Empire Uprising (Taran Empire Saga Book 2): A Cadicle Space Opera

by A. K. DuBoff

  She kept her expression impassive. “Why would voydite be relevant?”

  You have to be foking kidding me! Wil was finding it increasingly difficult to not outright yell at the woman. “Because voydite is a critical material for the manufacture of your current power cores. If you run out of voydite, MPS will no longer have a product. Without MPS, the Monsari Dynasty would no longer be relevant. Do I need to spell out the rest, or can we have a real conversation like we agreed?”

  Celine finally pulled her gaze away, focusing on her hands splayed on the tabletop. “You have no idea what it’s like. You just abdicated your position so you didn’t have to deal with inheriting a mountain of shite.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “I had my own messes to deal with, but I am intimately familiar with the burden of cleaning up others’ mistakes.” His entire career in the TSS ultimately stemmed from correcting the Priesthood’s past atrocities; few knew that truth, though the information was becoming more widely known.

  “It’s weak leadership that led us here,” Celine huffed. “Now everything is falling apart.”

  “There’s a breaking point for everything. Sometimes it comes down to bad luck.”

  She scoffed. “The infuriating thing is that they saw this coming generations ago. Each useless fool after another kept pushing off responsibility to the next poor sap in line. By the time I stepped in, there was little I could do.”

  He nodded. “Natural resources have a lifecycle. But when there’s something new—”

  She laughed. “Wait, you thought I was talking about the voydite?”

  “Of course. That’s—”

  “You have some nerve to think I’d discuss private Dynasty business with the likes of you.”

  It took a moment for Wil to gather himself. “Excuse me?”

  “Your family caused this mess. Preaching that the ‘Gifted’ should be allowed in civilized society. It’s been a steady decline since your father took over Sietinen, slowly running the Empire into the ground.”

  Wil stood up. “Well, Celine, I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure. Good luck.” You’re going to need it.

  Without waiting for any reply, he left the conference room.

  For a minute there, she actually had me thinking she’d come around. They’d had their differences of opinion for as far back as he could remember, but at least they’d feigned civility. To insult him and every other Gifted person to his face was uncalled for. With her at the helm, Monsari deserves whatever fate might befall it.

  He didn’t like to wish ill of anyone, but that particular family line had failed to adapt to the changing times. More than that, they epitomized everything that people disliked about highborn—out of touch with normal people, using wealth as an excuse to forego decency. As long as that kind of elitist thinking persisted, there wouldn’t be a sustainable balance of power within the Empire. If either Celine or her successors didn’t open their eyes to the present reality, Taran civilization would move on without them. Though, perhaps that would be for the best.

  Still fuming from the conversation, Wil stormed from the conference room and headed toward the port where his shuttle was waiting. Various administrative and security personnel watched him from a distance as he exited the manor and took the path eastward through the Monsari Estate’s lush gardens.

  Situated on the inner curve of the crescent-shaped Second Region, the cool air of Tararia’s northern expanse was a fitting accompaniment to the chilly mood of all the staff he’d encountered during the brief visit. Wil looked forward to getting back home to TSS Headquarters—the one place he truly felt he belonged.

  The entire mission had turned out to be a waste of time. Granted, five hours of transit in each direction made it a day-trip, but there were plenty of other things he could have been working on back at TSS Headquarters.

  Returning to a more productive frame of mind, Wil ran through a mental checklist on what he could work on during the return journey.

  They were in the midst of sorting out the training paths for the next Agent cohort. With the TSS’ continuing trend toward academia in addition to specialized military training, they needed to expand the organization’s training facilities and curriculum. Most of that fell under Saera’s purview as Lead Agent, but Wil was serving in an advisory role as High Commander. Truthfully, they were in desperate need of others to help with the effort; Wil recognized that both he and his wife were too military-minded, and they were lacking a civilian viewpoint on the project. Unfortunately, no one had yet stepped up to assist them.

  The most urgent task, however, was reviewing the latest reports from around the Rift.

  The Erebus had been mostly quiet and distant since the encounter at Tararia. Though the TSS and Taran High Council had received a handful of communications during the intervening months, there had been no other indications of the Erebus interacting with the spacetime dimension. Wil wanted to believe that no signs of an impending attack was a good thing, but he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that the transdimensional aliens were gearing up for a bigger assault.

  And then there’s the matter of who can manufacture these new power cores. Another wave of annoyance surged through Wil as he reflected on the conversation with Celine. We’ll figure out a way forward without MPS.

  As soon as he was beyond easy earshot of the manor and there was no one in sight, Wil called his father on his handheld. He kept it voice-only for ease while walking.

  “Hi, Wil, how’d it go?” his father greeted.

  “Hey. It was not the cordial, productive chat I’d envisioned.”

  Cris sighed. “I was afraid that might be the case. The way Monsari has responded to the Erebus’ presence hasn’t given me the impression that they want to play nice.”

  “I’m afraid we’re back to open hostility. I genuinely don’t understand how Celine thinks this is a smart way to navigate our relationship.”

