He commanded the AI to establish a low parking orbit and turned his attention to the shuttle, in which the equipment to be deployed had been loaded before departure from Shepard. He, Drew, and Zuri suited up for the short flight to the asteroid’s surface. One member of an explorer crew must stay aboard the ship when a team landed—in this case Mikaela, to whom he’d given basic orientation to Picard’s control console. Having been the junior pilot on his previous explorer missions, Terry sympathized with the disappointment he sensed in her mind; but as captain he didn’t let it show—although, as Corwin had also mentioned, unconscious telepathy worked two ways and his inner feelings would be hard to conceal even in situations where he needed to display total confidence.
The moment he was at the shuttle’s controls, however, he lost all trace of doubt—as always, flying elated him. He connected smoothly with the asteroid’s surface, easily avoiding the crags, and they climbed out. It took a few minutes to adjust to the low, almost zero, gravity and the strange sight of the nearby curved horizon. Terry examined the terrain and gave the order to place the sensor station in the spot that seemed most stable and most noticeable. Presumably, if any prospectors failed to pick up its warning broadcast before landing, they would heed the “off limits” notice prominently fixed to it and depart from the solar system before interceptors could reach them. He and Drew carried it from the shuttle and secured it to solid rock, moving somewhat awkwardly since it had been a long time since either of them had worked in zero g. They then took photos and some rock samples while Zuri verified its functioning through communication with Mikaela aboard Picard.
By the time they were back in the shuttle Terry was trembling with exhaustion and the strain of responsibility. The liftoff went smoothly and everyone was in an exuberant mood he found difficult to share, though he made sure that no one noticed. That night he slept badly. A sense of some threat just outside his consciousness intruded on his dreams; several times he woke and had to convince himself that all was well with both ship and crew.
And then, suddenly, he was wide awake, sure that there was something demanding his attention. Not in the ship. Far away, but real and alive. Another ship, perhaps. . . .
This was crazy. Of course there couldn’t be another ship already in the system the very first time they patrolled it. The odds against that were too extreme for the thought to be taken seriously. But his heart was beating fast; he had to use his mind training to calm it. The conviction that he had really sensed something didn’t fade, and he lay awake the rest of the night.
In the morning, his common sense told him that because he was being trained in remote viewing with the hope that he might sense intruders, it wasn’t surprising that he’d imagined that he was doing so. It had been merely the power of suggestion, enhanced by the stress of his first command. But all day the thought nagged him: what if it had been a true viewing? What if his perception had been real?
Within the next few days they placed sensor stations on several similar asteroids, Mikaela and Drew taking turns at remaining in orbit. When at last Picard reached Three everyone crowded around the viewscreen on the bridge, eager to see a real new world rather than a mere rock ball. But was a small, dead world, even smaller than Earth’s moon, and if there was anything different there from the landscape of the asteroids, it wasn’t apparent from space. Terry, whose heart had been lifted by the excitement he always felt on approaching an unknown planet, was used to the letdown that often followed. But the others had been expecting more from their first planetfall, and were discouraged by the anticlimax. As it was not their job to do a detailed survey, the stay on Three was short.
“Captain, since we’re first on this planet it’s your right to name it,” Drew reminded him after the sensor station had been placed.
Terry hesitated. The supply of names from the ancient mythologies of Earth had long ago run out and planets were now generally named after outstanding historical figures. Any tentative name he suggested would have to be checked against the knowledgebase to be sure it hadn’t been used, and in any case he couldn’t think of anyone other than obvious choices that he wished to honor. It would be better to name it after a Maclairnan, he felt, but no one still living was eligible and the Maclairnans had given the names of their past leaders to towns. “I think I should consult Jessica about that,” he told Drew. “We’ll go on calling it Three for now.”
Like all explorers, Picard had four small single staterooms used as doubles only when needed; on long expeditions members of small crews needed privacy. On the morning after departure from Three, Terry left his just as Drew emerged from Mikaela’s. The look on Drew’s face was comical. “Captain!” he exclaimed. “Sir, we were just—”
“You needn’t be embarrassed, Lieutenant,” Terry said, hiding a smile. “On explorers it’s acceptable to share rooms from time to time—and it’s more than acceptable on Maclairn. You can stay in that one if you’re welcome there.”
It was just as well, he thought, for them to become consciously telepathic, which sleeping together was sure to trigger now that their mind training had awakened the potential for it. That would strengthen the unity of the crew. Already they got along with each other better than any other he had shipped with, for they all knew what the rest were feeling without discussion and there wasn’t the irritability that was apt to develop after a few days of being cooped up in a small ship. That they would support each other in case of trouble did not need saying; it was simply taken for granted.
This, more than the specific mind skills that would be useful in an emergency, was the greatest benefit of the mind training to Fleet—and to humankind as a whole, Terry realized. The harmony so evident among the Maclairnans didn’t require being born to it; acquired telepathic sensitivity was enough. And that made the mentors’ plan for extending mind powers beyond Maclairn more than an idealistic dream. It was a real, practical goal worth whatever it cost to achieve.
