by Regine Abel
“She’s psychotic!” I exclaimed, disbelievingly. “She murdered you and then almost got your mate!”
“I remember all too well,” Bane replied in a clipped tone. “It was a most unpleasant experience I do not seek to repeat anytime soon. But I made a promise to Silzi to save her sisters, even Shuria. She’s a victim of the General like Serida and Lanam had been.”
“It’s been nearly two years since we’ve captured those modified Mimics after they tried to kill you on Zekuro,” Legion argued in a reasonable tone. “And, to date, our efforts to deprogram them from Khutu’s indoctrination have yielded little progress.”
“But they have yielded progress,” Bane countered, his face taking on a mulish expression.
“They are a constant security threat, though,” Wrath reminded him, cautiously. “We can’t continue drugging them to stunt their shapeshifting abilities. Who knows what it’s physically doing to them?”
“So, we should put them down like animals because that sick fuck conditioned them to kill anyone allied with the Vanguard?” Bane snapped.
Wrath sighed. It was a lose-lose situation for everyone. Our Gomenzi Dragon blood made us all excessively protective of those we considered as our people. While all of us Xians had adopted the Mimics as ours since installing the few survivors of that endangered species by the Mistral River, here on Khepri, we still hadn’t formed a bond with the modified Mimics. Despite that, the knowledge that those two females were suffering because of what General Khutu had done to them was eating us from the inside.
“This is a moot discussion,” I said in an appeasing tone. “Our dragons won’t let us harm those Mimics, and Bane’s dragon won’t let him abandon Shuria and the other modified Mimics still on the loose. Therefore, we need to capture her, and then try to reason with her.”
“It would be to our benefit, anyway,” Bane said, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “She has to know what’s going on with General Khutu and his new Queen Pahiven. He’s been quiet for far too long. We need to know what the fuck is going on over there.”
“Agreed,” Legion said. “And this is why I have gathered you here. After you’ve obtained all the information you can from Sabra, I would like you, Chaos, to lead the mission to Fobos with Wrath. Normally, I would have suggested Steele as your third, but I already know Bane will insist on going.”
“Obviously,” Bane said with a smirk.
“Not me?” Raven asked, a sliver of tension in his voice.
“No, Raven, not you,” I said in a gentle voice. “For the same reason your father is coming home and that Legion has volunteered me instead of going himself, even though he’s been severely itching to go into battle for a while now. Heck, even Rage is chomping at the bit.”
“Too few of us are mated,” Legion continued. “Now that Bane’s brother has solved our fertility issues, our main duty is to make babies, and not unnecessarily put ourselves at risk unless a major battle requires all hands on deck.”
“I’m feeling quite expendable right now,” Wrath mumbled with a teasing smile.
“I already have two in the oven,” Raven mumbled with false annoyance. He had argued more out of principle than out of any real desire to be on the frontline. He had meant it when he’d said his mate and unborn twins were his priority.
“Good! You can spend the next few months giving your mate back rubs and foot massages,” Legion said before turning towards me.
After sixty-four years, he and I didn’t need words to communicate. As the ‘unofficial’ co-leaders of the Vanguard, one didn’t take decisions without involving the other. Although he had already held the meeting, expressing his wishes, he knew that I would have challenged or pushed back on his plan at any time had I disagreed. However, as was often the case, his reasoning was sound. While he often came up with the strategy, I was the one poking holes at them and making sure it could be executed without hiccups.
I winked at him, expressing my assent. It would be good to be away from all the things I couldn’t have and kept pining after. He smiled and gave me a psychic nudge.
“Well, looks like we’ve got a mission awaiting us. Let’s get going,” I said, rising to my feet. “Legion, just to be on the safe side, let’s get a battleship lurking nearby in case things get hairy.”
“Will do,” Legion said.
