Approach

We ran into a massive problem immediately.

I asked.

she swore in Speropi.

Of all the ways to counter Adept powers, field vacuums were by far the most effective. They could empty a given area of the Adept Field. Inside a field vacuum’s reach, nothing could draw on the field, so it wasn’t possible to create anything new. It was an incredible strategic asset, but they came at a steep cost. So steep, that despite being the most effective method to quash Adeptry, they were also the rarest.

Primarily because they couldn’t be moved. The machinery itself was massive and displacing the focal point, even by just a few inches, was enough to destabilize the vacuum. It took days for a field vacuum to reach the requisite desaturation just to have it be ready for activation, and while it was active, it was power hungry in the extreme. They couldn’t be maintained indefinitely either. Eventually something gave way, and the Adept field would come rushing back in.

Serral said, not missing a beat.

<…Nai?> I asked.

she said.

<…Yes. It’s one of these three spots,> she said, flagging positions on our psionic map.

<…Second one,> they said almost immediately.

Nai pointed out.

<…We might need to redistribute ourselves,> Serral said, worried.

Shinshay and Weith were the only ones still at the ship. The former because they contributed in battle even less than Nerin, and the latter because our plan hinged so much on taking flight on short notice.

Dyn and Nai were approaching the dam on their lonesome leaving the rest of the crew to back up me and Nerin while we approached the so-called- Mak in the ruined auto-factory.

Deg said. < Weith and Shinshay can help me figure out how to knock it out.>

Serral asked.

Deg said.

Tasser said.

That would leave just Fenno and Serral supporting Nerin and I from a safe distance.

our Captain decided.

Deg said.

I sent.

I sensed Deg’s marker on our map start moving, but the map was a rudimentary construct. It was basically a video-game mini-map. It was so nice tracking allies’ positions on radar…I had to resist the temptation to pull the pin on one of the four candled-radars I held in my mind. I’d all but certainly need every single one later.

Instead, I took a deep breath to steady myself, wished I didn’t need a stupid air mask, and continued walking toward the factory.

Nerin and I picked our way over pavement cracked by growing roots, and moss covering everything. Given that both of us weren’t Casti, we drew the gazes of every Casti we passed, but that was not a large number.

We were out in the crappiest parts of a colony famous for being crappy, lawless, and not very well maintained.

Serral, Fenno, Tasser, and Deg had been going a few hundred feet in front of us, clearing the way if need be, and finding ideal points outside the factory to provide us cover. Between the two factories we’d had our eyes on in this part of town, the automobile-plant was more overgrown. Tall trees shot up from underfoot, quickly obstructing sight lines. More than a few of them had grown straight through buildings.

When had I stopped thinking plants were normally green?

Probably about the time I started wondering if any given alien would shoot me.

Walking up to the auto-factory, fewer Casti got out of our way. More of them stood their ground as we passed by, and outside the factory’s overgrown gates were two Casti sentries wearing fresh broken-hammer emblems.

Nerin said,

I said.

“Hello,” I said to the sentries. “One medic and escort here to see the Mak?”

The two Casti looked at me with what could only be described as ‘thinly veiled contempt’.

Yeah, these folks did not like Adepts…interesting detail considering their painted patches still looked wet.

one of the sentries asked, directing the message to someone inside the factory.

I didn’t recognize the language. That was troubling.

she said.

“You didn’t say one of you was Terran,” the Casti said, relaying something similar to whoever was inside.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

<…No. Seems like they were expecting something like this.>

“…We’ve been waiting,” the other sentry told us. “Get inside.”

The sentry also sent a psionic message to someone inside. It was all I needed to break into their network. Gaining access to someone’s psionics was difficult, protected inside people’s heads. But the signals being exchanged between those minds were significantly less secure.

Native Casti tongue was chattering back and forth on a small bunch of psionic channels. Fenno translated.

<’They’re here. Bringing them in the front. One of them is a Terran.’>

<’Oh. That is something…don’t hurry. Look mean.’>

Serral said, sending me an image of his view, complete with a rifle trained on the Casti nearest me.

Until recently, I would have called him our fearless Captain. But by now I knew better.

He might have been in command, but I knew he loathed the idea of putting us in danger. If it had been at all viable for him to fill my or Nerin’s role, he would have moved heaven and earth to keep us out of harm’s way.

But some things were more important than guaranteeing our own safety.

Because the more I saw, the more I was convinced we weren’t wasting our time here.