That day Picard broke orbit and headed further out to the planet called Four. It proved to be less rugged than Three, mostly flat and thus not a promising location for minerals of value. Landing appeared routine and Terry let Mikaela pilot the shuttle alone while he himself stayed aboard Picard. The crew placed the sensor station without incident, then headed back to Maclairn. There hadn’t been room in the cargo bay for more stations, so they would wait until the next trip to deploy one on Five—or rather, on one of its frozen moons, for it was a gas giant far from the sun.
Terry had feared that his sleep would be interrupted again by imaginary perceptions, but during the days it took to get to Four and back it didn’t happen. On the night they were closest to Maclairn, however, he felt a vague uneasiness, undoubtedly a mere recollection of what he had felt before at that distance, but nevertheless hard to deny. He couldn’t shake the suspicion that something, something that didn’t belong, was out there.
~ 25 ~
Once back aboard Shepard Terry found that Kathryn had left for Earth, and the fact that he had expected this didn’t lessen his disappointment. He was due for his first leave and he had no choice but to make the best of it. When he got to Petersville Jessica greeted him warmly and invited him to stay in Kathryn’s room; for the time being all officers on leave were being hosted in private homes, though a lodging for them was under construction. He wasn’t sure if it would be better or worse if he were not sleeping in the bed they had shared.
As soon as he was settled he went to see Tristan, who was by this time fully recovered and back at work in the neurofeedback center. The moment they met he sensed that no discussion of the cave incident was necessary. Tristan took it for granted that the remote viewing sessions would continue, and between those and further neurofeedback training, his days were fully occupied. In the evening there was usually something to which Fleet personnel were invited—a sports event, concert, or cookout—as well as informal gatherings in homes and in taverns. Terry was welcomed and it was great to be with people with whom he could connect
, including some of his fellow-officers who had become aware of their emerging psi powers. But he would have enjoyed himself more if Kathryn had been with him. As it was, he spent much of his spare time accessing the knowledgebase, absorbed in reading up on centuries of research and speculation about the paranormal.
Kathryn, Tristan said, had been through the Ritual and was now a Steward of the Flame. “There will be a small corner of her mind closed to you, even during sex,” he warned. “It can’t be avoided in your case, though normally couples who are committed to each other beforehand are initiated at the same time.”
“Is keeping the ceremony secret really so important?” Terry protested. “I mean, if I found out I wouldn’t tell anybody—”
“It’s not that you wouldn’t be trusted with it. The problem is that it has to be kept from you, because knowing in advance would make it virtually impossible for you to get through the Ritual if you ever want to.”
“Could I? Would an outsider be qualified?” There was nothing he wouldn’t do, Terry thought, to be close to Kathryn.
“Well,” Tristan told him, “if you went through the Ritual you’d no longer be an outsider. You would be committed to our goals. It’s a matter of deep dedication and willingness to make whatever sacrifices are necessary, not mere liking for Maclairn or desire to share a partner’s secrets. Still, if you truly wished it, it wouldn’t be incompatible with your League citizenship or your present duties in Fleet.”
But what if Fleet sent him back to exploring? Terry asked himself. He could never give it up; it had been the core of the future he’d pictured since boyhood. In the back of his mind he’d hoped Kathryn might come with him if he ever moved on. Yet she did not have the longing for new discoveries that he did . . . and she was now irrevocably bound to Maclairn.
Most of his advanced mind training didn’t require the presence of a mentor and was done under the guidance of another instructor, usually Elbra. When he mentioned that he was familiar with the neurofeedback software, she allowed him to operate the computer during the practice sessions of the teenage trainees and eventually to supervise them. Terry found that he enjoyed it; his old obsession with computers began to come back, with the added fascination of watching people interact with the displayed mind-patterns, and he realized that he would be good at the job if he had any spare time to fill between space flights. Mind training for crew members was continuing aboard Shepard; maybe the instructors there could use some assistance.
Near the end of his leave, Tristan decided it was time for him to learn more about healing. “It was highly unusual for Aldren to introduce you to it so soon,” he said, “though we do eventually teach everyone to control bleeding and heal minor cuts or burns. He evidently felt you have the ability to go further—perhaps to heal other people.”
“He mentioned it,” Terry admitted. “I—I’m not sure I want to.” Telepathy was one thing, and even remote viewing was merely a matter of developing capabilities latent in everyone. But to be a healer was something else. After a lifetime of feeling different when in contact with people he had at last begun to relate to them; he did not want to be set apart as someone they revered.
“Certainly you wouldn’t want to make it your profession,” Tristan agreed. “and it’s unlikely that you possess the gift for repairing internal damage that a full-fledged healer has. But in an emergency, the ability to aid the injured might prove useful.”
That was undeniable; as an explorer captain he was responsible for the welfare of his crew and after all, the original stated purpose of the mind training was to learn if it was practical for use in Fleet. So after demonstrating that with neurofeedback he could indeed heal self-inflicted cuts, he found himself watching as Tristan took the knife and proceeded to slash his own arm. Terry was appalled, though he knew Tristan wasn’t suffering and could heal himself if necessary. He sat frozen, staring, while the blood gushed from the wound and dripped onto the floor. You must act, Terry, Tristan commanded. I’ll help, but not before you take the initiative.
