by Simon Bown
A subtle shimmer in the abstract alerted him to a calling. The Mezzyima required immediate contact. Urgency was something he had not experienced before in the Mezzyima and he began his lift from the subtle psychic energies. He quickly reached his normal physical wakefulness and opened his eyes. The Mezzyima drew near, he sensed it and prepared to meet them in a telepathic union. A single communication entered his mind, he must await their presence in the physical. To be in their presence was unheard of. Very few humans had ever actually met them in person.
So little was known of the Mezzyima regardless of the fact that they had restrained the human race’s suicidal tendencies for over eight hundred years. Theories abound on where they come from and what their aims are. It was rare for them to communicate with anyone who was not an immortal. Jenson always found his telepathic connection to them to be unrestricted and possess an exceptional quality. Despite the Mezzyima always portraying themselves to be his intellectual equal there was a background whisper of them labouring to lower themselves to his level.
Four almost simultaneous subsonic booms accompanied the arrival of the Mezzyima. Each being, only partially intersecting the physical universe, appeared as a five foot, egg-shaped, ball of liquid metal. The surface of the beings shimmered, faded and again brightened as the aliens maintained their position in the natural universe. Jenson had never met the Mezzyima physically before despite three hundred years of working with them. He remained seated on his bed somewhat self-satisfied that they thought so much of him they would complement him with their presence.
Jenson felt the unmistakable Mezzyima telepathic essence enter his perception.
“We require you to travel to the Napom sector.” The Mezzyima shifted slightly in their position.
Jenson was a little confused. “The Napom sector is far out of Amalgam influence. Why would you need me to go there?” He asked.
“An immortal human has been discovered, you are needed to assist her in her awakening.”
“But I have been preparing for the mission to capture Teafu, you need me to go with you. Is the immortal so important that I must now abandon the task?”
“The immortal has suffered tremendous stress. Her mind state is of great concern.”
Jenson sensed a greater number of Mezzyima listening than just the four in his room. An echo travelling some distance into the Mezzyima collective mind, Harmony, gave an indication of the importance his role was in the awakening of the immortal. “My connection with Brightwell Baldwin is something you cannot underestimate. Do you believe you can find Teafu without me?”
“Brightwell Baldwin is no longer functioning. We have pinpointed the position of Teafu. We believe the immortal may be lost to us if you do not aid her immediately.”
Jenson tried to hide his anger and disappointment. The capture of Teafu had been his primary focus for many months and to be called away at just the moment of his arrest was very frustrating. “But what of Wormelow Tump? Surely he could help the immortal rise to the higher plane. He has aided an awakening before. I haven’t.” He awaited the reply. A distinct ripple of discussion resounded in the Mezzyima link.
“Wormelow Tump has left on a sabbatical. You are the only immortal now working with us. Transport aboard a Mezzyima vessel has been secured. You are requested to leave urgently. The appearance of an immortal is very rare in humanity and each individual must be carefully developed.”
“You leave me with no choice.” Jenson sighed and gave in to the Mezzyima logic. He could have refused and insisted on going on the mission to apprehend Teafu but that would have only been selfish. An arrogant, self-inflating, obstinate refusal to admit the Mezzyima could do just as well without him. “I will go to Napom.”
The moment Jenson gave in he was teleported to a ship Mezzyima ship in orbit. The need to help the newly discovered immortal was obviously more urgent than he had anticipated. A human travelling on a Mezzyima ship was virtually unheard of in the Amalgam but he had little time to savour the experience. The jump to the Napom sector took around two minutes, an amount of time unheard of in humanity’s space travel experience. Jenson found himself teleported to a drab, functional office presumably in the Napom medical building. A short, middle aged, overweight doctor entered and was rather startled to find this stranger waiting in his office.
“How did you get in here?” He asked, startled.
“Hello, I am Jenson Sollers. I have come here on behalf of the Mezzyima to collect the immortal.”
The doctor, suddenly worried, shook Jenson’s hand and closed the door. “Look Mr Sollers, I knew you were coming I just didn’t expect you so soon. Can you tell me do you have medical qualifications?” He gazed up, Jenson still holding his hand.
Jenson smiled, amused. “No I don’t,” he replied.
“Well if you don’t have qualifications I’m not sure I can turn my patient over to you.” The doctor stopped as if a thought had unexpectedly occurred to him, he looked into Jenson’s eyes. Slowly a look of realisation became apparent. He shook Jenson’s hand once more but with much greater force, a sense of wonderment coloured his voice. “My word Mr Sollers. You must also be an immortal.” The doctor continued to shake Jenson’s hand. “I am most excited to meet you. A fully developed immortal, in my office! Well, well, well. Cup of tea?”
“No thank you, I’m afraid I have little time. It is quite urgent I help the immortal contain her telepathic potential. If she is left to experiment on her own she could suffer irreparable damage.”
“Oh, I see.”
Jenson sensed the doctor’s disappointment.