  “Are you still at the estate?”

  “Heading to my shuttle now.”

  “We can talk further once you’re somewhere more private. I have some thoughts on the matter.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks, Dad.”

  “We’re prepared for this contingency. Forget Celine. Monsari has decided its own fate.”

  “I hate to condemn an entire family over the act of one individual, but she’s made it difficult for me to separate the two.”

  “You’re right,” his father said, “we shouldn’t write them all off. Doing so would be no different than the Erebus punishing all Tarans for the actions of a few rogue criminals.”

  “I always try to find redeeming qualities in a person, but something— I don’t know, it doesn’t feel right. The way she was so dismissive of the offer doesn’t make sense. Why turn down an opportunity to…”

  Wil faded out as a tingle rippled down the back of his neck—an instinctual alarm of both his training and Gifts. He raised a telekinetic shield around himself.

  The blast hit only a moment later. The charge diffused as it struck his shield, rippling in waves from the point of impact.

  The fok? He spun around to face the direction of the attack, looking for the perpetrator. “Someone just took a shot at me!”

  “What?!” his father exclaimed.

  “I’ll call you back.” He ended the call and slipped his handheld back into the inner pocket of his TSS uniform’s black overcoat.

  Wil’s senses were on high alert. He reached out with his mind to feel for anyone in the area. When he found no one in the immediate vicinity, he expanded the search radius. A hundred meters out, he felt someone watching him. They were preparing to make an escape.

  That was a big mistake.

  Wil gripped the man in a telekinetic hold from afar, lifting him from the ground and pinning his limbs so he would be unable to flee.

  He ran over to where the man was suspended behind a hedge. As Wil came around the natural barrier, he lowered the man to the ground but still held him in a firm telek
inetic grasp.

  The captive’s eyes darted from side to side with terror. The young man was dressed like a grounds worker in green coveralls. Only the plasma rifle at his side gave away his murderous intentions.

  “Did you really think you could take me down so easily?” Wil asked. Another traitor had successfully landed a near-mortal shot on Wil, but he had been a mere teenager then. For anyone to make an attempt now on the TSS High Commander—let alone a Sietinen heir—was either insane, foolish, or getting paid a lot of money to take the risk.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The young man hung in the air, immobile and his mind open.

  “Who do you work for?” Wil demanded.

  “What do you mean?” the man stammered. All of the answers to Wil’s questions were right there in the man’s mind for the taking, but it was almost like that’s what he wanted Wil to do. Such an invasive telepathic action might be justifiable in an interrogation after an official arrest, but not like this.

  Wil glared at him. “Who put you up to this?” His heart pounded in his chest, more from anger than fear. Was this Monsari’s doing? Was this entire meeting a trap?

  “What’s going on here?” a stern male voice demanded from behind Wil.

  Wil wheeled around to face the approaching man, who was dressed in the distinctive gray uniform of a Guard officer.

  Good, we can settle this properly. Wil addressed the officer, “This man just attempted to shoot me in the back. That’s a hefty criminal offense of both attacking a military officer and a highborn heir.”

  “And what evidence do you have of this alleged infraction?” the officer asked.

  Wil hesitated. That wasn’t the kind of response he’d anticipated. “I’m sure your surveillance footage will provide an adequate illustration of the events.”

  “I’m afraid our visual monitoring system is currently offline for maintenance.”

  A quick telekinetic survey of the surrounding area confirmed that the security system was powered down. The predicament crystallized in Wil’s mind. This was a setup.

  Wil thought over the geography of the incident. Even his shuttle wasn’t in sight, which meant its onboard cameras wouldn’t have witnessed the incident. The perpetrators had picked a perfect location where Wil would only have his word about what had transpired.

  What do they hope to gain? Was this really an assassination attempt, or something else? Wil looked between the face of his assailant and the officer. “I can offer no additional witnesses to the encounter.”

  The officer shrugged—far too casual a gesture for the nature of the situation. It was almost like he was trying to taunt Wil. “Then I’m afraid it’s your word against his.”

  The heat rose in Wil’s chest. He was probably watching the whole thing. He’s in on it.

  “You do not appear to be injured,” the officer continued, looking Wil over, “nor is there any evidence of a shot being fired in this vicinity. Please, release this man.” A smirk tugged at his lips.

  Oh, that’s it. They’re trying to get a rise out of me—to bait me into action. Well, this isn’t over yet. Wil took a calming breath. “If you examine this rifle,” he gestured to his assailant’s weapon, “you no doubt will find it has been recently fired. How do you explain that?”

  The officer glanced at the rifle. “You just came from the target range, right, Tony?”

  “Yeah. Got a great pattern, too.” The assailant nodded—about the only action he could take while still in Wil’s grasp.

  “I’m not seeing the issue here,” the officer said. “Please, sir, I need to insist that you release him or I’ll be forced to escalate this issue.”

  That’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? For me to use my abilities to force the truth out of him, so you can declare how unstable I am and abusive of my power. Wil schooled his expression, unwilling to give the men the satisfaction of seeing him angry. “I see.”

