Primal Scream

By Jackie Clark
An original series/CD story crossing with my 'Joining' universe.

Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People are not mine, but are the copyright of Roger Price, Thames/Pearson TV etc. The characters of Elena and Paul are copyright to Big Finish Productions.

Although this story involves characters from my 'Joining' universe the stories do not match entirely regarding all areas of story continuity. Perhaps events I've mentioned in previous stories actually happened in another time line? The events depicted here happen in the year 2003, after my 'Paradox' and 'Ariane Conspiracy' scripts and follow a slightly divergent thread from the stories written by me two or three years ago.

One line of lyric is taken from the track 'Losing Grip', from the album 'Let Go,' by Avril Lavigne

Thanks to Anyta, Beth and Emma for beta reading this story and Carolyn for her helpful input.

Warning / Rating ( PG 13 ) : This story contains some scenes of minor violence, torture and the occasional swear word. The story addresses some fundamental issues related to a TP who breaks the Prime Barrier. I have tried to depict the very sensitive topic of mental illness and some readers may find it disturbing…

"Warning - decompression in thirty seconds… Warning - decompression in thirty seconds… Warning - decompression in thirty seconds…"

As he stood with his nose pressed against the small viewing window, his eyes were transfixed by the star-scape before him. Condensation formed, disappeared and reformed across his vision, momentarily obscuring his view. Ignoring the fine mist created by his breath, he pinpointed and identified one star after another. They all looked so familiar and at the same time so alien…

In just a few more seconds the portal of the escape hatch would open to reveal the space beyond. The cold stillness of its vacuum, the utter silence of its emptiness… But even now, when he was so close to achieving his ultimate goal, he could feel the anguish rising once again.

"Warning - decompression in twenty seconds… Warning - decompression in twenty seconds… Warning - decompression in twenty seconds…"

His whole body began to shake uncontrollably. Sweat oozed from the pores on his forehead and trickled down into his eyes. Suddenly conscious of his body he briefly withdrew his awareness in a vain attempt to regain some composure. How many times had he walked in space before? Fifty? A hundred? A thousand? What made this time any different from all the others? All he had to do was watch the hatch blow and allow himself to be pulled out into the dark void before him…

"Warning - decompression in ten seconds… Warning - decompression in ten seconds… Warning - decompression in ten seconds…"

He was trembling all over. Losing control of his movements… losing control of his mind…Instinctively his hand flew out towards the abort switch… Just a few more seconds… Just a few more seconds and it'll all be over…

His hand was on the lever now… excruciating spasms of pain gnawed at his muscles, forcing him to press his palm down harder.

Suddenly aware of the contours on the back of his own hand he traced the patterns of the veins with his eyes. Watched with detached disbelief as his fingers moved under some unknown force…

But this was not his own hand; it was the hand of someone else. Someone very familiar, but whose name he could barely recall. The hand that had dictated his life, the hand that would ultimately betray him even now, when his goal was but a heartbeat away…

As evening fell across the desolate landscape, the small band of militia settled themselves down to rest for a while. This patrol had lasted for twelve exhausting hours and was thankfully nearing its end. Squatting down in the dust filled hollow they scanned the horizon for any signs of their enemy, but much like yesterday, and the days before, they encountered no one.

Pulling chew sticks from their packs, they began to munch silently. The dry salty taste felt comfortable in their mouths. How long was it since they last tasted real food or the sweet juice of freshly picked Markless fruits? This war had been going on for so long that field rations were becoming the norm; they had almost grown to like them!

Nodding to one another, even sub-vocal speech was unnecessary. Their thoughts about this mission had been shared earlier in the day. They were the best squad, with the highest kill rate of any in their division. Was this the best assignment they could hope for? Crawling along on their hands and knees for hours through the charred remains of forests. Crossing endless arid plains, where dust and dirt swirled around them in vortices created by the wind. Or wading waist deep through semi-congealed mud, the only visible remains of what were once beautiful lakes teeming with fish and other wild life. This was no life for a combat veteran. There were no secret enemy encampments here, no chance to make a good kill - just hundreds of units of lifeless wasteland.

