3-15-2
Distant avians native to Tau Atrea 3 were the only sound that could be heard above the breathing of the two men. Robert held his lightsaber in a defensive position and focused on his foe, using his free arm to unlatch his pack and let it drop, lightening his weight. Roiling, undirected anger filled his opponent, unsurprising given his reputation.
James Hawk was, like Robert, 21st Century North American. His appearance was primarily Caucasian, with a hint of the Pacific Northwest native tribes in some of his facial structure. His helmet covered what Robert knew to be a head of brown hair shades lighter than his own. They had similar height and fairly similar build.
But any being that could peek into their minds, their beings, could never think them alike. Robert was keeping his calm at the sight of the interuniversal renegade, who like Robert was a beneficiary of the Darglans' remaining legacy, despite Hawk's bloody record as it was currently known in the Alliance. Hawk, on the other hand, seemed ready to burst with angry energy. A scowl crossed his face under the helmet. Silvery metal flowed down from the back of each wrist, hardening into metal blades with a quick shriek. Robert sensed Hawk's wariness, and more importantly, the possibility he might strike just to end the standoff.
Behind him, another form shimmered into view, a Human-looking woman in her mid to late 20s. Her skin was a darkened olive complexion, the kind of tan you found in people from the Middle East. Brown eyes focused on Robert and Hawk. Her dark hair, cut short, was disheveled. She was a little on the short side and had a build that made Robert think of Lucy. Twin blades, the same as Hawk's, were jutting from her wrists. She didn't match any of the profiles of Hawk's known crew. Robert sensed the instinctive anger from before fade, replaced by quiet, and the sense that came from a telepath of fair ability. She wasn't at Meridina's power, but she did have some.
"What are you doing on an uninhabited world at the edge of Alliance space?" Robert asked.
"Same thing you are, I imagine," Hawk answered.
Robert knew from the reports Hawk's mind had newfound defenses against telepathy, but that was against "physical" telepathy. Through his life energy and the Flow of Life, Robert could sense something of Hawk's thoughts and his emotions. Anger rumbled around Hawk's being, making it difficult to sense anything else… but Robert could feel his intentions through that shell of anger. "Let's put our cards on the table," he said. "I'm here to investigate a suspected Psi Corps site."
"It's not suspected," Hawk said. "I know they're here."
"And how would you know that?" Robert asked.
Hawk smiled. "While your Alliance is off playing footsies with eugenicist warlords and feudal tyrants, my people are dealing with the bastards of the Multiverse. That includes Psi Corps and those damned telepath camps they operate."
Robert blinked. "You hit one of the Earth Alliance's re-education camps?!" he couldn't help but demand. Christ, if they think the Avenger was one of our ships…
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Dale," Hawk laughed. "Our ship wasn't involved. They've got plenty of suspects."
Robert had to admit he had few qualms about freeing telepath prisoners who were only held for refusing to join the Corps or go on sense-deadening drugs. But he didn't consider Hawk and his people the best forces for that kind of work. "And now you're here… doing what?"
"Reconnaissance," Hawk said. "I like to get my hands dirty sometimes."
And bloody, Robert thought, suspecting the telepath heard him given her look at him sharpened a little.
"Besides, it's a good training mission for one of my new agents needing evaluation." He gestured back to the woman. "This is Rebekah bat Gurion. She's from an Earth your Alliance hasn't encountered yet. And as you can tell, she's a telepath, and a pretty good one."
Robert nodded to her. "Is there a reason you attacked me?"
"I didn't intend to kill you," she replied. There was some Hebrew in her accent, but she sounded more English than Israeli. "I wanted to see why you were here. I was going to put you to sleep and probe your mind."
"And it's good practice to test you metaphysicals out," Hawk added.
"Thank you for not planning to murder me," Robert said drolly. While Hawk seemed the same simmering bundle of rage as before, he found Hawk's partner in this mission more interesting. She lacked the clear mental issues most of his other operatives had evinced. On the other hand, he felt a deep pain within her. Pain and guilt.
Of course, there was the reason they were present on Tau Atrea. "So you're telling me you came alone, just two of you, to a planet with telepaths that might attack you mentally? I doubt your defenses are that strong. And if they have even one Psi Cop, or something close, your friend here wouldn't be enough to stop them. At best the Corps will kill you with a stroke. At worst…" At worst they send you back to your group as infiltrators mentally-reprogrammed to give them access to Darglan technology. Including the IU drive.
Hawk grinned at that. "They won't live long if they do."
"Oh?"
"We've set our nanites' systems to a neural deadman's switch of sort," Hawk explained. "If either of our bodies are compromised in any way by telepathic attack, the nanites will engage combat mode, take control of the host's nervous system, and start killing any target within a two mile radius before working outward. They'll only stop if the affected brain is restored."
Robert frowned. "And God help anyone innocent in the area?"
"I'm not saying I want it to happen, Dale," Hawk replied. "But I do what I have to. These people don't play around. And if the Corps wants to play dirty with the telepathy, I'll do the same with my nanites. If they don't want to die, they can leave my mind alone. The same with Becca's"
Robert considered his point. I'd say he's insane, but it is a… not completely unreasonable failsafe, from his point of view. I suppose.
"So, give me a reason not to kill you," Hawk said suddenly, his voice angry. Rebekah - or "Becca" as he'd called her - gave Hawk a worried look.
Robert sensed the threat wasn't much of a threat. Hawk's intentions weren't immediately violent, not yet anyway, and his ally seemed completely taken aback by the threat. So he responded with a quizzical look. "Well, for starters, you've repeatedly claimed you only kill bad guys," Robert said. "And even by your standards, I'm not one of those 'bastards of the Multiverse'. So why would you want me dead?"
"Easy. Your people killed some of mine," Hawk snarled. "At Tira. We lost a lot of good people. And you and your precious crew are Goddamned responsible."
Although he hadn't been there, Robert was fully familiar with the Tira Crisis. "You mean you lost good people after you tried to support an attempted genocide," he pointed out. "Your people attacked mine, remember? So you're talking about killing me out of, what, petty revenge? I mean, I wasn't even at Tira. But I've read a lot about it." Robert frowned at him. "You tried to kill a foreign leader struggling to save her people from genocide based on a single report accusing her of rape, then your crew openly joined the group plotting that genocide and used a diplomatic meeting as a cover to launch an attack on our people. You nearly got my friends killed. So maybe I should be the one asking why I shouldn't try to take you in right now."
Hawk answered with a scowl, Becca with a frown that didn't seem aimed at anyone in particular. Robert sensed he'd scored a point and a tender one at that. He also sensed lingering pain. Hawk had lost people he considered allies, friends, when the Avenger was nearly destroyed over Tira. And there was perhaps a little guilt in there, as the Avenger crew had exposed their ship in rescuing Hawk and his girlfriend/partner Helen from the Aurora's brig, leading to much of the damage they'd suffered.
"Tira was our mistake, yeah." It was an admission that didn't come easily, Robert could see. "I thought I could get the Drazi to back off if we helped the Brakiri take over Tira," Hawk confessed. "And the Brakiri weren't talking about genocide, just securing war criminals still at large and replacing the Tiran government. And after we were captured, Tina and the others… they only cared about getting me and Helen out. Tarinak and Tabir insisted the only way was to attack." A bitter look came to his face. "I'll admit we were in the wrong. They lied to us about the situation with Tira and manipulated my friends' loyalty to us. My friends didn't want to see me and Helen in an Alliance prison cell for the rest of our lives."
No matter how richly you deserve it. Robert sensed no deception in Hawk's words regardless. From what he'd read, the Drazi and Brakiri commanders Hawk mentioned were quite capable of what Hawk accused them of.
He felt a thought not his own enter his mind, a voice. James is not the evil man you believe him to be. He has sacrificed much to help people. Robert's eyes briefly glimpsed Rebekah, who was looking intently at him. Please, we are here for a good purpose, do not stop us. We only want to help the telepaths held here.
"We're burning daylight here, and the more time we waste, the more likely those Corps bastards spot us," Hawk remarked. "So how do you want to handle this? Your Alliance wants my head, and you're a big time agent for them now, I hear."
Robert thought on the matter. Hawk was right about the Alliance wanting his head. The Dilgar wanted Hawk's head too, and Robert had the feeling that Warmaster Shai'jhur didn't much care if his neck was still attached to it. By all rights, he should be trying to take Hawk down. Earth C1P2 deserved justice.
But there was the matter of his mission. Given the problems in Earthspace, the Psi Corps putting anything near Alliance space was a potential problem that needed to be seen to. And while Robert had little desire to work with Hawk, and suspected it could be argued a violation of all sorts of laws, he knew he couldn't easily subdue both Hawk and Rebekah and still fulfill his mission. They wouldn't go down quietly and any fight was bound to get noticed, especially with Becca's telepathic abilities being employed. Nor could he let them go about on their merry way. There was no telling what Hawk would do, and how it might complicate Robert's mission.
Whatever his personal desires, Robert knew how he'd have to handle this, while earnestly wishing he'd brought Lucy after all.
"How about this?" Robert began. "Let's have a truce between us. Neither side will attack, subdue, or otherwise do any harm to the other, through action or inaction, until we have both departed this star system. And you will make a promise."
Hawk narrowed his eyes. "Go on."
"You and your friend don't kill anyone outside of legitimate self-defense," Robert insisted. "I'm not going to be responsible for you killing people simply because you have anger management problems."
"Ah. So much for that license to kill, Agent Double-Oh-Pansyass," Hawk remarked. "I suppose you're going to tuck the Psi Corps prison guards into bed too? Give them a sweet good night's kiss on their foreheads so they don't have nightmares about all of the people suffering in their camp?"
Robert ignored the mockery. "Take it or leave it, Hawk."
"Fine, Dale," Hawk answered. "I promise not to kill anyone unless I'm defending myself, Becca, or you." He smiled. "Although knowing the Corps, they'll give us plenty of reasons for self-defense. And that leads to my term." When Robert nodded, Hawk's smile slid away and he said, "If this is a prison camp or an experimentation center, it gets put down. No 'if's, 'and's, or 'but's. We kill everyone involved, get any captives out, and salt the earth on the way out. If you're too squeamish about the killing, I'll let you get the captives while we put down the bastards running the place."
It was an understandable term, at least in terms of shutting down a black site prison or experimentation lab, but Robert didn't trust Hawk's judgement on the killing part. "I'll agree, if that killing doesn't include people who had nothing to do with it. I'm not going to let you murder the janitors or the filing clerks because you feel like it." Robert said, scowling as he did. "And we only deal with the place if we can feasibly do so on our own. I've got a mission, and it doesn't involve suicide." Sensing Hawk's imminent protest, Robert added, "If it is something like a prison camp or experimentation black site, I'll call and the Alliance will send the Marines in."
Hawk spent several seconds weighing that reservation before nodding. His blades returned to semi-liquid state and flowed back into his wrists. Becca followed suit "Fine." Hawk walked up and offered his hand. "Alright Dale, it's a truce then."
"I'll hold you to it," Robert said. He raised his hand and tried to hold back revulsion at taking Hawk's. There was a lot of blood on that hand.
"The sentiment is mutual," Hawk replied, shaking hands with him. "Now, let's see what the Corps is up to."
In the as-yet-unnamed infiltrator's equipment and cargo bay, Lucy and Talara sat across from each other, wearing nearly-sleeveless cream-white vests under sleeveless brown tunics with loose, cream-white trousers. Their eyes were closed and each was in a state of meditation, allowing their minds to settle and the life energies within them to connect to the Flow of Life. Lucy sensed Robert a distance away and could tell he was irritated beyond words. She refrained from trying to reach him, just in case something of such a connection might be detectable to telepaths.
Of more importance was Talara. Her energy still felt off-balance. Lucy could feel remnant anguish in her. The sounds from the battle for Germania echoed in Talara's mind. Lucy reached for that anguish and did what she could to soothe it. That is the past, Talara, she thought gently. You can let it go.
There was so much death, her student replied. So much suffering. And that place had so much darkness…
I know. Lucy felt a pang of guilt. I am sorry, Talara. Whatever reasons or justifications I might have for having brought you with us, I caused you injury. I can feel the wound on your mind, the shadow of the stress of that place.
Talara's reply was not in words, thoughts or spoken, but in the longing within her. She wished for the peace of Fala again. The gentle sound of the birds in the Royal Gardens of the Regent's Palace, the laughing children in the great parks of Kelana, the capital of the planet. The soothing roar of the Coran Falls...
Lucy had to agree that the Falls were lovely. That they were named after the fussy man working for Princess Allura? The juxtaposition was hilarious.
I have a duty. Those words filled Talara's mind, trying to push away that longing.
Including to yourself, Talara, Lucy responded. To master these arts and be the Knight you wish to be, you must understand your own needs. Including the need to be at peace within yourself.
My teacher, that is odd for you to say. You never seem to be at peace.
Lucy smiled at that, her eyes still closed. Peace is different for all of us. Right now I am quite at peace. She projected that idea to Talara. Peace is a state of being. For you, it can be found enjoying the beauty of living things. For me, it can be from the satisfaction in a technical problem solved. And I know you enjoy alleviating the suffering of others as much as I do. Quietly Lucy projected to Talara the sentiment she'd felt the last day of fighting on Germania, when Talara had tried to use her nascent abilities to aid the wounded. Lucy had to admit Talara had more of a gift for healing with the Flow of Life than she did. And it was clear she enjoyed it. We both get peace from this.
The recalled sentiment did settle Talara somewhat. I believe I understand. A moment passed. Lucy, our training lately… you have only rarely trained me with the blade for several weeks. Is this because you do not think me capable of learning to use a lightsaber?
On the contrary, Talara. You show potential. A wry smile came to Lucy's face. More than Robert, in fact. But I wanted to ground your training in ways to make you heal from the scars to your spirit. You're pretty sensitive to the feelings of others, and Germania left wounds that weren't the least bit physical. Your healing is the priority, so meditation and sensing the Flow of Life is our focus for now.
From Talara came understanding. They both went silent afterwards, allowing them to focus entirely on the serenity they sensed within the Flow of Life.
The truce held through the crucial initial hour as the group continued on through the forest, moving around trees and other obstacles as needed. The air was still cool but growing warmer. It wouldn't be beach weather, certainly, but it would be comfortable.
Robert thought on the differences between his two erstwhile allies. He sensed the brimming, endless anger around Hawk with ease. That anger seemed to behave as a shield, keeping Robert from easily determining other emotions or feelings buried within.
His compatriot… was not so. He did feel some remnant anger from her, but it wasn't hard to guess the origin of it. Not with the pain he felt as well. As they walked along he finally turned his head and asked, "So, what kind of Earth are you from? Space-faring?"
"Interplanetary only," she replied. "22nd Century."
"Hrm. No superluminal drives yet?"
She shook her head.
"I'm guessing you're Israeli?" When she said nothing he remarked, "You look that way, I mean. And your name is classic Hebrew. 'Rebekah, daughter of Gurion'."
Again, there was no response. Robert detected no frustration at his questions, simply a decision to not speak.
"Leave her alone, Dale," Hawk said. "She's been through enough crap in her life, she doesn't need you bugging her."
"I'm just trying to make conversation. I could ask the same of you, really," Robert pointed out. "Our analysis indicated you're from a late 20th or early 21st Century Earth, the same as I am."
"It doesn't matter," Hawk insisted. "I'm not interested in conversation or getting to know you, Dale. Let's stick to the job and get it done."
Robert considered a few witty or amusing things to say, but he didn't. They did have work to do, after all, and angering his erstwhile allies wouldn't accomplish anything toward that.
As the three approached the compound, they activated their respective personal cloaks, shimmering from view. Even if an unseen camera were to point toward them, nothing would be visible to any watcher.
At least, in theory.
A distance away, in a monitor room, two bored individuals were staring at fiber optic camera feeds of the nearby forest. It was the easiest job in the compound, but also the hardest; no physical labor, just the need to constantly watch nothing and make sure that said nothing did not become a something.
The catch was that the two watchers were telepaths, and their idea of watching was not quite the same as a non-telepath.
"Don't you feel that Samara?" asked one.
"Jordan, you're just being jumpy."
"I'm telling you, there are minds there. Shielded."
An exasperated sigh was the instinctive response, but given the genuine nature of the first speaker's feelings, the second glanced toward the monitor too. After a moment of concentration she nodded, she was the stronger of the two and now that she knew what to look for... "Damn, you're right. There are people out there, including one of ours." A hand went to a comm link. "Doctor, we need you. There's someone in sector three."
Approaching under cloak was something Marines and security teams trained hard at, since visual gear that allowed for seeing cloaked allies might be rendered unavailable. The necessity was obvious: if you couldn't see your ally, you might walk or run into them, trip them, or some other thing that would complicate your ability to function. In this case, the lack of training together was off-set by the trios' special talents. Robert knew where Hawk and Becca were from his expanded senses while Becca seemed to be at least somewhat aware of Robert's position and provided it telepathically to Hawk as they moved along through the alpine forest.
