Aesia and Tristan boarded the shuttle sent down to collect them. The pilot took off once they were seated behind her. Tristan was fascinated to see another Sicceian. This one was, slightly older than Aesia, but had the same slim body shape, white almost silver hair, and similar fine elfin features. While he had become accustomed to the gentle warm touch of Aesia’s mind, this woman’s mind was hard and controlled. He did note her eyes were sky-blue like Aesia’s were when he first met her. He glanced at her sitting opposite him, her eyes were almost green now. She caught his look and thought and used her computer to converse with him so the pilot wouldn’t overhear them.
Tristan, there is something I need to tell you, but I have to be sure first.
Her emotions washed over him. She mouthed the words “I love you” and smiled.
He smiled back. “I love you too.”
About half an hour later, a large black ship emerged from the darkness of space. Tristan could see through the front ports that it was a long cone-shaped vessel with what appeared to be a bridge structure toward the forward end of the ship. The pilot manoeuvred their small craft to a large, open docking bay at the side of the ship. Once the bay was pressurised, they opened the door and stepped out onto the deck of the larger ship. A cacophony of minds and an overwhelming power assailed his unprepared mind. He staggered, Aesia grabbed his arm.
“Tristan!”
He passed out.
Aesia caught him and laid him gently on the deck. A Marine guard had assembled to meet them. The officer looked down at Tristan and she sensed undisguised contempt and loathing. He shouted at a couple of Marines.
“Pick that up and take it away. Now!”
“Yes, sir!”
They picked him up roughly. Aesia clenched her fists. “Wait!”
The Marines hesitated and looked at their officer, he jerked his head and they continued away.
“Where are you taking him?”
“It will be taken care of,” he spat. “As for you, follow me.”
Aesia followed the officer to the executive area of the ship. From his demeanour, she knew with increasing fear she had made a terrible mistake. He had seen her eyes and she sensed the hostility and disgust emanating from him. He motioned her to a small interview room, turned and shut the door behind him, leaving her alone. She was angry with herself that she had let her emotions cloud her judgment. Her condition had not helped her, but she was now fearful at what might happen next. The cold of the metal chair seemed to seep into her; she shivered involuntarily.
The door opened and the captain walked in. Aesia stood, her arms held stiffly against her side as she clenched and unclenched her fists, but still her fingers trembled. The captain's ice blue glare shone like an unforgiving spotlight. She tried not to think how strange the captain's neon bright blue eyes looked after the months alone with Tristan and his human eyes.
The silence stretched out. Icy tendrils of fear crept across her chest, tightening, squeezing, making it difficult to breathe.
“Do you know what you have done?” His voice came even, cold.
“Yes, sir!” She tried to swallow but her mouth was dry, arid. Her fingers fluttered over her still flat belly. Of course she knew what she had done. Why hadn’t she told Tristan of this impossible thing? But she had to be sure. As soon as they had arrived on board the ship’s main computer confirmed her suspicions.
“After your behaviour, there is no choice, no other option. You will be dishonourably discharged."
“Sir, what will happen to Tristan?”
The captain's face flashed with anger at her insubordinate interruption. “I assume you mean that creature you have been with? It will be studied, questioned, and terminated for dissection.”
Bile rose in her throat. Her stomach twisted and sweat prickled on her brow. Dissection? Terminated? “But Sir!”
She could see the captain held no mercy in his eyes. Tristan's fate was sealed. She clamped a trembling hand over her mouth, and with one last snort of contempt, the captain turned and walked out shutting the door behind him. By bringing him she had as good as killed him herself. She sat down staring at the blank closed door. Her vision blurred, tears stung her eyes, and emptiness engulfed her. Several minutes later a guard appeared and she was marched down to a shuttle bay, put on a shuttle, and then transferred to a supply ship, which was to be sent back to Home World for re-supplying the fleet.
During the journey home, the expected nausea and sickness started. She was kept in isolation. The only contact she had was when they came to shave her head, marking her out as a thing of ridicule and disgrace. She lived in a daze. Everything happening to someone else, not her. She hoped she would soon wake from the nightmare.
