by T. J. Quinn
"Yes," she whispered. They were going to send me to surgery before you got back. I wanted you with me. I want you to do it.
I shouldn't. You know it's not good medical procedure. Probably against regs, too.
I don't care. You're the only one I trust. Please.
"All right." He sighed and bent to kiss her forehead. Just then, Hankura would have done anything to take away her pain and soothe that haunted look from her eyes. Killing Stagg and Mograton wasn't nearly enough. The memory made him tremble. Hankura closed his eyes and drew a cleansing breath, and then he reached out to push Chelle's tangled hair back from her forehead. "I need to get cleaned up and press a couple of stim-dots. Will you not start another riot before I get back?"
Chelle nodded meekly.
"And let them prep you?"
"Okay, but not Paltrin. I'll break his nose if he comes near me. Get Ren or Sarelle. At least, they are trying to understand."
Hankura nodded and turned to the med read out. He read down the list and pressed a button. A small drawer opened. It held a small yellow dot. He lifted it carefully on the tip of his finger and turned back to Chelle. "I'm going to give you a sedative. It'll help---for a while anyway." He pressed the dot to her throat near her jugular vein and then traced a finger along her hollow cheek. I'll take care of you She-ell. Don't worry about anything---don't think about any of it. Think of better times. It's going to be all right, love. I know it doesn't seem that way now, but someday it will be.
Someday, he might even believe that.
"What's the matter with her?" Paltrin blocked Hankura's path in the corridor outside the treatment room.
"You're a pervert, and she doesn't like perverts." Hankura hissed through clenched teeth. "I don't like them either, Lieutenant. Stay away from her. I'll take care of her surgery myself. Ren and Sarelle will assist. And yes, I know the regs. I don't give a damn." He paused, and his eyes narrowed as he picked up on Paltrin's unspoken insults. "I've been called worse you bleeping sludge leech. Chelle has been through enough without your perverted fantasies. You upset her again, and I'll make you wish you hadn't."
Paltrin's gaping look would have been laughable if Hankura weren't so angry. He brushed past the Med-Tech and hurried toward the lift tubes at the end of the corridor. He and Chelle were to be quartered on the third level.
Hankura needed to refresh himself before he went back for Chelle's surgery. He didn't really feel up to it, but he'd promised. Some high energy wafers and a couple of stims would keep him going until he took care of her.
Merciless barbarians! If only he could have made his escape sooner . . . If only . . . If only he could have kept his promise---the one, he made after he found Chelle and learned what Berke's men had done to her back on Earth. He'd vowed never to let anyone hurt her like that again. He went to jail on Aledus for preventing Theron from raping her. Theron was a Normal; the Enforcers called it assault because Hankura was a Psion. It didn't matter. Hankura kept him from hurting Chelle.
But he couldn't stop the Tregans from hurting her. No, she didn't blame him. They would have killed him had he tried before the time was right. She didn't blame him. Nobody could blame him more than he was blaming himself. Mother of Life---what they did! Again and again.
Hankura stumbled into his quarters, closed the door, and then slumped into the nearest chair. Two tears slid down his face, and a sob tore at his throat. It didn't matter that he couldn't keep it inside anymore. There no one could see his weakness. Hankura wept unashamedly as he hadn't since he was a child. He wept for Chelle's pain and his own, and he wept for his friends who had died until no more tears would come.
Then he wished for a stiff drink. He finally got up and shed his ruined uniform, shoving it down the refuse tubes. He crossed the bleakly furnished cabin and stood before the mirror on the shower closet door. He thought about whether or not to depilate the beard that covered the lower half of his face.
After examining his reflection for a few moments, he shook his head. Maybe another time. Right now, the beard only served to remind him of all the things he had lost. He pressed for depilatory crème and rubbed it vigorously into his beard, then plunged into the hot shower. He emerged from the closet, clad in a towel. Extracting three high energy wafers from the dispenser on the wall, he unwrapped one and popped it into his mouth. He also took two stim-dots from the med-case beside the dispenser.