Chapter 2
Sabra
I squirmed on the examination table while Dr. Samuel Carpelli ran a handheld scanner around my head. Both he and Martin had been talking about making me sit out the qualification tests today. It would be at least six months before the next one on Thirilia, maybe even up to a year. No freaking way was I waiting that long because of a stupid psychic bruise.
I could go to Earth to be tested there.
Yeah, that would be an option, but a ridiculously expensive one. Since Earth was still considered a primitive planet from a technological standpoint, travel to and from it was strictly restricted. With few transports available, each seat cost a fortune. But even the wealthy couldn’t just throw credits at it to be given a pass. The Coalition wanted to make sure you had a valid reason and weren’t simply trying to illegally bring in advanced pieces of technology or materials that would derail humanity’s natural evolution or give a subgroup of individuals an unfair advantage.
But there might be a workaround…
I studied the doctor’s aquiline features, his wolf eyes—testament to his Thirilian ancestry—roaming over the interface of the scanner as he reviewed the results. I suppressed a smile when he blew on the stubborn lock of his dirty blond hair that fell right back in front of his right eye. I doubted he even realized he was doing that anymore, not that it ever helped.
“There’s still a bit of swelling,” the doctor said in a stern tone. “Let’s have a look at your void.”
I chewed my bottom lip and cast a nervous glance at Martin Galbrek—Dean Martin as we called him although he was officially the Head of Thirilia’s Psychic Training Program. He held my stare unwaveringly, which did not bode well. Normally, medical consultations were private, but he’d insisted on attending as they would both decide my fate today. The Xian Warriors were less than an hour from landing on our planet. I would die if Martin and Sam left me on the sideline.
I nodded my consent and within seconds, Dr. Samuel’s consciousness brushed against mine. Like every male psychic I’d ever interacted with, his power was muted. I wouldn’t call it weak, but it always felt like a device operating with a dying battery, as if it could be so much better if only it could get just a bit more juice. And that made me all the more excited at the prospect of touching minds with Warriors who were all rank five—the highest psychic level anyone could achieve.
Beyond fangirling at the thought of meeting Chaos, one of the two faces of the Vanguard, it was especially Raven I was itching to interact with. He was not only the most powerful psychic in all the Vanguard, he was also the head psychic trainer on Khepri. I was beside myself with excitement at the thought of all that I would learn from him.
Samuel’s consciousness fluttered over my sphere, the psychic shield that sheltered my soul. I silenced my discomfort at the invasive sensation. Strangely enough, I’d always found a gynecological exam to be less uncomfortable than this. After all, what could be more intimate than for someone to actually touch your soul?
“The bruising has significantly reduced, but it’s not fully healed,” the doctor said, before disconnecting from my mind. “Are you sure there are no more headaches?”
“Certain,” I said in all honesty. “Look, you have both known me since I was a kid. I’m not a hothead, and I don’t take unnecessary risks. I promise you that I’m fine enough to do the test.”
I didn’t have to wait for their answer to know I was screwed. As an Empath, I could feel them hardening themselves to render their verdict.
“You can get down,” Samuel said before exchanging a glance with Martin.
My heart sank, but even while complying, I, too, ha
rdened myself to respond accordingly. Dr. Samuel sat behind his desk and Martin settled in one of the patient chairs next to mine. I lifted my chin and waited.
“Sabra, we do not challenge that you are a smart, responsible, and insanely promising candidate for the Vanguard,” Dr. Samuel said. “Like Ayana did three years ago, we expect you to revolutionize the psychic world. But you are too precious for us to take risks with.”
“This is not a punishment,” Dean Martin intervened quickly when I clenched my jaw. “We just want to keep you safe. There will be other tests—”
“In six months to a year,” I interrupted sharply. “Everyone else will advance while I’m stalled here over a mostly healed bruise. Under the same circumstances, you wouldn’t have blocked another candidate.”
“You’re right, we wouldn’t have,” Dean Martin said sternly. “Because none of them have the potential to achieve what you can, and the test will push you to your limits to see just how high you can go.”