The marines carrying Tristan finally reached an unmarked door, opened it, and threw him roughly in. The door slammed shut.
Tristan’s head swam. A point of light rushed towards him. Like an express train exiting a long tunnel, the sudden bright light hurt his eyes. He blinked and squinted. He found himself in a vast hall with hundreds of people talking at once. The noise was too much. Everyone shouting to be heard. He put his hands over his ears and sank to his knees. They seemed to come closer, pressing in on him. Fear and pain slowly gave way to anger; it rose from his chest upward like a giant black spider. He stood then pushed back against the crush.
“Shut up! Shut Up! SHUT UP!” Anger flowed through him and with it power, he had control. It was like a door slamming shut. He opened his eyes. The people crowding him stood silent and motionless. One remained, alien, machine like, pressing against him. He faced it, hands clenched, knuckles white. He fought it, with his mind pushing against the pressure. It resisted, he pushed harder, and it suddenly folded and was gone. He spun round, the hall burst into a million pieces followed by darkness and silence. Emptiness filled his mind his consciousness swirled round the edge. With an effort he pulled back and turned away.
Tristan groaned. The warm presence that had become part of him had gone. He opened his eyes, there was a glowing ceiling panel above him merging into a featureless white wall. He closed his eyes, disorientated. Where was he, where was Aesia? His heart missed a beat. “Aesia?”
He sat up, and his churning stomach caused him to retch. He took a shuddering breath and rested his forehead against the cool featureless wall. His head throbbed, where was she? He reached out with his mind, but found nothing except the babble of voices he could now control. He shut them off and looked around the room. He suddenly noticed a strange sweet smell of different alien bodies. There were four other people in the cell with him, one female and three males. He assumed they were Mylians. He had not taken much notice of them when he had rescued Aesia from them on Earth. Their features looked solid and heavier than the elf-like Sicceians. They were bald, with low ridges that started just above their forehead and swept down to the nape of their necks. The males had a slightly higher central ridge. Their eyes were red, similar to a human albino.
The female crouched in the corner, crying softly, one of the males comforting her. The other two sat on one of two benches pushed against the room’s far wall. The three males looked at Tristan and he sensed fear. He tried to touch their minds. There was nothing, blank. They apparently did not have the same telepathic ability as the Sicceians, and it confirmed to him the reason why the ship Aesia and he had taken did not have a computer with a neural interface.
Tristan swung his legs round and sat facing them on a bench opposite the others in the room. They watched him with their round human like eyes. The female stopped crying and turned towards him as well. He made a quick assessment. From their sorry state the other occupants of the room would not be a threat to him. He leaned back on the bench against the cold hard metal of the wall and shut his eyes.
Things were not going well! Aesia had vanished; there was no longer a presence he could sense. He swallowed; he had become used to Aesia being there, and now a part of him was missing. He was surprised to realise that he missed her presence so much. He wondered where she had gone. He let his mind drift and explore. He could hear the many minds of the Sicceians, but he could not sense Aesia.
He remembered she had been hiding something, was this it? Had she intended to betray him all along? This was obviously a holding cell. She had assured him he would be treated fairly, sent home if he wanted. Was that going to happen? If she were on the ship she would be working to put things right but she had left. His stomach knotted; that can’t be it, surely?
He put the thought of her and the void she left in a corner of his mind. He was locked in a cell of an alien vessel with other alien prisoners, far from home and no help from any quarter. He may well soon be fighting for his life.
He brought his attention back to the room. The other occupants were regarding him silently. He said “Hello” in English, then thought better of it and said, “Hello, my name is Tristan,” in Aesia’s language.
One of the males said. “Hello. I am Da’ren. I have never seen anyone like you before. Have your people been conquered by them as well?” He nodded his head at the closed door.
Tristan frowned. “No.”
Da’ren shrugged. “Only a matter of time.”
Tristan asked him what he meant. The Mylian told Tristan the Sicceians looked on other races with contempt. As far as they were concerned, anyone not a Sicceian was a lower form of life to be used as slaves, or worse.
