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

by DuBoff, Amy

  “We’re in lockdown,” the guard replied. “What is your business?”

  “We have in custody the advisor to former General Tek.”

  “It can wait until the lockdown is lifted,” the guard replied.

  “Let the Imperial Director decide that,” Komatra shot back. “Tell him I’m here.” He waved his wrist over the scanner on the desktop.

  The guard examined the credentials. “Yes, Colonel, I’ll alert him.” He entered a message on the console at his station. After several moments, he nodded to Komatra. “Very well. The Imperial Director will see you.”

  “Thank you.” Komatra snapped the guard’s neck with the telepathic whip—leaving the pathway open for Tek to pass by without notice.

  Haersen’s stomach turned over with the sudden act of brutality, but he recognized its necessity.

  Komatra set off down the hall with Haersen and the others in tow. The entry to the office was immediately past the security checkpoint. He opened the door.

  The Imperial Director sat behind his desk. He evaluated the party with mild surprise, pausing on Haersen. “Why have you come here?”

  Something about the Imperial Director’s energy signature felt strange. Haersen glanced at Komatra to see if he noticed it, as well, but the young officer was focused purely on the mission at hand.

  “We are aware of Tek’s recent death,” Komatra stated as he stepped into the room. “We came across his ‘advisor,’ here,” he prodded Haersen forward. “He has pledged his continued allegiance to the Bakzen.”

  Haersen dropped to his knees. “Sir, I tried to reason with Tek, but he insisted that coming for you was the only way.”

  The Imperial Director shook his head. “Allegiance? You revealed Tek’s plan to me. After he took you in, you were still willing to undermine him? You can’t be trusted.”

  “Sir, my actions have all been in the service of the Bakzeni Empire,” Haersen countered. He just needed to stall for long enough.

  “You’re an outsider. Why should we continue to indulge his fancy?” the Imperial Director asked.

  Haersen gazed up at him with all the confidence he could muster. “Because of what I can demonstrate. This gene therapy has already transformed me. If it can increase my abilities, it will show a path for the Taran population.”

  “A complement to the plans we have already set in motion,” the Imperial Director mused.

  “Yes. And I’m so close to being able to show you,” Haersen urged.

  “Perhaps.” The Imperial Director rose from his desk. He waved Haersen aside, turning his attention to the officers. “And what of the rest of you?”

  “We are loyal to the Bakzeni Empire,” Komatra stated, his mental guards firmly set.

  There was no way Komatra’s mental guards wouldn’t rouse suspicion, but it was the distraction Haersen needed. He took the opportunity to slip his handheld from his pocket and send the awaited message to Tek: “Now.”

  The Imperial Director’s eyes narrowed, but he seemed willing to overlook the mental wall. “Komatra, you will assume General Tek’s former position.”

  “Yes, sir. I am honored,” Komatra acknowledged. He glanced over at Haersen.

  “It’s sent,” Haersen told him. The position of General was a position Komatra would no doubt assume under Tek’s leadership, anyway, Haersen figured.

  The Imperial Director focused on the next in line. “And Gerek—”

  Tek appeared in the open doorway. Without hesitation, he fired a pulse gun blast into the Imperial Director’s chest.

  An electronic ripple passed over the Imperial Director as the blast dissipated around him. “How stupid do you think I am?”

  Tek, Haersen, and the officers were thrown to the ground in a telekinetic vice. Haersen fought against the restraints, but the control was too powerful. There was no way the Imperial Director was acting alone.

  A moment later, ten officers appeared in the doorway and filed into the room. Two focused on each of the prisoners.

  Haersen was completely pinned by the two officers—each captor individually stronger than himself. There was no way to break free. That wasn’t part of the plan.

  “You made it even easier than I anticipated, coming for me like this,” the Imperial Director stated. “Tek, I’m disappointed.”

  Tek glared up at his commander. “Your time is over.”

  The Imperial Director loomed over them, his body shield flickering as it recalibrated. “Not yet.”