The compound itself was in a large, wide clearing, easily large enough to accommodate a town of thousands in the middle of a wide river valley. One of the large secondary rivers of said valley ran along the eastern edge of the compound, providing a source of natural water. They approached from the western edge. Some logging equipment was around, indicating a minor operation that probably only cut down a few trees a day. The gravel footpath linking it to the compound provided them an avenue right up to the gate.
Robert surveyed the wall itself with his omnitool. It was made of a gray-surfaced metallic material, a specialized alloy according to his sensors, consistent with materials used in Earth Alliance construction. But it was immediately evident this was not a prison camp wall. There were no guard towers, no weapon emplacements. It seemed to be more of a colonial fort, the walls meant for protecting the settlement within from wildlife.
"This doesn't look like a prison," he said in a whisper. At the mention of the word he felt a shudder of revulsion and pain in Rebekah, enough to tell him what he would likely find in her personal history.
He sensed trepidation and a hint of uncertainty from Hawk. "Yeah," came the whispered reply. "It's nothing like that camp we hit." He started to move. "Let's go see what we're dealing with."
Robert considered the idea for a moment. Could he get what he needed without risking an entry? The answer quickly came to him: no, no he could not. They needed to see what was inside. And he was still not certain he could trust the renegade to keep his temper in check, nor that Hawk's ally would be able to do it, so he needed to follow if just to make sure Hawk didn't harm anyone.
As he walked forward toward the gate, he had a small sense within himself, as if he were being watched. He stopped long enough to assure himself there was no danger present before continuing on.
Gene Hendriks removed himself from the eyepiece of a fiberoptic periscope and grimaced. “They have a mutual-defense pact. Or more of an armed truce. Almost worse, he brought a telepath with him and she’s been… enhanced.” Gene was most displeased. The arrival of James Hawk had seriously complicated matters.
“What do you mean by enhanced?” Colin Meier asked. “Like, Vorlon enhanced, or cybernetic limbs enhanced?”
“Like Hawk is; combat nanites. Captain Dale is one thing, he’ll listen to reason, but Hawk is a fucking maniac. He could go off the rails at any time. I think Becca or Rebekah is the telepath’s name, and she seems like...well I don’t know what she’s doing with him but she seems like a kind person at heart. Don’t know how long that will last inside Hawk’s crew though.”
The other Psi Cop gave Gene a wry smirk and spoke. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“Yeah yeah I know. You wrote the white papers on both of them.” Gene replied in a long-suffering tone that didn’t have any actual resentment in it. Colin didn’t earn his PhD by doing underwater basket-weaving.
“And you were reading through my eyes as I did it. Hawk is a maniac, but he’s a madman with a purpose. He can be reasoned with, or at least it’s worth trying. Besides, if we kill him, the adults in the room might become somewhat problematic, and in either case their allies would investigate and wouldn’t give us the benefit of the doubt. Hawk’s allies in particular are…” Colin paused to find a word and chose two. “...volatile and unhinged. We’d have to leave, and quickly.”
“Alright, you still want Max along for this one?” Gene asked, uncertainty on his voice and upon his mind.
“Yes. It’s about the only way we can guarantee getting through to Mr. Hawk. I’ll go get him and meet you at the blast door.” Colin replied, before reaching out to take both of Gene’s black-gloved hands in his. “We’ll get through this. We always have before and if Hawk attacks without provocation, I’m pretty sure Captain Dale would help us deal with him on principal.” Gene managed a chuckle.
“Yeah. He’d definitely rather be slapping Hawk in irons and hauling him back to Alliance space for trial right now.”
The trio approached the compound gate carefully. There were still no life signs. Robert didn't sense anyone nearby, but he could feel life here. Human life. "You're good with electronics, as I recall," he said to Hawk.
Although Robert couldn't actually see it, a bemused look crossed the other man's face. "Maybe," he said, "but it's not my training mission. Becca, this is all yours."
She walked up and brought her gloved hand up to nearly touch it. Silvery, almost liquid material flowed from the small gap between Rebekah's glove and her suit, composed of the nanites that filled her body. Becca's nanites covered the control beside the hand scanner on the panel, seeping inside and taking control mechanically. Visually, given her cloaking device was active, the control panel simply seemed to become covered in silver material. Through her neural link she directly accessed the functions of the gate. Overriding the security systems took her time, more than she'd intended, but finally she finished her work and the gate opened. The silvery material flowed back into Becca's suit and body.
On the inside was the old colonial compound. It showed signs of abandonment and being left to the elements, but only some; it was clear that efforts were being made to restore it. Rust had been cleared, paint refreshed. There was a feeling of rejuvenation about the place.
Robert consulted his omnitool. "Still no life signs. There is an underground element to the complex, near the center."
"Underground prison?" Hawk speculated.
"It doesn't seem big enough," Robert answered.
"Unless it's for just a few prisoners."
"Then why refurbish the whole colony? This place… it's got too much life to be a black site prison for just a few high profile captives." Robert breathed in and considered the spirit here. He did feel anxiety, some fear, but also a sentiment of… perhaps not hope, but determination. "It feels like something else is going on here."
"Let's find the entrance then."
The three started walking toward the center of the complex along a paved footpath, flanked by buildings in various stages of construction or refurbishment. To the naked eye nothing was there given their cloaks were engaged. There was, however, nobody to see them, it seemed. No life signs, no…
Robert stopped as they approached the central structure. It was only one storey high and, unlike the other structures, made of metal and not quite at the center of the settlement. He could feel them now. Minds, on the other end of the blast door ahead. Hawk glanced his way. "Trouble?"
"I don't think so," he said. "No hostility. Worry, though. And..." He felt it, like a great mental exhaling. A choice, resignation to its outcome, readiness for the worst.
They have made a choice, Rebekah stated to everyone else
Just as Robert said, "Here they come," the door slid open. The space inside was well-lit, backlighting three figures as they emerged, two side-by-side in unison, another slightly behind and seemingly being shielded by the other two. As they stepped out from under the shelter of the entryway, three men came into easy view. The one on the left was slightly shorter, with an athletic build and black hair. The other was slightly taller, slightly larger, with a close-crop of something that could be a sandy blonde. The individual in the back was older with hair the color of steel partially covered by a kippah. All three of them wore black, with black gloves and the silver-on-copper badges of the Psi Corps, though the two in front wore the unmistakable uniforms of Metapol. They were Psi Cops, both carrying side-arms, but with hands clearly visible and pointedly away from their weapons.
Robert heard the metallic shriek of Hawk's nanite blades and held an arm up. "No," he insisted in a whisper. "They have no hostile intent."
Hawk gave him a skeptical look. He is correct, Becca assured him mentally behind her shields. With her support Hawk relented. His blades slid back into the back of his wrists.
“Captain Dale is correct. We really would rather not fight you. But if you make us, we won’t shrink from it. I’m Dr. Colin Meier, a forensic psychologist with Metapol. We can all sense your minds, we could fight you hand to hand if we had to even cloaked. You might as well be visible.” Colin spoke in an accent that was vaguely european, hints of German, French, and something Slavic touched various syllables. As if to prove his point, he changed position, closing off a possible avenue of approach to the older gentleman behind him. His diction was clipped, he was trying very hard to remain calm.
Robert considered the greeting. He reached a hand to his belt and disengaged his personal cloak, wavering into view. "Doctor Meier," he said politely, after which he glanced to the empty space where he knew Hawk was standing. "He's right, you know."
A moment later Hawk wavered into view. Becca did as well.
“Thank you. I would first like to assure you that this place is not a prison camp or an experimental facility. It is something else entirely, and not a threat to your Alliance or, I hope, it’s interests.”
"Then what are you hiding in a place like this?" Hawk demanded.
“A refugee camp.”
The cool mid-morning air was broken by the sound of laughter. Robert glanced back to Hawk with a look of some confusion, while Hawk smiled and continued laughing for a moment. Finally it ended with him asking, "You came out here, all the way to the edge of Alliance space, and brought all of this stuff just to build a refugee camp?" Incredulousness was thick in his voice and words.
Robert took a moment to consider what he felt before insisting, "There's no deception from them. He's telling the truth, or at least what he thinks is the truth."
Hawk turned to Becca. "They're stronger than me," she said, "but their blocks aren't hiding intent. Captain Dale is correct."
"Hmph," was the only reply Hawk would give.
“Clearly, one is supposed to build a refugee camp in the middle of hostile territory where non-combatants will be under threat from the the enemy, and with no provisions for long-term habitation whatsoever.” Colin replied, dripping with derisive sarcasm.
“Besides, if this were really a black-ops site, we would have already fragged your minds,” the other one said on Colin’s heels in an accent that sounded like it was from the Northwest or Pacific Northwestern United States.
Robert felt the anger spike at the apparent threat. Hawk's wrist blades came back out in silvery streaks. "Try it," he said, voice heated and in clear challenge. "Touch my brain and everybody in this compound dies."
Robert felt the thoughts surge to the top of Hawk's being, the thought of the "failsafe" setting of his nanites. Those were thoughts that the Psi Corps members couldn't help but pick up on.
Colin looked at his partner with an affectionate version of a ‘not helping’ expression. The other man returned it with a sheepish look. Sorry. I really don’t like him.
I know… but right now I’d rather not risk the capability of that failsafe…
Robert whirled on Hawk. "Stand down," he demanded, his expression determined and his eyes glaring at his "partner". "This isn't self-defense, and I don't have to remind you of our terms."
Hawk returned the glare before the blades once again became silvery fluid that seeped back into his wrists.
Neither telepath moved through the entire exchange, but their eyes narrowed on Hawk, and Robert could feel something, like a hammer poised to strike. He turned his attention back to them. He eschewed his physical senses for the senses gained from his connection to the Flow of Life. He felt the presences of the telepaths there, especially that of the two Psi Cops. They flowed about and around each other, thoroughly intertwined. Robert nodded once. "Would you mind introducing your spouse, Doctor Meier?" he asked.
Hawk raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Ah, yes! My apologies. That was rude of me. This is my partner Gene Hendriks, yes, both senses of the term.”
“Hello. I didn’t actually intend to make you feel threatened Mr. Hawk, I meant that comment literally. We’ve been using optical means to observe you for a while. We could have killed you with no risk of your failsafe.” Gene followed up, but he still had a psionic Sword of Damocles ready in case Hawk suddenly snapped.
Which is why I felt like I was being watched, Robert thought. "I thought someone was watching, but you've done very well to hide your presence," he said. And with no hostile intent, so it didn't make me feel like I was in danger he added mentally, not particularly worried about hiding the thought from them.
Of course not. Though I admit we seriously considered killing Mr. Hawk. But that would have caused problems so, here we are. Colin said into Robert’s mind. He might still make us. We’ll find out.
"The Corps allows gay men to marry?" Hawk asked, sounding bewildered. "What about that eugenics program you people have going on? Breeding more powerful telepaths for the glory of the Corps?"
“Those laws are inflicted on us by mundanes.” Colin answered with particular loathing. “We had to internalize it somehow in a century and a half. As for us, the law specifies that any pregnancies must have a substantial likelihood of producing children of at least the rating of the strongest parent.”
“We’re a loophole. No pregnancy, no problem.” Gene finished for Colin “Though we do both contribute to the next generation through sperm donation.”
"Given how paranoid the Earthers of this universe are about telepaths, I'm surprised they want stronger ones," Robert remarked. He looked past them to the older gentleman in the kippah. "Shabbat shalom," he said to him. Becca, for her part, merely said, "Shalom."
“Shabbat shalom” the older man replied. “I’m Max Cohen, Psi Corps Legal Division, attached to Metapol. You’re in luck, it actually is a Friday here. Otherwise I’d have to correct you and that would be awkward."
"Rabbi Soloveitchik always warned me to be careful about that," Robert said amiably. "Any correction would have been gladly accepted."
“I imagine it gets difficult to keep track of with so many universes. Holidays must be completely mishegas.” Max rejoined cheerfully.
Robert chuckled in reply to that. "It's something we've all been getting used to. It's not easy to have 19th Century people living on a planet at the start of the 21st, then everyone swaps over to the 27th for the official Alliance calendar."
"So much for the lunisolar calendar...To answer your question, it isn’t so much that they want stronger telepaths as we’re just too useful to have otherwise. The Earth Alliance was born in a global war, it doesn’t forget its roots.” Max supplied, and nobody could miss Becca's instinctive revulsion of the term "global war". “Plus, we found our own reasons.” Robert felt a deeper passion in what Max was saying, a zeal for his mission and cause.
Robert glared toward Hawk a moment before Hawk could say what he was thinking, a thought about the rogues who didn't want to be compelled into a breeding program. "I understand the thought, but have you ever heard of diplomacy?"
"Get out of my head, Dale," Hawk said. "And diplomacy, isn't that where you sell a bunch of worlds down river to eugenicist warlords? Maybe now you want to have tea with your new Psi Corps buddies instead of working."
A look of resignation crossed Robert's face. He looked back to Max and the others. "As you can imagine, I've been sent to find out the nature of this place," he said to them. "Mister Hawk here is apparently doing the same."
"We know.” Colin said. “Come on in, we’ll show you around. We don’t have anything to hide here.”
The three men led Robert, Hawk, and Becca through the blast door. The top level of wherever this was seemed to be a combination of an office area and a control room for their protective surveillance center. A Psi Corps sigil was on a couple of the walls and etched onto one of the larger chairs, but other than that it seemed like a fairly normal work area.
A trip down a side corridor led them to a reinforced alloy blast door of even greater thickness. Beyond this were a set of stairs that led to an armored hatch that reminded Robert of images of nuclear bunkers. He sensed the recognition flicker through Becca at the sight of the hatch. Colin triggered the hatch to open, revealing metal stairs beneath.
By this time Robert could feel the lives below. The senses he'd felt before, anxiety, a little fear, determination, all were present, as was some curiosity. As they descended the stairs he felt Hawk tense. He was still considering this a likely trap, though there wasn't one.
The stairs led to a clearing room. Beyond was an obvious mess hall, with tables and plastic chairs and the lunch line. Robert spied replicators built into the wall opposite the lunch line.
“Ferengi.” All three telepaths said in synchrony before Robert could say it.
"And they wonder why we won't sell them the IU drive plans," Robert said.
“We don’t. Our agent who dealt with Quark happens to be a woman. I’m told the rest of his species is… worse.” Colin remarked.
So much Male Gaze. Gene thought, rolling his eyes in disgust. Our agent took shameless advantage of it of course, but I’m told she burned the dress afterward.
Robert blinked at the name. The bartender from DS9? I wonder how he got mixed up with extrauniversal trading.
“His cousin is a weapons dealer. Owns his own moon.” Gene said. In addition to the replicators, posters lined the walls. Some of them were distinctly martial or patriotic. One of them had a man, an older gentleman with Turkic features in a black suit wearing the badge and gloves of the Corps. He was pointing leftward. In the background was another man this time more stylized and in partial silhouette holding a torch against a background of stars. It read “The Future is Our Liberation!” Another poster was almost large enough in length to be a mural and had many people of all colors and a kaleidoscope of modes of dress, all holding hands on a background of a flags with the greek letter Psi. Its text read “We Are Stronger Together!” in a multitude of languages. A third depicted a telepath cowering before the raised fists of a mundane, with another telepath interposed herself, a shining pulse of light rising from her head. “What Hurts One Hurts All. You Are Your Brother’s Keeper.”
The posters over by the lunch line were far more prosaic. One of them showed a young telepath resolutely turning aside an offered extra serving of cake in favor of brussels sprouts “A Healthy Body Keeps a Strong Mind!”. A second encouraged telepaths to exercise through a pleasant montage of fun activities painted in vivid but slightly abstract watercolors.
"No room for the 'Big Brother is Watching' posters?" Hawk asked pointedly.
"They're at least more interesting than the kind of posters I saw in public school," Robert said. "Although they do look familiar." He also got the impression that they were far more important to the three telepaths than their mere meaning. Just looking at them made all three both happy and sad, like a bittersweet memory.
The artist was a friend. Was all Colin said. But friend didn’t exactly convey the full meaning. The look on Becca's face was particularly pained. She knew full well what drove those bittersweet feelings, and it brought up memories of loss for herself.
“There’s no need for those.” Gene replied to Hawk in irritated tones. “The art style is flagrantly stolen from the former Warsaw Pact nations. We’re commonly thought of as fascists,” he practically spat the word like it left a vile taste in his mouth, “but we’re actually syndicalists in practice. The posters are part social messaging, part century-old in-joke, and at this point they’re something of a cultural thing. It’s just what we do.”
“You should see the sculpture…” Colin remarked “It’s magical. We prefer bronze or copper, obviously.”
"Communists instead of Fascists. I feel so much better already," Hawk muttered sarcastically.
“Syndicalists, different thing.” Max corrected him “The Corps is basically one giant cradle-to-grave union. We modeled ourselves off Israeli Kibbutzim.”