The Mylians were a peaceful people who were just starting to explore their own solar system when the Sicceians found them. The Sicceians overran their world and used them as slaves. After being under their cruel yoke for several hundred years, the Mylians managed to rebel and fight back. They had regained their world while the Sicceians were occupied fighting another alien race they had found at the edge of their space. The new aliens closely matched the Sicceians in technology and power, and things had gone badly for the Sicceians for a while. It was during this time that the Mylians managed to break away. They had been left in peace for over fifty years but knew that the Sicceians would be back one day.
The Sicceians eventually won the war and took revenge by systematically wiping out all trace of their defeated enemy. During this time, Da’ren’s people had been preparing for the inevitable attack. The Sicceians would certainly not allow former slaves any freedom. The initial confrontations went well for the Mylians, but the tide was turning, and the Sicceians were gaining the upper hand.
Da’ren and his crew were on a supply trip to one of their colony worlds when a Sicceian fleet had attacked them. They were taken prisoner and were being questioned and tortured. The Sicceians thought they were on a spying mission. Two of his crew had already been tortured, shot and killed. Just as he was finishing his story, the door opened and another female was pushed in. She fell immediately, the door closed, and the others rushed over to her. She was covered in blood and one of her eyes had been gouged out.
Tristan was shocked. If what Da’ren had told him was true these Sicceian’s were the galaxy’s version of the Nazis. His mouth went dry and he tried to swallow. He loved one of them. They had shared everything for months, joined in body and mind. Had she abandoned him? Had she manipulated him, just played him, used him to get back safely to her people. No! It was not possible. Icy fingers gripped his heart. He looked round, the evidence was before him and she was gone.
“Da’ren, what would happen to a Sicceian who found a new resource rich planet?”
“Oh, they would be well rewarded. Rich beyond their wildest dreams.”
Tristan’s stomach churned. He stood and punched the featureless wall with clenched fists. “You gullible fucking idiot, Tristan!” The Mylians cowered from his anger. He sat down, his mind sinking into his own private hell.
The cell door opened and two guards stood either side of an officer. She pointed at Tristan, and the two burly guards stepped round her. One drew a pistol. “Stand up.” Tristan ignored him. The guard hit him on the face with the pistol butt. Pain pulled Tristan from the pit of his despair. He touched his cheek, then regarded his bloody fingers.
“Stand up!” The guard repeated raising his pistol for another blow. Tristan stood. “Now Stand still.” The other guard carrying a pole with a loop on the end commanded. Tristan faced the guard with the pistol. “Stand still, animal!” He smashed the pistol into the side of Tristan’s face for a second time. Tristan staggered, and the pain exploded in his head. He gritted his teeth, the warm cloying taste of blood in his mouth. He stood still, fists clenched. The guard with the pole forced the loop over Tristan’s head and pulled it tight. The wire cut into his neck. His breath caught, eyes bulging. Tristan fell to his knees.
His vision blurring, Tristan looked up as the guard eased the tension on the wire. The female Sicceian stood with a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. “Bring it.”
The wire tightened, forcing Tristan to his feet, and the one holding the gun clamped his wrists with cuffs. He was pulled out of the cell and across a corridor to a small room with two chairs facing one another across a plain white table. The guard forced him to sit on one of the chairs, clipping the pole to something behind the chair Tristan could not see. The wire held him securely.
The officer sat on the edge of the table opposite him, her blue eyes boring into him. She leaned forward, the smile still playing around her lips. Tristan caught a faint smell of the same scent as Aesia. His chest tightened, stomach twisted into a knot. He glowered at the officer.
“So what are you?” her voice soft and friendly.
Tristan said nothing, holding her stare in silence. Her smile broadened. She moved quickly, hitting him hard where the guard had hit him with the gun. The pain swept across his face, forcing him against the wire noose. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear. He blinked, his eyes watering. She had returned to her relaxed position on the edge of the table. “What are you?” His mouth filling with blood he spat, red splatters ran down her leg.
He grinned at her. “Oops, need to get that cleaned.”
She glanced at the red mess on her uniform, and turning her neon blue eyes on him she made a hissing sound between clenched teeth. She hit him twice, both sides of his face. Tristan clenched his bloody jaw.
