“Ha ha, look at that!” Bossy said, pointing at her vibrating cuff. “She wants to fry your guts!”
An electric charge lit up her insides. Only when the dark urges were jolted from her mind did the torture subside.
Jetta coughed violently, expelling something sticky and red. On some level she recognized that the burning smell that fouled the air was coming from her.
Agracia whistled. “Yep. That temper will ‘bout do you in, leech. So don’t even think about it. No mind tricks, no funny business upstairs,” she said pointing to her head. “And maybe you’ll keep from cooking.”
When the blurred walls became fixed again, Jetta inspected the cuff more closely. Panic turned her belly into hot coals. Somehow the Jocks had fitted her with a telepath shock cuff. How they could have possibly found a relic from the Dissembler Scare was beyond her. The Alliance had sworn to have collected and destroyed all the devices with the enactment of the Telepath Anti-Discrimination Act.
Jetta had learned enough about them from her gleanings of Sentient minds and history reels to know that even though the cuffs were promoted as a “safety devices” by the Dominion Core, they had permanently maimed and killed tens of thousands of telepaths. The devices worked by monitoring brain waves. Even the tiniest fluctuation—little more than a passing glance at someone’s mind—meant the delivery of punishment.
From what she remembered, the devices were attuned to the minds of the Tre, Morro, Si, and Prodgy, not an “unknown” telepath like her. This could either work in her favor or severely against it. If the shock cuff was oversensitized to her brain waves, it would kill her. But if it wasn’t properly tuned to her psionic frequency, she might stand a chance of evading some of its parameters.
“Yo, Jimmy, you’re up,” Agracia said nonchalantly, sitting on the storage boxes and taking up a low conversation with Bossy.
Where’s Jade? Jetta looked around, but couldn’t find the grumpy woman. Instead, a man who hid behind thick glasses waited nervously by the door.
“Y-you’re sure it’s safe?” the man asked, clutching his black leather bag.
That’s an old doctor’s satchel. She didn’t know if she should feel relieved or terrified.
Agracia gave him an uninterested look but held up her remote, as did Bossy. “I said get to it; I ain’t paying you by the hour.”
Desperate and in considerable pain, Jetta tried to reason with the fellow. “Please, I’m a Starways commander. I need to get to a communications relay. Help me and I’ll make sure you’re adequately compensated.”
He laughed anxiously as he looked her over. “I’ve heard that line before.”
After digging through his bag, he pulled out a few instruments. Jetta wasn’t sure what century they were from, but from the wear and chipped wooden handles, she gathered they were from some period of antiquity. “Look, I can fix your arm and repair the damage to your leg. It’ll take a few weeks, and you’ll need radiation boosters and antibiotics. You’d better let me or they’ll just feed you to the wolves.”
“Wolves?” Jetta said in disbelief. She thought they went extinct like 99 percent of the planet’s animal population, save rats and other survivalist vermin.
“Yeah, wolves,” he said, reaching for her arm.
“Are you a doctor?” she said, holding herself back.
The man looked for cues from her captors, but since they ignored him, he was forced to answer on his own.
“I’m a ringside medic. But I tell you, I have more experience than any trained doc around. Not that there are very many...”
Ringside medic, she thought to herself, memories rewinding back to her days on Tralora. Just like Crissn.
When she offered up her arm, the man brought his hands up to his face as if expecting a blow. With a nervous laugh, he tried to play it off.
And just as jumpy.
Jetta allowed Jimmy to work, knowing she was in no position to refuse help, even if it was from a ringside medic. Any help would increase her chances of survival, especially as a hostage. I only hope he’s as good as Crissn.
He worked steadily, chattering occasionally about nothing in particular, disregarding her pain. Setting her broken bone made her to black out for a few minutes, and debriding the wounds on her legs caused equal agony. But even a shred of compassion was unrealistic coming from either a fighting-ring medic or her captors, so she bore the pain silently.
(After all, I deserve this.)
