by Mary Andrews
Rael called out to the intercom link, “Nemesis, audio only.” As his temple-links flickered Tristen gasped, but he did not notice. “Star Station 15, audio only, hail Commander Kree."
Kree's voice sounded from the intercom. “Kree here."
“This is Nemesis Commander Pointe, we will arrive in eight hours. How is your guest doing?"
“Better,” Kree stated, “resting now. Suddenly he's quiet."
“Good. Discontinue any medications you're giving him. I want him conscious and clear-headed when we arrive. Nemesis out.” The line beeped and disconnected.
Rael's temple plates flickered again as he silently ordered the necessary navigational changes. Finally, he returned his attention to the team. Ira still stood behind the examination table watching Tristen. Rael assumed that he was still managing her from there. He is one hell of a talent to be able to control her like this. She had seemed so strong before. It was a relief that she could be so readily handled. He smiled at Ira. “Ok, that's it. Good job kid, you keep watch on her and see to her needs.” A long overdue exhaustion began to overtake him. “Maybe now I can get some sleep.” He turned and headed for the door.
Ira and Laynald exchanged glances. They had both noticed Tristen's uneasy reaction to the captain's linkups.
“I'll set her quarters up. Do you have everything under control here?” Laynald asked.
Ira nodded, pulling his gloves back on.
Tristen still stood in the middle of the room where Rael had left her. She looked tired and disheveled. Her hair was mussed and her modest gown hung loosely from her small frame. Laynald had put it on her after removing and destroying her own clothing, claiming that slaves were frequently used for surveillance or sabotage purposes. It was just smarter to replace the clothing and be done with it.
“When was the last time you ate anything?” Ira asked her.
She shook her head. I'm not sure, sir.
“Then, let's go eat.” He walked over to where she stood, positioning himself slightly behind her so that she could ‘see’ both herself and his intended direction. “I'll show you the way.” He placed his left hand on her right shoulder to gently guide her. As they began to walk, he felt her tense up, but she responded obediently. They crossed the room easily enough, pausing only for the sickbay door to allow them to enter the main corridor. They turned to the left with no problems, and they easily navigated the hallway together. Though the common room was not very far from the sickbay exit, he realized that it was no longer necessary to guide her with his hand. She was readily anticipating his intentions. Obviously, she had done this before, and he was finding her shared vision easier and easier to accommodate.
Throughout the meeting with the captain he had concentrated on directing her vision though his own. He had been prepared to forcibly control and restrain her, if necessary, but she had unexpectedly cooperated, responding to his efforts without any contention. He was relieved and pleased that their talents could mesh so easily.
They paused before the common room door as it slid open. “This is the largest room on this deck, a living area of sorts, meant to provide a place for mealtimes, meetings and off duty pastimes,” he told her.
He looked into the room, carefully allowing her to see what it contained. To the left, an assorted number of comfortable couches and lounge chairs were arranged around a low table. A large view screen surrounded by a scattering of chairs covered most of the right wall. There was an assortment of shelving along the far corner. And finally, the meal-processing center lined the rest of the back wall, with a large dining area with table and chairs filling the entire right-hand corner.
Ira guided her to the main table. “This is where we eat and meet,” he said with a smile. “Pull up a chair, and I'll get us something. You look like you could use a good meal. Any preferences?” He scanned the available meal selections list. When she made no response, he chose one for her. “You will eat,” he finally commanded as he placed the plate in front of her. He watched for a moment as she dutifully began eating and realized that, for a while now, she had stopped emoting anything—no pleasure, no nervousness—nothing at all. She had simply become compliant.
He, however, relished his first plate and then helped himself to a second one. This day had almost drained him to the point of collapse again, and he hadn't even realized it until just then. Finally pushing his chair away from the table, he leaned back and spoke up. “That was good. Did you get enough to eat?"
Tristen sat stoic and still. Yes, sir.
Ira frowned at her, and then remembered that she could only see what he was looking at. “All right, enough of this, we need to talk. What is your real name?"