He stared directly into her eyes. “Fuck you!”
She leant forward grasping his chin in her hand. “Oh, so you will fight me? Wonderful! Those animals in the cell with you are no fun. You are different, I am going to really enjoy this.” With her other hand she twisted his fingers back, further and further. Tristan gasped at the pain and she giggled. “Oh so much more fun and if you refuse to cooperate I get to use a mind probe,” she sighed. “It has been a long time since I used one of those.”
He could sense her telepathic abilities, her arrogance and superiority. Anger and pain cursed through his blood like molten fire. He held his breath, forcing his pain forward at her unsuspecting mind. Her eyes widened in shock, her smile became fixed on her face.
“You… No! It’s not possible.” Her shield crumbled easily against the hot fire of his anger. Tristan felt his face ache from the blows, the ache increased as he pushed her personality aside, squeezing and twisting. He had control. Her mind opened to him like a blossoming flower, fleeting thoughts, emotions, images of inflicting pain, cruelty and... fear.
The sensation of control reminded him of accessing Aesia’s computers, but more intricate. He forced her to hold rigid, fighting the scream rising in her throat. Facing the fear and horror flooding her mind, Tristan held her. A concerned voice came from behind him.
“Sir?” One of the guards.
Tristan’s mind raced. Gritting his teeth he made her move her head. He could see beads of sweat forming on her brow as she fought against him. He mouthed the words silently, forcing her to speak. Her voice was little more than a croak.
“Take this thing back to its cell I don’t feel well.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tristan felt the pole being released from behind the chair, the tension on the wire noose pulling him to his feet. What now? As soon as I release her it is all over. Turning away from her would cause him to lose his grip. Her mind was twisting against his, dread and panic filling her consciousness. Desperation gripped him like an iron hand squeezing his chest. He lashed out against her, ripping her thoughts, emotions and her very essence apart. She sighed, eyes rolling, her knees crumpled. Her head hit the table as she fell.
The second guard rushed over to her. “Take that thing back to the cell then come back and help me here.”
Tristan felt nausea rising to his throat. He fought against it, trying not to gag, swallowing it back. Get me back quickly.
The guard pulled him round and pushed him across the corridor to the cell. He opened the door and, releasing the wire nose and his cuffs, forced Tristan forward. He hit him hard between the shoulder blades. Tristan staggered and sunk to his knees. He gulped back against the contents of his stomach heaving its way up his throat. He heard the door slide shut with a click. He could hold it no longer, he reached the toilet projecting from the wall moments before the sickness took him.
It was several minutes before he regained control. He had been retching up nothing, his stomach empty. Rocking back on his heals he ran a trembling hand through his matted hair. What did I do? She might have been evil and cruel, but did she deserve that? He knew he had destroyed her, ripping her very essence from her body. He shuddered, fighting the returning nausea. He looked round, his companions were all huddled against the opposite wall watching him. He stood, made his way over to the furthest bench from them and sat down with a shudder.
A hatch in the cell door suddenly opened and a tray of food and water pushed through the gap. Tristan ignored it.
The Mylians helped the injured female to one of the benches and gave her some water. They then shared out the food. The one who had spoken, Da’ren, offered some to Tristan with shaking hands. The taste and texture caused him to gag, but he ate it anyway as he did not know when the next mealtime would be.
A short time later the lights went out, and they were left with the faint glow from one of the light fittings in the ceiling. Tristan remained sitting in the far corner away from the others so he could think. He could hear the groans of the tortured woman and the occasional sobs of the other. He was a prisoner of Aesia’s people. She had gone, leaving emptiness in his heart and mind. The aliens he was locked up with were being cruelly tortured and killed. Although he could not sense anything directly from them, he knew he was being told the truth about Aesia’s people. He had seen everything in the officer’s mind. He shuddered.
He set his jaw, and his body trembled. If he couldn’t get at Aesia for betraying him he would make her people pay. First he had to get away before they linked the sudden death of his interrogator to him. If Aesia had been able to convince them of his telepathic abilities it could happen at any time. At least their arrogance was on his side. It would be almost impossible for them to think an animal such as him had the capability to control and destroy them.