As his eyes scanned the surrounding hillside, a small movement caught his attention. It was the momentary flash of something metallic reflecting the last few rays of the setting sun. Interesting, he thought and sat up, more alert now. Who or what could be out there creeping around in the dirt? Not another tracker squad, of that he was certain. They had been assigned this sector and knew that their patrol perimeter was over a thousand units away. Suddenly the hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he realised that an enemy agent had managed to approach so close without being detected. His heart began to thump with excitement as the idea of a possible kill filled his thoughts.

The scout of their squad had also noticed the approaching enemy agent. His enhanced vision allowed him to see well beyond the range of normal Manyarnern eyes. Squirming across the ground, he came very close.

"It's a female, wearing the robes of a lens. She seems to be more interested in watching the sunset than protecting herself."

Expanding his psi-awareness to surround the woman, he scanned her details. His companion was right. The woman stood in a clearing ahead of them, her gaze fixed skyward. Her translucent robe with its ornately embroidered hem and braided waistband was definitely that of a powerful lens. From her actions he assessed that her psi-awareness was limited to just a few meters in front of her and could offer her very little protection in this hostile environment.

"Take her out before she spots us," hissed his companion. "If she's one of them then it's only a matter of time before she calls for backup!"

With minimal effort he reached out his senses to surround the woman. It was all too easy to penetrate such feeble defences and reach into her mind. Such a troubled and fragile mind, he thought. Distracted by the colourful spectacle of the sunset, she was paying hardly any attention to her surroundings. He was deep inside her mind now, seeing what she was seeing, feeling her emotions as she gazed at the horizon ablaze with the deepest reds and purples. But despite the intensity of the scene there was no joy here, just something dark and foreboding, something more painful than this woman could bear…

Drawn in by the intensity of the woman's emotions he momentarily forgot the most fundamental rule of combat and touched her inner thoughts with his own consciousness. Her sudden realisation of his presence jolted her awareness back to the here and now. She swung around, wide-eyed, to stare directly at him.

With a rush of utter delight he entered the unshielded patterns of her mind, stole along the neural pathways and entered the very tissues of her brain. But instead of the usual resistance he was met with what he could only describe as relief… This woman was actually longing for the death that he was about to bring her. Every cell of her being was crying out to be released from its suffering.

The scout suddenly lifted himself up about ten meters into the air and scanned the area. "Incoming..."

Breaking off his psionic attack, he withdrew from the anguish that was the woman's mind. (Guess you'll have to wait,) he pathed, as he and his companions simultaneously teleported back to base camp.

**********
Staring at the back of his hand, he watched the pulse thumping through the distended veins, traced the pattern of freckles as if they were a reflection of the star-scape before him, and for the first time noticed the intricate lines of the skin.

This is not my hand, he thought, this is an old man's hand. The hand of that unnamed someone who controls my destiny with their words and deeds. My skin is still young and fresh with youth. This thought made him laugh aloud. How old was he exactly? Forty? Fifty? He inspected the delicate pattern of dry skin cells; they reminded him of broken glass, the way it shatters when you kick a football against it. Their feathery confusion spread across the back of his hand like a spider's web of broken promises. Cracked like a glass, he thought. Broken like a disused plaything… I'm cracking up… I'm breaking up… I'm breaki…

He was a fifteen-year old boy running uncontrollably through a busy market place. All around him people stared, their shocked faces indignant as this brash young man pushed his way through the crowd. But it was not their faces he was scared of; it was their voices… so many voices… hundreds of thousands of souls impinging on his youthful mind… Yes, he was going out of his mind.

But he was not alone. Someone else was in his mind with him. Someone so familiar, yet still un-named. Someone lurking in his consciousness, sharing his feelings and thinking his every thought. They were always there, spying on him, judging him and pushing him into action… Always there, but never there when he needed them!

The figure looked at him more intently. Not a true person at all, but a jellylike phallus, its flippered appendage patting him comfortingly on the back. Instantly this image dissolved and changed. Now it was a man… a friend perhaps? No; an authoritative intruder, always pushing, always giving orders. A moment later it had transformed into a woman, a dearly beloved woman of great power and strength. Why had they come now? Have they always been here?