  Tek leaped to his feet, free from his telekinetic vice, to the Imperial Director’s horror. “We’ve come for you.”

  Four of the guards cried out in surprise as the others turned on them. They collapsed to their knees, gripping their heads. The cries subsided as a trickle of blood flowed from their eyes and noses.

  The invisible bonds holding Haersen released. He scrambled to his feet to find that the remaining six guards supposedly working with the Imperial Director had redirected their attention to the former commander. Tek’s newest insiders.

  “Our supporters are everywhere now,” Tek told the Bakzen leader. “You should have made a move earlier when you had the chance.”

  The Imperial Director evaluated his former supporters now penning him in. He snarled at Tek, “You know how to make a compelling argument. It’s a pity you’re so wrong.”

  “Wrong? I’m a visionary.” Tek sent a telekinetic lash toward the old Bakzen leader, crackling the air with electromagnetic energy.

  The Imperial Director dodged the blow, wrapping a telekinetic whip of his own around Tek’s torso and throwing him against the right wall. The wall cracked under the impact, raining dust and chunks of concrete.

  Tek slid to the floor, clutching his shoulder that had borne the brunt of the impact. He shook it off, sending out another invisible snare from his position on the floor—this time catching the Imperial Director by his ankles. He whipped the old Bakzen against the far wall, shattering a viewscreen in a flash of sparks.

  Both men rose to their feet struggling to subdue the other in a telekinetic vice. Bred from the same genetic line, their strength was evenly matched—making it a battle of wills.

  Tek’s officers stood by, unable to intervene without questioning Tek’s position as a leader. His victory needed to stand on its own.

  The two commanders strained under the pressure, perspiration on their brows and knees shaking from exertion. Tek was the first to slip.

  The Imperial Director threw him against the window. The glass crunched as Tek was forced against it. “We never should have brought you into being.”

  A crack spread out from the impact site, cross-crossing the window. Tek was suspended in midair at the center of the window, framed by the setting sun. Long shadows lined the ground ten stories below.

  Tek sneered back at the Imperial Director. “And you should have retired.”

  He threw the Imperial Director back against his desk. The desk flipped over, partially pinning the old Bakzen.

  Tek landed on his feet, strong as ever. He telekinetically rended one of the legs from the upturned desk and drew it into his hand. “It’s over.” He hurled the desk leg into the Imperial Director’s chest, piercing him clean through just below the heart.

  The elderly Bakzen fell backwards, blood pouring from the gaping wound. He gasped, sputtering a laugh of surprise. “I underestimated you.”

  “You’re old and weak,” Tek said, coming to stand over him. “The Bakzen can’t wait any longer. I will give us the future we deserve.”

  The Imperial Director fought for breath, his teeth stained with blood. “You can’t lead us.”

  “This was my birthright,” Tek declared. “Born of the imperial line and raised to be the Bakzen’s deliverance to freedom.”

  “Not like this,” the Imperial Director murmured with his dying breaths.

  Tek shook his head with disgust. He stomped on the Imperial Director’s skull until it was crushed, eliminating any chance of recovering his consciousnes
s.

  Haersen quavered from nerves and excitement. It had been bloodier than planned, but they’d done it. He inched away from the fallen guards near his feet.

  Stepping over the Imperial Director’s body, Tek brushed off his uniform and approached the chair that had surprisingly remained in place throughout the fight—the seat of power he had pursued for so long. He ran his finger along its upper edge. It was finally his, and now Haersen and all others who had supported him would reap the benefits.

  Haersen smiled. He wouldn’t have to grovel any longer.

  Tek looked over his officers and nodded—the thrill of victory in his eyes. He pulled out his handheld and activated a planetwide broadcast.

  “I am assuming control of the Bakzeni Empire,” Tek announced. “I will be the new Imperial Director, overseeing both military and administrative operations. I will deliver us victory in the war. Join me.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The plan of attack was laid. Cris rubbed his hands together, ready for battle. “After I talk with my parents while you’re with Kaiden, we’ll rendezvous near your parents and go tackle Vincent Talsari together.”

