by Simon Bown
“We have freedom.” Brightwell shouted. “Since the Mezzyima took control hundreds of years ago we have had peace. Now your terrible acts of violence kill whole worlds and for some unfathomable reason you think you are acting for the people of the Amalgam. You have no support. You are a common murderer. If we wanted the Mezzyima to leave they would.”
Teafu circled Brightwell and stopped in front of him. He smiled as he stared intensely at him. “We have support, much more than you know. The Mezzyima are a naïve, arrogant race. The rationale behind their principle for control is patronising and ultimately destroying our culture. They have robbed us of our identity. Our lives have become pale imitations of what they once were.” Teafu’s anger was clearly growing.
“But you are killing so many people, not only Mezzyima.” Brightwell replied, desperate and frustrated. “No one has sympathy for your aims because you kill indiscriminately. To the people of the known worlds you are simply a killer, your beliefs are of no consequence.”
Teafu continued to circle his prisoner.
Brightwell persisted. “Do you not see the suffering? Do you not understand that every time you commit one of your hideous crimes you are only strengthening peoples resolve against you?”
Teafu struck Brightwell across the back of his head.
Brightwell felt the back of his neck warm as the blood trickled from the wound, he put his hand over the injury to try and stop the flow. Despite his dizziness he persevered with his argument. “We are free to do whatever we choose. Many years ago when the Mezzyima took control we were defiant and with good cause but over time we have learned to live with them and now we have peace. There hasn’t been a war since they came. Why can’t you see this is a good thing? We need them to stop us from reverting to our violent selves.”
Teafu remained quiet behind his captive, Brightwell, still with his hand on his head, turned to look for him. As he caught his eye Teafu leant forward and whispered in his ear. “I’ve heard enough.” He closed his eyes and started another search through Brightwell’s mind. This time there would be no restraint, if Brightwell were to die then so be it. Teafu relaxed into a deep telepathic state, his tranquil expression gave no hint of the violence he was committing on his target’s psyche.
At first no evidence of the attack on Brightwell was apparent. He sat with his hand on his wound facing Teafu, as if waiting for something. His gaze moved from Teafu to the ceiling and his hand fell from his head to his lap. The battle within his mind increased in intensity, his well-worn defences collapsed one by one.
Teafu tore through his now pitiful defiance and searched through every area of his mind.
Brightwell shook violently as he struggled with the assault, muscle spasms shot through his body with a shocking strength. His head fell forward as Teafu finished his search. Blood dribbled from his mouth and his head wound. His body had not died but his mind was torn in two. The examination had left his victim’s ravaged consciousness a mass of haphazard, confusing ideas.
Teafu opened his eyes and left the room without looking back.
Weedon lifted himself onto the edge of the kitchen table and pulled another cigarillo from his top pocket.
“You’re not going to light that in here.” Sutton told him.
“My dear this blend of tobacco is the peak of pleasure for me on this planet. You’re not going deprive me of my one small vice are you?” Weedon asked.
“I am when I’m trying to have a decent coffee.” Sutton replied.
Weedon ignited a match and put it to his cigarillo, he drew in a lung full of smoke and exhaled with a sigh. “You know you really should give them a try.”
Sutton opened her mouth to reply but stopped as Teafu entered the room. “Do they know we’re here?” Sutton asked him, whispering, afraid of the answer.
Weedon gripped the edge of the table he was sitting on and waited. He looked up at Teafu.
“No.” Teafu replied.
Sutton exhaled a large breath and talked quickly before Weedon could ask a question. “Can you be absolutely certain?” She asked.
“He is a very well trained telepath. It took some effort to break down his defences. If the Mezzyima know we are here, he doesn’t know about it.” Teafu replied.
Weedon dropped his cigarillo on the floor and ground it out as he talked. “So we are in the clear then.”
Sutton took her coat off and dropped it over a chair. She was not convinced. “Are you sure you know everything he knows? If he is so well trained he may have bluffed you.”