Three hours later, once bandaged and given some kind of topical opium derivative, Jetta finally felt a little relief. Normally she would have fought against taking any kind of drug in a hostage situation, but she was too exhausted to put up a fight.
“Good enough. Can she fight in three weeks? There’s another tournament in the Dives,” Agracia said, handing the man some hard cash.
The medic scratched his head anxiously. “Uh, I wouldn’t advise it, but nobody ever tells you ‘no,’ right?”
Agracia smirked. “Thanks, Jimmy. Stay out of this place. The lice are biting,” Agracia said, slapping him on the shoulder.
“You shorted me!” Jimmy said, inspecting the cash she handed him.
“You took three chakking hours. Me and Bossy missed happy hour.”
Jetta studied the interaction closely. Bossy grabbed for her weapons, but Agracia stood there, slack-shouldered, her eyes half-open, nodding to the rhythm of the music in her headphones.
“It’s gonna catch up to you, Agracia,” the medic said, pushing past her and hurrying out the door.
“Chakking Scabber,” Bossy laughed, returning her explosives to her belt. “Let’s go get blasted. I’m tired of this scene.”
“So you,” Agracia said, kneeling besides Jetta and showing her the remote. “You stayin’ here. I set this on a six-foot perimeter. Better hope you don’t have to piss.”
Jetta assumed that the ankle cuff they put on her would deliver a shock if she went outside the designated perimeter. Too tired to fight and feeling the effects of the opium, she drifted off. Even if her captors had a means of delivering punishment and preventing her from using her most obvious talents, she hoped she still had her passive connection to her sister and to Triel. It might be her only means of survival.
“Don’t do this,” Jetta mumbled deliriously as Agracia and Bossy headed for the door. “I’m not your enemy.”
Agracia snorted, holding open the door for Bossy as she ducked under her arm. “You definitely never been in a place like this, then. Nobody’s your friend here. Welcome to Earth.”
DISAPPOINTMENT, FRUSTRATION, and fear carried in Bacthar’s voice. “I can’t get him to talk.”
The winged surgeon looked straight at Jaeia through his sets of red eyes, demanding answers she didn’t have to give about their captain.
Keeping her eye on the other livid dog-soldiers, Jaeia raised her arms to quell the tension. If we were anywhere other than Alliance territory, I would already be dead.
“I didn’t know they would do this to Reht,” Jaeia said, carefully crossing the room, trying to get close to the captain. Lying on the couch in the middle of the bunks, Reht breathed shallowly, eyes open but unseeing.
“Don’t,” Bacthar said, holding her back. “Mom won’t let you any closer.”
A low growl and flash of the Talian’s claws protruding from his skin kept her at bay. Mom had been protectively hovering over his captain since the Minister released him from his private session a few hours ago. Even now, Bacthar was the only person Mom even allowed within three meters.
The other crewmembers, Ro, Cray, Vaughn, and Tech, watched her from the bunks. Billy Don’t, put into sleep mode by Tech, idled in the corner. Head hung to one side, drool trickling from his open mouth, the little Liiker snored very softly while his background programs hummed and clicked.
“You tell me you gonna fix this, and then we can talk,” Ro said, voice rising. Cray slapped him on the chest and whispered something in his ear. Although Jaeia could not hear the words he spok
e, the menacing aura surrounding the pair told her enough.
“I am going to fix this. I’ve arranged for your safe passage out of the system. I also told the Minister that if there was any further interference with your crew’s freedoms and liberties—in any way—that I would terminate my service with the Alliance.”
None of them said anything. They don’t believe me.
With a heavy heart, Jaeia set aside the crew’s enmity and focused on her main concern. She extended herself, reaching into Reht’s mind. Once again she encountered disturbing feelings, but the more she pushed through his psionic boundaries, the more concerned she became.
Why is there no evidence of psychological trauma? she thought, feeling the stanched surfaces of Reht’s mind. Surely the Military Minister’s sessions caused some sort of mental injury.
Dread burrowed into her heart as she skimmed across another smooth, emotionless white wall. It’s as if something is holding his subconscious hostage.