He had no idea at all where Earth was so he would go with these people if he were able to, and when they were safe, he would search for a way home.
Tristan looked round the gloomy room, the Mylians obviously a little afraid of this strange angry alien as they remained at the far end of the cell, as far away from him as possible in the confined space.
Tristan shut his eyes for a moment. Did Aesia know how to get to Earth? Where they even as he sat there planning an invasion? “Oh God, what have I done?”
He had to get away, find Earth and warn them. He opened his eyes and turned towards the Mylians. “Are you prepared and ready to escape if the chance arose.” They glanced at one another then back to him. All except for the injured female nodded.
“What are you going to do?” Da’ren’s voice trembled as he spoke. “You do know it’s not possible to escape from a Sicceian ship? Their telepathic communication and control of their system makes getting away impossible.” His companions nodded in agreement.
Tristan he regarded them with an icy stare. “If it were possible, could you navigate your way home? Yes or no, Da’ren?”
Da’ren trembled under Tristan’s steady gaze. “Yes, but..”
Tristan cut him short with a brisk wave of his hand. “Quiet!”
He stood and cast around with his mind. He sensed the ship’s computer, but it was far more sophisticated than the one that had been fitted to Aesia’s craft or the navigation beacon. The number of crewmembers necessitated a logon code before it would allow connection. Tristan pushed against it. System safeguards buckled without much effort. Tristan smiled. He had access to the main ship’s computer, their security protocols being non-existent. They had not designed the computer to guard against enemies with telepathic capabilities.
He moved to the door. The release mechanism was controlled by a separate computer, a simple ancillary system. The Sicceians were confident no other species had their telepathic ability so it was impossible for anyone but a Sicceian to even open a door. He had that ability, and he knew now he was stronger than they were.
The interrogators mind had lain open to him before he ripped it asunder. He shivered at the memory, his stomach heaved. Swallowing, he tried to calm his twisting emotions. He cast his mind out searching, but there was no one nearby to discover them.
Tristan commanded the computer to open the door. The door slid open and the Mylians gasped, but recovered quickly and came up behind him. Da’ren started to ask how he had made that happen, but Tristan motioned him to silence. Sweat glistened on his brow as he forced access to the main system, carefully bypassing the user ID protocols. He was in! He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Come on, follow me.” He had located a shuttle bay not too far away. The computer had given him the directions.
They cautiously exited the room and proceeded down the corridor. He opened his mind and tried to listen for any Sicceians that may be coming their way as they crept forward. He felt something. There were two guards walking down the corridor from the left. In less than thirty seconds they would be discovered. Tristan looked round for somewhere to hide. It was the worst possible place to be caught. There was nowhere for them to go. Tristan cursed under his breath. The guards would be on them within seconds and their escape would be short-lived. In desperation, with clenched teeth and hands balled into fists he lashed out with his mind, mentally hitting them as hard as he could. He felt their thoughts, memories, almost their very essence. He withdrew, ripping and pulling viciously at their consciousness as he did so. It had been hard and fast. His stomach knotted, but he had not lingered long enough to suffer the nausea of the first time.
They heard the guards fall just as they rounded the corner. The two guards were lying in the corridor, their bodies twitching. Tristan was shocked to see there was blood seeping from their ears and noses, foam on their lips as they convulsed silently and died. He heard gasps behind him. The Mylians looked at Tristan in awe while he bent down and took the guards’ guns. One he kept and the other he handed to Da’ren.
Fear showed in their faces. Tristan wondered if it were fear of him rather than of discovery.
They passed a bulkhead and turned right down another corridor. After a short while they came to the docking bay. There were several small ships on the deck. They ducked in through the wide hatch. His gaze swept the area, his mind ready for discovery. He held his breath, ready to destroy any mind that became alert to them. He sensed no immediate threat so they ducked unseen behind a pile of storage crates.
Tristan turned to Da’ren and hissed, “Quickly, which ship would best suit our escape?”
Da’ren hesitated for a moment, eyes looking over the assembled ships. “That one.” He had chosen a small, fast freighter, with the main hatch open and the access ramp down. Keeping close to the wall, they moved round towards it.
