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

Chapter 2

Few activities were duller than proofreading sample contracts, as far as Michael was concerned. How such activities were pertinent to his training as a TSS officer in the Bakzen war had never been explained to his satisfaction, but the assignment was due later that afternoon so he wasn't in a position to argue.

He flipped over to his back with his head propped up on a pillow and his tablet resting vertically on his chest. A quick glance to his left revealed that the two other Junior Agents currently in the room appeared equally enthused with their own assignments. Bran occupied the farthest of the three beds on the same wall as Michael's, and Connor was on the leftmost of the two opposite them, which framed the entry door. The three of them and the two additional members of their unit had shared the room since their first day in the TSS. Wil had offered them an upgrade to Junior Agents' housing after two years, but the Primus Elites had unanimously declined; the quarters were their home, and sharing the same space offered the best opportunity for collaboration.

"Is it just me, or are these assignments getting more and more tedious?" Bran commented when he noticed Michael stir.

Michael sighed. "It's not just you."

"Maybe Wil is running out of things to teach us?" Connor speculated. "Before the breakthrough with simultaneous observation yesterday, things had been pretty slow for a while."

That might not be far from the truth. Michael leaned his tablet back on his knees, looking over at his friends. "It may seem pointless now, but we're getting valuable skills that'll come in handy one day or another."

Bran shrugged. "Well, I'm anxious to kick some Bakzen ass."

"Same here," Connor agreed. "Being awesome at reading supply logs won't win a space battle."

"I know," Michael yielded. "For whatever reason, Wil seems to be delaying our deployment."

"It's not like we're going on vacation. I can understand why he'd want to put it off," Bran said.

"That doesn't change the sense of urgency," Michael countered.

Connor nodded. "That's true. All these years, it's been motivational talks about how we don't have time to waste and everyone's counting on us to swoop in and end the fighting. Then Wil meets with the Aesir, and now he's done nothing but drag his feet for weeks."

"Something happened out there," Michael murmured.

Bran frowned. "I don't like that he's been so quiet about it."

Michael shook off the doubt. "He's still the same leader we've always trusted. He'll step up, like he always does."

Shouts of dismay erupted in the common room of the Primus Elite quarters.

What now? Michael set down his tablet and rose from his bed to investigate. "Is the tournament still going on?"

"I think so," Connor replied. "Sounds like it's not going well for Ian." He and Bran got up to follow Michael to the common room.

Their bedroom was situated on the front left of the adjoining common area, closest to the shared viewscreen. A dozen of the Primus Elites were gathered on the two innermost plush couches oriented toward the screen. Ian stood in front of the black couches in the space normally occupied by the coffee table, which had been propped on its side against the front wall. His eyes were fixed on the screen—knees bent and arms extended, poised for action.

A three-dimensional hex grid displayed on the viewscreen depicted a fantastical battlefield with a party of five characters on each side. One of Ian's characters, which looked to be some sort of troll, was kneeling on the ground panting. Above it, a massive barbarian was shaking a club victoriously above its head.