He wanted to scream at them. Tell them how they had let him down. This man, this woman who were inside his head… His cracked and broken head, his breaking mind…

At last he found his voice. At last he could let out his scream. A scream so primeval he was shocked by its intensity.

The therapist removed his hand from Stephen's forehead and turned to the nurse. "I've never seen a case like this before. Despite hours of psycho-leptic therapy he's still too deep in the catatonic state. If I didn't know better I'd say he was in a Manyarnern cocoon. But that's impossible. He's human, isn't he?"

The nurse glanced down at the medical file in her hand and nodded. "Yes, Doctor."

The doctor turned towards the door. "We'll try again tomorrow. Call me if there's any change."

The Commander Bitlar peered with rising excitement at the plans lying on the console. What fun he would have conquering such an esteemed world. Manyarner was legendary, not only because of its physical wealth, but also the extraordinary powers wielded by its inhabitants. If he could make this plan succeed he would, no doubt, be honoured throughout the empire for such a miraculous victory.

He flicked through topographical maps of the Manyarnern terrain; thumbed through pages of notes, that detailed how civil war had led to the breakdown of the ruling circle on each continent, and finally revelled in the specialist reports on the planet's puny defensive capabilities. With so many of the population already killed and the remaining inhabitants barely able to conjure enough energy to sustain their food supplies, this lilac jewel on the outer rim of the galaxy's spiral arm looked like a gift from the gods. How could he turn away from such a prize?

This intelligence had arrived at just the right moment in the Sorson campaign. Or perhaps, he thought, it was his tremendous military prowess that had allowed him to anticipate the battle ahead and bring his cruiser into this section of the galaxy. Such speculation didn't matter any more. With this information he knew that the Sorson Empire was on the brink of its greatest victory since it had first declared war on the pathetic Galactic Federation. And fate had bequeathed the planet Manyarner to him alone. His objective was clear: to take up the reins of this unhappy world, seize control of the surviving psionic beings and use their powers against their own kind. By the time he had finished with them he'd have the pathetic Galactic Federation begging him for mercy!

Elena and Paul left the cinema hand in hand. Emerging into the half-light of evening they looked skyward.

"At least the rain's stopped," commented Paul, refolding his umbrella. "Chips… I'm hungry. Fancy some chips?"

"You're always hungry," laughed Elena, as they moved up the street together.

Some minutes later they were sitting on the edge of a raised flowerbed in the centre of the shopping precinct.

"Well, what did you think of the film?" he asked, as he stuffed another handful of the vinegar-soaked fries into his mouth.

"It was OK, I suppose," she shrugged. "Typical of you to take me to a sci-fi film!"

"I've had about enough of space ships and fighting aliens to last me a lifetime. I don't really want to spend my time off thinking about them too…"

"Your trouble, Ellie, is that you don't feel the Force" Paul jumped to his feet and handed her the bag of chips. Snatching up the umbrella, he began to brandish it towards her like a light sabre. "Your powers are week, old woman," he said in a pathetic voice that sounded nothing like Darth Vader.

Reaching out with TK, Elena took hold of the umbrella's mechanism and made it fly open in Paul's hand. "Feel the Force Paul… feel the Force."

They laughed together for many minutes while they continued their impromptu snack.

"I'm parched. Fancy a cuppa?" asked Elena, as she tossed the now empty chip paper into a nearby bin. "Let's head back to the Lab and get TIM to brew up for us."

"Sure," replied Paul, happy that their evening was not coming to an end as soon as he had anticipated.

Crossing the busy road, they headed for a dark alley from where they could jaunt in privacy. (TIM put the kettle on,) Paul pathed good-humouredly.

(TIM. TIM. Come in please!) This time it was Elena's turn to look concerned. She switched back to speech as they both broke into a run. "Something's wrong… I can feel it."

Timus watched the doctor leave the medical unit and return to his office. As he knocked politely on the door, it slid open in response to the telekinetic command from within.

The doctor shook his head dejectedly. "There's nothing I can do I'm afraid. His condition has not changed in days. Is he a friend of yours?"

