Planet Pandora

Psychic Command [Psy-com] Main-Training Facility

Holding Cells

“Now, I’ve done it…” Scarlet thought to herself, looking around the stark interrogation-room. Maybe, just maybe it had been a bad idea to reject the advances made by one of the other trainees so… vehemently. But there was no way that she would let anyone do that to her, not against her will. Growing up in the slums of Nova Yor, she had learned early that going along with people like that was not a solution, it just led to more pain and suffering. Take the earliest chance to retaliate and, once you do, make sure that your first strike is the only strike needed to end the threat in a permanent manner. Somehow, when the instructors appeared, only minutes after she had used her powers to defend herself, they had been rather uninterested in the fact that she had been attacked and only defended herself. And now, she was sitting in an interrogation-room while they decided what would happen with her.

It was not the first time that she had used her abilities as a psion to defend herself against someone who saw her slender and petite figure and thought her to be prey. But no one who survived in the slums was easy prey, those who were easy prey either died or suffered an even worse fate. Just thinking about that made her shudder.

She had learned early on that brute, physical force was a fool’s game for one with her physique but she also learned that humans were squishy, if one knew to press the right buttons. A concealed knife, hidden somewhere on, sometimes in, her body, always ready to slip into an attacker, that had been the ultimate skill to keep her alive. No matter how big, no matter how strong they were, a swift stab was a convincing argument if she couldn’t talk her way out of things.

Until that fateful day four years ago. The day she learned that the tricks she used on other people were rudimentary psionic abilities, marking her as one of the truly powerful psions. The day, she had taught another asshole a lesson so very similar to the lesson she had taught the other trainee. It had been the start of her journey to Psy-com.

She had been one of the lucky ones, one of the few who had, for some reason, inherited the markers for psionic talent and manifested the gift at a high level. It was a barely understood process, the markers were known and in more than half the population but a successful manifestation only occurred in a small fraction of society. Those with power tried to breed their children to be psions but the effects were mediocre at best. Wild talents, like Scarlet, were stronger than the greenhouse-flowers bred by the upper classes in an effort to gain control over the psions. The result was that psy-com did their very best to scour the worlds of the Federation in an effort to gather all psions under their banner. And under their control.

As she was musing, the door opened, granting a figure clad in the black uniform of Psy-com entrance. It was a slightly older male, just starting his middle-age and the rank-insignia identified him as a Colonel. Reflex, long since beaten into Scarlet, caused her to jump to attention, or at least she tried. The shackles that bound her to the table cut the attempt short, causing her to awkwardly land back in her chair. At least, she had not fallen.

“At ease, Ms. Jones.” the form of address and the sardonic smile on his face made her stomach clench. It was customary in the training center to use first names and rank, a custom stemming from the fact that a disproportionate number of trainees had the surname Jones, the name given to those born without proper papers. The children of slum-dwellers, the abandoned and unwanted.

While she was off-balance, the Colonel got a good look at her, comparing the person he was seeing to the pictures contained in her file. The young woman in front of him was wearing a uniform similar to his own but the image she presented was greatly different. Where he was rather tall, she seemed to be too small to even pass muster, reminding him that she was only in the military due to her psionic talents, convinced to join up by whatever means possible. But where the original pictures showed a stick-figure of a girl, malnourished and fragile, the years in the Psy-com training center had changed that, added some muscle and flesh to her frame. She was still small and slender but it was no longer the slenderness of deprivation but more the sleekness of a gymnast. But her figure was not the most remarkable thing about her, the most remarkable thing was easily her hair. On the old pictures, it had been a long and wavy mass of vibrant red and even now, cut short to regulation-length, the colour was striking, making it obvious where she got her name. In addition to those features, she had emerald eyes and a slight dusting of freckles over her high cheekbones and small nose.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

After straightening her posture, she was able to get a good look at the Colonel. His face, topped with short, black hair, that started to turn grey at the temples, seemed harsh, almost hawkish but in his steel-grey eyes, was a small, barely noticeable tinge of compassion. Even before understanding her psionic talents, she had relied on her ability to read people in order to survive.The Colonel was either an accomplished actor or he was genuinely concerned about her and trying to help her. Or maybe, it was both.