“That’s not necessary,” I countered. “I can still do the test and stop as soon as I feel the strain becoming too much. I can prove that I’m rank four before tiring too much. Once I’m on Khepri, there will be plenty of opportunities for them to keep evaluating the full extent of my abilities.”
“The decision has been made, Sabra. I’m sorry,” Dean Martin said in a gentle but firm voice.
I pinched my lips and glared at the two men, fighting the urge to slap their sympathetic faces.
“Fine,” I said in a cold but calculated voice. “Your test, your rules, nothing I can do about that. You may be fine with letting me rot here for another year until the next test, but I’m not. We all know there won’t be enough graduates to run another one in six months. So, you go on and get ready for your big day with the Vanguard, I’ll go and fill out a transfer application to Earth since they run tests every two months.”
Samuel and Martin gasped. To my shame, the shocked and betrayed expression on their faces pleased me in a borderline evil way. But, thankfully, I managed to repress a smirk.
“I’m sure they will not want to delay testing the first Black Soulcatcher,” I concluded in a matter-of-fact, casual way.
“You cannot do this!” Dean Martin hissed.
“I can, and I will since you give me no choice,” I retorted in a clipped tone. “I’ve devoted my life training for this and refuse to be shelved for a year because you two are feeling skittish about a minor bruise, and because you want to use me as a publicity stunt to get greater funding for the program on Thirilia. All these years, I’ve played along, even though I questioned the wisdom of keeping my abilities a secret. But when you try to screw me over is where I draw the line. Have a nice day.”
Without waiting for their response, I rose to my feet and marched to the door with determination.
“Sabra, wait!” Dr. Samuel called out.
I ignored him.
“Sabra Batay, you haven’t been given permission to leave!” Dean Martin shouted.
I paused and looked at him over my shoulder. “This isn’t a military organization, and you’re not my dad. I do not need your permission.”
He leveled me with a hard stare. “Bratty doesn’t suit you,” Dean Martin snapped.
This time, I fully turned to face them and crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah well, getting screwed over has a way of bringing out the ugly in people,” I deadpanned. “You should know I’m not the lie-down-and-take-it type of girl.”
In a battle of wills, Martin’s angry gaze bored into mine. I held it unflinchingly while the silence in the room thickened, filling the space. After what felt like forever, the Head of the PTP finally lowered his eyes, his shoulders slumping while a dejected expression settled on his face.
In that instant, my heart soared. I had won.
Dean Martin’s eyes locked with mine again. “If you get hurt during the test, I will personally ensure that every training institution throughout the Coalition—including Earth—will force you to go through the entire Safety Measures and Psychic Injuries modules before you’re once more allowed to perform the qualification test.”
Ouch.
I cringed inwardly. That would take eighteen months, far longer than waiting out the next round. I uncrossed my arms and lost all belligerent posture.
“I won’t,” I said in a submissive tone.
“He means it, Sabra,” Dr. Samuel said in a stern voice.
“I know,” I said, once more compliant. “Look, I’m well aware that you both mean well, and I have zero intentions of getting hurt. You know me. I’m not reckless.”
The way they both eyed me with genuine concern and the overprotecting paternal emotions oozing out of them had me feeling even more ashamed for my earlier harshness. They were good men, but good intentions often had a way of choking the life out of those on the receiving end.
“Go on then and knock their socks off,” Dean Martin said with a resigned voice, gesturing at the door with his head. “Don’t forget that they’ll want to interview you afterwards about your little incident.”
“I will, and I won’t!” I said, unable to repress a stupid grin from blossoming on my face.
Turning on my heels, I left the doctor’s office. As soon as the door closed behind me, I clapped my hands and squealed with joy. I couldn’t be too certain, but I could have sworn I heard the muffled sound of the two men’s amused laughter through the closed door.