Jaeia resurfaced from the captain’s mind, frustrated and frightened. I want to help Reht, but I’ve never encountered such an unusual barrier.
“I’m going to get Triel. Maybe we can help him together,” Jaeia said, turning to go.
Bacthar grabbed her arm. “You abandoned us after we saved your life.”
Jaeia did not hide her feelings from him. “I’m doing the best I can,” she said in hushed tones. “And I won’t stop until you are all safe and away from here.”
With a grunt he released her, and she left quickly, not looking back as Ro and Cray called her names viler than anything she had ever heard on the streets.
“Upek.”
“Chakking j’eesh.”
On some level she felt she deserved it.
Things didn’t have to turn out this way, Jaeia thought, avoiding eye contact with the soldiers standing guard in the hallway. I should have tried harder.
She fought emotion with reason: No, I did everything I could. Carefully, she wiped away the tears in her eyes before they had a chance to fall. Reht and his crew are criminals. They violated dozens of Alliance laws during the last war alone, not to mention all the other crimes they committed over the last decade.
But despite her best efforts, her conscience continued to eat at her as she walked down the corridor. (They risked everything to save us.)
(I could have used my second voice—)
She rubbed her fingertips together until she calmed herself. I’ll keep trying, she told herself, taking a deep breath. I won’t stop until I’ve helped them.
As she took the lift back to her quarters, a heavy projection entered her mind, parting her from any thoughts of the dog-soldiers. At first she thought it was Jetta, but as she explored the feeling and neared her room, she realized it was someone else.
“Admiral, Triel,” Jaeia said, greeting the two as they waited for her by the entrance to her quarters. “I was just meaning to find you, Triel.”
“That will have to wait, Jaeia,” Unipoesa said. “Don’t be surprised at the guests in your room,” Unipoesa added.
Jaeia tilted her head to the side and listened beyond her immediate surroundings. Just inside her quarters hummed the familiar tunes of the Chief of Military Intelligence Msiasto Mo, the Military Minister, Chief of Medicine Dr. Kaoto, and CCO Gaeshin Wren.
“What happened?” Jaeia asked, keeping voice low enough so that the guards patrolling the corridor wouldn’t hear.
Unipoesa indicated towards the door. Jaeia entered, saluting to the other senior officers as she took a chair next to the Minister. Following suit, Unipoesa and Triel took seats on the couch by Mo, Kaoto and Wren.
The admiral spoke first: “We called an emergency meeting, Jaeia. Triel thinks she’s made contact with Jetta.”
Adrenaline surged through Jaeia’s arms and legs, making her want to sprint to the nearest docking bay. “Where is she?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” the Healer said, reaching over and grazing the back of Jaeia’s hand as she started to rise out of her chair.
With a simple touch, Triel slipped under Jaeia’s skin, slowing her heart rate and the outpouring of catecholamines. After the Healer mitigated her stress response enough so that she would keep from jumping out of her skin, Jaeia breathed in sharply and settled back in her chair. Thank you, Triel.
“Jaeia, I need your help to make the connection back,” Triel said. “I agree with you that Jetta’s probably compromised, and that it’s preventing us from individually connecting to her, but I think the two of us might be able to sort things out.”
Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, Jaeia focused on every word to keep them from rushing out of her mouth in a tangle. “Okay. What do we need to do?”
Triel hesitated. “The only means I know of is a cleansing ritual to prevent a Healer from Falling into a Dissembler. Basically, you and I will combine our awareness to reach out to Jetta. I have no idea if it will work, though, or what could happen. She’s so far away, and I’m not sure how your telepathy will react.”
Jaeia picked up on several of the Healer’s implications. Triel is worried enough about Jetta that she’s willing to try just about anything in order to contact her, no matter how dangerous.
Gods, Jaeia thought, scrunching up the ends of her jacket sleeves in her hands. Triel knows that we have unusual telepathic gifts, but this goes deeper than I originally thought...
(She’s afraid.)
Jaeia concentrated on this aspect of Triel’s emotions, but the Healer wound tightly around her feelings, even guarding her thoughts.