The gate itself, turns out, was totally inoperable. Vines and roots tangled into the metal bars, so we had to climb over it.

I went over first, then Nerin tossed me the case of medical supplies we were bringing before climbing over herself.

Serral and Fenno had taken up positions outside the factory’s walls, with the best vantage points they could find on short notice.

Tasser and Deg ran into something interesting.

Serral answered.

Tasser said.

Serral said.

he said.

I said.

Serral said.

he said.

It was a little more than five minutes between the two factories, and another five minutes to the dam. But that was for Casti moving in a group.

Deg would be faster than them.

It would be fine. He’d bring the field-vacuum down and Adeptry would let me handle all these pirates…

Jeez, there were so many.

They weren’t actually pirates, but it was hard not to think of them as such. Buying abductees and holding them prisoner were only their most recent crimes—though I still didn’t know they had any humans for sure. But, bare minimum, they were fine with claiming they had human captives.

The gang’s numbers kept rising though.

Walking through the factory’s front door, I couldn’t help but sweat with each new enemy I noted, relaying the count to Serral and Fenno. The number grew quickly enough I had to abandon distinguishing between visibly armed and seemingly unarmed Casti almost immediately.

And there were a lot of arms…

‘Treat every gun as if it’s loaded.’

Good advice in any context, but it was usually regarding handling guns yourself. Today? It was more than just an aphorism. I could see four in this room, bringing the running total up to thirteen.

The only reassuring part about the weapons was their location. There’d been more guns on the factory’s exterior, Casti positioned as guards and sentries. It wasn’t a very organized watch, but it made up for it in sheer manpower, or…Castipower.

The number of possible opponents I could see and sense with psionics was making my skin crawl. Nerin was sensing it too.

Not having the sensation of Adeptry at my fingertips was driving me insane.

This field-vacuum was trouble.

“This way,” one Casti said, taking us through a series of hallways.

Once upon a time the factory had been divided into two sections for offices and machinery, but the pirates had blurred the line between the two. Walls were knocked down, and the large open factory floor had been filled with metal framing and simple room dividers.

The setup nostalgically reminded me of the way my elementary school had modular walls between certain classrooms.

Pirates would be the industrious sort. Other features to the building included ratty furniture that could only have been dragged in from outside, mold stains, and even some animal heads amateurly mounted to the walls.

Neither I nor Nerin recognized any of the creatures. Had they been hunted on this planet?

We were led through a lobby-like room where a dozen Casti lounged on splitting couches. I only saw one pistol, but a dozen assorted machetes and knobbed clubs lay within reach of all them.

“Homa— stop, I mean,” our escort ordered.

We complied, and my heart seized when I saw a hand come to rest on the gun. Our plan more or less operated on the assumption civility would break down, but if it did so too soon, we’d lose.

“Raise your arms,” the escort said, brandishing a machine resembling a barcode scanner.

We did so, and the Casti swept the scanner over us lazily. Apparently the simple chirps from the scanner satisfied them.

<’No weapons on either of them,’> Fenno translated the report.

“Open the case,” the pirate ordered.

I hefted the clamshell, popping it open to reveal vials, syringes, and other medical supplies. We’d really packed them all in, unsure of exactly how many human Adepts we might be faced with.

Before the Casti could inspect it closer, I dropped it shut again.

“No guns in there either,” I said. “So I’d rather you not waste our time going over every single vial.”

Calculated risk, see?

We needed to drag this out, buy time for Deg to disrupt the field-vacuum.

So if the ‘Mak’ thought we were impatient, then they’d hopefully hurry even less.

<’How close should we check the meds?’> the escort asked. Fenno once again translated.

This time, we were close enough, I could precisely locate who kept giving the instructions. The psionic voice came from the office behind the steel door atop a flight of metal stairs.

<’Don’t bother, just check for weapons.’>

Well drat.

“Go up,” the escort told us.

It was a good thing it was me and not Nerin carrying the medical case. Her hands were trembling even more than mine, but if I read her expression correctly, she wasn’t just scared. She was angry too.

Tasser and Fenno had taught me about Casti invitational propriety, and those rules said that Casti liked to announce themselves vocally instead of knocking, but in this case we weren’t expected to do even that.

We were expected.

The boss’ office looked similar to the rest of the factory, but with even more animal heads mounted on the walls. Two rather tall Casti stood behind a moldy couch facing an imposing looking desk.

