way. I'm barely awake.
His eyes, like her own, were so dark they nearly looked black. She and Micahel also had the same extremely fair skin, but his hair made a thick cap of curls on his head, while hers hung limp over her shoulders.
He smirked. You have an order. Better come.
She followed him up the ship's shining passways to a guarded door and stepped into an enormous stateroom. All its walls—she couldn't think of these as bulkheads—were mirrored, reflecting endless rooms in all directions. The ceiling reflected images, too. So did the floor, though it yielded like soft carpet as she walked forward.
The tall man she knew from tri-D images as her father, Modabah— barely gray at his temples and oddly stooped—stood at the crux of a row and a column of reflections. Terza inclined her head and dissipated her habitual epsilon-energy shields, proper signs of submission. I am honored to meet you, sir.
He returned the gesture, dropping his own shields. She expected him to speak aloud. Instead, a blast of epsilon power gusted through her. Something in the smell of that wind was familiar and self-like. Something else came across as unbalanced, insane, inhuman. As she cowered against the assault, discontinuous images flashed through her mind—scenes from unfamiliar military bases—satellite images of a world she knew as Tallis, the Federates' regional capital—
Voices surrounded her, too. Her father's: "No feints, this time. Cripple them before they can use RIA anywhere except Thyrica or Hesed." Her brother, answering: "I've said it all along. Kill him. Kill the whole family." Her father again: "After we find out how they escaped." His voice drew closer. "Lure him to us, little Terza. Bring him in."
Threads of her mind tore loose. The presences scrutinized and re-wove her thoughts and memories. Their otherness thrust deep into her mind. She screamed, and screamed . . .
Terza looked up, disoriented, not sure whether she'd fallen on the mirrored floor or still stood upright. Her father and brother hovered over her. She felt their probes thrust through her again, examining their work. . . .
Then another probe, like a garrote, choked her memory. It squeezed off the moments she'd just experienced. She struggled, but she didn't dare think about using her inner defenses. The memory danced away, faded, and was lost.
Her father helped her onto her feet, gently holding her shoulders until she felt steady. "You must have fainted," he murmured. "Have you eaten breakfast? This room has an odd effect on many people the first time."
Sorry, sir. She nodded respectfully. Her father's epsilon shields seemed to sparkle in the mirrored cabin.
You have accepted all my requests, he subvocalized, spending epsilon energy in a formal greeting.
As... willingly as can be, she answered in the same way. She felt oddly weak, dizzy, as if something more than the strange mirrored room had struck her. Something had just happened. Something strange— something she ought to remember . . .
The tall, handsome man raised a dark eyebrow.
I serve our people, she said, as you do.
"Show me your thoughts," ordered her father.
For some unremembered reason, Terza felt that his probe ought to feel like a wind. Instead, it pierced like a knife, stabbing through her alpha matrix, cutting multiple breaches.
She struggled to keep looking his way, focusing on his real face instead of his many reflections. She slowed her breathing and straightened her back.
She scarcely remembered returning to her cabin and falling onto her bunk. Hours later, she awoke sick and dizzy again.
She lay on the broad bunk and stared, shrouding her despair and humiliation under a layer of hatred, but hatred only amplified the gnawing pain in her gut. She must have missed a meal. She couldn't do that anymore.
She swung her legs over the side of her bunk and waited for light-headedness to pass. Like it or not, she carried her enemy's genetic offspring between her hipbones.
Her
His eyes, like her own, were so dark they nearly looked black. She and Micahel also had the same extremely fair skin, but his hair made a thick cap of curls on his head, while hers hung limp over her shoulders.
He smirked. You have an order. Better come.
She followed him up the ship's shining passways to a guarded door and stepped into an enormous stateroom. All its walls—she couldn't think of these as bulkheads—were mirrored, reflecting endless rooms in all directions. The ceiling reflected images, too. So did the floor, though it yielded like soft carpet as she walked forward.
The tall man she knew from tri-D images as her father, Modabah— barely gray at his temples and oddly stooped—stood at the crux of a row and a column of reflections. Terza inclined her head and dissipated her habitual epsilon-energy shields, proper signs of submission. I am honored to meet you, sir.
He returned the gesture, dropping his own shields. She expected him to speak aloud. Instead, a blast of epsilon power gusted through her. Something in the smell of that wind was familiar and self-like. Something else came across as unbalanced, insane, inhuman. As she cowered against the assault, discontinuous images flashed through her mind—scenes from unfamiliar military bases—satellite images of a world she knew as Tallis, the Federates' regional capital—
Voices surrounded her, too. Her father's: "No feints, this time. Cripple them before they can use RIA anywhere except Thyrica or Hesed." Her brother, answering: "I've said it all along. Kill him. Kill the whole family." Her father again: "After we find out how they escaped." His voice drew closer. "Lure him to us, little Terza. Bring him in."
Threads of her mind tore loose. The presences scrutinized and re-wove her thoughts and memories. Their otherness thrust deep into her mind. She screamed, and screamed . . .
Terza looked up, disoriented, not sure whether she'd fallen on the mirrored floor or still stood upright. Her father and brother hovered over her. She felt their probes thrust through her again, examining their work. . . .
Then another probe, like a garrote, choked her memory. It squeezed off the moments she'd just experienced. She struggled, but she didn't dare think about using her inner defenses. The memory danced away, faded, and was lost.
Her father helped her onto her feet, gently holding her shoulders until she felt steady. "You must have fainted," he murmured. "Have you eaten breakfast? This room has an odd effect on many people the first time."
Sorry, sir. She nodded respectfully. Her father's epsilon shields seemed to sparkle in the mirrored cabin.
You have accepted all my requests, he subvocalized, spending epsilon energy in a formal greeting.
As... willingly as can be, she answered in the same way. She felt oddly weak, dizzy, as if something more than the strange mirrored room had struck her. Something had just happened. Something strange— something she ought to remember . . .
The tall, handsome man raised a dark eyebrow.
I serve our people, she said, as you do.
"Show me your thoughts," ordered her father.
For some unremembered reason, Terza felt that his probe ought to feel like a wind. Instead, it pierced like a knife, stabbing through her alpha matrix, cutting multiple breaches.
She struggled to keep looking his way, focusing on his real face instead of his many reflections. She slowed her breathing and straightened her back.
She scarcely remembered returning to her cabin and falling onto her bunk. Hours later, she awoke sick and dizzy again.
She lay on the broad bunk and stared, shrouding her despair and humiliation under a layer of hatred, but hatred only amplified the gnawing pain in her gut. She must have missed a meal. She couldn't do that anymore.
She swung her legs over the side of her bunk and waited for light-headedness to pass. Like it or not, she carried her enemy's genetic offspring between her hipbones.
Her
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