It wasn't the first time he'd used it. Someone so young and not exactly built for fighting gets scared, you know? Kids can be cruel, ungoverned they drown each other in childish accidents, maim by pushing down some staircase, do all the things kids do that we later tell ourselves were accidents because it's not in our nature to damage each other. Teen jocks don't rape cheeleaders that refuse to put out on prom night, little boys don't smother their younger sister because she's getting more attention than they are, and schoolyard bullies are only acting out because of troubles at home. Nobody ever meant any of it, and the one who responds with violence is the true enemy, a psychopath in need of medication. These others are normal.
So what is one to do? When they follow you home and ambush you as you walk to the store to buy bread for your mother. When they smash your comlink and steal the transponder to your house for a future burglary, leave you broken and battered on the side of the road, a couple of your fingers you may never be able to use again and a face that won't look like itself for weeks to come. When they are the sons of local Senators and security officers. When the feeble words coming from your mouth can only plead for medical attention, the gargling breaths coming hard as blood fills your lungs.
Well sometimes your eyes glow. Some kind of force pushes the blood and bile back into place, you're not even aware that you stood and those boys are looking at you strangely. With fear. Somebody else seems to raise your hand towards them, you're trying to communicate something, to belatedly tell them to stop but the words take a form of an invisible presence which sends one flying like a rag doll. Another desperately tries to cling to you in some sort of apprehensive tackle and you don't even seem to notice, but something moves you out of the way, perfectly in balance, fluid motion in direct proportion to theirs, with the textbook angling it takes a professional fencer to accomplish instinctively. One arm slaps his away like swords clashing, he's out of step and completely out of his depth and stumbles to the ground. The third had bolted when all this started and is of no further concern.
Like a zombie you walk home, collapsing at the doorstep. From the hospital you go to a sanitorium. You were still in prison when First Contact was made. Aliens were almost blase by the time you got out.
Carran was never really locked away for any crime. He was under observation, it was medical. There were severe concerns about his psychology. The fact he almost killed two boys twice his size was of some interest to doctors, not as much as the fact he electrocuted two nurses that had tried to stick needles in him, whilst barely conscious and sent an orderly clear across the emergency room telekinetically. Nobody had ever seen anything like this before, its place was in the works of mythology and superstition.
But it had never happened since, at least not that they were aware of. For ten years he was kept locked away in that asylum and there was never another issue about it, never another occurance. About the only unusual thing discovered about him was a very healthy recovery rate, he bruised quickly and they disappeared just as quickly. Theories abounded as to what had happened. The lead psychiatrist published a paper on the extremes of human psychology under life threatening situations and became famous. Carran made a few lifelong friends among staff and patients.
All this did of course restrict his employment opportunities somewhat. Certainly he had spent a lot of time reading in recent years, with little else to do with himself, but if anything this tended to annoy prospective employers who repeatedly claimed he was overqualified for the menial labour jobs that were all he could actually apply for.
Civilisation had changed somewhat around him. Now space travel between the colonies took weeks instead of decades, stasis tanks were no longer required. The local galactic region had suddenly become a much smaller place, civilisation had become a much larger one. Alderaan was now more like a capital city than a planet.
Another year went by with Carran scrimping and scrounging. Whatever personal contacts he had he used up trying to survive the next month, friends became tired of his poor excuses for unemployment and poverty, family members had moved on to other worlds. He got desperate, and did something he didn't like to and was more than paranoid about, he telekinetically stole someone's ticket to the orbital docks and their wallet. When customs asked to see his passport he showed a shuttle ticket and used his ability again. He cried and drank heavily on the flight, unsure why.
The space station was an entirely different environment to terran Alderaan. Carran had never felt so free or comfortable in his life. Firstly there wasn't a single individual on the entire complex that wasn't in some way academically and scientifically qualified. Even the cleaners had some theoretical physics background, that was just absolutely amazing. Secondly it was taken for granted that if you were here, you were also inherently qualified, to work in zero-g environments or operate a starship or something roughly scientific. The only kind of conceivable crime was white collar, nobody bar nobody was ignorant about protocols and safety and everybody was pretty much left to themselves. Starship crews even walked around with holstered sidearms, not that they'd ever get used somewhere like here, but with the view that these were simply just another tool item and nobody here would be irresponsible with them.
But outside the station, in deepspace were indeed pirates, corporate theft, mining disputes and dangerous species. Sidearms were part of the whole. Alien encounters with new species were becoming commonplace. A specialised military force was established. Invasions were threatened, indigenous species were dominated. The galactic rim continued to expand.
Five years went by and Carran had virtually lived by using his power. If he received an awkward question his ability avoided any further concern. He could appear as anything he wanted, wearing any uniform he liked, employed in any capacity he could imagine. One week he invisibly drank in the ASF Canteena, another he was being inexplicably and completely forgotten by an attractive (female obviously) electronics engineer he'd been living with. He simply had to avoid confined spaces with small, defined numbers of personnel, like starships because no amount of subconscious rewiring among the crew could explain away his presence there. But, so long as he kept to socially interactive areas or let us say, very free female accommodations he remained simply one more face in the crowd who never particularly stood out, nor left any record of his passing. He was a non-entity, a ghost haunting Alderaan's orbital docks.
That would be until they arrived.
(end part one)
Excellent story, Vanir! I rather enjoyed this first part, it gave me a diary-like feel that has geared me up for the next chapter:D I have no corrections right now, but just a bit of advice regarding the paragraphs.