At that desk sat a very old Casti, quite possibly the oldest one I’d ever seen.

Casti appearances varied widely, mostly through colors and shapes. Typically they had smooth grey skin that was often complimented with shades of yellow, orange, or even pale green in different patches and patterns.

But it had always been smooth until now.

So for the first time, I was looking at a wrinkled Casti. How old were they? I knew Casti could live a long time…one-hundred years was apparently ordinary for them.

Serral and Fenno were the oldest members of our crew, somewhere around sixty. Maybe seventy?

This Casti looked twice that.

…Or maybe Casti aging wasn’t a steady progression. This one could only be ten years older than Serral, and I’d have no idea.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Welcome,” the aging pirate croaked, still in the same heavily accented voice. “It’s not often we entertain guests. I’d like to thank you for forgoing any weapons, even if one of you is Adept…”

He directed us to sit down on the couch, with the guards looming behind us. It was a vulnerable position to find ourselves in, but not more vulnerable than being so badly outnumbered and surrounded like before.

Actually…it might be advantageous that the throng outside this office was down a flight of stairs. They might not be able to hear exactly what happened behind these doors.

“Well I appreciate not being shot on sight,” I said as genuinely as I could manage.

“We very nearly did,” the old Casti said.

Serral warned me.

“But then you saw reason, because you know how hard human medicine is to come by out here,” I said.

“Human?” he asked, pretending not to recognize the word.

“You should have acted more surprised when you first saw me if you wanted to convince me of that,” I said. “Don’t waste my time.”

Stupid, I thought. We were trying to drag things out for Dyn’s sake.

Thankfully, the elderly Casti reacted worse this time.

“These things cannot be rushed, ‘child’. You’re are here at my hospitality. The first order will be the money.”

His eyes fell to the case of, not money, but medical supplies.

I blinked.

Were they serious?

Even Nerin gave a confused look.

“…Our deal with the ‘Mak’ didn’t include a figure,” I said carefully. “The only ones we agreed to pay are the Water Boys…”

“Water Boys?” he asked, only for his mistake to dawn. He muttered, “Koevaiwalta…am I going senile?”

The gig was up, somewhat undercut by the fact that we’d already known: these Casti, despite their attempts to demonstrate otherwise, were not the Mak.

We’d interrogated real Mak splinter group on Sidar, so we’d all sensed something was off with these criminals. Nai was the first one to put it together though.

The Water Boys had arranged for us to meet at the local dam, only for a totally separate group to contact us with an identical offer? In retrospect, I felt a little stupid.

It was obvious when you looked at everything together.

The Mak logos were freshly painted outside, but they’d neglected to decorate the factory interior to match.

Whether they were trying to sell the same goods twice, overextend us, or just plain jerk us around, it didn’t really matter.

By the time we’d figured it out, we were committed to their game, or else risk losing whatever humans were here. If we’d abandoned either meeting, they would have been moved for sure.

All this skullduggery, only for the Casti in charge to forget which meeting had agreed to what terms…

Unfortunately for us, the elderly pirate did not miss our reactions and lack thereof.

“You already knew,” he muttered. “What tipped us off?”

“Timing,” I shrugged. “You should have waited before having ‘the Mak’ reach out. Word needs time to spread around, and you didn’t give it any.”

“So why show up at all?”

“You’ve got more than one human, don’t you?” I asked. “Trying to get us to pay twice is rude, but like I said: you didn’t shoot us on sight. So we’re ready to at least sit down.”

It galled me to say.

These aliens were, if not slavers, adjacent to it. They were at least trafficking humans, and rubbing elbows with some of the worst Casti the cosmos had to offer. Hell, they could even be some of those ‘worst’.

But I cared more about rescuing abductees than making sure the worst got what was coming to them.

If there was a peaceful solution here, we’d all agreed beforehand to take it.

“…You think you’re all so…superior,” the old pirate spat.

Of course a peaceful solution could well be impossible…

“Business is business,” I said. “Let us inspect my fellow humans’ health and we can discuss further exchange.”

“We’re not giving you a thing,” the pirate sneered.

“Like I said,” I tried. “We’re willing to offer more than fair compensation—"

“Shut up, versta,” the old Casti snapped.

Fenno was a bit slow translating that word.

<…I don’t actually know what that means,> she said,

I was beginning to wrap my head around what might put this local Casti criminal outfit in the orbit of the Mak.