Tristen.
Ira stared at her until she began to feel unnerved by it, then he pressed her further,
“No more evasive answers. Talk to me. Tell me where you came from. What did your parents call you?"
Chosen, she finally replied. I was barely ten when they came for me. They took my sight, changed me and sent me away. They told me that the pages of my life had already been written. Long ago the Oracles foresaw what would be needed, and I was chosen, sir. She spoke matter-of-factly. No resentment, no anger, only complete acceptance.
Ira was stunned. “How could any parent allow a ten-year-old be taken like that at such a cost?"
It was an honor, bestowed through the unquestionable wisdom of the Oracles. I was proud to be chosen. Through the ages only a handful have ever been so. It is not an honor lightly given, sir.
Ira shook his head. “Tell me more about these oracles."
They read the waves of time as you read my emotions, she stated. They protect our world. They perceive grave disasters and guide us around them, and if the emergency is impassable, they choose a champion and arm them to prevent it.
“And you are one of these ‘champions'? They blinded you, enslaved you and set you adrift in a universal cesspool among some of the most cruel and vicious vermin possible to champion their cause? You cannot even help yourself. How will you accomplish this ... this miracle that you are charged with?"
Tristen shrugged. I do not need to know, sir. It is enough that I have been placed on the road to where I must be. Whatever I am meant to do will protect my people from a horrible fate. It is my duty to comply. It has been so for all time. It is an honor. She turned her face toward the doorway. You understand duty and destiny don't you, sir?
Ira followed her gaze to the doorway.
Laynald stood, nodding. “How will you know when your duty is done?” he asked her.
I will be summoned home for release, sir.
“Where is ‘home'?” He walked up to the table and stood over them.
Tristen paused. Ira felt her confusion. She answered uncertainly. I don't know. In my mind, I can see a land of twinned moons ... many shadows ... colorful fragrant flowers of all kinds ... but I cannot remember its name or location ... I had not realized it until just now, when you asked, sir.
Laynald frowned. “And the ‘type’ of release is determined by these Oracles too, isn't it?"
Yes, sir, Tristen nodded.
“That's what I thought,” he said as he handed Ira a small vial of crimson liquid. “You look like you could use this. Pour it into what's left of your drink and down it."
Ira looked up at him. “I'm all right, Doc. Nothing a little rest won't take care of."
Laynald picked up their plates, leaving only Ira's drink on the table. “There's scarce enough time left to rest up before we get to the station, Ira. Rael wants you both prepared for action in the morning. I think he's got something big planned for you two. So just drink it, and let's see our guest to her room. I've already rounded her up some clothing for tomorrow, and she could probably use the rest too."
Ira glanced across the table to Tristen. She sat, apparently awaiting their next orders, like a machine on standby, but despite her efforts, Ira sensed an underlying weariness in her. He dumped Laynald's concoction into his cup and drank
it. “All right Doc, let's get going."
He and Tristen rose in unison and almost casually moved and maneuvered to and through the doorway.
Laynald watched them skillfully navigate to the door before following them. I sure hope Rael is right about them.
* * *
CHAPTER 4
Rael awoke to chiming sounds from the wall-com in his quarters. Per his instructions, Nemesis was notifying the crew that they were approaching Station 15. To warm up his voice he issued a spoken response instead of his usual mental one. “Nemesis: report."
The wall-com answered in kind from across the room. “One and a half hours left before station-dock. There are two crew reports unread from the evening before."
Rael stretched, threw back his covers, and rolled over to the bed's edge before sitting up. “Play messages."