There's nothing wrong with them, but they probably could do with a bit of spacing, or seperation, establishing smaller paragraphs.
This just makes it more convenient for those who find it difficult to keep their place while reading large, bunched-up, paragraphs:D
Anyway, that's just a bit of advice, you don't have to use it if it is uncomfortable to work with. But I hope it helps in some way.
I'm looking forward to more!! Post the next part soon!:D
(part two)
Three of them arrived at Alderaan Station, nobody really thought much of it at first. Just some more unusual looking aliens that were becoming an increasingly common sight here.
Some people liked to be overt about welcoming other species. They'd fawn and fuss, acting for all the world like a representative of humanity and not doing too bad a job of it.
"Hi, welcome to Alderaan Starcity, I'm Jaylar Fantine. We hope you enjoy your stay, if there's accommodations you require I'd be happy to organise those for you. Are you here for a local meeting? We also have a trade representative on Station, can I organise any refuelling and restock needs you have?"
These were the tall, quiet type of alien. Robed, with dark facemasks and conspicuous atmospheric rebreathers. When they spoke it sounded like the sound of buzzing insects, though a voice echoed within your mind. Obviously they were telepaths.
~Thankyou no. We require nothing.~
Carran overheard, courtesy his gift. He used it so much now he was hardly aware of any distinction between physical matter and subatomic processes anymore. He'd wandered to the customs area unsure as to why, in fact he barely even noticed where he was.
One of the three parted the group, leading the Tesla Corporate rep away. The remaining two glanced at each other.
~He is nearby, but seems unremarkable. I question the wisdom of Shula upon this, it is no global event.~
~He is an aberration among his people surely, that was to be expected. Shula has lived within and among the Force for countless centuries, I dare say we can barely define her wisdom.~
~He is listening. We should communicate directly.~
~No. Let him follow.~
Carran stared as the robed aliens continued into the Station proper. Were they talking about him? Had to be, how many other telepaths were around here. But then that was ridiculous and delusional. Why would a bunch of aliens travel halfway across the galaxy just to see him? Unless it was to put him another asylum. He was just a normal guy, he wasn't doing anything that anybody couldn't do obviously. If one can, everybody can, that is the rule of science. Everybody can sketch a picture, some are just very practised at it. Many don't bother with it, that's all. He was unremarkable. Nothing special. Nobody. Nothing. He didn't even exist anymore.
He daydreamed for a moment, didn't always like when he did that. Saw a beautiful human woman, couldn't quite make out her face. She was reaching out for him.
~I'm sorry~ she said simply.
Carran took a deep breath and fought down some tears. Looked once more the direction the aliens had walked, then turned and headed back into the service halls.
* * * * *
The three sat within the Station Administrator's office, speaking with a Royal Aide and a Fleet Admiral.
"We very much appreciate these navigational discs. Please pass on our sincere appreciation to your superiors," Admiral Vega was in the midst of saying.
~It has become necessary to observe the prudent commercialisation of the hyperdrive system among your people. It cannot and should not remain under military jurisdiction where the aim is to build a galactic community~ one of the Three replied.
"And this 'HyperNet' you've detailed is the only way to use the full capacity of hyperdrive engines?" the aide, Phal Kern asked.
~We have observed a spate of fatal accidents where beacons are not used to map hyperspace routes; presently your motivational technology far exceeds your sensor capabilities~ the Second of Three answered matter-of-factly.
"We're just...very grateful you've appeared out of the blue to volunteer such information," the Admiral alluded, barely capable of containing his militant suspicion.
The First of Three turned to face the Royal Aide directly.
~We find it saddening that a circumstance of monopoly and its limited objectivity could develop, where individual Corporations are given advantages which both line the pockets of their purveyors and extinguish the rights of those they encounter.~
The Second of Three added,
~Such circumstances can lead to warfare, it is not a productive tendency.~
...the train of thought concluded by the Third,
~Military jurisdiction is a monopoly in which any associate is placed with a position of tremendous power, several will be approached by Corporate interests and it is best dealt with at the very beginning. The peace negotiations of future warfare can be successfully adjudicated now.~
Phal Kern nodded, the obviously transcendal reasoning of these aliens appeared to make good sense, and his essential role here was to learn as much about these new visitors and their significance as possible and report back to the Royal Family. The Admiralty was still rightly concerned about the class and grade of blatant military equipment plastered all over their star cruiser, which for all the world looked like it could take on the entire Alderaanean Fleet with a skeleton crew and half power and still come out on top. The fact it appeared in system with no prior warning and evaded all the point reconnaissance stations stuck uncomfortably in one's throat, they were already walking around on the Station when the order to intercept was about to be issued. The Admiral had barely put his jacket on and exited his quarters when they were already waiting to speak with him.
One thing was for sure, Admiral Vega and the entire military establishment wasn't going to like this proposal very much. They liked to think public safety was virtually their concern alone where the galactic community was concerned.
"Well of course we'll transmit all accommodations and services you require during your stay here. I'll have a suite made available. I've no doubt His Excellency will be very interested in meeting you."
The Three stood.
~We will be aware of when you have need of us.~
* * * * *
The Miraluka sat on the bridge of the Starlight Guardian wringing her hands.
~Should I come?~ she asked,
~He is so very sad. I am upset.~
~No.~ replied the Three.
~You should wait.~
(end part two)