There were several technicians in the area working on two of the small ships. Tristan was not sure he could handle all of them at once. He had to think quickly as any second they would be discovered. He motioned to Da’ren and quietly whispered for him and his comrades to take out the technicians working on the closest ship. They nodded. Tristan lashed out with his mind at the furthest technicians. They crumpled and lay twitching on the deck. The remaining technicians spun round, alarmed, but it was too late; the Mylians were upon them. They were swiftly dispatched. Tristan bolted for the ship Da’ren had selected, closely followed by the Mylians carrying the injured female between them.
Tristan ran up the ramp, half expecting to deal with more Sicceians. He found the ship empty. “Da’ren, you can fly this?”
“Yes, if the computer control system is disabled, otherwise no. It manages everything and requires telepathic control.”
“Right, you take the pilots seat, Da’ren, the rest of you find yourselves seats.” Tristan sat on the right of the pilot seat and noticed the others had not moved. Once he sat, they all selected seats avoiding the one next to him.
He accessed the computer, bypassing any restrictions easily. He smiled to himself, he was getting stronger. A warning voice in his head whispered now don’t be getting cocky, Tristan! The ship had been fully fuelled and ready to go. He removed the computer interlocks and set the system to manual control. “OK, Da’ren you have full manual control of the ship, please get us out of here.”
Da’ren opened his mouth to say something, but Tristan had already shifted his attention to the main computer. He closed the docking port inner door, vented the atmosphere and opened the outer door.
Da’ren nodded. “Oh! OK, let’s go.”
The ship lifted and turned towards the open port. Da’ren pushed the controls forward and the ship shot out into space.
While Tristan concentrated on the main computer he was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. He heard a faint distant voice. “Sir, they will just shoot and destroy us.”
He took a moment to digest what had been said then shook his head. “No they will not.”
He fought against the artificial intelligence controlling the Sicceian war ship. He had to disable the weapons. He strained against the machine, forcing his way into its core systems. Compared to a simple system computer, the warship’s systems were vast. Gaining access and opening a few doors he had found easy. Full control a different level all together.
He pushed against the barrier. For a short while the machine intelligence resisted. He increased the pressure, and the barrier suddenly folded, like pushing against a jammed door that gives away without warning, he fell through. He gasped, catching his breath. HE was the ship. He floated disembodied, a sea of stars around him. Five other ships were there, large, looming black shapes against the field of stars. His hands gripped the arms of the seat. He felt his chest tighten, he had forgotten to breathe. Did he need to? It took an effort to pull back and start breathing again.
The vastness, beauty and… and POWER. He could see the minds controlling the ships systems, the bridge where they were responding to the unscheduled launch of the freighter. It was seductive to be part of such power and knowledge. It pulled at him and he wanted more, but a warning went round and round in his mind, here is madness. His knuckles were white now, where he gripped the arms of his seat. Sweat beaded his brow as he pulled back, and back, pulling away from the almost total connection. Just maintain control of the sensors, hide our escape.
What was reality? Something, yes something he needed to say but his mind did not work. He needed, wanted the power of the warship, but he must say something? He strained against the power holding him. With a snap he returned to being small, insignificant, limited. He sighed and turned to the pilot next to him. “Da’ren, keep the warship between us and the rest of the fleet.”
“Yes, sir.”
He regained connection with the AI, holding the sensor array, fighting the urge to connect fully with it. He blanked out their small ship; nothing would track them as they moved away from the bulk of the warship.
As the distance increased, the connection weakened. He must maintain his contact with the computer. The minutes passed and he could hold on no longer. Sweat ran down his back, his shoulders slumped and a throbbing ache in his head was affecting his telepathic ability as he strained to hold on.
He heard Da’ren’s voice in the distance. “Sir, we can start the Star Drive now.”
Tristan nodded. “Do it.” He let go and immediately blackness as he passed out.
Tristan moaned his head ached. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs. Had he forgotten to take his pain killers? He was sitting, fallen asleep on the couch again. He opened his eyes, streaks of light flashed past in front of him, rainbow colours in their tails. “Where am I?”
A strange voice in an even stranger language answered him.