Patience was not one of Teafu’s strong points. “Believe me when I tell you I have searched his mind.” He was clearly becoming agitated. “He is the man in charge of their intelligence for a large area of the Amalgam. If anybody knows their current level of knowledge on us it is him and they do not know we are here.”
“I hope you’re right.” Sutton said. “After the last couple of operations we’ve been listed as the most wanted fugitives in known space. Every single planet is looking for us.”
“What’s your point?” Teafu asked.
“Every planet is going to have an agent or even a whole agency after us. If there is that much effort being put in I would think the Mezzyima and Amalgam security capable of more organisation than leaving just one man in charge.”
“But the Mezzyima don’t operate like that, they stay in command and appoint one human as their go between. We’ve been dealing with them long enough to know that.” Teafu replied.
“I just don’t want to become complacent.” Sutton said. “We have been here five years, just don’t get too comfortable.”
Weedon broke in to the argument. “OK. What now?”
“We must make an example of him.” Teafu replied. “Take him back to one of the central worlds and leave him where he can be found. I will stay here and guard your movements.”
Weedon slipped forward off the table and smiled delightedly. “At last, a chance to return to civilisation.”
Sutton put her hands on her hips and stared at Teafu. “What sort of condition is he in?” She asked.
“He has suffered a heavy blow to his mind, I doubt there is much left.” Teafu replied.
Teafu’s cold, emotionless attitude had ceased to bother Weedon. The fact that another human life had been destroyed had no impact on him whatsoever. “When do we leave?” He asked.
“I can have the ship ready in three or four hours but I’ll need your help.” Sutton replied.
Weedon turned to leave. “Of course my dear, call me when you need your pilot.”
Sutton blocked his exit, held his head by the chin and brought their eyes level. She stepped forward and talked quietly. “You will help me now and if you call me ‘my dear’ once more you will be sorry.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Weedon said. “I’ll help you right now.” Despite his apparent flippant attitude Weedon was a skilled dedicated individual. He played on Sutton’s nerves to relieve the boredom and although she would never admit it, she did sometimes enjoy it.
Weedon and Sutton walked to the cell in silence, Weedon unlocked the door and followed Sutton in. Weedon put his hands under Brightwell’s arms and tried to lift him. He lost his grip and Brightwell fell forward out of the chair, Weedon and Sutton did nothing but watch as his head connected with the floor. The two colleagues stood on either side of him and waited, blood pooled around Brightwell’s head. Sutton looked down at Brightwell and then up at Weedon with an expectant gaze.
Finally, he caved in to Sutton’s demanding stare. “Very well I will move him. After all you are only a weak and feeble woman.”
Sutton turned and exited without a word.
Weedon combined his physical muscle strength with his telekinetic capacity and lifted Brightwell.
Brightwell’s quivering frame landed in the back of the cart with a sickening crack, he moaned a quiet, lifeless protest.
Weedon looked at Sutton. “Oh dear, I think I might have broken something.” He said.
Sutton climbed up onto the seat next to Weedon as he motioned the horse forwards. The sun had set before they had emerged from the cottage and they left the road in the gloom of the slight moonlight. Light rain started to fall as they commenced their journey. Thunder continued to resound throughout the hills and the occasional lightning threw sudden, mountainous silhouettes up around them. The dirt path soon turned in to a muddy sludge as the rain soaked their route and the cart moved at a much slower pace. Brightwell made infrequent noises but Weedon and Sutton ignored him. His weak condition was of no concern. They passed through the gates to the city limits and carried on into the darkness. As soon as they were out of sight Weedon lifted a wooden panel next to him to reveal a set of controls. He input the destination co-ordinates and the horse and cart lifted off the track. A force field extended around the cart and they accelerated to a modest fifty miles per hour.