  Kate sighed. “Cris, dear, this is a wedding not a war. I think we can play it by ear and be just fine.”

  “It was your idea to investigate today. I’m just trying to be prepared.”

  “And we are perfectly equipped to discuss this and other matters without further preparation,” his wife assured him.

  I guess we shouldn’t come on too strong if we’re going to successfully show outsiders that the TSS and its people aren’t so different from them—that the Priesthood was wrong to disparage us. Cris let out a slow breath. “I’ll try to relax.”

  “Good.” Kate straightened a slightly askew ribbon on Cris’ dress uniform. “Now, go make sure our son is taken care of while I begin greeting our guests.” She gave him a kiss.

  “I’ll meet you out there soon. If you want to start with Kaiden—”

  Kate flashed a prim smile. “There’ll be plenty of time for business after the ceremony.” She shooed Cris away. Fatherly duties were far more important than politics.

  * * *

  “It doesn’t even seem real.” Wil performed the final check of his TSS dress uniform in the mirror. “We’ve already been together for so long that this formality seems like it should have happened already.”

  Michael nodded, making the final adjustments to his own dark-blue TSS uniform—a slightly premature color advancement, but well deserved and a better fit with the rest of the color scheme for the event. “So think of how much better you’ll feel afterward.”

  Part of me still feels guilty for dragging Saera into this life. “She’ll have some security.”

  “...And each other,” Michael prompted.

  Wil smiled. “And we’ll have each other.”

  A knock sounded at the door and it slid opened. “How’s everything going in here?” Cris asked.

  “All set,” Wil replied.

  His father looked him over, evaluating. “Need anything?”

  Wil shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Cris grinned. “Then let’s get this party going.”

  Wil and Michael followed Cris from the suite on the Vanquish that had been serving as his dressing room up at the TSS spaceport above the moon. Friends and some hired help had been busy transforming the port into a ceremony space and reception venue, complete with decorations, seating, and dining facilities. I wonder how everything came out.

  Two minutes later, he had his answer.

  “Wow.” Wil took in the entrance to the transformed spaceport.

  One concourse had been sectioned off for the wedding. The outer portion of the wing was filled with tables to accommodate the reception dinner. Each table was covered with a white tablecloth, topped with an elaborate vase of flowers in a spectrum of purple and blue. Fiber optics woven throughout the vases and foliage added a twinkling sparkle that played off the starscape visible through the curved ceiling above.

  Further down the concourse, at the entrance to the rotunda, three hundred chairs were arranged in rows facing the expansive starscape beyond. The holographic map that was normally suspended in the center of the room was deactivated, replaced by streamers of flowing white fabric draped in elegant arches from floor to ceiling. Flowers lined the center aisle, and additional planters atop silver pedestals framed the back center of the rotunda beneath an arch of fabric. Another pedestal table at the center of the arch was topped with a silver chalice for the ceremony.

  “This is amazing,” Wil breathed.

  “I don’t even recognize it,” Michael said behind him.

  Cris nodded. “I was pretty surprised myself. I hope Saera likes it.”

  “She’ll love it,” Wil replied. “No doubt.”

  Banks walked over from the left wall of the rotunda where he’d been chatting with Scott, who was attending as a guest. “Hi, Wil. How are you feeling?”

  “Great!” Wil exclaimed. “Have the guests arrived?”

  The High Commander nodded. “We’ve been holding them in the concourse set aside for the civilian attendees. We wanted to make sure everything met with your approval before we brought them in.”

  “Looks good to me,” Wil affirmed.

  “Excellent. We’ll get everyone seated, then,” Banks replied. “Did you want to go over the ceremony script again?”

  Wil shook his head. “I think I’ve got it.”

  Banks flashed him a broad grin. “All right. It’s time for a wedding!”