In desperation, he matched the mind-pattern on the wall, which remained from his self-healing, and reached out to connect with Tristan’s mind, instinctively projecting the visualization. The flow of blood slowed, and finally stopped.
“You have aptitude,” Tristan said. “I completed the healing; you are not experienced enough to sustain the necessary state of mind. But you grasped the concept. You sensed that it’s not something you do to a person; you help him, through telepathy that for him may be unconscious, to do it himself. All healing is self-healing; the human body has that capability, though we believe unconscious psychokinesis is sometimes involved. The healer merely shows the way.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Terry confessed. “I couldn’t even have tried if there’d been time to think about it.”
“No. That’s why a novice has to be shocked into action. But you have had practice in letting things happen without trying to force them, and another time, you will know.”
“Tristan . . . will I learn to use more psychokinesis?”
“Probably not. It usually appears in childhood—many children born here can move small objects around, and there are poltergeist incidents among adolescents—but no one here has learned later in life except Peter, who was exceptionally psi-gifted and who had a strong need for it because he was confined to a chair. Historically, adults on Earth occasionally developed PK, but there’s no compelling reason for you to do so. As for the more spectacular things, few people other than mentors have that power, and we don’t encourage it unless it emerges spontaneously.”
With inner relief, Terry nodded. The idea of bringing about physical effects with his mind still disturbed him. As he acknowledged this, Tristan sensed it, and said, “On second thought, there is one other form of PK that may someday prove useful to you—and may be useful right now for overcoming any negative feelings you may have.”
“What’s that?” Terry inquired apprehensively.
“The control of fire.”
“Oh, Tristan, I’m not sure—”
“Which is precisely why it would be a good thing for you to learn. I don’t mean anything major like melting metal. Just lighting candles and more importantly, putting them out.”
“Okay,” Terry agreed, realizing that there was nothing else he could say.
Tristan took a candle from the cabinet beneath his desk and as Terry watched, it seemingly lighted itself. Putting his neurofeedback helmet back on, Tristan said, “Match the mind-pattern.”
Their minds connected, and a feeling of confidence came over Terry, as it always did when working with an instructor. The candle went out. “It’s simply an exaggerated form of temperature control,” Tristan said. “I could not light it with my mind if there were no wick; I simply made the wick get hot, and then cool, using the same kind of volition we use for everything else. There’s no magic involved, no chance of a raging conflagration engulfing you unless you’re foolish enough to set something afire that would unsafe to light with a match. Now I’ll relight it, and we’ll put it out together.”
Before long Terry had mastered the technique for both extinguishing fires and starting them, and the neurofeedback pattern was indelibly impressed on his mind. Flame was an apt symbol for mind powers, he reflected. There was a sense of being in control that he hadn’t had with the other skills, which produced less well-defined results. There was great power in it and he grasped how easily it could be misused, yet he felt in no more danger of misusing it himself than of becoming a traditional arsonist. His underlying fear—like that of psi’s deniers—had been groundless.
On his last day with Tristan, Terry hesitantly raised the subject of his illusory perception of something lurking in space. “I know it can’t be real,” he said. “Even if there were a ship out there, which there can’t be, it’s just too incredible that I could be taught a little about remote viewing and go right out there and succeed at it. But Tristan, how will I know if there ever is
an intruder, if I’m going to keep imagining one when there’s not?”
Tristan frowned. “It’s a bit unusual for someone to simply imagine having remotely viewed some discrete object, like a ship,” he said slowly. “Are you sure you weren’t seeking to see, as you do in a normal viewing session?”
“I know I wasn’t—I was asleep and it woke me, but it didn’t feel like a dream. I didn’t want to sense anything; I tried to shake it off.”
“Well, as you said, your nerves were on edge because of your new responsibility. Once you get used to that, you won’t be so sensitized to the thought of unseen dangers.” As Terry stood to go, Tristan added, “Terry—don’t mention this to Jessica. She’s already troubled by her own imaginings; if she gets the idea that you share them, she’ll view it as confirmation.”
“I knew she’s more worried than anyone else about intruders coming soon,” Terry said. “But surely she doesn’t think she’s sensed one?”
“Jessica is a hundred and twenty-one, and for most of her life she’s been burdened with the knowledge that she has greater psi capabilities than anyone else—and that she was fated to become our leader because of it. It’s not really surprising if in her old age, she feels she may be perceiving something the rest of us don’t.”
“I suppose not. But there couldn’t have been a ship nearby even as long as the days between the times I imagined it, let alone since she began worrying. It would have either appeared by now or left the solar system.”
“She knows that. Nevertheless, it was Jessica who insisted that you be immediately trained in remote viewing, and if she were given cause to think that precaution has led somewhere—”
“Well, I certainly won’t tell her, or anyone else except maybe Kathryn.” He hoped that he could forget the whole thing . . . and yet . . .
The Rising Flame: Box Set: Defender of the Flame + Herald of the Flame Page 16