Necessity insisted they locate the two space planes in a secure barn five miles out of the city. The colony had destroyed all advanced technology soon after it was established. To own any equipment at all was illegal and the two space planes would certainly cause consternation among the population. Weedon stopped the cart outside the barn and shut off the force field. His identity implant sent an encrypted message to the security net. The system confirmed his location and opened the protected area.
Weedon carried his burden into the barn and dropped him at the first opportunity. He removed his heavy coat and put a cigarillo in his mouth. The two spacecraft were each covered in a large sheet of tarpaulin. Sutton walked around the closest and pulled the covering off sending a cloud of dust and dirt into the air. Weedon stepped back to the barn door and threw an irritated glare at Sutton. He pulled a lace handkerchief from his top pocket and dusted himself down. He watched as Sutton walked the length of the space plane slowly feeling every curve and camber. She stepped back and smiled as she gazed along the fuselage.
“Are you going to make love to it or open the door?” Weedon asked.
Sutton located an access panel and activated the entrance ramp. Weedon picked up Brightwell and followed her inside. Artificial light flooded the cabin with a painfully bright glare. Brightwell moaned and gurgled as Weedon dropped him to the floor. His face, a mask of congealed blood, appeared lifeless apart from his fearful, darting eyes.
Weedon got down on one knee to examine the pitiful shell of a man at close quarters. He lifted his head and stared, open mouthed, into his eyes. “I thought he was supposed to be completely shattered, there is still some sign of a thought process.” He said.
Sutton replied without looking back. “I don’t know that he is supposed to be completely shattered but he is certainly no threat.” Sutton paid little attention to the pair behind her as she continued with the pre-flight checks.
The entrance ramp raised and connected with the fuselage, valves hissed as the pressure increased to Teg standard atmosphere. Sutton held her nose and swallowed to relieve the popping in her ears as Weedon manoeuvred himself through the cramped space into the pilot seat. The reactors reached optimum and power systems automatically became available to Weedon. He engaged the gravity drive and lifted the space plane a few inches off the ground. His perception dizzied slightly as the shift from the planet’s gravity to the artificial one upset his equilibrium. The large wooden door opened and Weedon swept the plane out of the barn into the sky. He immediately threw the craft into an audacious aerial manoeuvre. Sutton adjusted the internal gravity to counter the violent lateral G forces inflicted by Weedon’s rapid twists and turns.
Weedon was sure she enjoyed the aerobatics and refused to be baited by her behaviour. He looked over his shoulder at her and accelerated upwards in a decreasing spiral. All he saw of her was her contemptuous smile as she turned to access the star-ship’s remote data pool.
On board the star-ship the lighting and atmospheric systems powered up. Floating debris infesting the ship fell to the floor as the artificial gravity came online.
Weedon brought the space plane to within one hundred yards of the star-ship and slowed to docking speed. He eased the small craft close to the air lock and activated the docking systems. The umbilical link reached out and connected to the space plane. Docking clamps secured the space plane sending a shock through the craft. Gravity shifted slightly as the space plane’s system came into parity with the star-ship.
Weedon took Brightwell through to the infirmary and dumped him on one of the beds. He attached all the appropriate medical monitoring equipment and checked it was all functioning correctly. His only concern was to be sure the Mezzyima would find him alive and with a destroyed mind, his well-being would otherwise be of no consequence.
Sutton entered the reactor room and picked the start-up log. The large amount of anti-matter required delicate calibration and nothing could be rushed or overlooked. She paused for a short while to collect a coffee from the galley. She would have no one to aid her in the long and boring task.