“Well if you will follow me I’ll take you to her.” The doctor turned and opened the door. He led Jenson along a spotless corridor. “I was advised not to inform her of her perpetual condition. So I suppose that particular pleasure will be yours.” They stopped at the last door. “Well good luck, if you need anything you know where my office is. Oh, by the way, her father is in there with her right now. He’s a good chap but just a little stressed. They lost her mother on the space station, died in her arms, terrible shame.” He patted Jenson on the shoulder and smiled as he turned to leave.
Jenson was slightly surprised to find the room in near darkness. Gea Aro lay on the hospital bed holding her father’s hand. He sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair gazing upon her fingers, lost in thought and obviously suffering from a lack of sleep. Jenson noted not one of the pieces of medical equipment was switched on, of course she didn’t need them. Gea looked up at Jenson and he felt her psychic energy increase as she attempted to listen to his thoughts. He raised a barrier to block her intrusion, he felt her confusion and annoyance. Never had she been unable to encroach upon another’s mind. A sudden desperate frustration welled up in her emotions so Jenson decided quickly to curtail this delicate situation and speak. “Hello my name is Jenson Sollers. The Mezzyima have asked me to come and visit you to discuss your current situation.”
Mistry Aro lifted his tired eyes and looked up at Jenson. “The Mezzyima? Why would they be interested in us?” He asked.
“You have doubtless wondered why Gea did not perish in the attack on the station. Any time spent in a vacuum means certain death to a human, but Gea survived.” Jenson smiled at Gea.
“I thought I had been caught in some sort of atmospheric bubble. How else could you explain my survival?” Gea was getting concerned. She sat forward and held her father’s hand to her chest.
Jenson pulled a plastic chair to the side of the bed and sat down. He crossed his legs, entwined his fingers and rested his hands on his leg. “The Mezzyima have confirmed that you are an immortal. I am here to help you develop your full potential.” Jenson sensed the confusion and disbelief in the pair of them.
Mistry Aro was becoming agitated. “You’ll forgive me for not being ecstatic at this news, but I blame the Mezzyima for the death of my wife and the destruction of the station.” He looked at his daughter.
“What if I refuse?” Gea asked, upset.
“I’m afraid you have little choice. Your body is reaching adulthood and with that comes a development in your telepathic skills. In a normal human this is mostly a small boost to the abilities you have as a child but in an immortal the gains are tremendous. Without supervision you will fall into a telepathic void, a place where you will be forced to exist rather than face the overwhelming amount of information your vulnerable psyche will pull towards you. I can teach you techniques to control your ability and use it to your betterment.”
“How can you do that? What qualifies you to take on such a sensitive and important role in my daughters’ life?” Mistry Aro was becoming aggressive.
“Dad, please.” Gea said.
“I am an immortal. I have experienced all of which I speak. I was not identified early enough. I suffered a great deal before the Mezzyima sent an immortal to aid me. All that distress can be avoided if you work with me.”
“Would you leave me alone with my daughter now please?” Mistry Aro was obviously angry and got to his feet.
“I’ll be waiting in the doctor’s office.” Jenson left the room. He made his way to the office and closed his eyes. His connection to the Mezzyima was quickly established. “I feel some resistance on the part of her father but I believe she will work with me.”
“We predict the same outcome. Human emotions are not always easily read or understood. Nevertheless, we have established that the child senses you are correct.”
The connection faded as Jenson slowly raised his mind from the psychic space.
Mistry Aro entered the room and spoke quietly. “We have decided it would be best for us to work with you.”
“Excellent. We will travel to Leba Enomi. I will request transport as soon as possible.” Jenson activated the doctor’s desk terminal.
“But I have never heard of Leba Enomi.” Mistry said.
“It is the location of the library of the immortals. A planet we try hard to keep inconspicuous and out of harm’s way. It does not appear on any star maps.”
ESCAPE
Weedon secured the pilot seat into the reclined jump position, put his feet up on the control panel and settled into a glorious embrace with his beloved brand of cigarillo. The smouldering leaves filled his lungs with a dense cloud of soothing chemicals and he closed his eyes as he basked in the subtle sedative intoxication. He became aware of a distant sound, a continuous tone somewhere on the edge of his perception. It sounded like an alarm. Weedon was mildly confused by this irritation and decided to investigate. He opened one eye and looked over at the main ship status display, nothing. A flashing red light to his left caught his attention. He took his feet off the control panel, swung them around and pulled himself up from the lowered seat. The defence status grid was covered in red icons. Weedon felt a cold raw shock as if he were suddenly dropped into a freezing bath of ice. The suddenly deafening, shrill tone was the threat warning. A powerful telepath had gained access to Weedon’s consciousness and suggested a lack of interest in the alarm. This hostile telepath was obviously not as talented as Teafu and had failed in his task. Weedon studied the defence grid and pinpointed a Mezzyima battle group approaching fast.
Sutton had managed to position herself in a small access chamber over the main engines third reactor. The cramped space made adjustment difficult but not impossible, she just had to be delicate and concentrate.
Weedon’s voice boomed out of the speakers in the engineering station above her. “Sutton get up here now.”