For all my bravado, their warnings had not fallen into deaf ears. I did not want to hurt myself at all, not even slightly. A quick look at my watch indicated there was still forty-three minutes to go before the tests would begin. I made my way to the great hall where they would take place. The eighteen candidates participating had already gathered. I smiled at them when they noticed me and gave a sharp nod in response to their unspoken question. A few of them silently applauded while some others gave me a thumbs up.
Despite the rather small size of Gaia—the human colony of Thirilia—I didn’t know these women too well. I knew all their names, to which family they belonged, and all the superficial facts one knows about acquaintances. But for those of us whose parents—in my case grandmother—had married one of the local aliens, we didn’t live within the colony but in one of the many Thirilian cities or villages. Still, we participated in the colony’s social events often enough to have formed distant friendships.
Initially, I’d meant to spend time with them up to the start of the test, but recent events had my nerves on edge. With the venue being so small, friends and family weren’t allowed to attend, unlike Earth that had massive halls where the test became almost like a sports event in terms of public attendance. Giving the girls an apologetic smile, I headed towards the Atrium located on the other side of the great hall, walking past the four dark cabins occupying the back wall. I’d be tested inside one of them. My goal: getting at least four of the five luminous symbols above the cabin’s door, confirming me as a rank four psychic.
Well, assuming the Xian Warriors didn’t deem my aura too dark to join.
The delicate scent of flowers and fresh earth welcomed me as I entered the Atrium. According to Dean Martin, it was a smaller scale imitation of the indoor garden on Khepri where Aspirants performed their psychic training with Raven and the other Xian Warriors. With four lights activated on my cabin, I would become one of those Aspirants and go through that final month of training on Khepri.
The Atrium had been divided in a series of small nooks and crannies through clever landscaping that provided some sense of privacy to those who came to meditate here, while retaining an organic and harmonious feel. I settled directly on the grass by a small pond. Legs crossed, palms up with the back of my hands resting on my knees, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my heartbeat to achieve inner peace.
This was one of the many times I wished not to be an Empath. Even through the door, I could feel the buzzing emotions of the other candidates, from excitement, to impatience and self-doubt. It required t
wice as much effort to shed their stress and my own. Thankfully, years of practice had made blocking others easier.
It felt like only seconds had gone by since I’d closed my eyes when a presence invaded my space. Despite an intense—but respectful—curiosity, the male projecting those emotions was strongly fighting the urge to do something, although I didn’t know what.
My eyes popped open to find a breathtaking Xian Warrior crouching before me. My jaw dropped upon recognizing Raven.
“Hello,” he said with an amused glimmer in his fathomless black eyes. “My name is Raven. You must be Sabra.”
“Oh gosh! Hi! Yes, I am. Am I late? Did I miss the test?” I asked, words tumbling out of my mouth in a panicked frenzy as I jumped to my feet.
“No, we haven’t started yet,” Raven said in a reassuring tone as he, too, stood from his crouching position. “We only arrived twenty minutes ago and were having a discussion with your Dean.”
“Oh, right,” I said, my back tensing.
Had Martin and Sam changed their minds and talked the Warriors into leaving me out of the test?
“We’re about to start, but before we do, I would like to examine your psychic void,” Raven said in that same soothing voice, although he buzzed with curiosity. “I hear you’ve been wounded and want to assess how far we can push the test without making things worse.”
“Of course,” I said, relief flooding through me that he didn’t sound like he wanted to bench me.
Pulse beating into my throat, I stood still while he gently cupped my face in his calloused hands, his dark eyes boring into mine. My nape tingled as his consciousness carefully entered mine. The intensity of his power felt like a thunderstorm trapped inside a bottle, raging to be set free. It was mind boggling and incredibly thrilling, especially the awe and excitement emanating from him as he looked into my psychic void.
“It must have been some severe bruising that they are still this visible after nearly three days,” Raven commented pensively as his consciousness slowly roamed around my void to examine the surface of my psychic sphere. “I will definitely want to hear all the details after the test.”