The Mak were anti-Adept supremacists. From what little I understood, the unifying ideology was focused against Adeptry and Adepts. It was highly unusual, but there were apparently a few Vorak and Farnata Mak.

But there was a reason those few felt like an exception to the rule.

Far more of the Mak were friendly with other, even bigger supremacists. These guys were classic, literal xenophobes.

To my surprise, the old coot was barely keeping vicious anger off his face. Normally the psionic emotional cues weren’t this clear, but this Casti was increasingly wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

I said.

Deg said.

“Everyone knows the Vorak aren’t worth mud, but people have fooled themselves about the ‘Farnata’ ever since the Razing,” he said.

There was so much venom in his voice.

I virtually stopped listening to his rant, all my attention landing on my psionics, waiting for Deg’s signal I could move.

Serral said.

I requested.

“…forgot what the Kiraeni were like, and now you’ve got every Casti from here to Nakrumum to Ramik thinking ‘oh these aliens, these Farnata are the good ones…’” the Casti continued to rant. “Watching it all turn out this way makes me sick.”

He’d split his attention between me and Nerin—who still hadn’t said a word yet—and narrowed his gaze icily.

“That’s why you’ll lose,” he said, imbuing a disturbing strength of conviction into his voice. “You’re arrogant. You think because you can drag some atoms into reality, that makes you gods…but these new creations…well, you still need an Adept to make them. For now. But once they’re made, they can be maintained. They’re brand new, and the possibilities are endless. We’ll find a way to maintain psionics ourselves, we’ll find a way to hew new ones from non-Adept thought. You can’t imagine what psionics will let us do, and that’s why you’ll lose. That’s the mistake you made today too.”

“…Mistake?” I asked, taking his bait.

“We know your psionic transceivers are better than ours,” he grinned maliciously. “This whole time, you haven’t said a thing on the default channels…ah, you didn’t think we knew there were non-default channels did you?”

I asked.

he said.

“” I said, layering the words across several channels at once. “”

“Ah-ha, impressive! But even if we can’t make channels outside the ordinary transceiver, we can still communicate without you realizing.”

He did something, some motion, or signal, and the two huge Casti behind us drew guns. Whatever signal it was wasn’t psionic.

“…We focused too much on our psionic advantage, you mean?” I asked.

“Like I said,” the pirate said, “so superior…the Terrans in our basement are the same way. The number of times they’ve tried to sabotage their creations, lied to our faces again and again, no matter how much they…they…”

“…Bite the hand that feeds them?”

The Casti processed the metaphor and seemed almost disturbed by how much it resonated with him.

“Yes. Yes, that’s it precisely.”

“So, what? You want me to congratulate you?” I asked. “You certainly have us where you want.”

The old pirate scowled at that. Maybe I was being a bit too cavalier.

“I should have known the field-vacuum wouldn’t surprise you. Part of me wanted to see your escort to make something. Seeing the look on her face would have been fun.”

I blinked.

Events had unfolded such that I’d been the one carrying the case of medical supplies, but that was only because it was heavy. But a human carrying human medical supplies…

Of course they’d assumed I was the medic, and Nerin was the Adept escort.

I warned.

“Shoot her, shock the medic,” the aging pirate grunted.

“Waitwaitwait!” I said, “You got one part of that wrong: you can’t kill her,”

Serral said.

“Is that right?” the boss sneered. He uttered something psionically to the two thugs behind us, and Fenno translated it. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing much,” I said. “Just…I don’t know human medicine. She’s the one who knows the supplies and medicine. Kill her, you’re leaving expertise unutilized.”

Deg said.

“…I can take the loss,” the old monster grunted, jutting his head at Nerin.

For a split-second dread filled every last speck of my existence.

Serral shouted at me.

Showing their mistake had bought a lot less time than I’d hoped.

But it was enough.

Deg said. The same second, I felt the field vacuum buckle. Like a suction cup’s grip failing, the Adept Field popped back into reach.

With no warning whatsoever, I materialized six rocket knives, and a gun in Nerin’s hand.

Before they could react, the three Casti in the room each had a pair of propelled steel stab into their throats. Their voices would make no sound louder than a rasp now.

Not even a heartbeat later, I launched a psionic attack on the three pirates in the room.

Exactly how psionics could or couldn’t affect the mind and brain remained a puzzle. But one thing I had learned was that psionics could affect psionics. In my mind, the attacks were spears, psychic javelins perfectly shaped and launched to flicker through the firewall I’d included in the intro-module.