Laynald's report was short and efficient. “Rael, I see some problems with this whole plan you're wanting to try. I don't trust this woman. She's too compliant. I smell a trap. I mean, I know Ira's a Wall Master, but she hasn't shown her hand, yet. I don't like putting so much at stake before we've had a chance to check her out more. Ira was trying to find out more about her background, and she told him that she has been specially selected and trained by a group called ‘The Oracles'. Sounds to me like she's some kind of sleeper operative for her home world ... or she's delusional. All she can say is that she'll know what to do when the time comes. I've taken top-level security measures, but we are going to have to conduct an intensive search for Tristen's home planet. We really need to investigate these Oracles, both in conjunction with the PSI ring and as a potential long-range Gov security risk.” Laynald paused, and Rael heard the timbre of his voice change. “And another thing, Rael. Is it wise to keep Ira in such close proximity to this woman? He is still a young man, and living with us in isolation for the last five years cannot have prepared him to deal with the wiles of a cunning woman, much less one with her abilities. PSIonic relationships work differently, Rael. Be careful. What you are planning could easily backfire on us. You think on that. Laynald out."
Rael sighed. It's going to be a long day.
The second message began as Ira's soft voice issued from the wall unit. “I've secured Tristen in her quarters without any complications. She has fully accepted my ‘adjustments’ and is very eager to comply with our commands. We had an interesting conversation about her past. I'm sure that Laynald will tell you all about it, so I'll spare you the repetition. If you have any questions, give me a call. All in all, though, I think that our abilities will interface well and that she will become a great asset to the team. Since Laynald said you're planning a busy day for us today, I'm guessing that we'll find out soon, huh? Well, I'm going to rest up now. You should do the same. Ira out."
Rael heard the exhaustion in his voice and wished he could give the kid more time. This was probably going to be hardest on him. Rael stared at the floor, before speaking again. “Com-off."
A quick sonic shower and change of clothing and the team would meet to, hopefully, complete this mission, and then ... well, then things were going to get interesting.
* * * *
Tristen awoke to darkness—as always. She luxuriated for a moment in the comfortable bed's fresh sheets and soft blankets. Everything here smelled and felt so clean, and her quarters were much nicer and larger than any of the recent places she had stayed in. The soft chiming from the com-unit by the door startled her. She reached over to where she had sorted her clothing from the night before and pulled on a loose fitting robe as she started toward the sound. She was glad the room was not overly furnished as she crossed and fumbled along the cool metal wall to feel for the com-panel. It emitted a quiet hum to help her locate it. She assumed this had been installed at her master's command. Recalling the visuals from the night before, she ran her hand across the small com-panel, then over both buttons to determine the right one before pressing it. Her master's voice issued from it, startling her. “Dress and await escort.” She tapped the com off and then felt her way back to the table where her clothing for the day had been laid out. She sighed. At least I will not have to worry about color selections or combinations here. Everyone seemed to wear black. She smiled at the realization that this team wore a color instead of a uniform. Then she slipped on a silky, long sleeve sweater and a comfortable pair of slacks. They had even found her appropriate footwear. She pulled on the soft-pseudo suede boots and reminded herself that nothing came without a price. She straightened out her bedding and dropped back onto the bed to wait as she brushed tangles from her hair. Her master would send for her soon. She was ready.
* * * *
Laynald stood before the mirror in his quarters and checked his armaments. His sleeve mounted dart-sheaths were loaded and the micro disruptor control was readily accessible at his belt. He brushed more graying strands of coarse brown hair away from his face and headed for the door. The com-unit began to chime; he switched it off on his way out.
* * * *
Ira rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head but the wall-com unit wouldn't quit. “Com: speak,” he finally called out.
Rael's voice emitted from the unit. “ETA for station-dock one and a half hours. Please escort Tristen to the common room as soon as possible and dress for the Wall."
“Com off.” Ira said, and stared at the ceiling for a little while longer. Guess Ambassador Dash is going to need some adjustments if I'm wearing the robe. Damn, I hate when a day starts like this. Throwing the covers back, he hauled himself out of bed. A sonic shower and perhaps coffee will make things better, he told himself as he pulled a towel off the wall shelf on the way to the shower, but he had a bad feeling about this day's plans, and he still didn't feel rested.
* * * *
Rael and Laynald were seated at the table drinking coffee when Ira and Tristen entered. Ira allowed himself to luxuriate in the aroma. He had known this would be a coffee day. It was an extravagance that Rael had developed in his youth, and he now shared it with his team whenever it could be found. Since their supply had been dwindling it was usually saved for special occasions or dire need of late, but obviously, he had found a way to replenish his stock.