She knows something—or at least suspects something—about our telepathic abilities, and it’s a secret she’s fighting to keep, Jaeia thought, feeling the sealed edge of the Healer’s mind. The idea gnawed at her, but Jaeia knew that she would have to wait to inquire about it until after they tried to contact Jetta.
Unipoesa nodded toward the Chief of Medicine. “Dr. Kaoto will be monitoring you both during the entire event. We also have two medical teams standing by. If anything seems amiss, Commander, we will stop this ‘ritual.’”
“Okay,” Jaeia said, shaking out her arms. She had no idea why she was suddenly so afraid, but she didn’t have a choice. “Let’s do this.”
Triel took Jaeia’s hands and placed them on her chest in a triangular formation. Chanting under her breath, the Healer put one of her hands on each of Jaeia’s cheeks and rested her forehead against Jaeia’s.
Nothing happened.
I have to relax, she told herself.
Jaeia closed her eyes and took deep breaths, concentrating on her own pounding heartbeat.
Relax. Think of Jetta. You have to find her.
The chanting got louder. Her breath came in choppy gulps.
Relax. Trust Triel. She is your friend.
(Is she? Then why is she so afraid?)
Just as she thought to abort the whole thing, something inside her broke free. A disconcerting sensation coursed through her, peeling her away from her body. The feeling intensified, her surroundings dimming, until she was only aware of herself and Triel, floating above a shadowy sea of gray and black motes.
(Where are we?) she asked.
(In between,) Triel said.
A rush of light and color flashed all around them, like starships flying past her at break-light speeds. As the scintillations slowed, Jaeia found herself encompassed by countless radiant stars, just like the unencumbered night sky.
(Those are other Sentient minds,) Triel said.
Jaeia couldn’t believe her eyes. Galaxy-sized clusters of celestial light shined brightly in every direction she looked. (How are we ever going to find Jetta?)
(Think of the happiest moment you’ve ever had with her.)
Jaeia couldn’t think of anything at first. So much had happened over the past year that it was hard to pinpoint any time that they had spent on their own, together, without escorts or guards, where they could really get away from their duties, the public eye or any of the other stresse
s that had beset them since their exposure, and just be with each other, giggling and playing, like the kids they were supposed to be.
(I—I don’t know; I can’t remember.)
(You have to, Jaeia,) Triel said. (Think. Go back.)
Jaeia pushed beyond the last year, stretching all the way back to their life on Fiorah. It was difficult to remember anything other than Yahmen and the mines, but she pressed on, trying to bring back the brief happiness they had known before things went bad.
(She is your sister, your twin—part of your soul,) Triel whispered.
The memory seemed to pop up out of nowhere. All other distractions faded away as the scene played out in her head:
“Hold on, Jetta,” Jaeia said, standing tip-toed on a chair and flipping the yellowed pages of the recipe book on the kitchen counter. “We need to read the directions.”
Grumbling, Jetta ignored her sister, pulling up another chair to the counter and climbing on top. Without waiting for instructions, Jetta dumped the contents of the orange mixing bowl on the cutting board and began rolling the ingredients together.
“Hey wait!” Jaeia said, trying to stop her.
“Come on, Jaeia—we’ve got this,” Jetta said, dropping her shoulder to block her sister’s hand. “We’ve seen aunt Lohien do this a million times.”
“Jetta, no—”
“Hey you two,” Lohien said, walking into the kitchen, hands on her hips. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Jetta muttered, trying to hide the mess of flour and spices.
Lohien gently pulled Jetta back and inspected the disaster. The pasta, limp and watery, lay in clumps, trails of spices dripping off the counter and onto the floor. “Looks like you forgot the rising powder.”
Jaeia sent her sister a silent I told you so!
“Sorry, Auntie. We just wanted to help out and make dinner tonight,” Jaeia said, bowing her head. “But somebody got impatient.”
Jetta shot her a glare, and Jaeia made a face right back at her.
“Well,” Lohien said, grabbing a pan from below the stove. “I think we can still make something out of this.”
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