Munching on the other wafers, one at a time, he peeled back the foil on the med-dots and pressed them to the back of his left wrist. Each one left a tiny red blotch that would fade in an hour or so. He got dressed while he waited for the stimulants to take effect. The uniform was his size, the size stated in his service record, but it fit loosely. He'd lost more weight than he thought while he was imprisoned. The fit didn't matter much to him just then. The uniform was clean.
Soon as he felt his strength returning, he headed back to sickbay to find out which surgical cell was available for Chelle's surgery. Hankura ordered a full neural block to render her unconscious without poisonous anesthesia. It was the only way he could concentrate on the surgical procedure without the sensations of her turbulent emotions to cloud his judgment.
In that state, Chelle would be totally helpless. She only allowed it because of her complete faith in Hankura.
Sarelle and Ren were more receptive to his telepathy than he expected, and the surgery went smoothly even though he'd never worked with them before. With the psionic rapport, Hankura maintained, they worked in a finely tuned harmony without cumbersome speech to slow things down. The operation took less than an hour. When they finished, Chelle was given a biotic healant and more nutritional supplements to help her heal and regain her strength quickly. Her body would heal in two or three days. All of the visible scars would disappear.
Too bad the emotional scars couldn't be erased as easily, Hankura wished. Of course, there was selective mind wipe or drug-enhanced psychotherapy. Both treatments were tricky with high-level Psions. It could be more traumatic than what they'd already suffered. They needed to find a safe, warm place where they could rest and heal. For most people, that would be a place called home. Not for Hankura. Because he was a Psion, his home world was neither a safe nor warm place. Until now, he hadn't thought much about Aledus in a long time
CHAPTER NINE
Diversions
Commander Sager's plans to delay debriefing of the Searching Star crew had been changed by the Admiral at Kena Starbase. He received orders the day after he rescued the survivors to begin debriefing them as soon as possible. Captain Beras suggested he delay it as long as possible to give his crew a little time to rest and recuperate.
Sager stalled the admiral for two days before he was forced to commit to a date to begin the hearings. As a result, Hankura found himself assembled with the other Searching Star officers and key personnel in a large conference room aboard the Kena Warrior a few days later. The group was seated around a long white table in a beige room with only the Federation Insignia imprinted on the wall behind the head of the table. Commander Sager stood in front of the insignia, surveying the people taking their seats at the table in front of him. Hankura looked at them as well.
They were all clean and neatly dressed, even if some of the uniforms fit a little loosely. They looked well rested with no outward sign of their ordeal with the Tregans. Sager clearly didn't relish his position, but he had his orders. Hankura had known him long enough to know that he was a man who followed orders.
Sager raised his hand for silence, then spoke:
"I'm sorry to put you through this after what you've all endured, but Starbase wants as much information on Tregan Tactics as possible. They've hit seven of the newer colonies in this sector, and the Federation is worried that their control may begin spreading toward the ancient colonies---even Earth itself. Only now has Earth begun to show signs of recovery from the devastation of the Procyon Wars. We certainly don't want the Mother world to fall into the hands of the Tregans, now."
/> Tregas had been a backward world for four centuries until a revolution changed anarchy to a totalitarian regime. Fifty years after the rise of that government, the world seceded from the United Galactic Federation. The Tregans began etching out their own empire in Sector Four. To do this, they bred millions of genetically engineered warriors to carry out invasions on the smaller, weaker colonies like Zevus Mar.
As the Tregan war machine grew, the Tregan's expanded their territories to include a full third of Federation Sector Four. Finally, the Federation began striking back---just before the attack on Zevus Mar. Tregas was under Federation Martial Law, and that world would pay reparations for their war crimes and material damages to a dozen worlds. In return for this retaliation, the Federation upper echelon felt they were entitled to every gory detail of the Zevus Mar and other invasions.
