Rumors of War (Cadicle Vol. 1-3: An Epic Space Opera)

Part 1: New Beginnings - Chapter 1.1

I must leave tonight. I can't stay here any longer— Cris Sietinen ducked to avoid the electronic rapier swinging toward his head.

"Stay focused." His tutor jumped to the side as he stabbed at Cris' torso.

Cris parried the blow, a challenging glint in his cobalt eyes. "You haven't hit me yet."

"You haven't struck me, either." His tutor circled him, steel-blue eyes locked on Cris. "Get inside your opponent's head, just as Marina taught you. Movements can deceive, but what's in the mind can't be faked. Trust your intuition."

Clearing his thoughts, Cris prepared for a telepathic assessment. "It's not intuition, Sedric. Science has told us that much."

Sedric Almar sighed. "Telepathy, clairvoyance, call it what you will. You are one of the few with the gift. Use it." He took a swing toward Cris' right leg. Though decades past his prime, he still possessed the same youthful vigor as the day he joined the Tararian Guard. Now a trusted Captain, he remained a formidable opponent in any close-quarter combat, gray hair or not.

With his mind cleared, Cris reached out to read the thoughts grazing the surface of Sedric's consciousness—catching a glimpse of his next move. Before his instructor could complete his swing, Cris deflected the attack. "If it's such a 'gift,' then why does everyone treat it like a curse?"

"Don't be so dramatic." Sedric jabbed toward the main sensor on the chest of Cris' training jumpsuit.

As he dodged the attack, Cris brought his own blade to Sedric's collar in one fluid motion. The sensor lights illuminated red. A kill hit.

Sedric held out his hands in defeat and nodded his approval. "Next time I won't go easy on you."

Cris took a step back to rest. "I can't solely rely on telepathy to win. There must be a reason the Priesthood condemns the use of such abilities." His covert lessons from Marina were defiant enough, flirting with the boundaries of legality.

Sedric reset his jumpsuit using the controls on the sleeve, and the sensors returned to blue. "It's not our place to speculate about matters regarding the Priesthood. Not even yours, my lord."

"But you have to wonder," Cris pondered. "On Tararia and most of the colonies, there's nothing but anti-telekinesis propaganda. Yet, an entire division of the TSS is dedicated to honing the abilities of those rare 'gifted' individuals, and the Priesthood does nothing."

"The Tararian Selective Service is unique in many ways," Sedric replied, dismissing the dispute with a shake of his head. He gripped his sword and took an offensive stance. "Now, we have a lesson to finish."

Cris was resolute, determined to finally get an answer to the questions his teacher was always so eager to dodge. This is my last chance before I leave. "You spent a year with the TSS, didn't you? You must have seen so much—"

A single crease deepened between Sedric's dark eyebrows. "My lord, with all respect, your father doesn't appreciate discussion of the TSS."

Cris' restraint slipped. "Of course he doesn't. He wants me to ignore my abilities, just like he did. Why should I listen to someone who wants me to live a lie?"

"I'm sorry, I—" Sedric brought his slender sword to a resting position with the illuminated tip on the ground.

Cris fought to maintain composure, but his serene façade shattered. "You don't understand what it's like... to have all the privileges of being born into this family, and yet it doesn't mean anything. He'll never be happy with who I am, not after the son he lost years ago. Me? I'm just his replacement heir to the Sietinen Dynasty—a tool to perpetuate our familial empire." A disappointing shadow of the brother I never knew.