“Pull up a seat, we don't have much time.” Rael pointed to the tray of fast protein pastries on the table. “I'll get you coffee. We dock in an hour."
Ira pulled out a chair for Tristen to sit and pushed the tray toward her. “Help yourself. They're more filling than they look,” he took one and bit into it, “and wait ‘til you try them with coffee.” He dropped into the seat next to hers.
Rael placed the steaming cups on the table for them and watched as Tristen mirrored Ira's eating. She even began dunking her pastry as he was doing. His unspoken guidance and directions were evident. Laynald is right, he thought, these two are already interfacing remarkably well together. I hope the kid doesn't get too comfortable having her around. Ops Command will definitely want to get their hands on her. A rogue talent like hers would make them nervous. He frowned at the thought. Her odds of survival weren't good with that crowd. Though he knew she wielded a threatening and dangerous power, he found himself wanting to help her, and then he wondered if she might be influencing his mind. He looked across the table at the young couple. Ira was concentrating on a half eaten protein bar with far more intent than it warranted, thus allowing Tristen to more closely examine it. He really believes her to be a victim in this. What if that's true? He sat back and watched while they finished eating. Well I guess we'll find out soon enough. Laynald is better at judging people than I am, he finally decided, and called for their attention.
“All right, it's time to get down to business.” He spoke to Tristen first. “Yesterday when I visualized the ambassador's image, you were able see it. Now I want you to project an image from my mind to Ira's."
Rael closed his eyes and envisioned Nemesis’ bridge: flickering lights on the control panel, panoramic starscape, and then over the intercom, Laynald's voice, Ira sa
ys it's time now, Captain. Are you ready for this?
Rael opened his eyes. “Enough. Ira did you see anything?"
“The bridge...."
Rael interrupted him. “Don't tell me.” He looked again to Tristen. “Show me through her."
The control panel, starscape, Laynald's voice all replayed perfectly in his mind's eye.
“This will work then,” Rael said with a smile. “Ok, Tristen when Ira links with the ambassador, their senses merge. Ira will see, hear, smell and feel whatever the ambassador is currently experiencing, but I want Ira to witness Ambassador Dash's memory of what happened in the same way. Can you do this?"
Tristen paused. I think so, sir.
“Good.” Rael checked the growing uneasiness in Ira's face before continuing.
“Do you think you can link Ira's mind to mine so that I too, can experience what he does?"
Ira interrupted. “No Captain, I don't think—"
“It would have to be a one-way link only,” Rael added. “You cannot allow my thoughts to bleed back to anyone when we do this. That is absolutely essential."
Tristen hesitated. I'm not sure, sir, perhaps if he helps me we could do it, though I have never tried anything like this before.
Laynald spoke up from the table's end where he had been watching Rael's plan unfold. “Wait a minute. Since this is only an interrogation, why can't she just project the ambassador's images to you directly? You shouldn't have to complicate this any more than need be, right?"
The captain shuddered at the memory of Tristen's intrusive control. “It's not a complication, it's a necessary precaution,” he said.
“Captain, let Tristen control the ambassador. I will join with his mind and spy for you,” Ira said, “but interlocking with you would be very dangerous. Even if she can act as a conduit to keep us all flowing at the same rate, your connection to the puter-link is a different matter. Your frequency is erratic and disruptive to how we function. This puts everybody at risk, Captain. You should reconsider."
Rael shook his head, “'The fireborn are at home in flame,’ kid. Now, we've got a job to do. Here's how I want this done: Tristen, when I tell you to, you will summon the ambassador. You are to interrogate him: I will give you questions as you go. Ira will link with him.” He motioned to Ira, “Observe all names and faces, and then attempt to directly link to me,” he motioned to Ira, “and I will expedite the Compu-Search. I'll try to keep it as brief as possible. Any questions?"