Infinity's Embrace

by Anna Carven

She had no filter, no ability to control the mental images flooding her mind. Some days, it was absolute torture.

  Noa opened her eyes and looked out at the dark, menacing collection of structures in the distance. They rose out of the red sand like giant obsidian stones, strangely organic but utterly alien in their appearance.

  They were a bleak reminder that Earth was never going to be the same again.

  The Kordolians had arrived, bringing their unique blend of advanced technology, military superiority, and not-so-subtle threats to Earth. She didn’t understand the politics behind their arrival, but she knew they were dangerous.

  She didn’t understand anything anymore. Ever since the crazies had taken her away, imprisoned her in their terrifying hidden facility, and operated on her, her life had turned into a surreal nightmare where the impossible was possible and nothing was as it seemed.

  Running her slender fingers along her shorn scalp, she felt the long craniotomy scar extending from her temple to the back of her skull. It was slightly tender, but it had finally healed, leaving her forever marked, and forever changed.

  What the hell had they done to her? She still didn’t fully understand it. After the surgery, her world had been turned upside down. It seemed impossible, but ever since the SynCorp crazies had experimented with her, she’d been left with the ability to see inside other people’s minds.

  Some days, she fought to hang on to the last shreds of her sanity. The images and voices flooding her shattered consciousness were almost too much to handle.

  But sitting out here on this cold rocky outcrop, staring at the menacing black structures rising out of the desert sand, she’d finally found the one thing she’d been craving for so long, ever since that inexplicable surgery had been performed on her.

  Silence.

  The silence was blissful, and so overwhelming it was almost deafening. She gasped, choking back a sob. Tears threatened to spill forth, but they never came, her eyes remaining dry. She was numb inside, and she didn’t know whether she could cry anymore.

  For once, she didn’t need her ever-present audio-buds; she didn’t need music to drown out the cacophony of intrusive thoughts. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she’d found some semblance of peace.

  A gentle breeze caressed her from behind, and she tucked her freezing hands into her thin cardigan, shivering slightly as she pressed her fingers against her sides, trying to steal some warmth from her core.

  Her ribs seemed way too prominent; she’d lost weight since entering the facility, and now she was merely a shadow of the voluptuous woman she’d once been.

  They’d stripped everything from her, including her appearance.

  The soft scuff of cautious footsteps caused her to turn, and as she looked up, a shadow fell across her.

  “Gorgeous morning, isn’t it?” The woman who approached her was wearing nothing more than a light form-fitting Syntech jogging suit. It left her lower arms and legs bare, revealing her golden brown muscular limbs. Colorful images snaked down her left forearm, vibrant motifs of vines and flowers that contrasted sharply with the dark grey of her suit. Her curly hair was pulled together in a high ponytail and it bounced as she walked.

  She was beautiful, but there was a certain toughness to her that was underscored by the long scars running down the side of her face. She wore her scars unselfconsciously, almost proudly, as if she’d long ago discarded the baggage that had come with them.

  Noa froze, worried that the woman was going to dob her in and have her hauled back to the infirmary. But the woman just flashed her a sunny grin and flopped down beside her, exhaling as she wiped perspiration from her brow. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Zyara. I don’t blame you for wanting some fresh air. You must be starved of sunlight after spending all that time locked away. I’m the same. If I don’t get outside and run, I go a bit stir-crazy.”

  Noa nodded, surprised at the woman’s easy manner. “I was feeling a bit cooped up in there.” She rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself up. Compared to this stranger, who was the very picture of health and vitality, she felt like a sickly waif, a pale imitation of her former self. “You’re, uh, not one of the medics, are you?”

  “Me?” The woman laughed, her dark eyes shimmering. “Lord, no. I’m just here because of my other half. You might have seen him around. He’s the tall one with the long white hair and the horns. He’s called Xal.” Her eyes softened, lighting up with obvious affection for this Xal person.