Each javelin gored right through the telepathic transceivers in each of their minds in the blink of an eye, so fast their minds couldn’t register the spears quickly enough to reject their presence. In the millisecond it took their minds’ reflexes to recognize and expel my javelins, they’d already done their damage.

Now none of these three could call for help psionically either.

The wrinkled Casti’s eyes widened in alarm when he realized they were cut off.

I leapt off the couch, materializing a heavy knife in my hand. One of the guard Casti stumbled back with the blades in their throat, too surprised to stop me from putting my knife through their diaphragm.

The second guard realized they were next and stumbled toward a metal table. Trying to knock it over for noise?

I wrenched them—her, judging by the eyes—and severed her diaphragm too.

The two of them would be unconscious in seconds from the blood loss, but the old man’s lungs were still functional if he could clear his trachea somehow.

Casti probably didn’t call it a ‘trachea’, I thought.

The pirate stared up at me venomously.

“It’s a little poetic, don’t you think?” I said. “You took my Adeptry for a while, so I’ve taken your psionics. You aren’t nearly as good with them as you thought.”

As the blood poured out of his wounds, he was rapidly losing consciousness.

“Tell me where you’re keeping the humans.”

He, unfortunately, could not stay conscious, and I had no inclination to stop his bleeding.

But just like Tiv’s clone had once, the pirate’s psionics remained distinct even as his mind (and possibly life) faded.

In that state, some of the pirate’s psionics might be retrievable.

Nai had found radars were not the only thing worth candling. Candle constructs took up much less space and were easy to preserve, and that made them ideal for psionic weaponry.

Pulling the pin on another creation materialized a psionic harpoon in my mind. I launched it at the pirate’s psionics, trying to haul them across the void into my mind.

My spoils were a mostly intact transceiver and 2D psionic sheet showing the factory’s floorplan and layout, and probably half of the documents the old bastard had been carrying.

Jackpot.

Serral shouted at me.

I said, glancing at Nerin.

One of the Casti outside the office might have heard something, because they sent a psionic query toward the office. They didn’t know how to work reception confirmation into their psionics though.

An actual response was the only thing that could tell them their message was received.

I said. My hands were shaking. I’d just killed three people. Probably. Casti could survive a lot.

This time I wasn’t connected to Nai’s mind and experience.

<’Everything alright in there?’> Fenno translated for me.

The goons outside were checking in. Not good.

I closed my grip on the pirate’s half-ruined telepathy transceiver and rolled the dice.

It came to life.

I said, praying the transceiver worked the way I hoped. The fewer words I had to share, the better.

the Casti outside snorted.

I pretended to defend.

They didn’t seem to think anything was up. The pirate’s transceivers were like ours; they fundamentally operated off of ‘words’ and ‘sounds’. So even if I was the one operating it, this particular transceiver was adapted and customized to give off the pirate boss’ voice.

And these Casti weren’t skilled enough to recognize the emotional bleed and other elements discernable in our telepathy.

That would buy us yet some more time.

I glanced at Nerin again, and she was shaken, but still in one piece.

And she was still angry.

Good. Priority one was locating any humans on site…

So, I needed to be able to see properly.

I pulled the pin on a radar-candle and let myself breathe easier as the players’ positions became known.

One detail had been plaguing me since we first saw the psionic heatmap of the colony: despite the hotspots, there was no guarantee any humans were on this planet at all. We were following thin threads, making several leaps, and exposing our most vulnerable crew members to colossal risk.

But the no-longer-breathing wrinkled old pirate had said ‘humans in our basement’.

Humans. Plural.

Unlike the original radar, the candled version covered a preset shape and volume: an ellipsoid that reached out more than it reached up or down. Still, the vertical coverage wasn’t nonexistent. I held a bated breath as the radar spread downward into the basement…

There. Almost a hundred feet below us.

Candled radars muddied the more exotic feedback the radar could give.

Anyone other than me or Nai would have missed the tiny fluctuations in their minds, the nearly imperceptible energy touching their minds.

Two Adepts.

Even Nai would have missed the pattern to their minds. I couldn’t tell the difference between Farnata, Casti, and Vorak minds by psionics alone. But ever since failing to recognize Nora when we first met, I’d learned to distinguish human minds from the rest.

And there they were down there.

Two human minds.