The three Corps telepaths felt the rush of thought and memory from Becca at the term, glimpses of a happy place and childhood memories. Robert felt loss and pain ripple through her being, even if facially she was keeping a neutral expression.
They moved past the mess hall into the rest of the bunker. Robert could make out rooms with desks, although not many, that made him think of classrooms. Another area had beds and medical equipment - an infirmary - and there were storage rooms as well.
The big double doors ahead opened as Colin stepped up to them. Beyond the doors was an upper level, a balcony floor overlooking a large, fully lit chamber.
Inquisitiveness, curiosity, anxiety, fear, it all hit Robert as he approached the railing where Colin was standing. He looked below to see neat lines of bunk beds, three high, of plastic frames with dark comforters and white sheets. Across the chamber, groups of people were gathered, in great or small concentrations, with children milling about with frustrated energy. All the colors possible to Humanity were represented in the crowd below. Heads turned toward them, some looking at the new arrivals continually while others eventually returned to whatever business they were doing. Robert felt their emotions just as he felt Hawk's surprise. This is… not what I expected.
It’s alright. You’re safe. Colin said to the lot of them non-verbally.
Captain Dale, if you let Hawk make a liar out of my husband, I will kill you just after Hawk. Gene said.
Robert glanced to Gene at that and nodded. If I let him hurt these people without dying first, I'd deserve it.
You do not need to worry, Rebekah responded. James will not harm civilians.
It took a bit of will for Robert to not remind her of what happened to the civilians on Earth C1P2, but he bit back the remark. The awkward expression that came to her face told him she'd still sensed the remark as a thought.
“We had to evacuate the entire population of Omega VII, plus a few high-risk individuals from other worlds. We did a bit too well making Omega VII a decent place to live after the Civil War.” Colin said. “Dealt with a serial killer, a slavery ring. Started rebuilding schools that got expropriated after we got kicked off planet. We found every blip who needed help and got them food, training… safety. Every child. I mean every child off Sleepers. Then rogue telepaths started hitting us. We could stop them at first but… with EarthGov actively hindering intelligence gathering it was impossible to stop them forever and we had to leave our home.”
Robert nodded. Damn you Lyta, he thought. Why couldn't you have just gone to the Free Colony and lived in peace like I asked?
Because she’s fucking insane. To use a professional term. Colin thought back. The really sad part is that when I knew her, she was always so kind… A mental image flashed into Robert's mind of a small child around the age of six or seven being pushed on a swing by an older girl with fiery red hair.
"I'll be damned," Hawk muttered.
Robert refrained from echoing a sentiment that the likelihood was good Hawk already was damned. "You clearly didn't want anyone to find you," he said. "That's the only reason I'm down here, isn't it? Better me than a military force coming down."
“Basically. You we can reason with, but the two of us can’t stay here forever. We’re here to get the defenses set up, and get everyone trained in community defense. Then...” Gene paused, considering. “Your Alliance already knows about the fleet so fuck it. We’re joining up with our ground forces. Most of our old support staff is already with the fleet in some capacity.”
Robert felt a certain feeling in Colin as he spoke, echoed in Gene, a common concern inside of them. The reference to ground forces made him look to Colin. "This place… it's big enough for a larger population than this," he noted. "The compound too. You can house over three times the telepaths you have now if you needed to. If you've got replicators, you could even expand the compound. These aren't the only people who are coming, are they?"
“No. It’s not. We're getting more ourselves. And there are others, but that information is compartmentalized. I don’t know where they all are. None of us do. That way, if one is compromised, we don’t lose everyone.”
"A system of redoubts," Hawk said. "Fortresses for your civilians. Over a few bombings? I didn't think you Corps types scared so easy."
Robert knew he had a point, but he let their hosts answer.
“No,” Max replied angrily. “The bombings we could handle even if the recent one on Mars killed twenty thousand innocent people. We haven’t seen an organized terrorist underground like this since 2189, but we know how to deal with it. What we’re moving our civilians for is worse”
Robert felt sick as he picked up the thought coming from Max. The word in it. The related imagery, which felt exceptionally strong in Max's mind as if he'd lived it himself. "That's what this is all for, isn't it?" he asked. "What you're facing now."
“Genocide, yes.” Max replied. “Again.”
Becca paled at the word. Robert sensed guilt and fear inside of her.
For a moment Robert gave no reaction to Max confirming his thoughts. The instinctive one was a mental denial that it would be permitted to happen. The Alliance won't stand for it. Sheridan won't either. We'll move in, we'll stop it…
...unless Sheridan allows his distrust of the Corps to hold him back too long. Unless Pensley screams about military radicals provoking wars of intervention and Davies and Hawthorne howl about Earth's populace "defending itself" from telepathic tyrants, and they delay our efforts… and any delay could kill millions...
Another's voice came into Robert's mind. We have no faith in Sheridan, he’s a bigot and a god-damned war-criminal. Metapol fought with him in the Shadow War, he helped us rescue a hundred telepaths who were rigged into a mind-machine interface to become CPUs in Shadow ships. During the Civil War, they smuggled thirty those same telepaths - medical patients - onto Loyalist ships over Mars. They disrupted ship systems, allowing Sheridan to bypass that fleet. Every last innocent telepath died. Colin mindcast back at Robert.
Lyta said about the same thing, but she didn't mention that, Robert thought. Did they consent, could he…
No was the only response he got back, replete with disgust. And Lyra collaborated.
Robert thought about Lyta's comment to him, how Sheridan had used her and thrown her away. The comparison of Sheridan to Maran he'd held in his head cracked slightly. Maran would never do something like this. Never.
Telepaths as weapons… A cold anger came from Becca, an anger that had to come from personal experience.
Hawk gave her an intent look although, unlike her, he was not privy to this telepathic conversation. There was clear sympathy in it. Next he looked at Max with utter bewilderment. "What in the hell are you talking about?" Hawk demanded. "Are you telling me you believe Earth's actually going to genocide its telepath population?"
“They have before. What the hell do you think these badges are?” Max replied dryly.
"A marker to say you're a good little Psi Corps drone," Hawk replied immediately and quite sarcastically. A little too immediately, Robert felt, as if he wanted to avoid the question. Or as if he already knew the answer.
All three telepaths stared at Hawk, dumbfounded. Colin glyphed a mental image to Robert of a man dodging bullets labeled ‘the point’ by bending over backwards underneath their arcs in slow-motion.
"You know what he's saying, James," Becca said in a hollow voice.
"They're yellow stars," Robert said, beating Max to the punch. "Yellow Stars of David, just like the Nazis forced Jews to wear." He gave a cautious look to the still-pale Becca. "So that the group you're persecuting 'can't hide'. To Otherize them, make them easier to hate." And then the Nazis exterminated them. Almost completely in one universe. Robert had the random thought about how Arik Shaham would respond to this when they next spoke to each other.
There was a moment when Hawk nearly argued about it. But beneath the roiling anger that seemed to permeate his being, Robert felt his mind process those facts and come to the same conclusion. His expression turned dour. "Great, more evil bastards to kill," he muttered.
Max sighed. “Look, our relationship with mundanes has always been… very bad. However, when the director of the Psi Corps endorsed Clark in the 2258 election, in our name, it broke the charter. Our social contract with mundanes that secured our existence after the last paroxysm of mass killing.”
Robert nodded. "They started seeing the Corps as part of a fascist government, reinforcing stereotypes."
"Well, the Corps endorsed Clark," Hawk remarked. "Given what he did, I can see why people are pissed off about it."
“No” Colin fired back. “First of all, by that point they were already voting in a fascist vice president for a second term. It was the mere perception of our engagement in politics that did it. Under the charter, we must be politically neutral. No political speech, we can’t even vote.”
Just like… Robert sensed Becca cut off the thought before she could complete it.
“The director isn’t a telepath. He’s a mundane. York was appointed for life by the Senate and he’s a dictator in his own right. He can have any one of us killed without due process of any kind.” Max added. “He endorsed Clark in our name, without consultation, knowing what that meant.”
"You're a ghetto as much as an institution," Robert said. "And he's the SS officer assigned to watch over you."
Not an exact analogy. Every incarnation of fascism has its own national flavor, but it’s close enough for corporate work. Max replied in Robert’s mind.
Hawk said nothing, but Robert felt remaining skepticism. He could, to a degree, understand it. Hawk had seen Psi Corps as its worst, and at its most powerful, the operators of what was essentially a part-concentration camp, part-re-education camp for telepaths who resisted the laws, who refused to join the Corps. To think that the same people operating said camps were themselves the targets of an imminent genocide?
“We’ve been planning a revolution for a while, Mr. Hawk. In secret, even from most of us, ever since the charter was signed. It’s one of the reasons we’ve accepted the eugenics program. The price for our lives has been every right of sapient beings. We just haven’t been ready. We still aren’t. I can show you what happened last time, if you’ll let me.”
Robert nodded in consent, feeling the honesty in Max. Hawk was clearly mulling the offer over for a moment before nodded quietly. There was a confidence in him; if anything, he was certain the Psi Cops wouldn't risk the lives of their charges by trying to attack him mentally. Not with Becca ready to protect him and the failsafe a threat. When Max looked to her, she shook her head, as if she already knew something of what he would show her.
Max closed his eyes, and projected memories into both of their minds, memories that were every bit as real to him as his own. In one, a six year old girl was shot in the abdomen and thrown into a shallow pit after p’hearing the mindscreams of her own mother and brother’s deaths, the nauseating open-and-shut sensation of souls departing the mortal coil. Somehow, she managed to dig herself out and crawl to the shelter of a nearby Catholic church where the priest dragged her inside.
In another memory, a mother watched and experienced-by-proxy her own children being torn apart by dogs.
In yet another, a young man who’d managed to escape watched from a treeline as telepaths held at gunpoint were tied together and thrown into the the Danube River weighed down by a concrete slab. He felt their minds in panic, then slowly, one by one, he felt them subside; punctuated by that mindscream and open-shut sensation.
Memory after memory, over and over again. There were dozens of them, every last one of them telepaths and almost all of them Jews. But there was one more he added at the end. One Colin had transferred to him. A pair of Hyperion-class heavy cruisers in Psi Corps colors; the PCS Fenrir and its sister ship the PCS Sleipnir. He showed them the associated memories too, of Psi Corps ships seizing a slaver vessel, rescuing those inside, and throwing the perpetrators out airlocks. Of those same ships crippling and boarding a Narn G’Quan-class heavy cruiser to interrogate and then execute the crew and find where those same telepaths were to be taken. Then, finally, finding the experimental station and liberating every telepath from Omega VII who was still alive when they got there. The collective grief of two Psi Cops and forty marines, mourning the ones they couldn’t save, whose souls they could still feel traces of in the lab equipment and box of human ashes they retrieved for burial. None of the victims had even been twenty years old.
Memory by memory, and they added to those Robert already had of evil and depravity. The concentration camps in Nazi space, the mass graves, all of the horrors he'd seen during those early years in the Facility. They were, if anything, a reminder of why he'd taken up this life, why he'd agreed to this duty and all of its dangers. He could even understand the fury that led to the spacing of the slavers, though he likely would not have done it himself.
"You're a repository," he said to Max, his green eyes shining with tears. "You chose to carry these memories as if they were your own."
“Yes. It’s something particular to the Jewish community within the Corps, though I know of a few others who’ve done it along family lines and I suspect other despised ethnic groups have as well. We volunteer for it, even though it gives us PTSD. We don’t all do it, not even most… but we make sure that there are enough that it can’t ever be forgotten. I added those last ones because… well, we have been planning that revolution for a long time.”
“After a hundred and fifty years of hatred, oppression, and death; we’re better prepared than we’ve ever been but we’re still outnumbered a thousand to one.” Colin followed up, and reached down to grip Gene’s hand.
“We’re not dying on our knees. Not this time.” Gene’s voice was as hard as steel.
Robert nodded in understanding, fully comprehending the scope of Max's sacrifice to be a living witness to past horrors. Beside him, Becca's eyes were focused on Max with admiration.
Robert's attention to Max was drawn away by a sudden feeling he felt nearby. A powerful, overwhelming source of raw empathy for suffering. Robert turned his head and faced Hawk. He stared in astonishment.
Hawk… was weeping.
He wasn't sobbing or crying. No sounds came from his throat. But his tears streamed steadily down his face, following the curvature of his cheeks and the ends of his mouth before disappearing from view where his faceplate ended just above his chin. From within the constant din of anger that Robert always felt around Hawk, empathy and sorrow were flowing out, as if the memories Max shared with them had broken open an emotional dam around the man's soul. It was astonishing to think of a man who seemed half-mad with rage, constantly ready and eager for violence, suddenly moved to quiet tears from seeing the suffering of others.
But it was there. It was genuine. Whatever his crimes, whatever his behavior… Hawk cared. He cared about the pain of others, and he wanted to stop it, any way that he could.
Just like Robert felt.
It was astonishing to think they had that in common.
The irony is Colin remarked mentally, As much as Mr. Hawk makes us nervous, we can sympathize with that rage. We’ve had to stop each other from indulging it more than once. But Friedrich Nietzsche had some things to say about that… Hawk… he needs to turn away from the abyss. Right now.
Colin took a small communication device out of one of his pockets, tapped it awake and entered a code; then slid a touch-screen slider from a deep blue up the visible spectrum to orange. “I’ve reduced our alert level. Now our little settlement can come to life again.”
Around the bunker people began to move as the change in the alert level was announced by designated members of the community broadcasting a telepathic all-clear. Some made their way to the doors leading out of the bunker sleeping area. Others remained, either still in conversation or waiting for the others to go first, and some of the children still seemed more interested in whatever games they were playing than leaving.
“If you want, stay for a while; get to know us, all of us. I understand that Bester was the first Psi Cop you met, right?” Colin asked.
"He is," Robert answered. "And you might say he left an… impression."
Colin winced and rubbed the back of his neck in an uncomfortable gesture. “Yeah, I could give you a detailed breakdown of his psychology but suffice to say, he isn’t the best man for ‘first impressions’.”
Understatement of the year… Gene remarked.
Feeling Gene's sentiment as well as hearing Colin's remark, Robert laughed.
Life was returning to normal for the new residents of the formerly-abandoned Earth compound. Many went to work on the refurbishment project, restoring the buildings abandoned two decades before by the failed colonists, or to working on the settlement's farm plots along the river.
Watching the latter was Becca, seated on one of the rest benches provided for those doing the work of sowing. The view of people working together to plow and sow brought back memories of her childhood in the telepath kibbutz. Those had been happy memories.
Unfortunately, not all of those memories were happy. The kibbutz was gone. She remembered the day the end came. The alarms, the children rushed to evacuation hoppers, the view from the windows as flames consumed all that she'd loved in her childhood….
She heard footsteps behind her, not approaching with any stealth, if anything they were overly loud precisely so as not to startle her. The mind behind the footsteps wasn’t shielding itself as much as it could have either and she recognized it as Colin Meier, who sat down next to her.
“This brings back memories, for you, doesn’t it?” he asked.
She nodded quietly. "Yes," she said. "On my homeworld, the telepaths in Israel had their own kibbutz, not far from the coast. That was where I grew up."
“Our Jewish telepaths have some of their own, mostly in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. Max was raised in one. I take it things didn’t turn out well?”
"United Earth collapsed. Israel was on the side of the Reformists. Some of our neighbors were not. They attacked first. My people fought to the bitter end to ensure the children of Israel could escape to Europe and America."
Colin winced and she could feel his genuine grief for her and her people, who he considered his own. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. The Earth Alliance made first contact with the Centauri just before it collapsed in the same way. We were unspeakably lucky.” he considered something then spoke after a brief pause. “Is that how you ended up with Mr. Hawk?”
Becca laughed bitterly and shook her head. "No. Not exactly. That came many years later. I was just a child when I saw the kibbutz for the last time. Burning." Becca kept some of her mental blocks up, she had to, but it was not as easy as she thought it would be. Whatever that camp had been like, this place reminded her so much of her childhood that she found herself longing to just lower everything and let all of these minds in. "Everything seems to burn with me around, honestly."
“That isn’t your fault Becca, none of it was. You didn’t start the war. You were a child, and whatever happened later, it wasn’t as if you were the one giving the orders to commit mass murder, was it?”
"Everyone says that. The rabbis, the counselors, my foster parents. The army therapists when I was conscripted into the United Earth army." Becca breathed out. "They were all very kind. Even the army people, to whom I was a useful weapon more than I was a person."
“They all say it because they’re right, I know strictly speaking that’s a logical fallacy, but in this case it happens to also be true. What could you have done, Becca? Is there anything you could have done that would have stopped it?”
"Undoubtedly nothing, unless I am cursed. Then not being born would have helped." She laughed bitterly. "It is the humor of the Almighty, I suppose, that your world's telepaths have fared better as legal recording devices than my own. On my world telepaths were either deviant threats to be killed, weapons to be used, and for some, human beings. But only some. Israel was but one of a few nations to pass telepath civil rights legislation before the War. There are those who said they only did it so we would be fully eligible for conscription, but that is unkind. If still possibly true."