She whacked her head against a support strut as she quickly climbed out onto the engineering ramp. “Weedon, what the hell is going on? I’m not in the mood…”
Weedon interrupted quickly, his latent telepathic ability transmitting a sense of genuine dread as he shouted through the system. “We need emergency start up now. I have ten Mezzyima ships closing on our position, get up here.”
Sutton turned and locked down the reactor access chamber. Her fingers shivered slightly as the shock of Weedon’s intense telepathy jarred her nerves.
One thought ran through Weedon’s mind. Teafu hadn’t warned them. A lack of communication from him could mean only one thing. The Mezzyima must have stopped him.
Sutton entered the flight deck and slipped into the co-pilot seat.
Weedon started the ant-matter warhead charging procedure and powered up the main weapons group. He had done all he could; now he must wait helplessly for Sutton to power up the reactors. “How long until we can move?” He shouted urgently.
Sutton shouted at Weedon without slowing her frantic work at the computer. “Emergency start is very dangerous, now shut up and let me concentrate.”
Three Mezzyima ships altered course for the planet. The black egg-shaped craft moved into a triangular formation and accelerated. A slight shift in each of the craft’s shape prompted a colour change and all three glowed a deep red. The colour intensified and shimmered into an expanding field of vibrant plasma.
Green lights lit up across the reactor monitor group on Sutton’s display. She brought up the tactical interface on her control panel and took the weapons management systems from Weedon. “You’ve powered up the anti-matter warheads,” she said. “I haven’t tested them. We don’t know if they will work.”
“It’s your design, if they don’t work we will just have to switch back to conventional weapons.” The engines came online and Weedon fired the aft propulsion motors. “What have we got lose?” He asked.
Sutton studied the tactical display. “Three ships have changed course for the planet. That leaves seven for us.” She looked at Weedon.
He met her gaze with an intense stare. “Have you ever fought a Mezzyima ship before?” He asked quietly.
“No.”
Time stopped as they searched each other’s eyes in silence.
Weedon broke the connection. “Well this should be fun then,” he said.
The two fugitives leapt into a flurry of activity. Weedon fired the starboard thrusters and set the star-ship on a course between two of the approaching Mezzyima ships. Seven anti-matter torpedoes exited their launch tubes and entered into a complex sequence of manoeuvres as if unable to decide which was their chosen target. Spheres of energetic plasma formed below the Mezzyima ships. Weedon executed a severe ninety-degree turn to bring them on a collision course with one of the Mezzyima raiders. Sutton let out a nervous giggle as she prepared the second salvo of torpedoes. One by one the plasma spheres joined the intricate web mapped out by the devious torpedoes.
Teafu found himself completely unable to move, the plasma surrounding him held his body absolutely motionless. An ocean of telepathic energy inundated his mind as the Mezzyima attempted to take control. Teafu quickly put up a psychic barrier and cut short the attack. If the Mezzyima took control of the connection between them then he may lose all his capacity to defend himself. The Mezzyima moved closer and again tried to impose a link. He was unprepared for an attack of such intensity. Teafu lashed out with a telekinetic ram, striking the Mezzyima with a devastating force. The Mezzyima lost their focus on the locality and their control of the plasma suffered. An over confident Teafu, sure of his victory, dropped his defences and was immediately seized in a telepathic grip. The Mezzyima struck at Teafu’s consciousness with a repeating psychic pulse. The heavy weight of the attack pounded Teafu’s mind. Instead of seeking to rake more strength from his own core he gathered power from the collective psychic intensity of the colony. A river of pure energy flowed uninterrupted to the centre of Teafu. He raised a line of defence that rendered the Mezzyima attack useless. The plasma faded to nothing as four more Mezzyima appeared in the room to surround him. He sneered at the creatures and took control of them with overwhelming telekinetic bonds.
It was then he allowed communication, the unique quality of the Mezzyima telepathic essence coloured his perception as they made contact.
“Stop now and we will not kill you or your friends.”
Teafu laughed. “You are not in a position to threa
ten anyone.” He said.
“This is not a threat it is a promise.” The Mezzyima replied.
“You must give up control of the known worlds or I will continue my efforts to drive you out. That is not a threat it is a promise.” He sent the message with a cold, hard intensity. Well aware the entire Mezzyima race might experience the moment; he circled the room and took their lives one by one.
Anti-matter detonations ripped apart the foundation of space creating unstable gravity pockets and unpredictable spatial fissures. Sutton programmed another salvo of torpedoes with a complex series of explosions. Each Mezzyima ship released another barrage of plasma spheres into the fray.
Weedon shouted to Sutton as the ship shook with every torpedo launch. “They’re getting desperate, they’re in a total mess.”
Sutton quickly looked at Weedon and shouted back. “Never underestimate your enemy! You’ll only survive if you show the proper respect.”
He frowned and threw the ship into an audacious movement.
The Mezzyima ships twisted and spiralled in a desperate effort to navigate the confused landscape. Spheres of plasma shattered in the spatial rifts as they struggled in the midst of the devastated battlefield to neutralise the torpedoes.