  She was quiet for a moment, then she blinked, a sheepish expression crossing her face. “Sorry, how rude of me.” She held out a strong, callused hand. “My name’s Sera.”

  Noa took Sera’s hand. It was warm, contrasting sharply with her own frigid fingers. “Noa.” She narrowed her eyes, her scrambled brain struggling to comprehend what Sera had just told her. “Your other half is…?”

  “Kordolian.” Sera smiled, shaking her head slightly. “I know it seems crazy, but at the same time it feels perfectly right. I can’t imagine myself with anyone else.”

  “Huh.” Noa shielded her eyes as she stared out into the distance. The sunlight was becoming brighter now, rising over the small Kordolian ‘city’. The structures cast dark shadows across the vibrant ochre sand, creating a striking scene which was almost like an abstract work of art. They appeared both sinister and elegant, much like the Kordolians themselves.

  Apart from her interactions with the medic, Zyara, she hadn’t had much to do with the Kordolians. The rest of them appeared to be military types, severe and intimidating. They’d rescued Noa and the others from SynCorp’s underwater facility with terrifying efficiency, eliminating any threat that stood in their path. The SynCorp guards hadn’t stood a chance.

  When one of the warriors had been close enough for Noa to catch an imprint of his thoughts, she hadn’t been able to get away from him quickly enough.

  He’d radiated danger from every pore, and his aura had felt harsh and abrasive. The mind of a Kordolian warrior was tightly controlled, with savage bloodlust simmering just beneath the surface. They were hard, unrelenting beings, accustomed to doing whatever they pleased.

  She wanted nothing to do with these fearsome creatures. They were killers. How someone like Sera could get caught up with one of them was beyond her.

  The other woman, Abbey, had gone one step further and had a child with one of them. Her mate was an imposing creature with piercing crimson eyes who projected an aura of fierce protectiveness. He had a hardness about him that spoke of a life of discipline, sacrifice, and bloodshed.

  In contrast, Abbey was just so damn nice, just like Sera here. It didn’t add up.

  “You’ve been away,” Sera said softly, interrupting her thoughts. “The world’s changed a lot in a very short period of time. Don’t be intimidated by these guys, Noa. When you’ve had a bit of time to get your head around it all, it’ll start to make sense, and you’ll be able to figure out who’s who. They might seem scary at first, but they aren’t our enemies. Far from it.” A wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “It took me a while to figure that out too.”

  “They did get us out of that horrid place,” Noa conceded, shuddering as memories of the SynCorp facility filtered through her mind. Bad, bad things had gone on down there. After the surgery, her mind had been like a conduit for the suffering of others. She’d gotten a taste of everything that the other subjects had been forced to endure.

  Nothing could wipe those memories from her mind. The only thing that had kept her sane had been the music.

  She realized Sera was scrutinizing her with a new level of intensity. “I swear I’ve seen you somewhere. Your face is strangely familiar.”

  You probably have. “I get that a lot,” was all Noa said in response, carefully schooling her features into a neutral expression. “I guess I just have that kind of face.” She wasn’t ready for people to recognize her. She thought she’d changed enough that nobody would equate her with the old Noa, the bold, bri
lliant performer. Where had all her cockiness gone? There was a time when she’d felt she could do anything.

  Talk about a fall from grace.

  “Hm.” Sera frowned, a shadow of suspicion crossing her face. “Maybe you just look like someone I know. I swear I’ve seen you somewhere, though.”

  To Noa’s relief, however, Sera didn’t press the issue. She shifted uncomfortably, studying this strange, affable woman who so freely admitted to her relationship with an alien, as if it were the most natural thing on Earth.

  The world’s changed since you’ve been gone.

  Noa froze as a stunning realization hit her. It had been so long since she’d been able to have a normal conversation with someone. It had been so long since she’d experienced total psychic silence, enabling her to control her own thoughts.

  She knew what the crazies had done to her. Impossibly, they’d turned her into a mind reader, but without any control over her ability.