“It may be.” Colin replied. “I don’t know how history differed between our respective Earths. In ours, Israel and Germany, New Zealand, and a few other nations resisted the laws that oppress us. At least for a while. The governments also tried to suppress the killings. That said, I don’t believe for a second that you’re cursed and… if you want, you’re welcome to stay. I won’t force you, but we consider all telepaths to be family. That includes you.”
"If you knew more about my life, you might reconsider," Becca replied.
“No. I wouldn’t. No matter what your life has been, no matter what you’ve had to do. I, and we, might reject the things you’ve done but we’ll never reject you. Not any telepath.” Colin dropped his mental defenses to nothing but the bare minimum to let her know his thoughts; and Becca knew he was being absolutely sincere.
It had been so long since Becca had a peaceful connection to another telepath that she was tempted, sorely tempted, to open her mind as well, as a cold fugitive in a snowstorm might be drawn to a cabin emanating a warm glow. But in the end she denied herself that comfort. She knew things about the Avenger's operations that she couldn't risk being exposed, even with Colin being sincere. And if the nanites registered his mental presence as a trigger for the failsafe...
Colin caught the hesitation and nodded. “It’s alright. I won’t press. I’ll admit, I’m professionally curious, but I’m not here to gather intelligence. If you don’t feel comfortable I’ll respect those boundaries. I just wanted to let you know the option was there, and it stands.”
"Thank you for your offer. But aside from everything else… I have obligations."
“I can understand those.” Colin agreed “I have a large number myself. Still, try not to let them consume you. From what I’ve seen of one James Hawk, that is a...concern.”
"Earth C1P2 was… not planned," Becca said. "I was not there, but I know this. Because of it, nobody understands what he is. The good that he's done. They call him a war criminal without knowing the many he's saved."
“I can empathize with that, really. I mean, I do live inside a community that is similarly reviled, and undeservedly. But I’m not talking about that. Not what he’s done. I’m talking about him. He’s...well without going into the anatomical details, he’s burning himself at both ends and it’s damaging him. Badly.”
"You don't say," said Hawk. He approached them from the wall of the compound. His eyes went from a hard look at Colin to a softer one for Becca. Still, both telepaths could feel the simmering anger that permeated his mind. "He's not bothering you, is he?"
"He is not, James," she replied softly. "He is trying to be kind."
"Yeah. He's the kind type, I'll grant him that." Hawk turned his attention back to Colin. "So, you're sharing something with the class?"
“I feel like I should, yes. Mr. Hawk, I should preface this. My specialty is analyzing brain damage to determine the effects of that damage on the mind of a victim and then to determine why the person who caused the damage chose that particular line of attack.” Colin said. “Would you care to sit?” He scooted over on the seat enough to let Hawk sit down if he wanted.
"I think I'll stand," Hawk answered.
"He's not going to hurt you, James," Becca said. "I can tell that much."
Hawk seemed to consider that for several seconds before sighing and taking the accepted seat. He crossed his arms in mock expectation. "I'm guessing you're about to tell me I have brain damage." He said the latter term in what seemed an attempt at comedic pronunciation, invoking Cosby.
Colin ignored his flippancy. “So you’ve been told before… Mr. Hawk, you have headaches, all the time. Sometimes a dull ache, sometimes full cluster-headaches. You also experience extremes of emotion that swing rapidly sometimes within minutes or even seconds, triggered even by relatively slight emotional stimuli.”
Becca said nothing. She didn't need to. The sorrow in her brown eyes turned to worry as she looked to Hawk.
The symptoms couldn't be denied honestly. "The doctor on the Aurora showed me a light show of my brain once. He said similar things," Hawk admitted.
While Hawk didn't say anything further, Becca was already thinking of the same thing. The brainwave infusion technology the Darglan had developed as a teaching tool. It was clear said tech was only meant to quickly teach basic information, allowing training to focus on advanced use of the concepts imparted, but Becca was well aware that Hawk and the others used it for more. And fairly often. She'd had two herself.
“As well he should have.” Colin replied, concern evident in his voice. “If he hadn’t tried, I would be making a formal complaint to the Alliance’s medical licensing board. Mr. Hawk, will projecting an image into your mind trigger the nanites?”
"No," Becca answered, following several moments of silence.
“With your permission?” Colin asked, at this point he was treating James Hawk like a patient and not as a potentially hostile maniac. “I can show you perhaps a bit better than a ship’s medical officer.”
It was clear Hawk's initial reaction was refusal. But Becca prodded him mentally and he exchanged a look with her. Finally he rolled his eyes and nodded. "Fine. You can project images safely. Just don't try to override my visual senses, that might set off the failsafe."
“I won’t. It’ll be an overlay on your visual field, a bit like augmented reality. Additional stimuli, not a takeover.” Colin said, and Hawk saw something that looked a lot like a hologram. Not of his brain, but as a diagram of his emotional regulation processes. Boxes were labeled as parts of his brain like ‘prefrontal cortex’, ‘hypothalamus’, and ‘amygdala’. Each one had bands that crisscrossed back and forth between them. The part labeled as the prefrontal cortex looked like it was beaten to hell, and the outgoing ribbons looked frayed.
“This is the system that regulates your emotions. Emotions like fear and sadness are generated in the amygdala.” The amygdala box flashed. “Rage in the hypothalamus. Other emotions are generated by both, and happiness…” Another little box labeled the precuneus flashed. “All of those are fine. The problem is, while they are generated there, the prefrontal cortex and dorsolateral prefrontal cortex regulate them, and those… those are being damaged, as are their outgoing projections into the rest of the brain. Without them functioning properly, your emotions run unchecked. The rest of your brain doesn’t get the signal to calm down, to not be afraid, to not be angry, to let you function through sadness.”
"And what does that have to do with a machine downloading information into my brain?" asked Hawk.
“If I had to guess, that machine is the cause. I’m no expert in Darglan tech, but presumably the Aurora’s doctor is.” Colin shrugged. “I would defer to their judgement. What I can tell you is that whatever it is, this is progressive. It’s not so bad that telepathic psychosurgery can’t help. We can reroute around the damage and restore some function. But if you wait too long, the damage won’t be reversible. I’m not saying it has to be me or anyone here if you don’t trust me; but you should find a telepath you trust and who is skilled in those techniques. Soon.”
"Huh." He glanced toward Becca.
"I'm not strong enough," she said. "I'm just a strong Tier 6. You'd need a Tier 9, probably a 10." For Colin's benefit she mentally glyphed a comparison of the Psi scale her world had used to his own. She was, to him, a strong P7 nearly to P8. T10s were P12 equivalent, 9s were P10 and P11, 8s were P9s and 7s P8s.
“Becca is right.” Colin agreed. “It’s delicate work that requires a lot of control and fine-scale resolution only particularly powerful telepaths can manage. You might be able to get away with a particularly skilled P9, on our scale. No one else will risk it if they have any professional and ethical judgement.”
Hawk was silent. Instead of responding, he stood up. It was clear to both that he didn't want to hear this. That he was, in fact, terrified that they were right, as even now a severe headache was hammering away at him.
"James, he's not wrong," she said. "I can see enough. Every time you've used that machine…"
"We need to," he said. "You know why." With no further words, he walked away.
Colin was horrified. He’d just laid out how Hawk was slowly not just killing himself, but erasing his own ability to be a person, and Hawk had just...dismissed it like it didn’t matter. Colin was ready to die for what he believed in, for the people he cared about, for twelve million others; but he wasn’t willing to put who he was on a sacrificial altar. It was madness.
"He heard you," Becca said quietly. "And he is afraid you are right. But he doesn't want you to be. He…" She drew in a breath. "The Multiverse is full of injustice. He and the others fight to stop it. They want to avenge those harmed by the unjust. The infusions… they help us keep an edge over some of the more powerful forces we've been fighting."
“Becca, you’re not going to help anyone if you destroy yourselves trying. Dying is one thing, but that… it’s actively counterproductive. He’s going to go off half-cocked like he did at Tira because he physically won’t be able to do fact checking before flying off the handle. It’s already started. He’ll cause more injustice than he solves. If you’re doing those infusions as well, you need to stop. Please. For your own sake if nothing else.” Colin was completely earnest and visibly worried not just for the people of the multiverse, but Becca personally. It was written all over his face and his thoughts he wasn’t bothering to shield.
She felt those thoughts and smiled sadly. Slowly tears formed in her eyes. "It is kind of you to worry about me. But I do not believe I deserve it." While keeping her mental blocks over the vital things, memories came to the surface. Memories of brutal battles, of shredding minds in self-defense, of telepaths she'd been forced to kill… and that horrible feeling that she didn't deserve to survive where so many of those she grew up with didn't.
P’seeing those memories, it was Colin’s turn to weep. She’d been through what no living telepath had, except in transferred memories. How Max kept going with those he’d never know. He’d gotten Zara treated for things for survivors guilt, but that was still in the early stages before everything set in for her. There was one thing he did know with absolute certainty: Becca did deserve to live. Every telepath did.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of in living Becca. As I recall, it’s the first unwritten commandment of Judaism. Live.”
Her reply was a simple nod before she stood. She said nothing, glyphed nothing, but her intent was clear; to see more of this place, and to have a chance to think on what he'd said. Colin watched her go. He only hoped she’d take things under advisement.
Think she’ll be okay? Gene asked from somewhere unseen.
I hope so. I’m afraid Mr. Hawk might just have doomed himself though. Colin replied.
The population of the re-colonized compound returned to their daily business as if they'd barely been interrupted. Robert walked along the footpaths of the compound and observed as they went about their work for the day. Some were busy refurbishing and restoring the old colonial buildings from the initial colony, others were putting up new structures using a combination of Earth and extrauniversal materials and practice. Since he was not an actual telepath Robert sensed their emotions, their feelings, more than their thoughts. Some were upset, some were simply getting on with things, and some… were actually enjoying themselves. He noticed one Indian woman in a Psi Corps suit with a sari who seemed rather happy with whatever duty was leading her to move along the footpath perpendicular to his. She noticed his attention and he nodded to her amiably. She nodded back with the same intent.
He continued on and nearly ran into a familiar-looking orb rushing through the air before turning a corner. It took him a moment to recognize it as similar to the one Lucy gave him for practicing deflection with his lightsaber. Moments later children ran up, giggling, in hot pursuit of the floating orb. As they passed, however, they all directed their attention to him, as if his presence was more interesting than their pursuit. He felt their curiosity acutely, and he certainly didn't need abilities to notice their eyes starting to focus on his belt and the lightsaber hilt dangling there. He felt a thought ripple through them and they ran on, eager to resume searching for their mechanical quarry. It was almost like a game of hide and seek mixed with tag, if one had a toy to do the hiding part.
Telepaths playing hide and seek… it must be completely different from how things worked back home. Of course, living on a farm meant most games of hide and seek devolved to hiding in the barn or the house, maybe under a car. He thought of the time Susanna hid under the combine and freaked their parents out. A small, sad smile came to his face.
And then… he felt something peculiar. His head turned in time to see a jet-black bird that looked like it might be a common crow, and definitely not native fauna, perched on the roof of a house still under construction. The creature was staring at him intently. He focused ever so slightly and sensed a presence through the Flow of Life, intermeshed with the bird. Not like Colin's and Gene's essences had been, but rather as if someone were gently directing the bird remotely through a connection.
Of course, now that he'd sensed this control, it was easy to follow it back to the controller. He turned and walked down a different footpath, finding himself approaching one of the refurbished structures. It had a Psi Corps emblem on it marked with the words Cadre Administration and Classroom Support. Inside a man was looking over a digital reader, a lesson planner.
He turned from that building and approached the corner of the next, another house, feeling the essence of his watcher even as, yes, the bird was in flight and following him. He smiled and said, aloud, "I know you're there."
“Drat. Markus, you’re not living up to your namesake… We need to work on your field-craft.” came the high-pitched voice of a little girl as she stepped out from around the corner. She looked up at the crow who had since landed on a windowsill. “In fairness to you, Markus Wolf has big shoes to fill.”
Her apparent age was hard to gauge, but she wasn’t yet a teenager. Robert guessed at somewhere between ten and twelve, of Southeast Asian extraction with fine black hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a black turtleneck and a functional dress of black denim, but unlike many of the other children her age, wore black gloves in addition to the badge.
“Hi!” She greeted Robert cheerfully. “I’m Zara, you must be Captain Robert Dale, you seem saner than the other one.”
"Well, I don't have a severe anger management problem, for one, although I am often told I have an unhealthy fixation on heroism," Robert answered, smiling. "So do you spy on people with crows for fun or…?"
“Yes and no. I mean, I do spy on people with crows for fun, but this time it’s business. They didn’t ask, but I figured my dads might want someone to keep an eye on you and make sure you didn’t get into or cause any trouble.”
"Ah. So you're an adopted daughter of Dr. Meier and Mr. Hendriks."
“Yep!” She confirmed “Last year they cleaned out a slaver ring on Omega VII. They found me. My biological parents…” she trailed off, leaving that part unspoken but Robert could feel the hurt and sense of betrayal even though she kept her actual thoughts locked behind mental barriers. “It took a few weeks for the Corps to arrange transport to Geneva and by then, well… I had new better parents.”
Both them, and the Corps. Objectively I came out ahead on that score...
Robert got down on one knee, given their height difference. His eyes lowered. "I've seen that sort of thing enough in my life," he confessed, remembering every time he and his friends had found children held as slaves or captives for one reason or another.. "I'm sorry you went through that, and happy that you found something better. That's all I've ever really tried to do. Help people find something better."
“It’s alright. It sucked then, and I mean really sucked, I was in therapy for a long time but in the end analysis I’m better off than I ever would have been otherwise. Well, except for the whole ‘mundanes have engineered a telepath-killing virus to enslave us with dependence on the treatment’ thing. That got put down with extreme prejudice, again, late last year.” Zara’s tone was that of a child, but underneath that, she was a kid but most emphatically not a child. It wasn’t her intellect, which Robert could tell from her behavior and through the Flow of Life was razor sharp, but from life experiences that no one went through with their innocence intact.
Robert's brow furrowed at that. "Now that I didn't hear about."
“You wouldn’t have. If that got spread widely the revolution would have kicked off last year. Every month of delay increases our readiness state and improves our odds.”
"You know an awful lot about this for someone your age," Robert noted. "But I can see why." Did Meier and Hendriks tell her this? Someone else? No… no, I think she figured it out for herself at first. At least, that was what his senses were telling him. She hasn't had a proper childhood at all. Not that I blame her Dads. Christ, things here are messed up.
“Your instincts are… accurate. My dads don’t believe in withholding information from someone old enough to ask the question. Not unless their safety or that of others is at stake. Neither does my uncle. I… kinda forced my uncle’s hand while I was still in Geneva. Figured out the broad strokes on my own.”
Robert chuckled at that. "You are a bright girl. Although you can probably tell how much it disturbs me that you're not getting to enjoy anything like a normal childhood."
“Yeah…” She confirmed regretfully “It’s funny, because I am still a kid. I still make-believe and do all the normal things. Granted the bedtime stories are a little bit different for me because I read at a collegiate level. But then, well...” She actually transitioned her facial expression into a thousand-yard stare intentionally “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate…”
"Blade Runner," Robert said. "My friend Tom's favorite movie growing up." He smiled wryly. "Mostly, I think, because of the girl with the snake."
“I prefer Scanners for fun, but Blade Runner speaks to me and has better quotes. Though the sequel... it’s almost too close to reality on an emotional level.” Zara replied with a wan smile.
"I never saw the sequel. Actually, I don't even remember one coming out," Robert replied. "But it might not have happened on my Earth yet. It might never, now that the Multiverse is around…"
A bell started ringing nearby, drawing their attention. The direction was clearly from the school.
“Looks like Mrs. Saunders is ready for classes to start up again. Nothing cancels classes. Nothing.” Zara declared, and she definitely approved of the dedication to education shown by the Education division. “I’ll get you a copy of the Blade Runner sequel, but before I go… Please don’t let Earth find out about this place. EarthGov is corrupt enough that even if they don’t come in force, someone will.”
Robert couldn't help but feel the fear in that statement, and it was an earned one. He tried to give her reassurance with a small smile. "We're not exactly on the best of terms with EarthGov ourselves these days. Partly for the same reason the Corps' not happy with us, I admit. But you don't have to worry. I'll make sure of it."
“Thanks!” and there, the tone was definitely that of a happy kid. Zara turned to leave but as she did, she glanced back at Robert.
The Psi Corps isn’t mad at the Alliance just… disappointed. We know your intentions are good you just... didn't get the full picture. Zara paused inside her head. I might have peaked at a white paper or four.
He gave a slight nod and watched her go. As she stepped into the classroom with other children, he quietly thought to himself. There was more to this telepath issue than we thought… Bester, is this what drove you to be such a cold bastard? The weight of this? Or is it an excuse for you and those like you?
