen to H2?”

  “Hear me out,” Wil said. “The war with the Bakzen has been going on for hundreds of years, right? The two places that have never been directly in the conflict are the TSS base—in its various iterations over the years—and the Bakzen homeworld. Our greatest aspirations involve a direct attack on the Bakzen’s home planet, so I can only imagine they’d be as eager to get their hands on H2.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that logic,” Michael agreed. “That doesn’t mean we should hand it over to them, though.”

  “That’s not my intention.” Wil manipulated the holographic image, revealing a hidden layer of armor that he had learned about in his first visit to H2 a decade before. We just need to make it too appealing a target to resist. “This armor is rated for five minutes of direct barrage using known weapons. That’s not long, but I think it would be enough to take out the main Bakzen warships and cripple their fleet.”

  “If I understand you correctly, that’s a huge risk to take.”

  “No risk, no reward,” Wil countered.

  Michael raised an eyebrow. “But inviting an attack? That seems a bit extreme.”

  “We need to make a show of weakness. By going into a lockdown mode, it’d look like we were retreating. We lure the Bakzen in for the kill, with our fleet waiting in distributed locations. Once the Bakzen converge on us, the fleet jumps back and takes them out.”

  His friend considered the plan. “What if they don’t take the bait?”

  Wil shook his head. “Tek will. He’ll figure it’s a trap, but his ego will drive him to take advantage of the opportunity, thinking he’ll win out in the end. He’ll go in with enough firepower to put up a fight—and enough that it’ll make a dent in Bakzen forces when we take them out. His inherent boldness means that he’ll ultimately underestimate us, especially since we’ll have the tactical advantage of surprise and position.”

  “You’re seeming a bit over-confident yourself,” Michael replied.

  Maybe I am, but we need to try something new to end this before the Bakzen can repair the Defense Barrier. “I believe in our equipment and our training. I wouldn’t recommend this kind of move if I didn’t think it’d work.”

  Michael took a slow breath. “All right. Let’s go over the details.”

  * * *

  Tom winced as the medical technician sent a test signal through his temporary prosthetic leg. The energy pulse registered as a sharp pain on the right side of his calf. “Ow! Yeah, felt that, too.”

  “I’ll turn down the sensitivity,” Ruth, the technician, replied. She gave a slight wince of her own as her soft, brown eyes conveyed an apology for hurting him. “At least we know the connections took.”

  “How much longer will this take?” Tom asked, reclining back onto the medical bed in the infirmary.

  She looked over the length of Tom’s temporary leg at the various servos and sensors exposed for the calibration exercise. “We should be able to get you on your feet in another half hour, or so.”

  Tom glanced over at the flesh-toned casing sitting on the adjacent table, which would enclose the leg after the calibration. The technology was tried and true, but he was anxious to have a real flesh limb again—unfortunately, that took time to grow. According to his doctor on the Conquest, they’d already started preparations to clone his missing leg in one of the labs back on Tararia, based on the genetic code in his medical file. As soon as it was ready, he could go have it attached. I never thought I’d need to have a spare part grown on demand.

  Ruth finished another adjustment on one of the sensors next to his knee. “How’s that?”

  This time, the energy pulse registered as a gentle tickle. “Perfect.”

  She nodded with satisfaction. “Okay. Let me set the others.”

  While she was working on Tom’s foot, the main door to the infirmary opened and Wil stepped in. Tom waved him over.

  Wil smiled as he approached. “You need to work on your landing form.”

  “Well, someone cut our training short,” Tom jested back.

  His commander stopped a meter from Tom and examined the prosthetic limb. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like a tree that was on the wrong side of a fight with a plasma saw.” Tom forced a grin. “But I’m all right.”

  Wil’s smile faded. “Could you give us a few moments?” he asked Ruth.

  She inclined her head and walked to the other side of the room.

  “You’ve probably heard by now that I’m grounding the Primus Squad,” Wil continued, taking a step closer.