  Usually, the uninterrupted flood of images, thoughts, and emotions entered her mind as a psychic blast of pure torment, but sitting here with friendly Sera by her side, she hadn’t caught even a fragment of her thoughts.

  Strange.

  Was she somehow cured, was Sera immune, or had everything just been a cruel, torturous dream?

  Sera stretched her toned legs out in front of her and stretched, easily reaching her toes. “I guess I’ll be on my way then,” she remarked, gracefully rising to her feet. “Got another five Ks to hit before it gets too damn hot out here.” She winked at Noa, turning to leave. “Enjoy the sunshine and don’t worry about the Kordolians. While you’re here with us, nobody will hurt you. Whatever happened to you back there won’t ever happen again.”

  Noa wondered how Sera could sound so sure of herself. After what had happened to her, she no longer took anything at face value.

  Sera took off with a curt wave, loping away down a sandy track as Noa turned her attention back towards the Kordolians’ dark village.

  That’s when it hit her.

  A psychic wave of powerful emotion, dark, seething, and undeniable, hit her like a bolt-blast to the chest.

  The being who was responsible for this energy wasn’t Human; she understood that at once. He was also unmistakably male, and more than a little terrifying.

  Fury and control. He was both of these things at once, and Noa was sucked into his mindspace like a butterfly drawn into a vortex, helpless against his raging thoughts.

  She reached out, trying to impose some semblance of control upon her own thoughts, but she didn’t know how. She was clutching at puffs of air in a fierce, twisting gale.

  Then, as abruptly as it had hit her, the presence was gone, leaving an empty void, a vacuum of thought and emotion. Noa’s breath was torn from her. She gasped for air, a faint sheen of sweat breaking out on her pale face.

  There had been something so compelling about him. For one sweet, dangerous moment, she’d been addicted to his presence.

  What the hell was that? Who was that?

  She had to be losing her mind, at least what precious little was left of it. Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought against it, pushing down her confusion and fear.

  Get a hold of yourself, idiot.

  She’d been deceived, taken against her will, imprisoned, experimented on, and left with a talent she couldn’t control. She didn’t even want to think of what might have happened to her if the crazies had been given enough time to finish their work.

  Maybe they would have eventually broken her, but she wasn’t broken, and now she possessed something, an ability. It had the potential to be extraordinary.

  All she had to do now was learn how to control it.

  Chapter Three

  The newcomer regarded him silently, releasing tendrils of his ka’qui bit by bit, permitting Ashrael to see him with his second sight and know him.

  Everything else faded into the background as their minds touched. Even the General’s intimidating presence was momentarily diluted, although Ashrael still felt a strong compulsion to kill him.

  “Such a scary killing intent,” the General’s mysterious companion said mildly, his raspy voice betraying him as an elder. “I’m relieved you’ve allowed yourself to be leashed. For your sake, more than mine.”

  Ashrael shot him a baleful sightless glare, his lips curving into a humorless smile. Be thankful for it, old man. For a brief moment, he let go of the his tightly controlled ka’qui, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the elder.

  He reached out with his mind, trying to get a sense of this strange individual.

  You’re like me, he said in astonishment, certain the old man could pick up on his mental speech. You’re one of my kind. How is it that you are free of the mindbond?

  “We are of the same ilk,” the elder conceded. “There are a few of us who were fortunate enough to survive the clutches of the Program. In many ways, though, we’re nothing alike. You’re in a class of your own, youngling. It’s a shame you were given up to the Program. You have immense talent, but for it to be used for this purpose…” He shook his head, sadness and disgust entering his voice.

  Ashrael felt a gentle, probing touch at the edges of his mind. Instinctively, he put his mental shields up, invoking a grunt of irritation from the old man.

  “Relax,” the elder grumbled. “I’m only taking a look. Let me in. It’s not as if I can control you as your mistress does.”

  Ashrael growled, not wanting to be reminded of his fundamental weakness. His Mistress couldn’t reach him across the span of Nine Galaxies, but the compulsions she’d skillfully woven into his mindbond were absolute.