As the former Searching Star crew realized what was expected, they became wary and withdrawn. At some points, the debriefing proved nearly as painful as the experiences. Each crew member was to be questioned in detail about his or her experiences throughout the ordeal.
Realizing Chelle would never stand the strain, Hankura objected: "The Federation has no need to subject our people to this kind of humiliation. You people disgust me! You're like a bunch of hungry scavengers, picking our brains for blood and gore descriptions of perverted torture, rape, and murder. You aren't much better than they were; only they didn't hide behind bureaucratic curiosity to torment us."
Hankura paused for a moment to gain better control over his anger. His mind clouded with memories---so many memories that he wasn't always sure which were his and which Chelle’s were or some of his other friends. All of them caused him pain.
After a moment, he spoke again, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You want to know all about it? Then, see how it really was. Feel it."
Then he stopped talking. He pulled their minds into harmony to his one by one and shared his horrifying memories with each member of the council. Hankura made them see the nightmare of watching his friends being slaughtered in front of him. He shared how it felt to be forced to surrender to the Tregan's or watch them kill his wife. He made them feel what he felt through the days of terror and anguish, feeling Chelle's torment---her pain, wondering over and over how long before the Tregans would tire of their sadistic games and just kill them all. Hankura made them feel his helplessness when he was held alone in the damp, dark cell. He'd bloodied his hands more than once trying to escape and stop Stagg and Mograton from torturing his beloved mate. He let them feel only a small part of his grief for it all because he knew it was too intense for them to bear. Then, he released them abruptly from his visions.
"You wanted details?" he demanded, glaring at their shaken expressions one at a time. "Those are the details!"
Without asking permission, Hankura sprang from his chair and stalked from the room. The door slid closed behind him. Quietly, a sandy-haired man rose with silent approval from Captain Beras. He left the room and was hardly noticed after Hankura's flamboyant exit.
The debriefing panel stared in silence for two full minutes, overwhelmed by the magnitude of Hankura's blatant revelations. Sager finally found his voice:
"For those who don't have Hankura's perception, let me tell you that most of my crew has never experienced the kind of torment your people have. Push-button soldiers rarely do. While our inexperience doesn't excuse our callousness; please accept my apology and my sympathy."
Captain Beras stood. "We don’t particularly need your sympathy, Sager. If you want more details, I'll give them to you---Hankura's style if you like. I won't let you put any more of my people through this. The Council will get a regulation report as soon as I've completed it. This kind of debriefing won't help the military defense against the Tregan warriors. There's only one defense against them. Kill 'em!"
"But, I have my orders," Sager protested.
"Do I need to tell you what you can do with your orders?" Beras raised an eyebrow mockingly. "As far as I'm concerned, this meeting's over." Then, Beras, too, stood and walked out. His crew followed.
Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Sager shook his head and sighed. Just what could he say? He didn't blame any of them for the way they felt. Besides, Beras outranked him. Let the Platinum handle him---if they could. Sager grinned wryly to himself. He had his doubts.
Delmran caught up with Hankura in the next corridor. He had slowed quickly after his hasty exit. Delmran joined him at the lift tubes to the gym, sensing Hankura was having trouble deciding what to do next. His feelings were too intense for words.
For an Aledan, you sure like to take chances. Despite Hankura's turmoil, Delmran found an open path into his mind. The whole damn crew will be avoiding you for the rest of the trip after the way you blasted those poor fools in there. That was some performance.
Hankura gave him a stony look. Anal parasites, all of them. He snorted disdainfully. No way am I letting them get to Chelle. They can all get sucked into a black hole for all I care. They have no idea what this has done to her---to all of us. She has barely left our quarters in five days!
I understand, Hankura. But that's not the point. They could bring you up on charges---say you did psychological damage with the force of your telepathy. You have to be damn careful with these Normals . . . Especially those with connections in the high echelon. You've broken more regs since we got here than half a dozen crew men do in a whole tour. You're getting away with it because you're got them all scared ... especially after what you did on Zevus Mar.