Uncertain of the answer, Robert started walking again. Whatever the issue with the telepaths, he had another matter to deal with.
Hawk.
James Hawk was, like Robert, 21st Century North American. His appearance was primarily Caucasian, with a hint of the Pacific Northwest native tribes in some of his facial structure. His helmet covered what Robert knew to be a head of brown hair shades lighter than his own. They had similar height and fairly similar build.
But any being that could peek into their minds, their beings, could never think them alike. Robert was keeping his calm at the sight of the interuniversal renegade, who like Robert was a beneficiary of the Darglans' remaining legacy, despite Hawk's bloody record as it was currently known in the Alliance. Hawk, on the other hand, seemed ready to burst with angry energy. A scowl crossed his face under the helmet. Silvery metal flowed down from the back of each wrist, hardening into metal blades with a quick shriek. Robert sensed Hawk's wariness, and more importantly, the possibility he might strike just to end the standoff.
Behind him, another form shimmered into view, a Human-looking woman in her mid to late 20s. Her skin was a darkened olive complexion, the kind of tan you found in people from the Middle East. Brown eyes focused on Robert and Hawk. Her dark hair, cut short, was disheveled. She was a little on the short side and had a build that made Robert think of Lucy. Twin blades, the same as Hawk's, were jutting from her wrists. She didn't match any of the profiles of Hawk's known crew. Robert sensed the instinctive anger from before fade, replaced by quiet, and the sense that came from a telepath of fair ability. She wasn't at Meridina's power, but she did have some.
"What are you doing on an uninhabited world at the edge of Alliance space?" Robert asked.
"Same thing you are, I imagine," Hawk answered.
Robert knew from the reports Hawk's mind had newfound defenses against telepathy, but that was against "physical" telepathy. Through his life energy and the Flow of Life, Robert could sense something of Hawk's thoughts and his emotions. Anger rumbled around Hawk's being, making it difficult to sense anything else… but Robert could feel his intentions through that shell of anger. "Let's put our cards on the table," he said. "I'm here to investigate a suspected Psi Corps site."
"It's not suspected," Hawk said. "I know they're here."
"And how would you know that?" Robert asked.
Hawk smiled. "While your Alliance is off playing footsies with eugenicist warlords and feudal tyrants, my people are dealing with the bastards of the Multiverse. That includes Psi Corps and those damned telepath camps they operate."
Robert blinked. "You hit one of the Earth Alliance's re-education camps?!" he couldn't help but demand. Christ, if they think the Avenger was one of our ships…
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Dale," Hawk laughed. "Our ship wasn't involved. They've got plenty of suspects."
Robert had to admit he had few qualms about freeing telepath prisoners who were only held for refusing to join the Corps or go on sense-deadening drugs. But he didn't consider Hawk and his people the best forces for that kind of work. "And now you're here… doing what?"
"Reconnaissance," Hawk said. "I like to get my hands dirty sometimes."
And bloody, Robert thought, suspecting the telepath heard him given her look at him sharpened a little.
"Besides, it's a good training mission for one of my new agents needing evaluation." He gestured back to the woman. "This is Rebekah bat Gurion. She's from an Earth your Alliance hasn't encountered yet. And as you can tell, she's a telepath, and a pretty good one."
Robert nodded to her. "Is there a reason you attacked me?"
"I didn't intend to kill you," she replied. There was some Hebrew in her accent, but she sounded more English than Israeli. "I wanted to see why you were here. I was going to put you to sleep and probe your mind."
"And it's good practice to test you metaphysicals out," Hawk added.
"Thank you for not planning to murder me," Robert said drolly. While Hawk seemed the same simmering bundle of rage as before, he found Hawk's partner in this mission more interesting. She lacked the clear mental issues most of his other operatives had evinced. On the other hand, he felt a deep pain within her. Pain and guilt.
Of course, there was the reason they were present on Tau Atrea. "So you're telling me you came alone, just two of you, to a planet with telepaths that might attack you mentally? I doubt your defenses are that strong. And if they have even one Psi Cop, or something close, your friend here wouldn't be enough to stop them. At best the Corps will kill you with a stroke. At worst…" At worst they send you back to your group as infiltrators mentally-reprogrammed to give them access to Darglan technology. Including the IU drive.
Hawk grinned at that. "They won't live long if they do."
"Oh?"
"We've set our nanites' systems to a neural deadman's switch of sort," Hawk explained. "If either of our bodies are compromised in any way by telepathic attack, the nanites will engage combat mode, take control of the host's nervous system, and start killing any target within a two mile radius before working outward. They'll only stop if the affected brain is restored."
Robert frowned. "And God help anyone innocent in the area?"
"I'm not saying I want it to happen, Dale," Hawk replied. "But I do what I have to. These people don't play around. And if the Corps wants to play dirty with the telepathy, I'll do the same with my nanites. If they don't want to die, they can leave my mind alone. The same with Becca's"
Robert considered his point. I'd say he's insane, but it is a… not completely unreasonable failsafe, from his point of view. I suppose.
"So, give me a reason not to kill you," Hawk said suddenly, his voice angry. Rebekah - or "Becca" as he'd called her - gave Hawk a worried look.
Robert sensed the threat wasn't much of a threat. Hawk's intentions weren't immediately violent, not yet anyway, and his ally seemed completely taken aback by the threat. So he responded with a quizzical look. "Well, for starters, you've repeatedly claimed you only kill bad guys," Robert said. "And even by your standards, I'm not one of those 'bastards of the Multiverse'. So why would you want me dead?"
"Easy. Your people killed some of mine," Hawk snarled. "At Tira. We lost a lot of good people. And you and your precious crew are Goddamned responsible."
Although he hadn't been there, Robert was fully familiar with the Tira Crisis. "You mean you lost good people after you tried to support an attempted genocide," he pointed out. "Your people attacked mine, remember? So you're talking about killing me out of, what, petty revenge? I mean, I wasn't even at Tira. But I've read a lot about it." Robert frowned at him. "You tried to kill a foreign leader struggling to save her people from genocide based on a single report accusing her of rape, then your crew openly joined the group plotting that genocide and used a diplomatic meeting as a cover to launch an attack on our people. You nearly got my friends killed. So maybe I should be the one asking why I shouldn't try to take you in right now."
Hawk answered with a scowl, Becca with a frown that didn't seem aimed at anyone in particular. Robert sensed he'd scored a point and a tender one at that. He also sensed lingering pain. Hawk had lost people he considered allies, friends, when the Avenger was nearly destroyed over Tira. And there was perhaps a little guilt in there, as the Avenger crew had exposed their ship in rescuing Hawk and his girlfriend/partner Helen from the Aurora's brig, leading to much of the damage they'd suffered.
"Tira was our mistake, yeah." It was an admission that didn't come easily, Robert could see. "I thought I could get the Drazi to back off if we helped the Brakiri take over Tira," Hawk confessed. "And the Brakiri weren't talking about genocide, just securing war criminals still at large and replacing the Tiran government. And after we were captured, Tina and the others… they only cared about getting me and Helen out. Tarinak and Tabir insisted the only way was to attack." A bitter look came to his face. "I'll admit we were in the wrong. They lied to us about the situation with Tira and manipulated my friends' loyalty to us. My friends didn't want to see me and Helen in an Alliance prison cell for the rest of our lives."
No matter how richly you deserve it. Robert sensed no deception in Hawk's words regardless. From what he'd read, the Drazi and Brakiri commanders Hawk mentioned were quite capable of what Hawk accused them of.
He felt a thought not his own enter his mind, a voice. James is not the evil man you believe him to be. He has sacrificed much to help people. Robert's eyes briefly glimpsed Rebekah, who was looking intently at him. Please, we are here for a good purpose, do not stop us. We only want to help the telepaths held here.
"We're burning daylight here, and the more time we waste, the more likely those Corps bastards spot us," Hawk remarked. "So how do you want to handle this? Your Alliance wants my head, and you're a big time agent for them now, I hear."
Robert thought on the matter. Hawk was right about the Alliance wanting his head. The Dilgar wanted Hawk's head too, and Robert had the feeling that Warmaster Shai'jhur didn't much care if his neck was still attached to it. By all rights, he should be trying to take Hawk down. Earth C1P2 deserved justice.
But there was the matter of his mission. Given the problems in Earthspace, the Psi Corps putting anything near Alliance space was a potential problem that needed to be seen to. And while Robert had little desire to work with Hawk, and suspected it could be argued a violation of all sorts of laws, he knew he couldn't easily subdue both Hawk and Rebekah and still fulfill his mission. They wouldn't go down quietly and any fight was bound to get noticed, especially with Becca's telepathic abilities being employed. Nor could he let them go about on their merry way. There was no telling what Hawk would do, and how it might complicate Robert's mission.
Whatever his personal desires, Robert knew how he'd have to handle this, while earnestly wishing he'd brought Lucy after all.
"How about this?" Robert began. "Let's have a truce between us. Neither side will attack, subdue, or otherwise do any harm to the other, through action or inaction, until we have both departed this star system. And you will make a promise."
Hawk narrowed his eyes. "Go on."
"You and your friend don't kill anyone outside of legitimate self-defense," Robert insisted. "I'm not going to be responsible for you killing people simply because you have anger management problems."
"Ah. So much for that license to kill, Agent Double-Oh-Pansyass," Hawk remarked. "I suppose you're going to tuck the Psi Corps prison guards into bed too? Give them a sweet good night's kiss on their foreheads so they don't have nightmares about all of the people suffering in their camp?"
Robert ignored the mockery. "Take it or leave it, Hawk."
"Fine, Dale," Hawk answered. "I promise not to kill anyone unless I'm defending myself, Becca, or you." He smiled. "Although knowing the Corps, they'll give us plenty of reasons for self-defense. And that leads to my term." When Robert nodded, Hawk's smile slid away and he said, "If this is a prison camp or an experimentation center, it gets put down. No 'if's, 'and's, or 'but's. We kill everyone involved, get any captives out, and salt the earth on the way out. If you're too squeamish about the killing, I'll let you get the captives while we put down the bastards running the place."
It was an understandable term, at least in terms of shutting down a black site prison or experimentation lab, but Robert didn't trust Hawk's judgement on the killing part. "I'll agree, if that killing doesn't include people who had nothing to do with it. I'm not going to let you murder the janitors or the filing clerks because you feel like it." Robert said, scowling as he did. "And we only deal with the place if we can feasibly do so on our own. I've got a mission, and it doesn't involve suicide." Sensing Hawk's imminent protest, Robert added, "If it is something like a prison camp or experimentation black site, I'll call and the Alliance will send the Marines in."
Hawk spent several seconds weighing that reservation before nodding. His blades returned to semi-liquid state and flowed back into his wrists. Becca followed suit "Fine." Hawk walked up and offered his hand. "Alright Dale, it's a truce then."
"I'll hold you to it," Robert said. He raised his hand and tried to hold back revulsion at taking Hawk's. There was a lot of blood on that hand.
"The sentiment is mutual," Hawk replied, shaking hands with him. "Now, let's see what the Corps is up to."
In the as-yet-unnamed infiltrator's equipment and cargo bay, Lucy and Talara sat across from each other, wearing nearly-sleeveless cream-white vests under sleeveless brown tunics with loose, cream-white trousers. Their eyes were closed and each was in a state of meditation, allowing their minds to settle and the life energies within them to connect to the Flow of Life. Lucy sensed Robert a distance away and could tell he was irritated beyond words. She refrained from trying to reach him, just in case something of such a connection might be detectable to telepaths.
Of more importance was Talara. Her energy still felt off-balance. Lucy could feel remnant anguish in her. The sounds from the battle for Germania echoed in Talara's mind. Lucy reached for that anguish and did what she could to soothe it. That is the past, Talara, she thought gently. You can let it go.
There was so much death, her student replied. So much suffering. And that place had so much darkness…
I know. Lucy felt a pang of guilt. I am sorry, Talara. Whatever reasons or justifications I might have for having brought you with us, I caused you injury. I can feel the wound on your mind, the shadow of the stress of that place.
Talara's reply was not in words, thoughts or spoken, but in the longing within her. She wished for the peace of Fala again. The gentle sound of the birds in the Royal Gardens of the Regent's Palace, the laughing children in the great parks of Kelana, the capital of the planet. The soothing roar of the Coran Falls...
Lucy had to agree that the Falls were lovely. That they were named after the fussy man working for Princess Allura? The juxtaposition was hilarious.
I have a duty. Those words filled Talara's mind, trying to push away that longing.
Including to yourself, Talara, Lucy responded. To master these arts and be the Knight you wish to be, you must understand your own needs. Including the need to be at peace within yourself.
My teacher, that is odd for you to say. You never seem to be at peace.
Lucy smiled at that, her eyes still closed. Peace is different for all of us. Right now I am quite at peace. She projected that idea to Talara. Peace is a state of being. For you, it can be found enjoying the beauty of living things. For me, it can be from the satisfaction in a technical problem solved. And I know you enjoy alleviating the suffering of others as much as I do. Quietly Lucy projected to Talara the sentiment she'd felt the last day of fighting on Germania, when Talara had tried to use her nascent abilities to aid the wounded. Lucy had to admit Talara had more of a gift for healing with the Flow of Life than she did. And it was clear she enjoyed it. We both get peace from this.
The recalled sentiment did settle Talara somewhat. I believe I understand. A moment passed. Lucy, our training lately… you have only rarely trained me with the blade for several weeks. Is this because you do not think me capable of learning to use a lightsaber?
On the contrary, Talara. You show potential. A wry smile came to Lucy's face. More than Robert, in fact. But I wanted to ground your training in ways to make you heal from the scars to your spirit. You're pretty sensitive to the feelings of others, and Germania left wounds that weren't the least bit physical. Your healing is the priority, so meditation and sensing the Flow of Life is our focus for now.
From Talara came understanding. They both went silent afterwards, allowing them to focus entirely on the serenity they sensed within the Flow of Life.
The truce held through the crucial initial hour as the group continued on through the forest, moving around trees and other obstacles as needed. The air was still cool but growing warmer. It wouldn't be beach weather, certainly, but it would be comfortable.
Robert thought on the differences between his two erstwhile allies. He sensed the brimming, endless anger around Hawk with ease. That anger seemed to behave as a shield, keeping Robert from easily determining other emotions or feelings buried within.
His compatriot… was not so. He did feel some remnant anger from her, but it wasn't hard to guess the origin of it. Not with the pain he felt as well. As they walked along he finally turned his head and asked, "So, what kind of Earth are you from? Space-faring?"
"Interplanetary only," she replied. "22nd Century."
"Hrm. No superluminal drives yet?"
She shook her head.
"I'm guessing you're Israeli?" When she said nothing he remarked, "You look that way, I mean. And your name is classic Hebrew. 'Rebekah, daughter of Gurion'."
Again, there was no response. Robert detected no frustration at his questions, simply a decision to not speak.
"Leave her alone, Dale," Hawk said. "She's been through enough crap in her life, she doesn't need you bugging her."
"I'm just trying to make conversation. I could ask the same of you, really," Robert pointed out. "Our analysis indicated you're from a late 20th or early 21st Century Earth, the same as I am."
"It doesn't matter," Hawk insisted. "I'm not interested in conversation or getting to know you, Dale. Let's stick to the job and get it done."
Robert considered a few witty or amusing things to say, but he didn't. They did have work to do, after all, and angering his erstwhile allies wouldn't accomplish anything toward that.
As the three approached the compound, they activated their respective personal cloaks, shimmering from view. Even if an unseen camera were to point toward them, nothing would be visible to any watcher.
At least, in theory.
A distance away, in a monitor room, two bored individuals were staring at fiber optic camera feeds of the nearby forest. It was the easiest job in the compound, but also the hardest; no physical labor, just the need to constantly watch nothing and make sure that said nothing did not become a something.
The catch was that the two watchers were telepaths, and their idea of watching was not quite the same as a non-telepath.
"Don't you feel that Samara?" asked one.
"Jordan, you're just being jumpy."
"I'm telling you, there are minds there. Shielded."
An exasperated sigh was the instinctive response, but given the genuine nature of the first speaker's feelings, the second glanced toward the monitor too. After a moment of concentration she nodded, she was the stronger of the two and now that she knew what to look for... "Damn, you're right. There are people out there, including one of ours." A hand went to a comm link. "Doctor, we need you. There's someone in sector three."
Approaching under cloak was something Marines and security teams trained hard at, since visual gear that allowed for seeing cloaked allies might be rendered unavailable. The necessity was obvious: if you couldn't see your ally, you might walk or run into them, trip them, or some other thing that would complicate your ability to function. In this case, the lack of training together was off-set by the trios' special talents. Robert knew where Hawk and Becca were from his expanded senses while Becca seemed to be at least somewhat aware of Robert's position and provided it telepathically to Hawk as they moved along through the alpine forest.