  * * *

  Saera couldn’t take her eyes off the reflection of herself in the mirror. Her wedding dress was even more stunning in its final form than it had appeared in the holographic model—crystal and silver embroidery along the precise pleats that hugged her perfectly. She was afraid to move, lest it somehow harm the garment.

  “Are you ready?” Elise asked. Her own purple dress brushed the ground with a light fabric that billowed as she moved, paired with a form-fitting bodice that connected to straps cris-crossing her back.

  “I guess I am.” I can’t believe I’m getting married today.

  The door cracked open and Marina peeked inside. “Oh, Saera, you’re beautiful.”

  Saera blushed beneath her makeup. “Thanks, mom.”

  “Are you nervous?” Marina asked.

  “Not really. More excited.”

  Marina checked Saera’s gown one last time. “Good. Everyone’s in place, so we’ll proceed whenever you want.”

  Saera took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  * * *

  Wil scanned the concourse leading up to the aisle, waiting for Saera to come into view. His heart pounded in his ears and his stomach fluttered with excitement. We’re about to get married. She’ll be my wife…

  Guests shifted in their seats, anxious for the event to get underway. Old acquaintances whispered to each other while they waited for the bride’s arrival.

  Cris and Kate were seated in the front row, the hint of tears in their exposed glowing eyes. Wil glanced over his left shoulder at Michael, who gave him a supportive smile.

  Wil took a deep breath. This is just a formality. She’s always been my life partner. He returned his attention to the concourse.

  He felt Saera approaching before he saw her—emanating joy and a sense of fulfillment. He reached out to her, sharing his own elation and excitement. Their bond called them together across the remaining distance. He craved to be back with her, thinking it impossible that he could love her or desire her even more. And then, she stepped into view—more beautiful and radiant than a fantastical dream.

  Everything went still. Their eyes locked and they smiled at each other. Their years together had been leading up to that moment, and there was nowhere else they’d rather be.

  Saera walked slowly down the aisle with a bouquet of flowers to match the other decorations, her confidence making her even more stunning. Guests murmured with awe as they too
k her in. She kept her eyes locked on Wil’s, except for the occasional glance down to check her footing.

  When Saera reached the end of the aisle she handed her bouquet to Elise and turned to face Wil. Elise quickly ducked down to arrange the train of Saera’s dress, then stepped back to the side.

  A pace back from Wil and Saera, Banks stood at the center of the arch behind the pedestal waiting to officiate. He glanced at Wil and Saera, and they nodded to indicate they were ready to begin the ceremony, consisting of elements from both of their native cultures.

  The High Commander gazed out at the audience. “We are gathered here today to celebrate one of life’s greatest moments, and to cherish the words which shall unite Williame Sietinen-Vaenetri and Saera Alexri in marriage. Marriage is the promise between two people who love each other, and who trust in that love, who honor one another as individuals, and who wish to spend the rest of their lives together.

  “This ceremony will not create a relationship that does not already exist between them. It is a symbol of how far they have come in their years together. It is a symbol of the promises they will make to each other to continue growing stronger as individuals and as partners, no matter what challenges or successes they encounter together in the coming years. Today, their lives, which began on separate paths, will be joined as one.”

  Wil and Saera took each other’s hands, trembling slightly with anticipation.

  “Though we are far from the home of our people,” Banks continued, “the essence of that ancestry is a part of us all no matter where we may travel. To solidify Wil and Saera’s bonds to their people and to each other, they will drink the headwaters of the Bethral Mountains.”

  Banks picked up a dual-spout chalice from the pedestal, angled such that they each could sip when the cup was tipped forward. The clear water filled the bottom of the silver vessel—just enough for a swallow each. He handed the chalice to Wil and Saera, who took it in their hands together.

  Taking a step closer to each other, they tilted the chalice forward and drank. The cold water sent a chill down Wil’s throat as he swallowed. With the chalice emptied, they handed it back to Banks.