  Tom groaned as he sat up on the bed. “Yeah, Ethan told me.” One accident isn’t a good reason to ground the best pilots in the TSS.

  “Once you’re comfortable with the prosthetic, maybe we can reconsider. However, we’re about to try something new. If it’s successful, the war might be over very soon.”

  “Let me be a part of it! Ruth said I’d be back on my feet in half and hour—” Tom started.

  “No, I can only imagine what kind of pain meds they have you on right now. You’re not going anywhere without a clear head,” his commander insisted.

  “Fine, no more meds. Once the calibrations are done, I’ll sober up and get back out there.” Shite! Most of my family was killed by the enemy. I can’t be stuck on the sidelines, unable to do a foking thing about it!

  Wil placed a hand on his shoulder. “I understand why it’s so important to you.” He looked down. “Tom, I’m sorry that I haven’t spoken with you since Cambion…”

  A knife jabbed into Tom’s heart. “Yeah, well, it’s—”

  “I wish things had been different,” Wil interrupted.

  “The Bakzen attack wasn’t your fault.”

  Wil hesitated for a moment. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am.” Suddenly, he turned around and rushed out of the infirmary.

  Tom watched him go, feeling helpless that he could do nothing more to avenge his family while he was stuck on medical leave.

  Ruth inched back over. “Is everything okay, sir?”

  “Yeah, just condolences.” Somehow, that felt like it was more for him than me. Tom settled back down on the reclined bed. I don’t envy what it must be like for Wil—being responsible for all of us. Every loss must feel like his own. “Let’s finish up these calibrations. I want to get back out there.”

  * * *

  Weeks of digging through data archives had taken Banks to the edge of his mental fortitude. In the last thirty years, more than three hundred female TSS Agent applicants had gone missing—vanished without a trace.

  With recognition technology so integrated into society, there was no way a person could completely drop out of contact so completely and inexplicably. Moreover, there was far too strong a correlation between the women’s ability levels and their disappearances for it to be a coincidence. Each of them had a genetic potential that placed them in the
upper Sacon Agent range—or Primus, in some cases. Not the absolutely strongest candidates, but well above average. In purely scientific terms, they were the applicants that struck the balance between leaving the TSS with the most gifted potential soldiers while reserving the second-best for what Banks could only guess were telekinetic bloodline propagation purposes.

  Where did they go? The question had been plaguing him since the beginning of the search. Each attempt to trace the last movements of the women before they went missing had only met dead ends.

  To avoid drawing suspicion to his investigation, he’d resisted the urge to reach out directly to any friends or family of the missing. Fortunately, a handful of the families had filed a report with the Tararian Guard.

  Unlike any other filing with the Guard, the sensitive nature of these investigations dictated security clearance. Curiously, the clearance level had been set to 10—meaning only Banks and Taelis would have access, prior to Wil’s promotion. He found it intriguing that the Priesthood would modify the security level of the records rather than just deleting them, but perhaps some paper trail was necessary to avoid drawing suspicion; after all, if the family went to follow up, an administrative representative could legitimately say that the case was indefinitely open and they didn’t have clearance to view the results, rather than needing to disclose that the record had vanished.

  Most of the case notes from the family interviews were just gushing statements from the family about how wonderful their little girl had been and that they couldn’t think of a reason why she would want to disappear. In almost every case, the young woman’s last whereabouts were unknown.

  Finally, though, one interview caught Banks’ attention. A mother was describing her daughter and mentioned that she had a fear of open water, and how she was concerned about some upcoming travel. The last line of the interview jumped out: “She hoped that the island was big enough that she couldn’t see the other side.”

  Traveling to an island… the Priesthood’s island? There was no direct mention of the Priesthood or a specific location, so perhaps the automated review software had missed the reference. The Priesthood would never intentionally implicate themselves, and this was a reach at best. But, it was all Banks had to go on. Given the lack of details elsewhere, the other information had to have been doctored. Only the Priesthood could execute that kind of cover-up.