The compound itself was in a large, wide clearing, easily large enough to accommodate a town of thousands in the middle of a wide river valley. One of the large secondary rivers of said valley ran along the eastern edge of the compound, providing a source of natural water. They approached from the western edge. Some logging equipment was around, indicating a minor operation that probably only cut down a few trees a day. The gravel footpath linking it to the compound provided them an avenue right up to the gate.
Robert surveyed the wall itself with his omnitool. It was made of a gray-surfaced metallic material, a specialized alloy according to his sensors, consistent with materials used in Earth Alliance construction. But it was immediately evident this was not a prison camp wall. There were no guard towers, no weapon emplacements. It seemed to be more of a colonial fort, the walls meant for protecting the settlement within from wildlife.
"This doesn't look like a prison," he said in a whisper. At the mention of the word he felt a shudder of revulsion and pain in Rebekah, enough to tell him what he would likely find in her personal history.
He sensed trepidation and a hint of uncertainty from Hawk. "Yeah," came the whispered reply. "It's nothing like that camp we hit." He started to move. "Let's go see what we're dealing with."
Robert considered the idea for a moment. Could he get what he needed without risking an entry? The answer quickly came to him: no, no he could not. They needed to see what was inside. And he was still not certain he could trust the renegade to keep his temper in check, nor that Hawk's ally would be able to do it, so he needed to follow if just to make sure Hawk didn't harm anyone.
As he walked forward toward the gate, he had a small sense within himself, as if he were being watched. He stopped long enough to assure himself there was no danger present before continuing on.
Gene Hendriks removed himself from the eyepiece of a fiberoptic periscope and grimaced. “They have a mutual-defense pact. Or more of an armed truce. Almost worse, he brought a telepath with him and she’s been… enhanced.” Gene was most displeased. The arrival of James Hawk had seriously complicated matters.
“What do you mean by enhanced?” Colin Meier asked. “Like, Vorlon enhanced, or cybernetic limbs enhanced?”
“Like Hawk is; combat nanites. Captain Dale is one thing, he’ll listen to reason, but Hawk is a fucking maniac. He could go off the rails at any time. I think Becca or Rebekah is the telepath’s name, and she seems like...well I don’t know what she’s doing with him but she seems like a kind person at heart. Don’t know how long that will last inside Hawk’s crew though.”
The other Psi Cop gave Gene a wry smirk and spoke. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“Yeah yeah I know. You wrote the white papers on both of them.” Gene replied in a long-suffering tone that didn’t have any actual resentment in it. Colin didn’t earn his PhD by doing underwater basket-weaving.
“And you were reading through my eyes as I did it. Hawk is a maniac, but he’s a madman with a purpose. He can be reasoned with, or at least it’s worth trying. Besides, if we kill him, the adults in the room might become somewhat problematic, and in either case their allies would investigate and wouldn’t give us the benefit of the doubt. Hawk’s allies in particular are…” Colin paused to find a word and chose two. “...volatile and unhinged. We’d have to leave, and quickly.”
“Alright, you still want Max along for this one?” Gene asked, uncertainty on his voice and upon his mind.
“Yes. It’s about the only way we can guarantee getting through to Mr. Hawk. I’ll go get him and meet you at the blast door.” Colin replied, before reaching out to take both of Gene’s black-gloved hands in his. “We’ll get through this. We always have before and if Hawk attacks without provocation, I’m pretty sure Captain Dale would help us deal with him on principal.” Gene managed a chuckle.
“Yeah. He’d definitely rather be slapping Hawk in irons and hauling him back to Alliance space for trial right now.”
The trio approached the compound gate carefully. There were still no life signs. Robert didn't sense anyone nearby, but he could feel life here. Human life. "You're good with electronics, as I recall," he said to Hawk.
Although Robert couldn't actually see it, a bemused look crossed the other man's face. "Maybe," he said, "but it's not my training mission. Becca, this is all yours."
She walked up and brought her gloved hand up to nearly touch it. Silvery, almost liquid material flowed from the small gap between Rebekah's glove and her suit, composed of the nanites that filled her body. Becca's nanites covered the control beside the hand scanner on the panel, seeping inside and taking control mechanically. Visually, given her cloaking device was active, the control panel simply seemed to become covered in silver material. Through her neural link she directly accessed the functions of the gate. Overriding the security systems took her time, more than she'd intended, but finally she finished her work and the gate opened. The silvery material flowed back into Becca's suit and body.
On the inside was the old colonial compound. It showed signs of abandonment and being left to the elements, but only some; it was clear that efforts were being made to restore it. Rust had been cleared, paint refreshed. There was a feeling of rejuvenation about the place.
Robert consulted his omnitool. "Still no life signs. There is an underground element to the complex, near the center."
"Underground prison?" Hawk speculated.
"It doesn't seem big enough," Robert answered.
"Unless it's for just a few prisoners."
"Then why refurbish the whole colony? This place… it's got too much life to be a black site prison for just a few high profile captives." Robert breathed in and considered the spirit here. He did feel anxiety, some fear, but also a sentiment of… perhaps not hope, but determination. "It feels like something else is going on here."
"Let's find the entrance then."
The three started walking toward the center of the complex along a paved footpath, flanked by buildings in various stages of construction or refurbishment. To the naked eye nothing was there given their cloaks were engaged. There was, however, nobody to see them, it seemed. No life signs, no…
Robert stopped as they approached the central structure. It was only one storey high and, unlike the other structures, made of metal and not quite at the center of the settlement. He could feel them now. Minds, on the other end of the blast door ahead. Hawk glanced his way. "Trouble?"
"I don't think so," he said. "No hostility. Worry, though. And..." He felt it, like a great mental exhaling. A choice, resignation to its outcome, readiness for the worst.
They have made a choice, Rebekah stated to everyone else
Just as Robert said, "Here they come," the door slid open. The space inside was well-lit, backlighting three figures as they emerged, two side-by-side in unison, another slightly behind and seemingly being shielded by the other two. As they stepped out from under the shelter of the entryway, three men came into easy view. The one on the left was slightly shorter, with an athletic build and black hair. The other was slightly taller, slightly larger, with a close-crop of something that could be a sandy blonde. The individual in the back was older with hair the color of steel partially covered by a kippah. All three of them wore black, with black gloves and the silver-on-copper badges of the Psi Corps, though the two in front wore the unmistakable uniforms of Metapol. They were Psi Cops, both carrying side-arms, but with hands clearly visible and pointedly away from their weapons.
Robert heard the metallic shriek of Hawk's nanite blades and held an arm up. "No," he insisted in a whisper. "They have no hostile intent."
Hawk gave him a skeptical look. He is correct, Becca assured him mentally behind her shields. With her support Hawk relented. His blades slid back into the back of his wrists.
“Captain Dale is correct. We really would rather not fight you. But if you make us, we won’t shrink from it. I’m Dr. Colin Meier, a forensic psychologist with Metapol. We can all sense your minds, we could fight you hand to hand if we had to even cloaked. You might as well be visible.” Colin spoke in an accent that was vaguely european, hints of German, French, and something Slavic touched various syllables. As if to prove his point, he changed position, closing off a possible avenue of approach to the older gentleman behind him. His diction was clipped, he was trying very hard to remain calm.
Robert considered the greeting. He reached a hand to his belt and disengaged his personal cloak, wavering into view. "Doctor Meier," he said politely, after which he glanced to the empty space where he knew Hawk was standing. "He's right, you know."
A moment later Hawk wavered into view. Becca did as well.
“Thank you. I would first like to assure you that this place is not a prison camp or an experimental facility. It is something else entirely, and not a threat to your Alliance or, I hope, it’s interests.”
"Then what are you hiding in a place like this?" Hawk demanded.
“A refugee camp.”
The cool mid-morning air was broken by the sound of laughter. Robert glanced back to Hawk with a look of some confusion, while Hawk smiled and continued laughing for a moment. Finally it ended with him asking, "You came out here, all the way to the edge of Alliance space, and brought all of this stuff just to build a refugee camp?" Incredulousness was thick in his voice and words.
Robert took a moment to consider what he felt before insisting, "There's no deception from them. He's telling the truth, or at least what he thinks is the truth."
Hawk turned to Becca. "They're stronger than me," she said, "but their blocks aren't hiding intent. Captain Dale is correct."
"Hmph," was the only reply Hawk would give.
“Clearly, one is supposed to build a refugee camp in the middle of hostile territory where non-combatants will be under threat from the the enemy, and with no provisions for long-term habitation whatsoever.” Colin replied, dripping with derisive sarcasm.
“Besides, if this were really a black-ops site, we would have already fragged your minds,” the other one said on Colin’s heels in an accent that sounded like it was from the Northwest or Pacific Northwestern United States.
Robert felt the anger spike at the apparent threat. Hawk's wrist blades came back out in silvery streaks. "Try it," he said, voice heated and in clear challenge. "Touch my brain and everybody in this compound dies."
Robert felt the thoughts surge to the top of Hawk's being, the thought of the "failsafe" setting of his nanites. Those were thoughts that the Psi Corps members couldn't help but pick up on.
Colin looked at his partner with an affectionate version of a ‘not helping’ expression. The other man returned it with a sheepish look. Sorry. I really don’t like him.
I know… but right now I’d rather not risk the capability of that failsafe…
Robert whirled on Hawk. "Stand down," he demanded, his expression determined and his eyes glaring at his "partner". "This isn't self-defense, and I don't have to remind you of our terms."
Hawk returned the glare before the blades once again became silvery fluid that seeped back into his wrists.
Neither telepath moved through the entire exchange, but their eyes narrowed on Hawk, and Robert could feel something, like a hammer poised to strike. He turned his attention back to them. He eschewed his physical senses for the senses gained from his connection to the Flow of Life. He felt the presences of the telepaths there, especially that of the two Psi Cops. They flowed about and around each other, thoroughly intertwined. Robert nodded once. "Would you mind introducing your spouse, Doctor Meier?" he asked.
Hawk raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Ah, yes! My apologies. That was rude of me. This is my partner Gene Hendriks, yes, both senses of the term.”
“Hello. I didn’t actually intend to make you feel threatened Mr. Hawk, I meant that comment literally. We’ve been using optical means to observe you for a while. We could have killed you with no risk of your failsafe.” Gene followed up, but he still had a psionic Sword of Damocles ready in case Hawk suddenly snapped.
Which is why I felt like I was being watched, Robert thought. "I thought someone was watching, but you've done very well to hide your presence," he said. And with no hostile intent, so it didn't make me feel like I was in danger he added mentally, not particularly worried about hiding the thought from them.
Of course not. Though I admit we seriously considered killing Mr. Hawk. But that would have caused problems so, here we are. Colin said into Robert’s mind. He might still make us. We’ll find out.
"The Corps allows gay men to marry?" Hawk asked, sounding bewildered. "What about that eugenics program you people have going on? Breeding more powerful telepaths for the glory of the Corps?"
“Those laws are inflicted on us by mundanes.” Colin answered with particular loathing. “We had to internalize it somehow in a century and a half. As for us, the law specifies that any pregnancies must have a substantial likelihood of producing children of at least the rating of the strongest parent.”
“We’re a loophole. No pregnancy, no problem.” Gene finished for Colin “Though we do both contribute to the next generation through sperm donation.”
"Given how paranoid the Earthers of this universe are about telepaths, I'm surprised they want stronger ones," Robert remarked. He looked past them to the older gentleman in the kippah. "Shabbat shalom," he said to him. Becca, for her part, merely said, "Shalom."
“Shabbat shalom” the older man replied. “I’m Max Cohen, Psi Corps Legal Division, attached to Metapol. You’re in luck, it actually is a Friday here. Otherwise I’d have to correct you and that would be awkward."
"Rabbi Soloveitchik always warned me to be careful about that," Robert said amiably. "Any correction would have been gladly accepted."
“I imagine it gets difficult to keep track of with so many universes. Holidays must be completely mishegas.” Max rejoined cheerfully.
Robert chuckled in reply to that. "It's something we've all been getting used to. It's not easy to have 19th Century people living on a planet at the start of the 21st, then everyone swaps over to the 27th for the official Alliance calendar."
"So much for the lunisolar calendar...To answer your question, it isn’t so much that they want stronger telepaths as we’re just too useful to have otherwise. The Earth Alliance was born in a global war, it doesn’t forget its roots.” Max supplied, and nobody could miss Becca's instinctive revulsion of the term "global war". “Plus, we found our own reasons.” Robert felt a deeper passion in what Max was saying, a zeal for his mission and cause.
Robert glared toward Hawk a moment before Hawk could say what he was thinking, a thought about the rogues who didn't want to be compelled into a breeding program. "I understand the thought, but have you ever heard of diplomacy?"
"Get out of my head, Dale," Hawk said. "And diplomacy, isn't that where you sell a bunch of worlds down river to eugenicist warlords? Maybe now you want to have tea with your new Psi Corps buddies instead of working."
A look of resignation crossed Robert's face. He looked back to Max and the others. "As you can imagine, I've been sent to find out the nature of this place," he said to them. "Mister Hawk here is apparently doing the same."
"We know.” Colin said. “Come on in, we’ll show you around. We don’t have anything to hide here.”
The three men led Robert, Hawk, and Becca through the blast door. The top level of wherever this was seemed to be a combination of an office area and a control room for their protective surveillance center. A Psi Corps sigil was on a couple of the walls and etched onto one of the larger chairs, but other than that it seemed like a fairly normal work area.
A trip down a side corridor led them to a reinforced alloy blast door of even greater thickness. Beyond this were a set of stairs that led to an armored hatch that reminded Robert of images of nuclear bunkers. He sensed the recognition flicker through Becca at the sight of the hatch. Colin triggered the hatch to open, revealing metal stairs beneath.
By this time Robert could feel the lives below. The senses he'd felt before, anxiety, a little fear, determination, all were present, as was some curiosity. As they descended the stairs he felt Hawk tense. He was still considering this a likely trap, though there wasn't one.
The stairs led to a clearing room. Beyond was an obvious mess hall, with tables and plastic chairs and the lunch line. Robert spied replicators built into the wall opposite the lunch line.
“Ferengi.” All three telepaths said in synchrony before Robert could say it.
"And they wonder why we won't sell them the IU drive plans," Robert said.
“We don’t. Our agent who dealt with Quark happens to be a woman. I’m told the rest of his species is… worse.” Colin remarked.
So much Male Gaze. Gene thought, rolling his eyes in disgust. Our agent took shameless advantage of it of course, but I’m told she burned the dress afterward.
Robert blinked at the name. The bartender from DS9? I wonder how he got mixed up with extrauniversal trading.
“His cousin is a weapons dealer. Owns his own moon.” Gene said. In addition to the replicators, posters lined the walls. Some of them were distinctly martial or patriotic. One of them had a man, an older gentleman with Turkic features in a black suit wearing the badge and gloves of the Corps. He was pointing leftward. In the background was another man this time more stylized and in partial silhouette holding a torch against a background of stars. It read “The Future is Our Liberation!” Another poster was almost large enough in length to be a mural and had many people of all colors and a kaleidoscope of modes of dress, all holding hands on a background of a flags with the greek letter Psi. Its text read “We Are Stronger Together!” in a multitude of languages. A third depicted a telepath cowering before the raised fists of a mundane, with another telepath interposed herself, a shining pulse of light rising from her head. “What Hurts One Hurts All. You Are Your Brother’s Keeper.”
The posters over by the lunch line were far more prosaic. One of them showed a young telepath resolutely turning aside an offered extra serving of cake in favor of brussels sprouts “A Healthy Body Keeps a Strong Mind!”. A second encouraged telepaths to exercise through a pleasant montage of fun activities painted in vivid but slightly abstract watercolors.
"No room for the 'Big Brother is Watching' posters?" Hawk asked pointedly.
"They're at least more interesting than the kind of posters I saw in public school," Robert said. "Although they do look familiar." He also got the impression that they were far more important to the three telepaths than their mere meaning. Just looking at them made all three both happy and sad, like a bittersweet memory.
The artist was a friend. Was all Colin said. But friend didn’t exactly convey the full meaning. The look on Becca's face was particularly pained. She knew full well what drove those bittersweet feelings, and it brought up memories of loss for herself.
“There’s no need for those.” Gene replied to Hawk in irritated tones. “The art style is flagrantly stolen from the former Warsaw Pact nations. We’re commonly thought of as fascists,” he practically spat the word like it left a vile taste in his mouth, “but we’re actually syndicalists in practice. The posters are part social messaging, part century-old in-joke, and at this point they’re something of a cultural thing. It’s just what we do.”
“You should see the sculpture…” Colin remarked “It’s magical. We prefer bronze or copper, obviously.”
"Communists instead of Fascists. I feel so much better already," Hawk muttered sarcastically.
“Syndicalists, different thing.” Max corrected him “The Corps is basically one giant cradle-to-grave union. We modeled ourselves off Israeli Kibbutzim.”
The three Corps telepaths felt the rush of thought and memory from Becca at the term, glimpses of a happy place and childhood memories. Robert felt loss and pain ripple through her being, even if facially she was keeping a neutral expression.