Teafu removed his shoes and sat cross-legged in the centre of his empty meditation room. He closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. His practised sequence of meditation brought him to a perfect alpha state in a very short time. In his mind’s eye he perceived a virtual image of his immediate surroundings. His consciousness expanded. The walls, mere wisps of smoke, had no substance to slow his progress. He lifted his perspective above the cottage and over the city. The minds of the population below him appeared as bright lights illuminating the remarkable mental landscape. Teafu sensed a fundamental connection between the members of the human population, almost as if single being unaware of its existence but still with thought. Teafu sensed all that passed through the people’s awareness, he enjoyed an absolute knowledge. Nothing could be hidden from him. He searched across the planet and found nothing unusual or suspicious. He left the planet and found Weedon and Sutton as two pinpoints of brilliant light in orbit. His expansion continued to the planets of the system and beyond. He found no intruder, no Amalgam star-ship waiting to pounce and claim its prize. A flash of imagery distracted him for a moment, a small breath of thought just within his perception. He took no notice and continued out into the light years of empty space surrounding his location.
Once again something slight caught his attention. Just for a second, a glimpse of another awareness passed through his. As if a whisper heard but not understood. He searched for the source of the distraction and pinpointed the unusual intellect. The shock of another mind shielding itself shattered the telepathic barrier and Teafu was immediately aware of the unmistakable essence of the Mezzyima. With the obstruction removed Teafu instantly caught sight of the Mezzyima battle group descending on their position. Before he was able to contact Weedon or Sutton two Mezzyima teleported into the room. Teafu tried to lift himself from his deep alpha state to a more robust condition but the Mezzyima attacked him with a telepathic net. He was trapped in a transitional state depriving him of much of his massive mental energy. A brilliant red plasma field shimmered between the two aliens. Teafu could only watch angrily as the two Mezzyima surrounded him in the glowing mass of energy.
BARTON LECTURE
Lucy Harcourt opened the door to one of the university’s physics labs and found it empty. She closed it behind her and pulled one of the tall stools over to her usual place by the window. The legs scraped over the wooden floor and squealed a teeth-vibrating noise. She sat on the stool and picked her standard lunch out of her bag, cheese sandwiches, an apple and a flask of hot chocolate. The first dry bite into the sandwich did little to arouse her taste buds but she continued to eat. She looked at the sandwich and again made a mental note to prepare something different.
Her position at the window gave her an excellent view over the large central square. The finely cutgrass, quartered by the decaying tarmac paths, accommodated a mass of lunching students. They scattered themselves in different groups of various sizes, ate their food and relaxed together clearly happy in each other’s company.
Lucy found it very difficult to make friends. Human interaction was a great mystery to her. She often thought she must have missed some vital comprehension in her childhood. Perhaps there was some sort of flash of insight that comes out of the night to suddenly and elegantly make sense of people and their behaviour.
The door opened and a middle-aged man in a lab coat barked at Lucy. “He has just arrived, go and get him. Bring him to my office.”
Lucy jumped and the lab snapped back into focus as the familiar toughened around her. Before she could reply the man was disappearing down the corridor. Her lunch had been interrupted again but her cheese sandwich held little interest, the last mouthful a chore rather than a pleasure. As she put her things away she wondered what the afternoon held. Lucy looked forward to the lecture with a little trepidation and a lot of interest. The guest lecturer worked in the one field Lucy was concerned with, gravity amplification. In her time as an assistant in the physics department the lectures had become dull in the extreme. She knew they had to teach the basics but were the students so lacking in rudimentary knowledge? So much time was wasted on simple theories, Lucy soon realised that her capacity for understanding was much quicker and instinctive than the students or even the lecturers.
The guest lecturer sat in one of the dilapidated seats in the university reception, his suit was two sizes too large and he was somewhat swamped.
Lucy approached and offered her hand. “Hello, I’m Lucy Harcourt I’ll be your assistant this afternoon.”
The lecturer pulled himself up from his chair and shook Lucy’s hand. “Hello, my name is Barton Hartshorn.” He said.
Lucy was caught for a moment in Barton’s gaze. His eyes seem to cut through to Lucy’s deepest thoughts. She stared, trapped by the brilliance of eyes that betrayed a youthful vitality despite his obvious advanced years.
Lucy pulled her hand free. “Would you follow me? Professor Purcell would like to meet you before the lecture.”
