Empire Reborn (Taran Empire Saga Book 1): A Cadicle Space Opera A.K. DuBoff (guided reading books TXT) 📖

for a moment during the transition back into normal space. Stars began peeking through the blue-green sea of light, and then the ethereal fog dissipated, leaving only an inky starscape.

“Five minutes until docking,” the pilot announced over the comm.

Jason sighed. No doubt, the day was going to turn into a shitshow; he felt it. Better to get personal business out of the way so it wouldn’t be a distraction later.

He pulled out his handheld and initiated a vidcall to Tiff. It was still earlier than when she usually got up, but he couldn’t wait around until after breakfast.

The screen resolved into a video of her face. She rubbed her copper eyes with one hand and rolled over, showing her dark-brown hair fanned out over pillows.

“Woke up thinking about me?” she asked with a smirk.

“More like didn’t go to bed.”

“That rough a night, huh? You look like shite!”

“Yeah, good morning to you, too. Tiff, I’m really sorry, but I might not be around tonight.”

“Canceling again?”

“I just arrived at Prisaris. I took a transport out here in the middle of the night.”

Her eyes went wide. “Fok, is this about that attack?”

“Yeah, it might be complicated. I’ll know more soon.”

“Shite, okay. I can’t argue with that excuse. Sorry for being bitchy.”

“I would have wondered if I’d called the right person if your first words were anything else.”

She raised her nose with feigned superiority. “If nothing else, I’m consistent.”

“And much more reliable than me, these days.”

“When are you going to be home?”

“I’m not sure. Could be this afternoon. Or maybe a couple of days.” He really hoped an extended stay wouldn’t be necessary, but he couldn’t rule out any possibility.

“Okay, well, let’s get together when you’re back.”

“Of course.”

She nodded. “Good luck, Jace. I hope it’s not anything too serious.”

“Me too. Talk soon.” He ended the call.

As the transport ship positioned for docking, the Prisaris base came into view outside. Originally a shipyard, the facility’s most prominent attribute was still its sprawling spacedocks. Since the TSS had limited production needs during peacetime, the docks were now barren skeletons, glowing slightly in the icy white lights mounted along its length. The few ships present were docked around the central hub, which the TSS had transformed from civilian administrative offices into a functional base with medical facilities, an investigative unit, and even a complement of TSS Militia soldiers.

Publicly, the TSS’ combat-focused operations had been scaled down over the past thirty years, since the end of the Bakzen War. Now, the Tararian Guard—the TSS’ counterpart—was the go-to for conventional military engagements; the Guard’s peacekeeping division, the Enforcers, handled most civil disputes. By contrast, TSS Agents with their rare Gifts, served the role of specialists to call in for novel situations requiring a more calculated approach. Though mediation and negotiation were always an Agent’s first choice, would-be troublemakers had a tendency to surrender when they saw their companions flung across the room by an invisible telekinetic force.

Facilities like the Prisaris base were remnants of the older TSS from wartime. While Jason admired the recent move toward academia, he was steadfast in his opinion that the TSS served a vital role in the Empire and needed to keep its combat skills sharp. It was one of the leading reasons he’d volunteered to be a flight instructor—to help shape a new generation of TSS officers who could be equally skilled in offense, defense, and diplomacy. New threats like this situation in the Rift emphasized how critical it was that they not let their guard down.

Once docked, Jason sent a quick note to his father: >>I’ve arrived. Heading to the interview now.<<

A response came right away. >>Don’t do any kind of astral projection near the Rift until we know what we’re dealing with.<<

An oddly specific order, but one Jason was inclined to agree was for the best. The last thing he wanted to do was figure out how to counter an attack while his consciousness was detached from his physical self. >>Understood.<<

On that ominous note, Jason went to wait by the access hatch. As soon as it swung open with a hiss, he saw an Agent with bronze skin and black hair pacing at the base of the transparent, arched gangway leading to the station.

When the Agent noticed the hatch open, he stopped in place and went rigid with his arms at his sides. Even from meters away, Jason could sense his nerves. However, it was unclear if it was from meeting one of the TSS’ highest-ranked Agents or due to the situation.

With the hopes of setting the man at ease, Jason gave him an affable smile as he approached. “Hello,” he greeted as soon as he was an appropriate distance away.

“Agent Sietinen, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” The other Agent extended his right hand, palm up, in formal greeting.

“Jason is fine.” He returned the traditional gesture.

“I’m Agent Trevor Jenson. It’s a relief you’re here. Everyone is pretty shaken up.”

“Happy to assist.” Jason made a high-level telepathic assessment of the other man, judging his abilities to rate in the Sacon range of strength.

The Agent met Jason’s gaze, giving a subtle telepathic acknowledgement of the probe. “The senior Primus Agent, Hylsaen, who commands the base happens to be dealing with another field assignment right now, of all the bomaxed timing.”

“Isn’t that how it always goes?”

Trevor sighed. “It’s normally nice and quiet out here. An easy patrol assignment. None of us were expecting it to turn into the front lines again.”

Jason shook his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Sorry.” He flushed slightly. “It’s just… you must have seen the image?”

“I have. But we can’t forget we’re TSS Agents. There isn’t anything we can’t handle.”

Trevor brightened a small measure. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’d rather know sooner than later how screwed