They moved past the mess hall into the rest of the bunker. Robert could make out rooms with desks, although not many, that made him think of classrooms. Another area had beds and medical equipment - an infirmary - and there were storage rooms as well.
The big double doors ahead opened as Colin stepped up to them. Beyond the doors was an upper level, a balcony floor overlooking a large, fully lit chamber.
Inquisitiveness, curiosity, anxiety, fear, it all hit Robert as he approached the railing where Colin was standing. He looked below to see neat lines of bunk beds, three high, of plastic frames with dark comforters and white sheets. Across the chamber, groups of people were gathered, in great or small concentrations, with children milling about with frustrated energy. All the colors possible to Humanity were represented in the crowd below. Heads turned toward them, some looking at the new arrivals continually while others eventually returned to whatever business they were doing. Robert felt their emotions just as he felt Hawk's surprise. This is… not what I expected.
It’s alright. You’re safe. Colin said to the lot of them non-verbally.
Captain Dale, if you let Hawk make a liar out of my husband, I will kill you just after Hawk. Gene said.
Robert glanced to Gene at that and nodded. If I let him hurt these people without dying first, I'd deserve it.
You do not need to worry, Rebekah responded. James will not harm civilians.
It took a bit of will for Robert to not remind her of what happened to the civilians on Earth C1P2, but he bit back the remark. The awkward expression that came to her face told him she'd still sensed the remark as a thought.
“We had to evacuate the entire population of Omega VII, plus a few high-risk individuals from other worlds. We did a bit too well making Omega VII a decent place to live after the Civil War.” Colin said. “Dealt with a serial killer, a slavery ring. Started rebuilding schools that got expropriated after we got kicked off planet. We found every blip who needed help and got them food, training… safety. Every child. I mean every child off Sleepers. Then rogue telepaths started hitting us. We could stop them at first but… with EarthGov actively hindering intelligence gathering it was impossible to stop them forever and we had to leave our home.”
Robert nodded. Damn you Lyta, he thought. Why couldn't you have just gone to the Free Colony and lived in peace like I asked?
Because she’s fucking insane. To use a professional term. Colin thought back. The really sad part is that when I knew her, she was always so kind… A mental image flashed into Robert's mind of a small child around the age of six or seven being pushed on a swing by an older girl with fiery red hair.
"I'll be damned," Hawk muttered.
Robert refrained from echoing a sentiment that the likelihood was good Hawk already was damned. "You clearly didn't want anyone to find you," he said. "That's the only reason I'm down here, isn't it? Better me than a military force coming down."
“Basically. You we can reason with, but the two of us can’t stay here forever. We’re here to get the defenses set up, and get everyone trained in community defense. Then...” Gene paused, considering. “Your Alliance already knows about the fleet so fuck it. We’re joining up with our ground forces. Most of our old support staff is already with the fleet in some capacity.”
Robert felt a certain feeling in Colin as he spoke, echoed in Gene, a common concern inside of them. The reference to ground forces made him look to Colin. "This place… it's big enough for a larger population than this," he noted. "The compound too. You can house over three times the telepaths you have now if you needed to. If you've got replicators, you could even expand the compound. These aren't the only people who are coming, are they?"
“No. It’s not. We're getting more ourselves. And there are others, but that information is compartmentalized. I don’t know where they all are. None of us do. That way, if one is compromised, we don’t lose everyone.”
"A system of redoubts," Hawk said. "Fortresses for your civilians. Over a few bombings? I didn't think you Corps types scared so easy."
Robert knew he had a point, but he let their hosts answer.
“No,” Max replied angrily. “The bombings we could handle even if the recent one on Mars killed twenty thousand innocent people. We haven’t seen an organized terrorist underground like this since 2189, but we know how to deal with it. What we’re moving our civilians for is worse”
Robert felt sick as he picked up the thought coming from Max. The word in it. The related imagery, which felt exceptionally strong in Max's mind as if he'd lived it himself. "That's what this is all for, isn't it?" he asked. "What you're facing now."
“Genocide, yes.” Max replied. “Again.”
Becca paled at the word. Robert sensed guilt and fear inside of her.
For a moment Robert gave no reaction to Max confirming his thoughts. The instinctive one was a mental denial that it would be permitted to happen. The Alliance won't stand for it. Sheridan won't either. We'll move in, we'll stop it…
...unless Sheridan allows his distrust of the Corps to hold him back too long. Unless Pensley screams about military radicals provoking wars of intervention and Davies and Hawthorne howl about Earth's populace "defending itself" from telepathic tyrants, and they delay our efforts… and any delay could kill millions...
Another's voice came into Robert's mind. We have no faith in Sheridan, he’s a bigot and a god-damned war-criminal. Metapol fought with him in the Shadow War, he helped us rescue a hundred telepaths who were rigged into a mind-machine interface to become CPUs in Shadow ships. During the Civil War, they smuggled thirty those same telepaths - medical patients - onto Loyalist ships over Mars. They disrupted ship systems, allowing Sheridan to bypass that fleet. Every last innocent telepath died. Colin mindcast back at Robert.
Lyta said about the same thing, but she didn't mention that, Robert thought. Did they consent, could he…
No was the only response he got back, replete with disgust. And Lyra collaborated.
Robert thought about Lyta's comment to him, how Sheridan had used her and thrown her away. The comparison of Sheridan to Maran he'd held in his head cracked slightly. Maran would never do something like this. Never.
Telepaths as weapons… A cold anger came from Becca, an anger that had to come from personal experience.
Hawk gave her an intent look although, unlike her, he was not privy to this telepathic conversation. There was clear sympathy in it. Next he looked at Max with utter bewilderment. "What in the hell are you talking about?" Hawk demanded. "Are you telling me you believe Earth's actually going to genocide its telepath population?"
“They have before. What the hell do you think these badges are?” Max replied dryly.
"A marker to say you're a good little Psi Corps drone," Hawk replied immediately and quite sarcastically. A little too immediately, Robert felt, as if he wanted to avoid the question. Or as if he already knew the answer.
All three telepaths stared at Hawk, dumbfounded. Colin glyphed a mental image to Robert of a man dodging bullets labeled ‘the point’ by bending over backwards underneath their arcs in slow-motion.
"You know what he's saying, James," Becca said in a hollow voice.
"They're yellow stars," Robert said, beating Max to the punch. "Yellow Stars of David, just like the Nazis forced Jews to wear." He gave a cautious look to the still-pale Becca. "So that the group you're persecuting 'can't hide'. To Otherize them, make them easier to hate." And then the Nazis exterminated them. Almost completely in one universe. Robert had the random thought about how Arik Shaham would respond to this when they next spoke to each other.
There was a moment when Hawk nearly argued about it. But beneath the roiling anger that seemed to permeate his being, Robert felt his mind process those facts and come to the same conclusion. His expression turned dour. "Great, more evil bastards to kill," he muttered.
Max sighed. “Look, our relationship with mundanes has always been… very bad. However, when the director of the Psi Corps endorsed Clark in the 2258 election, in our name, it broke the charter. Our social contract with mundanes that secured our existence after the last paroxysm of mass killing.”
Robert nodded. "They started seeing the Corps as part of a fascist government, reinforcing stereotypes."
"Well, the Corps endorsed Clark," Hawk remarked. "Given what he did, I can see why people are pissed off about it."
“No” Colin fired back. “First of all, by that point they were already voting in a fascist vice president for a second term. It was the mere perception of our engagement in politics that did it. Under the charter, we must be politically neutral. No political speech, we can’t even vote.”
Just like… Robert sensed Becca cut off the thought before she could complete it.
“The director isn’t a telepath. He’s a mundane. York was appointed for life by the Senate and he’s a dictator in his own right. He can have any one of us killed without due process of any kind.” Max added. “He endorsed Clark in our name, without consultation, knowing what that meant.”
"You're a ghetto as much as an institution," Robert said. "And he's the SS officer assigned to watch over you."
Not an exact analogy. Every incarnation of fascism has its own national flavor, but it’s close enough for corporate work. Max replied in Robert’s mind.
Hawk said nothing, but Robert felt remaining skepticism. He could, to a degree, understand it. Hawk had seen Psi Corps as its worst, and at its most powerful, the operators of what was essentially a part-concentration camp, part-re-education camp for telepaths who resisted the laws, who refused to join the Corps. To think that the same people operating said camps were themselves the targets of an imminent genocide?
“We’ve been planning a revolution for a while, Mr. Hawk. In secret, even from most of us, ever since the charter was signed. It’s one of the reasons we’ve accepted the eugenics program. The price for our lives has been every right of sapient beings. We just haven’t been ready. We still aren’t. I can show you what happened last time, if you’ll let me.”
Robert nodded in consent, feeling the honesty in Max. Hawk was clearly mulling the offer over for a moment before nodded quietly. There was a confidence in him; if anything, he was certain the Psi Cops wouldn't risk the lives of their charges by trying to attack him mentally. Not with Becca ready to protect him and the failsafe a threat. When Max looked to her, she shook her head, as if she already knew something of what he would show her.
Max closed his eyes, and projected memories into both of their minds, memories that were every bit as real to him as his own. In one, a six year old girl was shot in the abdomen and thrown into a shallow pit after p’hearing the mindscreams of her own mother and brother’s deaths, the nauseating open-and-shut sensation of souls departing the mortal coil. Somehow, she managed to dig herself out and crawl to the shelter of a nearby Catholic church where the priest dragged her inside.
In another memory, a mother watched and experienced-by-proxy her own children being torn apart by dogs.
In yet another, a young man who’d managed to escape watched from a treeline as telepaths held at gunpoint were tied together and thrown into the the Danube River weighed down by a concrete slab. He felt their minds in panic, then slowly, one by one, he felt them subside; punctuated by that mindscream and open-shut sensation.
Memory after memory, over and over again. There were dozens of them, every last one of them telepaths and almost all of them Jews. But there was one more he added at the end. One Colin had transferred to him. A pair of Hyperion-class heavy cruisers in Psi Corps colors; the PCS Fenrir and its sister ship the PCS Sleipnir. He showed them the associated memories too, of Psi Corps ships seizing a slaver vessel, rescuing those inside, and throwing the perpetrators out airlocks. Of those same ships crippling and boarding a Narn G’Quan-class heavy cruiser to interrogate and then execute the crew and find where those same telepaths were to be taken. Then, finally, finding the experimental station and liberating every telepath from Omega VII who was still alive when they got there. The collective grief of two Psi Cops and forty marines, mourning the ones they couldn’t save, whose souls they could still feel traces of in the lab equipment and box of human ashes they retrieved for burial. None of the victims had even been twenty years old.
Memory by memory, and they added to those Robert already had of evil and depravity. The concentration camps in Nazi space, the mass graves, all of the horrors he'd seen during those early years in the Facility. They were, if anything, a reminder of why he'd taken up this life, why he'd agreed to this duty and all of its dangers. He could even understand the fury that led to the spacing of the slavers, though he likely would not have done it himself.
"You're a repository," he said to Max, his green eyes shining with tears. "You chose to carry these memories as if they were your own."
“Yes. It’s something particular to the Jewish community within the Corps, though I know of a few others who’ve done it along family lines and I suspect other despised ethnic groups have as well. We volunteer for it, even though it gives us PTSD. We don’t all do it, not even most… but we make sure that there are enough that it can’t ever be forgotten. I added those last ones because… well, we have been planning that revolution for a long time.”
“After a hundred and fifty years of hatred, oppression, and death; we’re better prepared than we’ve ever been but we’re still outnumbered a thousand to one.” Colin followed up, and reached down to grip Gene’s hand.
“We’re not dying on our knees. Not this time.” Gene’s voice was as hard as steel.
Robert nodded in understanding, fully comprehending the scope of Max's sacrifice to be a living witness to past horrors. Beside him, Becca's eyes were focused on Max with admiration.
Robert's attention to Max was drawn away by a sudden feeling he felt nearby. A powerful, overwhelming source of raw empathy for suffering. Robert turned his head and faced Hawk. He stared in astonishment.
Hawk… was weeping.
He wasn't sobbing or crying. No sounds came from his throat. But his tears streamed steadily down his face, following the curvature of his cheeks and the ends of his mouth before disappearing from view where his faceplate ended just above his chin. From within the constant din of anger that Robert always felt around Hawk, empathy and sorrow were flowing out, as if the memories Max shared with them had broken open an emotional dam around the man's soul. It was astonishing to think of a man who seemed half-mad with rage, constantly ready and eager for violence, suddenly moved to quiet tears from seeing the suffering of others.
But it was there. It was genuine. Whatever his crimes, whatever his behavior… Hawk cared. He cared about the pain of others, and he wanted to stop it, any way that he could.
Just like Robert felt.
It was astonishing to think they had that in common.
The irony is Colin remarked mentally, As much as Mr. Hawk makes us nervous, we can sympathize with that rage. We’ve had to stop each other from indulging it more than once. But Friedrich Nietzsche had some things to say about that… Hawk… he needs to turn away from the abyss. Right now.
Colin took a small communication device out of one of his pockets, tapped it awake and entered a code; then slid a touch-screen slider from a deep blue up the visible spectrum to orange. “I’ve reduced our alert level. Now our little settlement can come to life again.”
Around the bunker people began to move as the change in the alert level was announced by designated members of the community broadcasting a telepathic all-clear. Some made their way to the doors leading out of the bunker sleeping area. Others remained, either still in conversation or waiting for the others to go first, and some of the children still seemed more interested in whatever games they were playing than leaving.
“If you want, stay for a while; get to know us, all of us. I understand that Bester was the first Psi Cop you met, right?” Colin asked.
"He is," Robert answered. "And you might say he left an… impression."
Colin winced and rubbed the back of his neck in an uncomfortable gesture. “Yeah, I could give you a detailed breakdown of his psychology but suffice to say, he isn’t the best man for ‘first impressions’.”
Understatement of the year… Gene remarked.
Feeling Gene's sentiment as well as hearing Colin's remark, Robert laughed.
Life was returning to normal for the new residents of the formerly-abandoned Earth compound. Many went to work on the refurbishment project, restoring the buildings abandoned two decades before by the failed colonists, or to working on the settlement's farm plots along the river.
Watching the latter was Becca, seated on one of the rest benches provided for those doing the work of sowing. The view of people working together to plow and sow brought back memories of her childhood in the telepath kibbutz. Those had been happy memories.
Unfortunately, not all of those memories were happy. The kibbutz was gone. She remembered the day the end came. The alarms, the children rushed to evacuation hoppers, the view from the windows as flames consumed all that she'd loved in her childhood….
She heard footsteps behind her, not approaching with any stealth, if anything they were overly loud precisely so as not to startle her. The mind behind the footsteps wasn’t shielding itself as much as it could have either and she recognized it as Colin Meier, who sat down next to her.
“This brings back memories, for you, doesn’t it?” he asked.
She nodded quietly. "Yes," she said. "On my homeworld, the telepaths in Israel had their own kibbutz, not far from the coast. That was where I grew up."
“Our Jewish telepaths have some of their own, mostly in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. Max was raised in one. I take it things didn’t turn out well?”
"United Earth collapsed. Israel was on the side of the Reformists. Some of our neighbors were not. They attacked first. My people fought to the bitter end to ensure the children of Israel could escape to Europe and America."
Colin winced and she could feel his genuine grief for her and her people, who he considered his own. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. The Earth Alliance made first contact with the Centauri just before it collapsed in the same way. We were unspeakably lucky.” he considered something then spoke after a brief pause. “Is that how you ended up with Mr. Hawk?”
Becca laughed bitterly and shook her head. "No. Not exactly. That came many years later. I was just a child when I saw the kibbutz for the last time. Burning." Becca kept some of her mental blocks up, she had to, but it was not as easy as she thought it would be. Whatever that camp had been like, this place reminded her so much of her childhood that she found herself longing to just lower everything and let all of these minds in. "Everything seems to burn with me around, honestly."
“That isn’t your fault Becca, none of it was. You didn’t start the war. You were a child, and whatever happened later, it wasn’t as if you were the one giving the orders to commit mass murder, was it?”
"Everyone says that. The rabbis, the counselors, my foster parents. The army therapists when I was conscripted into the United Earth army." Becca breathed out. "They were all very kind. Even the army people, to whom I was a useful weapon more than I was a person."
“They all say it because they’re right, I know strictly speaking that’s a logical fallacy, but in this case it happens to also be true. What could you have done, Becca? Is there anything you could have done that would have stopped it?”
"Undoubtedly nothing, unless I am cursed. Then not being born would have helped." She laughed bitterly. "It is the humor of the Almighty, I suppose, that your world's telepaths have fared better as legal recording devices than my own. On my world telepaths were either deviant threats to be killed, weapons to be used, and for some, human beings. But only some. Israel was but one of a few nations to pass telepath civil rights legislation before the War. There are those who said they only did it so we would be fully eligible for conscription, but that is unkind. If still possibly true."
