Mustering the Mighty

Note: The image associated is from Ironage.media, specifically their prompt, 'The Lounge'. Further, this is a third piece of the story begun in 'The Godstorm Wakes' and continued in 'A Healer's Hands'

Soliana Severin woke late in the day, her head thrumming from the strangest dream of her life. In it, a force she couldn't see had been pursuing her, something alien, hunting her without rest.

However, just before it could overtake her, a light brighter than the white dwarf star near her home planet shone far away in the galactic east. As its light briefly blinded her, she could feel the force recoil away, fleeing from the strange brilliance. The last thing she felt before waking was comfort, as though she was being held by her mother one last time.

The feeling of her mother and the strange eastward light did not fade from her awareness at any point so far—not through her shower, her workout, or even when she cooked herself a meal. It was a constant imaginary sun, radiating not warmth but peace. If not for its comfort, she would be livid at its unremitting presence. Even so, she half-wondered if her client had slipped her something last night.

Brushing her long, drying locks over her shoulder, she thought through the events of last night. Dressing for the lounge in the provided gown. She applied her makeup on the conservative side and played to the "long-term girlfriend" angle her client had requested. Arriving with her client. The glass of wine she'd taken. None of it was anything she hadn't done a million times before. Even their nightcap was utterly typical, save her client's endurance.

Frustrated, she reviewed the bio-signs captured by her shower. There were no signs of chemical, technological, or biological tampering. Nor was she pregnant. The readings were almost perfectly normal.

Almost.

Nevertheless, this couldn't be right. Soliana had never displayed potent psionics. All previous tests had shown she had below-average potential. So why was her medi-mat saying she was now giving off an unparallelled signal? The damn thing was probably broken.

She checked its software. It was unchanged from its last update two weeks ago. She ran the scan manually again. The readings were identical. Somehow, overnight, she'd developed impressive potential. Soliana wondered if that dream and her new imaginary associate were related.

She wondered what she could be capable of. Although Gjaellarm V had the tech to detect them, it knew little about how to apply the psionic abilities that legend spoke of. Soliana had heard of a planetary initiative to study those rare persons possessing above-grade potential that paid well, perhaps better than even her most loaded clients could afford.

The eastern light blinked as the thought crossed her mind, seemingly demanding her attention. For a moment, she swore that a voice had accompanied it. She thought of agreeing to the initiative again. The light blinked once more, and in its wake, a thin voice speaking a single word.

"No."

Despite its thinness, the voice's authourity was staggering. Soliana felt an immediate compulsion to kneel, though she resisted it. Its familiarity was jarring and probably the only thing keeping her on her feet. She thought of refusing the initiative. The light blinked twice, and the voice came again, fuller, alive, as though its owner saw she had heard it, "Yes."

Elation threatened to overcome her at the voice's approval. 'Why would its opinion of her matter?' she thought, struggling to keep her own will and counsel against this now too-intrusive visitor.

As she contemplated whether she truly was feeling another mind somewhere in the fragmented galaxy, she also wondered if she'd simply lost her own. It was certainly more likely. Soliana was younger than her mother when she'd slipped into madness—not as young as her grandmother had been, though, if Mom could be trusted.

The light didn't react this time, but the voice came to her once more, a string of incomplete, dispassionate thoughts pouring into her mind, "Sane. Unsafe. Hunted. Flee. Come. Safety." Fear coursed into her, followed by a resolve that didn't feel wholly her own as she became alert to her surroundings.

The light began pulsing regularly, almost counting. It blinked twice as the thought crossed Soliana's mind while it pulsed, another "Yes." floating by. Then, her communicator beeped. Across its screen flashed the Seal of Gjaellarm V and the words 'Psionic ability detected. Initiative squad notified. Please remain calm.'

The words "Hunted. FLEE!" all but literally broke across her ears as she read the screen. She had prepared for something like this. One didn't provide her services, and certainly not to whom she offered them, without having an escape already set up. She'd never once imagined psionics playing a role. The government absolutely, but never psionics. She bolted for her hallway closet, snatching her jacket and prepared go-bag. The light's counting had quickened, a single impossibly strong command filtering into her head, "FASTER!" Her limbs moved of their own accord to comply, and despite herself, she obeyed, urging herself along.

She yanked her boots on, nearly falling into her door as she contended against her own tired muscles, acceding to the commands of this queer light in her mind's eye. As she rushed through the hall of her tenement block, her head swam at the additional information presently assaulting her. Her regular senses heightened in her flight were disorienting enough. Now, she could taste the minds of the people near her.

Rage, joy, despair, lust, and all manner of emotions flooded her senses from everywhere around her. The light seemed to strengthen, drowning out the feelings that were not her own from her mind, much as it had the force from her dream.

"You're protecting me?" she said aloud, pushing ahead to the staircase. A double-blink answered her before she felt something foreign coming up from beneath her. A lack of anything definable other than a crushing weight of intent. It came level with her as she reached the door to the stairs. As the door phased out of existence, she crossed it and dared to look back. A squad of Officers exited the elevator, weapons drawn, entering her abandoned apartment. But the intent she felt was not theirs.

One last Officer stepped off the elevator. The intent she could barely feel against the protection of the eastern light moved with him. And from the pistol he had levelled at her, his designs were no mystery. The door phased into existence just before the bullet would have struck her heart. Rage replaced the murder she had felt from the man as she finally found she could move again. The light pulsed at least twice as fast as her thumping heart as she jumped down the stairs, landing to landing. The voice came through again, saying, "Flee. Fly. Here. Hierophont. Prime."