But I wouldn't hurt any of them. I know how to touch a Normal's mind without hurting them. If they were upset, they damn well ought to be. I barely touched the worst of it. I doubt they could comprehend what Chelle and I went through.
I know, Hankura. Just be careful---this close to your discharge. Someday, your class A record might come in handy. Hankura was due to be discharged weeks before, but it was held up because of the capture of the Searching Star.
Yeah. You're right of course. I just don't know how to get through this. Fifteen days, only fifteen days and our lives are torn apart. We're both hurting so much that the psi-link doesn't help. Chelle keeps shutting me out. She alternates between anger and denial---won't share it with me ... won't consult the psychiatrist after she read Paltrin. I could break his bloody neck.
I don't blame you. But, give her time---give yourself time. We're all suffering from aftershock. The women got the worst of it, them and a few sweet boys back in our barracks. All but three of those boys are dead.
Hankura nodded. They hurt Chelle, I killed them. It doesn't help, Delmran. I have nightmares and flashbacks. We both wake up screaming. He pivoted and pounded his fist against the white bulkhead. I could kill them a hundred times, and it won't take away the pain.
"You need to take your mind off it for a while. That stupid debriefing didn't do us any good," said Delmran aloud. "I'm not psi-mated like you, but most of those women were my friends---some were lovers. You know how I feel about Chelle. Hankura, we're all connected." He clamped his hand over Hankura's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Why don't we go up to the gym and do a few rounds of competition chackrin? The loser buys the carava."
"Agreed." Hankura pressed to open the lift-tube door. It didn't matter who bought the liquor, Hankura didn't think he could ever drink enough carava to make him forget for long.
Chelle woke slowly in the darkened cabin alone. Sleep had come only with two Number Three sleep-dots that left her feeling groggy. She slid out of bed and padded into the sanitary closet to relieve herself and shower. The reflection of her naked body in the mirror on the door stopped her. Her flaming red hair hung in matted tangles over her shoulders and covering her breasts. It brushed her hips in the back. She was startled at the hollow-eyed stranger that stared back at her, looking even worse than she felt. Hankura had always admired her hair. Often he caressed her skin with it when they made love.
Mograton had wrapped it around her throat and choked her with it
one of the times he'd raped her. Chelle thought she was going to die. Stagg used it to drag her from her pallet. She remembered the time he'd jerked back her head and made her look at him while he threatened to kill Hankura and make her watch. She covered her face and moaned as if in pain. Again, she could almost feel her hair wrapped around her throat, pulled tighter and tighter. Chelle cried out and turned from the mirror. She stumbled to the control panel by the cabin door and summoned a grooming droid.
Hankura and Delmran squared off for their third round of chackrin. Their friendly competition went much as they had expected, as they were fairly evenly matched. Delmran had won one round and Hankura the other. This round was the tie-breaker.
Kick, block, feint, punch, block. Three minutes into the match, neither man had gained an advantage. Then, Hankura suddenly lost his concentration, and Delmran's next kick connected with his cheek. One moment Hankura was standing, and the next he was lying on the floor stunned.
"Damn! Hankura, what happened?" Delmran hunkered down beside his friend in concern. "Are you all right? I never meant for that to connect. Why didn't you dodge, or block it, or something?"
Hankura rubbed the side of his face gingerly. An ugly bruise was already forming. His eyes were filled with pain that had nothing to do with Delmran's blow.
"What is it, Hankura?"
"Chelle," he murmured. "She cut her hair off, her beautiful hair." Hankura's eyes grew bright. "She cut it because what they did to her overwhelmed what we shared."
"Zukhaghm!" Delmran sighed. "I'm sorry, friend. I wish I could take the pain away for both of you. It doesn't seem fair the Tregans didn't suffer more."
Delmran offered his friend a hand and helped him up. "Do you want to go to her?"