“Now, Ms. Jones, I’m sure you know why you are here. After inspecting the cameras and sifting through the remains of Cadet Samue’s mind, we know that she attacked you, using both psionic and physical means. In that regard, you have been well within your rights to defend yourself.” he started and the uneasy feeling in her stomach increased by an order of magnitude. If that was the case, than things had gotten political and when things got political, those without connections could easily be crushed between the millstones.

“Which leaves us, and with us I mean this facility and Psy-com as a whole, with a problem. We can’t officially punish you but at the same time, Cadet Samue is also the daughter of Mr. Corma, President of Starburst-Industries and even with a lot of intensive, psionic care it is doubtful that Samue Corma will ever be more than a drooling idiot.” That announcement made Scarlet flinch despite her best attempts to keep her calm. Starburst was one of the more important ship-building companies, making everything from military vessels to high-end hover-cars and the Corma-family was undoubtedly part of the rich and connected class at the highest strata of society. Losing a daughter, especially a daughter talented enough to get into Psy-com, to some random trainee would most likely be a good enough reason to pay someone to make her vanish. All her instincts went into fight or flight-mode, ready to defend herself if the Colonel tried to attack with his undoubtedly powerful abilities.

“I see, you are aware of the meaning of that. I have looked at your files and your scores are easily in the top half of your class. When only looking at the scores for skill and power, you would be at the top. But at the same time, you seem to enjoy defying authority, sometimes with good reasons and ideas behind your defiance, sometimes with nothing more than a gut-feeling and your scores reflect that.” Scarlet cringed a little, hearing that.

She had been fiercely independent ever since she had left the group-home at roughly the age of fourteen, deciding that no home was better than what she had there. Joining Psy-com had not been a decision she had been able to make, it was presented to her as a fait-accompli after a Psy-com officer had visited her in an interrogation-room so very similar to this one. But back then, she had just fried to mind of one of a gang enforcer and getting away had been prudent. In addition, she had since learned that the Federation had a dim view when it came to independant psions, their potential for harm was far too large to let them roam the wilds, thus their recruitment was rather enthusiastic at times.

“So, what happens now, sir?” she asked, using the honorific in a conditioned reflex, her mind running through possible ways to escape, not just the room but the base and ultimately the planet. Vanishing was not easy but it was possible, she’d either have to go into the fringe-systems or into the slums of the core-worlds. Neither sounded good to her, but it depended what was behind door number two, which the colonel would hopefully present to her.

“Have you ever heard of the Verdun-System?” the colonel asked in response.

“No, Sir.” she answered, frowning a little before smoothing out her features.

“Good, I would have had to start an investigation if you had. The Verdun-System is classified as secret but considering that you will be stationed there, you obviously need to know that it exists.” he explained with a slight smile.

“I have looked at your files and you already have the required grades and skills to graduate and enter service, so that is what we will do. You will graduate and begin your commision, a commision you will serve on Verdun-3. It will remove you from the public, hiding you in a secret system so there will be no temptation for the Corma-Family to take their displeasure out on you, forcing Psicom to take official notice. It is the best solution for everyone, don’t you think?” the colonel asked.

“Yes, Sir.” there was little else she could say.

Serving on some secret base for years sounded rather boring but compared to getting kidnapped and tortured to death in order to assuage the bruised ego of one of the ultra-rich, it sounded like a good idea.

“Good. Lieutenant Ryker will take you to your quarters, allowing you to gather your personal effects before giving you your marching orders and travel plans.” the Colonel stood and there was a soft fluttering in the mental realm as he gave the telepathic order for the junior officer to enter and take charge of Scarlet.

Another officer entered, this one with the rank-insignia of a Lieutenant, accompanied by two security officers. After salutes and greetings, the four of them moved towards the barracks, There was little to collect, slum-dwellers rarely accumulated more than they could easily grab and carry with them and once she was done, she looked to the Lieutenant, asking for the next step. Her question was answered in an unexpected fashion, a sharp prick at the back of her neck and the world quickly turned blurry and then, dark.