  Reluctantly, Wil released the shooter.

  The assailant shook out his limps and flashed Wil a smug sneer. “It appears this has all been a misunderstanding.”

  “Oh, I think we understand each other perfectly.” Wil met his gaze.

  After several intense seconds, the officer cleared his throat. “Then it’s settled.” Without another word, he spun around and strode back along the path.

  The shooter glanced between his weapon and Wil. From the twist of his lips, he wanted to say more, but to make any comment might be incriminating.

  Wil stared back levelly. Yeah, we both known that would have been a clean center-mass shot if I hadn’t blocked it. Don’t think I’ll forget. The very notion that the man had been willing to take the shot said everything Wil needed to know about him.

  The shooter gave a final nod and then followed the officer toward the manor.

  Un-foking believable. Wil watched him go. That’s it?

  The entire encounter was bizarre. He had expected them to press him further—to make him take action against them that they could then warp to fit their own narrative. Instead, they’d simply walked away.

  Was this just a warning? He didn’t know what to make of it.

  Wil took another minute to clear his head before he went to his shuttle, much more aware of his surroundings this time. As a precaution, he kept a shield up around himself, though he doubted they’d try the same assault twice.

  On his way, he sent a quick text to his father, knowing he must be worried about the abrupt end to their call: >>I’m fine. I’ll fill you in later. No one in Monsari can be trusted.<<

  As much as he valued his father’s council, it was more critical that he alert the TSS about Monsari’s transgression. As soon as he strapped into one of the private passenger seats in the central body of the shuttle, he called Saera.

  She appeared on the screen of his handheld. “Hey, how’d it go?”

  “Not good. First, the easy part: MPS isn’t interested in manufacturing.”

  Her jade eyes widened with surprise. “Really? That seems like a terrible business decision.”

  “That’s my assessment, too. I don’t get it. I would have thought she’d jump at the idea.”

  A low rumble vibrated the deck underfoot as the small ship powered up and lifted from the ground.

  His wife frowned. “Is it possible we’ve misread the situation and they aren’t in as dire straits as we think? Why else would Monsari decline such a generous offer?”

  “Well, it might have something to do with them trying to shoot me.”

  “Stars, Wil!” Saera exclaimed. “They shot at you? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. It’s not like this was the first time.” In many ways, the hyper-awareness born from the trauma of his past experience had helped keep him safer in the years since.

  Saera’s expression immediately shifted to matter-of-fact professionalism. “I’ll contact the local Agents to provide backup for an arrest.”

  He held up his hand. “That won’t be necessary. We can’t make any arrest now.”

  “Why in the stars not? Did you not locate the shooter?”

  “Oh, I spotted him right away. I think I was supposed to. The problem is, the security system was out—conveniently—and I didn’t see him take the shot. Extrasensory perception isn’t grounds for an arrest.”

  She frowned. “Agents use it all the time.”

  “Tararian local law is different. They haven’t yet rolled back all of the regulations the Priesthood put in place during their rule.”

  “There has to be something we can do! Please don’t tell me you’re going to shrug this off.”

  “Absolutely not. However, there’s little we can do about the situation at the moment. It’s my word against his, and any attempt to throw around my authority is likely to do more harm than good.” The more Wil talked through what happened, he saw just how brilliant a setup it was. Either he had to let Monsari get away with the entire thing, or he’d need to overstep the scope of his position in order to re
spond to the assault. They were clearly counting on him seeking vengeance no matter what.

  She scowled. “This isn’t right.”

  No, it’s not. He fought against the anger welling in his chest. “Justice will be served. Have faith. And patience.”

  “It’s never a good sign when you’re the one telling me to be patient.”

  “Just taking turns, my love. We’ll get through this like we have everything else.”

  “Meanwhile, an assassin is running loose.”

  “Attempted assassin,” he said. “Right now, I’m more concerned about whoever put him up to it—whether it was Celine or someone else.”

  Saera scowled. “Monsari is obviously involved. But was it a temporary collaboration of convenience, or is it part of a longer-term strategy?”

  “Given how things tend to go for us, I suspect this was a tiny piece of a much bigger scheme.”

  “To what end?”

  Wil shook his head. “I’m not sure, but it was all a setup, Saera. They wanted me to read their minds—I could feel it. And it would have been so easy to get all the answers, but this bomaxed code of ethics is here to keep us from becoming the monsters people like Celine think we are. I would never give into that trap.”

  “I trust you, more than anyone, to respect those lines.”

  “I can’t think of another reason why they would have reacted the way they did. They had to have known I would be able to identify and deflect a single blast like that. It was intended to piss me off, not hurt me.”

  “Devious.”

  “And shows they don’t know me well at all.”

  She nodded. “Even if you had gleaned information, anything you learned via surreptitious telepathy wouldn’t be considered proof outside our immediate circle.”

  “To have a solid lead, though…” He sighed. “But we can’t go down that path.”