Empire Reborn (Taran Empire Saga Book 1): A Cadicle Space Opera by A.K. DuBoff (jenna bush book club TXT) 📕

“That was… wow,” he said.

Next to him, his father stood with a distant gaze, like he was still looking beyond his physical self. “It was incredible.”

‘Terrifying’ was more the word Jason would use to characterize the interaction.

“What happened?” Saera asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

“We made contact,” Wil reported. “It said they would send a representative.”

“Whatever in the stars that means.” Jason focused on his breathing in a vain attempt to calm his racing heart.

“What did it look like?” Ryan asked.

Raena shook her head. “Words can’t… it’s a leviathan. No, that doesn’t do it justice—it’s encircling the planet.”

He gaped at her. “What?”

“Things could get strange,” Wil said. “Whatever happens, don’t take offensive action until I give an order. Pass it on to the fleet.”

“Aye,” Rianne acknowledged.

“Did they say when they would—”

Saera cut off as a shimmer of light sparked in front of them.

A figure began to materialize behind the two forward consoles. Rianne almost jumped out of her seat but managed to maintain her composure.

The being looked vaguely Taran but had a bluish glow and slight transparency, like it might be a projection rather than a living creature. Its agelessness reminded Jason of the Aesir, though the proportions of this being’s features were distorted enough to give it an alien appearance—too small a nose and ears, extra-large eyes with no lashes, and thin lips. Its long, slender limbs were draped in a shimmering tunic.

“Hello,” Wil greeted.

Jason was impressed he had been able to find his voice. His own heart was in his throat.

“You represent Tarans?” the Erebus representative asked.

“We do, yes.”

An intense telepathic screech filled Jason’s mind. Everyone in the Command Center winced and started to double over. The screech faded into the background as Jason’s vision was replaced with darkness. He wasn’t sure if he’d lost consciousness or if his senses had been blocked out.

There was a presence surrounding him in the dark—not unlike what he’d felt two weeks before during the flight lesson with his students. It walled him in, making him unable to move. The sheer power of it terrified him. He’d sensed this before, when he was reading Darin’s memories. In those memories, though, the entity had been curious. Now, it was vengeful. The TSS’ attempts to communicate had made the ancient beings angry. No, that wasn’t quite the emotion radiating from the dark… it was pity. The being pitied the pathetic weakness of the Taran race and how foolish it was to think its people could wield the cosmic powers.

Then, as quickly as the darkness had come over him, Jason’s vision returned. He was still standing in the middle of the Command Center facing the Erebus’ avatar.

“This one has borne witness before.” The representative focused on Jason. “Do you not yet understand what you have done?”

“No, I don’t. But I do know that you killed someone I loved, and she’d done nothing to harm you. Did they suffer?”

“It was over quickly. We would offer you the same kindness.”

Jason scoffed. “A merciful death? Great. Maybe rather than jumping to the stance that we all deserve to die because a handful of people out of trillions messed up, we can open a productive dialogue.” When the Erebus representative didn’t say anything, Jason continued. “We know we have broken the treaty, and that was wrong of us—regardless of the fact that we, personally, were unaware such an accord existed. We are very sorry for that. But we don’t understand what happened in the past to necessitate the agreement. Why is the Gatekeeper’s technology forbidden?”

The avatar stared at him, dumbfounded, as one regarded a dog failing to maneuver a long stick between fence posts. “You truly don’t know?”

“You’ve seen inside my mind,” Jason replied. “I am hiding nothing. We want to understand.”

“Before two weeks ago, we didn’t even know your kind existed. Please, educate us,” Wil implored.

“The Gates harm us. They pull energy from our essence.”

Jason reflected on what he had seen while astral projecting—how the being had seemed injured, with pits and holes across its form. So, they were wounds from the Gate tech, some ancient and others new. Even the old injuries hadn’t healed completely after all those millennia since the previous war.

They can be hurt. The realization made the beings seem a little less godlike, but it didn’t change the fact that harming the entities wasn’t the same as killing them. They didn’t even have Gates in their possession to mount an attack against the Erebus, nor would he want to. The Tarans hadn’t meant harm.

His father seemed to be coming to the same realization next to him. “The aesen. The Gates must draw on aesen itself as their power source, ripping holes through these beings in the process. It’s barbaric.”

“None of us knew,” Saera murmured in their minds, her anguish coming through the telepathic connection.

Jason’s stomach turned over with the thought. Those people casually used the Gates and didn’t have a clue they were hurting these incredible beings. No wonder the Erebus think we’re awful.

“We are so sorry,” Wil said aloud. “It was a mistake for our people to activate the Gate. An isolated incident, done without knowledge of the pain it would cause you.”

“You repeatedly used the Gates.”

Wil turned to Saera for confirmation.

She shook her head. “According to our intel, a Taran traversed a Gate just one time,” she said telepathically to everyone in the Command Center.

“Maybe they mean every time a Gate activated?” Jason suggested.

Wil returned his attention to the Erebus representative. “I think there has been a misunderstanding about our role in all of this. Yes, we must admit that a rogue group within the Taran Empire used a Gate, but only successfully once. Any other activations were not by