Sequel to Divided Within
In a universe fractured by political corruption, experimental technology, and alien life forms, Commander Izaak has tried to leave his life of command behind. But some battles don’t end on the Nullands, and he doesn’t know any other way to survive than by fighting.
Years earlier, Izaak Van Tassel was branded a criminal and sentenced to the First Fighters to serve out his term. Now, finally free, he prepares to leave that life behind -- but not alone. Accompanying him are three people who shape his world.
Vincent, his lover, is temperamental, fiercely protective, and jealous of anyone who interacts with Izaak. Their relationship is mutual, built on recognition of each other’s emotional and physical presence, though the future remains uncertain. Vincent also harbors a deep dislike for Tarn.
Tarn is Izaak’s closest operative and field companion, their bond forged through years of trust, respect, and professional understanding. Tarn is fiercely loyal and protective of Izaak, and their relationship carries an undercurrent of personal care beyond duty. Their first mission together had sent them to a windy, distant planet to rescue a doomed exploration team, a mission that shaped their lives and defined their bonds.
Calvin, Tarn’s lover, is young and earnest, a protégé figure who admires Izaak both professionally and personally. Less experienced and often in awe, he is closely watched over by Tarn, leaving Izaak to balance mentorship with leadership.
But when an accident in space splits the group, Izaak finds himself stranded on a crippled ship with Calvin, while Tarn, struggling with failing health, must manage the volatile Vincent and navigate the treacherous corridors of the space station Seven Sisters. As tensions mount and loyalties are tested, Izaak uncovers a connection between their current crisis and that first fateful mission, forcing him to confront both the ghosts of the past and the uncertain future of those he cares for most.
"You know," Vincent had to add. "Only a very selected few actually get to go to ISF Academy in person." They all knew Vincent meant the academy on Moonbase, not the outpost training facilities that dotted occupied space.
"This fancy school for posh and over eager morons," Tarn said, his hands crossed, bristling at the implied insult to Calvin. “Most of them are legacy intakes. Family idiots who get in because of their last names.”
"As if someone who grew up on a circus would know," Vincent had to get a word in.
"At least it wasn’t based on my family connections," Tarn snapped back. Izaak felt Vincent's fingers tighten around his and watched Tarn's lips tighten.
"What would you know about family?" Vincent rallied back. "Being in a freak show where everyone dresses up in a costume doesn't mean it's your family."
"Well, it certainly beats being born into something like yours."
"I'll have you know my --"
"Really," said Izaak, softly but forcefully and had the relief of having the two of them shut up. "Must you two always be like this?"
"It's not my fault," Vincent muttered petulantly but Tarn remained quiet.
Izaak sighed. "Vincent, you're an ISF inspector, I know you can behave like a reasonable adult. Don't stoop to this level. And Tarn, I know you can do better so shut up and stop provoking Vincent. We have a long journey ahead of us, the two of your squabbling like children isn't going to make it any easier."
"Back on topic then," said Tarn once Izaak had paused to catch his breath. "I'd like to know what you did that made you so infamous. I never asked, but now that I think, since everyone else knows, I deserve to know."
So Izaak told him.
He had been in what the ISF called the Command Track program where the most talented cadet of that batch was selected and specially trained for officer level posts aboard ships. They were the ones who finally became ship Captains, Fleet Commanders, Admirals, people who called all the shots. Even with his family connections, he had been twenty-three when he'd finally managed to get selected, one of the youngest, but not the youngest Cadet on the Command Track. However, according to some, he had been one of the most promising.
He told Tarn of hearing the distress call from the passenger liner that had been hijacked by space pirates. They had been on a training mission. There had been several ships in the vicinity but, his had been the first to arrive on the scene. He had been the weapons officer cum Captain on one of the ships, one of the rare chances when officers who were captains-in-training got an opportunity to take control of actual ships instead of simulators.
It had been chaos; the pirates had boarded the passenger liner and had taken control. The pirates were demanding the ISF warships to stand down, they had hostages, and they wanted to leave the sector with their loot and some of the passengers as hostages. Captain Bellaria, his immediate superior who had been overseeing the training, had contacted him on his personal channel. "Van Tassel, you have a clear line of fire, shoot them."
"But they just said they have hostages," Izaak had protested.
"They're bluffing, the number of escape shuttles --"
"Don't match the number of passengers in the liner," Izaak had interrupted. "If I fire on them I'll kill innocent civilians."
"Direct order Van Tassel, the ISF policy is, we don't negotiate."
"Even at the expense of civilians," Izaak had argued.
"As your superior officer, I order you to shoot that ship down."
Izaak had been readying his next argument, let the pirates go and they could follow it back to their base. They could negotiate for hostage release. They could ... But he had never gotten an opportunity to utter his words as the rest of his fleet emerged into view from hyper-space, shimmering into view one by one as their engines powered down, all vulnerable in that split second between transition to space and reality.
It was then that the passenger liner fired. The three straight lines of white light raked a path of destruction through the ships that had been part of his battalion, killing a hundred and thirty people and destroying four ships before his Captain had fired, obliterating the passenger liner.