  On many occasions, he’d tried to break them, but he wasn’t strong enough. Any attempt to break the compulsions caused him severe pain, and in the early stages of his training, any suggestion of rebellion had been met with brutal punishment.

  You will be loyal to the Empire. The Empress is your Goddess, and through me, you will serve her without question until death takes you.

  You will not harm any friend of the Empire.

  You will not betray the cause.

  You will never utter a single word or see the true colors of the Universe with your own eyes, because you have no need of such things. You are destined to walk in the shadows, existing between worlds. Silence will be both your curse and your strength.

  You are my charge, my possession, my responsibility, and you will obey me without question.

  Kill Akkadian. Bring his mate to me. Return to me, child.

  “Can it be broken, Patra Elgon?” The General’s deep, commanding voice broke through his reverie. Ashrael’s breath caught as the elder’s psychic touch feathered along the edges of his consciousness. Sensing that the old man was no threat to him, he eased his barriers a little, letting the elder form a mental impression of him.

  Where in Kaiin’s Hells had Akkadian found this wizened specimen? He’d thought all of his kind were given up to the Empire at birth. Hiding a katach child was a capital offense. It meant risking death at the hands of Imperial enforcers, because sooner or later, the child would be found out. They always were.

  On Kythia, males born with psychic abilities were easy to identify. They all possessed the same features; dark hair, black eyes, pale skin, and absent horn-buds. Some said they weren’t entirely Kordolian, that their blood was tainted with something other, although nobody seemed to know what that other was, or perhaps they refused to speak of it.

  “The one who trained you and shaped your mindbond was skillful,” Elgon said, carefully withdrawing his ka’qui. “She’s achieved the correct balance between subservience and free will. You are a perfect tool, but not completely under her control. Theoretically, it may be possible to undo the damage, but it’s beyond my humble abilities. It would take one much more powerful than myself to fix you.”

  “It’s possible, though, isn’t it?” Akkadian said softly, causing Ashrael to turn his blind stare towards the General. There was a note
of dogged stubbornness in the General’s voice, as if he considered Ashrael a personal project that he wanted to succeed at all costs.

  Perhaps the breaking of Ashrael’s mindbond was symbolic of some greater Universal struggle.

  “It’s possible, although maybe not in this lifetime.”

  Resentful of the fact that he was having his fate discussed in front of him as if he were nothing more than a fat turgek steed about to be shipped off to market, Ashrael rolled his eyes. Tell the General he’s dreaming. He should just do the logical thing and get it over with.

  Even if Akkadian somehow succeeded in breaking the mindbond, there was no way Ashrael would become his puppet.

  “Are you so in love with death’s embrace that you’d spurn this chance at freedom, young one?” Elgon chastised him as if he were a wayward adolescent, his voice full of indignation. Ashrael shot him a dark mental glare as the General moved forward, his steps slow and deliberate.

  As Akkadian neared, Ashrael’s murderous intent grew so strong that it caused a sensation of sharp pain behind his temples. He momentarily lost control of his ka’qui, and the warriors holding him upright must have felt it, because they stiffened. If he had both his arms and full control of his body right now, he’d be moving, trying to acquire a weapon at all costs so he could separate the General’s head from his neck.

  That seemed to be the only way to kill a freak of nature like Akkadian, who could survive injuries that would kill any ordinary mortal.

  Although it pained him to admit it, Ashrael had underestimated these First Division warriors. He’d been so sure of his own abilities, cocky even, that he hadn’t expected the General to be able to match him in speed and cunning.

  “I know how badly you want to kill me, Silent One,” Akkadian said, his words thrumming with the promise of an unfinished battle. “You do not yet believe in what we intend to do, but you need to get over yourself. You need to understand that your only hope of freedom lies with us. I will find a way to break your mindbond, assassin, and you will repay the favor by taking a life for me.” Grim determination radiated from the General, and suddenly Ashrael was struck with the absurd hope that the impossible might actually be possible.