“It may be.” Colin replied. “I don’t know how history differed between our respective Earths. In ours, Israel and Germany, New Zealand, and a few other nations resisted the laws that oppress us. At least for a while. The governments also tried to suppress the killings. That said, I don’t believe for a second that you’re cursed and… if you want, you’re welcome to stay. I won’t force you, but we consider all telepaths to be family. That includes you.”
"If you knew more about my life, you might reconsider," Becca replied.
“No. I wouldn’t. No matter what your life has been, no matter what you’ve had to do. I, and we, might reject the things you’ve done but we’ll never reject you. Not any telepath.” Colin dropped his mental defenses to nothing but the bare minimum to let her know his thoughts; and Becca knew he was being absolutely sincere.
It had been so long since Becca had a peaceful connection to another telepath that she was tempted, sorely tempted, to open her mind as well, as a cold fugitive in a snowstorm might be drawn to a cabin emanating a warm glow. But in the end she denied herself that comfort. She knew things about the Avenger's operations that she couldn't risk being exposed, even with Colin being sincere. And if the nanites registered his mental presence as a trigger for the failsafe...
Colin caught the hesitation and nodded. “It’s alright. I won’t press. I’ll admit, I’m professionally curious, but I’m not here to gather intelligence. If you don’t feel comfortable I’ll respect those boundaries. I just wanted to let you know the option was there, and it stands.”
"Thank you for your offer. But aside from everything else… I have obligations."
“I can understand those.” Colin agreed “I have a large number myself. Still, try not to let them consume you. From what I’ve seen of one James Hawk, that is a...concern.”
"Earth C1P2 was… not planned," Becca said. "I was not there, but I know this. Because of it, nobody understands what he is. The good that he's done. They call him a war criminal without knowing the many he's saved."
“I can empathize with that, really. I mean, I do live inside a community that is similarly reviled, and undeservedly. But I’m not talking about that. Not what he’s done. I’m talking about him. He’s...well without going into the anatomical details, he’s burning himself at both ends and it’s damaging him. Badly.”
"You don't say," said Hawk. He approached them from the wall of the compound. His eyes went from a hard look at Colin to a softer one for Becca. Still, both telepaths could feel the simmering anger that permeated his mind. "He's not bothering you, is he?"
"He is not, James," she replied softly. "He is trying to be kind."
"Yeah. He's the kind type, I'll grant him that." Hawk turned his attention back to Colin. "So, you're sharing something with the class?"
“I feel like I should, yes. Mr. Hawk, I should preface this. My specialty is analyzing brain damage to determine the effects of that damage on the mind of a victim and then to determine why the person who caused the damage chose that particular line of attack.” Colin said. “Would you care to sit?” He scooted over on the seat enough to let Hawk sit down if he wanted.
"I think I'll stand," Hawk answered.
"He's not going to hurt you, James," Becca said. "I can tell that much."
Hawk seemed to consider that for several seconds before sighing and taking the accepted seat. He crossed his arms in mock expectation. "I'm guessing you're about to tell me I have brain damage." He said the latter term in what seemed an attempt at comedic pronunciation, invoking Cosby.
Colin ignored his flippancy. “So you’ve been told before… Mr. Hawk, you have headaches, all the time. Sometimes a dull ache, sometimes full cluster-headaches. You also experience extremes of emotion that swing rapidly sometimes within minutes or even seconds, triggered even by relatively slight emotional stimuli.”
Becca said nothing. She didn't need to. The sorrow in her brown eyes turned to worry as she looked to Hawk.
The symptoms couldn't be denied honestly. "The doctor on the Aurora showed me a light show of my brain once. He said similar things," Hawk admitted.
While Hawk didn't say anything further, Becca was already thinking of the same thing. The brainwave infusion technology the Darglan had developed as a teaching tool. It was clear said tech was only meant to quickly teach basic information, allowing training to focus on advanced use of the concepts imparted, but Becca was well aware that Hawk and the others used it for more. And fairly often. She'd had two herself.
“As well he should have.” Colin replied, concern evident in his voice. “If he hadn’t tried, I would be making a formal complaint to the Alliance’s medical licensing board. Mr. Hawk, will projecting an image into your mind trigger the nanites?”
"No," Becca answered, following several moments of silence.
“With your permission?” Colin asked, at this point he was treating James Hawk like a patient and not as a potentially hostile maniac. “I can show you perhaps a bit better than a ship’s medical officer.”
It was clear Hawk's initial reaction was refusal. But Becca prodded him mentally and he exchanged a look with her. Finally he rolled his eyes and nodded. "Fine. You can project images safely. Just don't try to override my visual senses, that might set off the failsafe."
“I won’t. It’ll be an overlay on your visual field, a bit like augmented reality. Additional stimuli, not a takeover.” Colin said, and Hawk saw something that looked a lot like a hologram. Not of his brain, but as a diagram of his emotional regulation processes. Boxes were labeled as parts of his brain like ‘prefrontal cortex’, ‘hypothalamus’, and ‘amygdala’. Each one had bands that crisscrossed back and forth between them. The part labeled as the prefrontal cortex looked like it was beaten to hell, and the outgoing ribbons looked frayed.
“This is the system that regulates your emotions. Emotions like fear and sadness are generated in the amygdala.” The amygdala box flashed. “Rage in the hypothalamus. Other emotions are generated by both, and happiness…” Another little box labeled the precuneus flashed. “All of those are fine. The problem is, while they are generated there, the prefrontal cortex and dorsolateral prefrontal cortex regulate them, and those… those are being damaged, as are their outgoing projections into the rest of the brain. Without them functioning properly, your emotions run unchecked. The rest of your brain doesn’t get the signal to calm down, to not be afraid, to not be angry, to let you function through sadness.”
"And what does that have to do with a machine downloading information into my brain?" asked Hawk.
“If I had to guess, that machine is the cause. I’m no expert in Darglan tech, but presumably the Aurora’s doctor is.” Colin shrugged. “I would defer to their judgement. What I can tell you is that whatever it is, this is progressive. It’s not so bad that telepathic psychosurgery can’t help. We can reroute around the damage and restore some function. But if you wait too long, the damage won’t be reversible. I’m not saying it has to be me or anyone here if you don’t trust me; but you should find a telepath you trust and who is skilled in those techniques. Soon.”
"Huh." He glanced toward Becca.
"I'm not strong enough," she said. "I'm just a strong Tier 6. You'd need a Tier 9, probably a 10." For Colin's benefit she mentally glyphed a comparison of the Psi scale her world had used to his own. She was, to him, a strong P7 nearly to P8. T10s were P12 equivalent, 9s were P10 and P11, 8s were P9s and 7s P8s.
“Becca is right.” Colin agreed. “It’s delicate work that requires a lot of control and fine-scale resolution only particularly powerful telepaths can manage. You might be able to get away with a particularly skilled P9, on our scale. No one else will risk it if they have any professional and ethical judgement.”
Hawk was silent. Instead of responding, he stood up. It was clear to both that he didn't want to hear this. That he was, in fact, terrified that they were right, as even now a severe headache was hammering away at him.
"James, he's not wrong," she said. "I can see enough. Every time you've used that machine…"
"We need to," he said. "You know why." With no further words, he walked away.
Colin was horrified. He’d just laid out how Hawk was slowly not just killing himself, but erasing his own ability to be a person, and Hawk had just...dismissed it like it didn’t matter. Colin was ready to die for what he believed in, for the people he cared about, for twelve million others; but he wasn’t willing to put who he was on a sacrificial altar. It was madness.
"He heard you," Becca said quietly. "And he is afraid you are right. But he doesn't want you to be. He…" She drew in a breath. "The Multiverse is full of injustice. He and the others fight to stop it. They want to avenge those harmed by the unjust. The infusions… they help us keep an edge over some of the more powerful forces we've been fighting."
“Becca, you’re not going to help anyone if you destroy yourselves trying. Dying is one thing, but that… it’s actively counterproductive. He’s going to go off half-cocked like he did at Tira because he physically won’t be able to do fact checking before flying off the handle. It’s already started. He’ll cause more injustice than he solves. If you’re doing those infusions as well, you need to stop. Please. For your own sake if nothing else.” Colin was completely earnest and visibly worried not just for the people of the multiverse, but Becca personally. It was written all over his face and his thoughts he wasn’t bothering to shield.
She felt those thoughts and smiled sadly. Slowly tears formed in her eyes. "It is kind of you to worry about me. But I do not believe I deserve it." While keeping her mental blocks over the vital things, memories came to the surface. Memories of brutal battles, of shredding minds in self-defense, of telepaths she'd been forced to kill… and that horrible feeling that she didn't deserve to survive where so many of those she grew up with didn't.
P’seeing those memories, it was Colin’s turn to weep. She’d been through what no living telepath had, except in transferred memories. How Max kept going with those he’d never know. He’d gotten Zara treated for things for survivors guilt, but that was still in the early stages before everything set in for her. There was one thing he did know with absolute certainty: Becca did deserve to live. Every telepath did.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of in living Becca. As I recall, it’s the first unwritten commandment of Judaism. Live.”
Her reply was a simple nod before she stood. She said nothing, glyphed nothing, but her intent was clear; to see more of this place, and to have a chance to think on what he'd said. Colin watched her go. He only hoped she’d take things under advisement.
Think she’ll be okay? Gene asked from somewhere unseen.
I hope so. I’m afraid Mr. Hawk might just have doomed himself though. Colin replied.
The population of the re-colonized compound returned to their daily business as if they'd barely been interrupted. Robert walked along the footpaths of the compound and observed as they went about their work for the day. Some were busy refurbishing and restoring the old colonial buildings from the initial colony, others were putting up new structures using a combination of Earth and extrauniversal materials and practice. Since he was not an actual telepath Robert sensed their emotions, their feelings, more than their thoughts. Some were upset, some were simply getting on with things, and some… were actually enjoying themselves. He noticed one Indian woman in a Psi Corps suit with a sari who seemed rather happy with whatever duty was leading her to move along the footpath perpendicular to his. She noticed his attention and he nodded to her amiably. She nodded back with the same intent.
He continued on and nearly ran into a familiar-looking orb rushing through the air before turning a corner. It took him a moment to recognize it as similar to the one Lucy gave him for practicing deflection with his lightsaber. Moments later children ran up, giggling, in hot pursuit of the floating orb. As they passed, however, they all directed their attention to him, as if his presence was more interesting than their pursuit. He felt their curiosity acutely, and he certainly didn't need abilities to notice their eyes starting to focus on his belt and the lightsaber hilt dangling there. He felt a thought ripple through them and they ran on, eager to resume searching for their mechanical quarry. It was almost like a game of hide and seek mixed with tag, if one had a toy to do the hiding part.
Telepaths playing hide and seek… it must be completely different from how things worked back home. Of course, living on a farm meant most games of hide and seek devolved to hiding in the barn or the house, maybe under a car. He thought of the time Susanna hid under the combine and freaked their parents out. A small, sad smile came to his face.
And then… he felt something peculiar. His head turned in time to see a jet-black bird that looked like it might be a common crow, and definitely not native fauna, perched on the roof of a house still under construction. The creature was staring at him intently. He focused ever so slightly and sensed a presence through the Flow of Life, intermeshed with the bird. Not like Colin's and Gene's essences had been, but rather as if someone were gently directing the bird remotely through a connection.
Of course, now that he'd sensed this control, it was easy to follow it back to the controller. He turned and walked down a different footpath, finding himself approaching one of the refurbished structures. It had a Psi Corps emblem on it marked with the words Cadre Administration and Classroom Support. Inside a man was looking over a digital reader, a lesson planner.
He turned from that building and approached the corner of the next, another house, feeling the essence of his watcher even as, yes, the bird was in flight and following him. He smiled and said, aloud, "I know you're there."
“Drat. Markus, you’re not living up to your namesake… We need to work on your field-craft.” came the high-pitched voice of a little girl as she stepped out from around the corner. She looked up at the crow who had since landed on a windowsill. “In fairness to you, Markus Wolf has big shoes to fill.”
Her apparent age was hard to gauge, but she wasn’t yet a teenager. Robert guessed at somewhere between ten and twelve, of Southeast Asian extraction with fine black hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a black turtleneck and a functional dress of black denim, but unlike many of the other children her age, wore black gloves in addition to the badge.
“Hi!” She greeted Robert cheerfully. “I’m Zara, you must be Captain Robert Dale, you seem saner than the other one.”
"Well, I don't have a severe anger management problem, for one, although I am often told I have an unhealthy fixation on heroism," Robert answered, smiling. "So do you spy on people with crows for fun or…?"
“Yes and no. I mean, I do spy on people with crows for fun, but this time it’s business. They didn’t ask, but I figured my dads might want someone to keep an eye on you and make sure you didn’t get into or cause any trouble.”
"Ah. So you're an adopted daughter of Dr. Meier and Mr. Hendriks."
“Yep!” She confirmed “Last year they cleaned out a slaver ring on Omega VII. They found me. My biological parents…” she trailed off, leaving that part unspoken but Robert could feel the hurt and sense of betrayal even though she kept her actual thoughts locked behind mental barriers. “It took a few weeks for the Corps to arrange transport to Geneva and by then, well… I had new better parents.”
Both them, and the Corps. Objectively I came out ahead on that score...
Robert got down on one knee, given their height difference. His eyes lowered. "I've seen that sort of thing enough in my life," he confessed, remembering every time he and his friends had found children held as slaves or captives for one reason or another.. "I'm sorry you went through that, and happy that you found something better. That's all I've ever really tried to do. Help people find something better."
“It’s alright. It sucked then, and I mean really sucked, I was in therapy for a long time but in the end analysis I’m better off than I ever would have been otherwise. Well, except for the whole ‘mundanes have engineered a telepath-killing virus to enslave us with dependence on the treatment’ thing. That got put down with extreme prejudice, again, late last year.” Zara’s tone was that of a child, but underneath that, she was a kid but most emphatically not a child. It wasn’t her intellect, which Robert could tell from her behavior and through the Flow of Life was razor sharp, but from life experiences that no one went through with their innocence intact.
Robert's brow furrowed at that. "Now that I didn't hear about."
“You wouldn’t have. If that got spread widely the revolution would have kicked off last year. Every month of delay increases our readiness state and improves our odds.”
"You know an awful lot about this for someone your age," Robert noted. "But I can see why." Did Meier and Hendriks tell her this? Someone else? No… no, I think she figured it out for herself at first. At least, that was what his senses were telling him. She hasn't had a proper childhood at all. Not that I blame her Dads. Christ, things here are messed up.
“Your instincts are… accurate. My dads don’t believe in withholding information from someone old enough to ask the question. Not unless their safety or that of others is at stake. Neither does my uncle. I… kinda forced my uncle’s hand while I was still in Geneva. Figured out the broad strokes on my own.”
Robert chuckled at that. "You are a bright girl. Although you can probably tell how much it disturbs me that you're not getting to enjoy anything like a normal childhood."
“Yeah…” She confirmed regretfully “It’s funny, because I am still a kid. I still make-believe and do all the normal things. Granted the bedtime stories are a little bit different for me because I read at a collegiate level. But then, well...” She actually transitioned her facial expression into a thousand-yard stare intentionally “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate…”
"Blade Runner," Robert said. "My friend Tom's favorite movie growing up." He smiled wryly. "Mostly, I think, because of the girl with the snake."
“I prefer Scanners for fun, but Blade Runner speaks to me and has better quotes. Though the sequel... it’s almost too close to reality on an emotional level.” Zara replied with a wan smile.
"I never saw the sequel. Actually, I don't even remember one coming out," Robert replied. "But it might not have happened on my Earth yet. It might never, now that the Multiverse is around…"
A bell started ringing nearby, drawing their attention. The direction was clearly from the school.
“Looks like Mrs. Saunders is ready for classes to start up again. Nothing cancels classes. Nothing.” Zara declared, and she definitely approved of the dedication to education shown by the Education division. “I’ll get you a copy of the Blade Runner sequel, but before I go… Please don’t let Earth find out about this place. EarthGov is corrupt enough that even if they don’t come in force, someone will.”
Robert couldn't help but feel the fear in that statement, and it was an earned one. He tried to give her reassurance with a small smile. "We're not exactly on the best of terms with EarthGov ourselves these days. Partly for the same reason the Corps' not happy with us, I admit. But you don't have to worry. I'll make sure of it."
“Thanks!” and there, the tone was definitely that of a happy kid. Zara turned to leave but as she did, she glanced back at Robert.
The Psi Corps isn’t mad at the Alliance just… disappointed. We know your intentions are good you just... didn't get the full picture. Zara paused inside her head. I might have peaked at a white paper or four.
He gave a slight nod and watched her go. As she stepped into the classroom with other children, he quietly thought to himself. There was more to this telepath issue than we thought… Bester, is this what drove you to be such a cold bastard? The weight of this? Or is it an excuse for you and those like you?
Uncertain of the answer, Robert started walking again. Whatever the issue with the telepaths, he had another matter to deal with.
Hawk.