Timus nodded but remained silent, unable to think of anything but the poor young man lying deep in a catatonic trance in the next room.

"We've tried every therapy we can think of, but his cocoon is just too impenetrable. Did you know that he was joined with a Manyarnern?"

Motioning for Timus to take a seat the doctor sat down behind the console. "That explains a lot… Such a strong joining is aggravating his condition. The Manyarnern brain is a highly complex psionic organ and quite unique amongst other telepathic species. You are aware that they are one of the few races in the galaxy who do not have the Prime Barrier?"

"The mixing of a human mind with a Manyarnern is unprecedented amongst their species. They are usually such an insular race I am surprised it was allowed at all." He leaned forward to emphasise his point and lowered his voice. "The Sorsons certainly knew what they were doing when they chose him as an assassin. No one in the Federation would suspect a Homo-superior of being a killer, but this young man is joined to a being capable, and powerful enough of killing with ease. The sharing of personality traits during a joining is something many of us would find distasteful, but it has served the Manyarnerns well for centuries as a means of containing their extensive abilities. Unfortunately, in this situation the brain washing received by Stephen allowed them to turn him into the ultimate spy. A non-violent telepath totally capable of drawing on his partner's skills, enabling him to kill without remorse." He shuddered. "Such a terrible thing for a telepath to go through… such a terrible thing."

"How did the Sorsons accomplish this brainwashing? Their race does not have the skills or technology to achieve such things."

"Usually no, but the Sorsons have acquired many worlds in their recent campaigns, worlds where the use of psycho-leptic technology is well advanced. Once they had captured Stephen and discovered to whom he was joined, they must have put a great deal of effort into re-educating his brain. Psycho-leptics works by re-ordering memories, but used incorrectly it can also suppress various parts of the personality and enhance others. All they had to do was discover Stephen's latent resentment of his friend John and his suppressed feelings about losing so much of his childhood once he became a Tomorrow Person. The rest was simple. Bring these memories to the fore, delete his sense of loyalty and duty, as well as the memories of his family, then release him back into an unsuspecting Federation."

Timus could not believe what he was hearing. "Diabolical, diabolical. But now that you know what's wrong, can't you do anything about it?"

"I'm afraid not. You see, not only has Stephen borrowed from his joining partner the ability to take sentient life, he has also acquired the ability to cocoon. A cocoon, as I'm sure you are aware, is a sort of self-induced trance used by Manyarnerns to slow their higher brain functions while the body repairs itself of any injury, both physical and psychological.

Stephen's human side is in extreme pain, guilt-ridden pain, caused by his actions when he broke the Prime Barrier. Therefore his unconscious mind recognised the need to repair itself and placed him into this deep catatonic state. Unfortunately his Manyarnern side knows that it is quite acceptable to kill and this knowledge has caused a sort of feedback loop. He is literally frozen in time, unable to resolve the dilemma. With each day that passes he draws more and more upon Angeriana's unlimited psionic strength and deepens the cocoon.

Our technologies are totally ineffective against such a strong barrier. Every time we start to break through the mental block, he just places deeper levels of shielding in our way."

"There's nothing you can do?" asked Timus, although he already knew what the response would be.

"What the hell's going on?" exclaimed Paul, groping his way across to the link table.

"Looks like we've had a power cut. I thought that sort of thing was impossible. TIM's circuits are totally independent of the national grid."

"My guess is someone's turned TIM off. You stay there, Ellie, while I find the override switch. There's no point in us both groping about in the dark."

Elena heard Paul move further into the room. A few seconds later there was a loud crash that made her jump, followed by a sting of rather colourful expletives. She opened her mouth to ask what had happened, then thought better of it and ignored the accident. After a few more moments of silence she heard him opening the walled cabinet where TIM's circuit boards were housed.

Both Tomorrow People froze as they strained to locate the source of the alien voice.

Gradually the light level rose until they could just make out a glowing figure sitting crossed-legged on the bio-bed. Although he wasn't really sitting at all. He was, as Paul noted to himself, floating a few inches above it.

As if in response to their unspoken questions the figure unfolded his long sinewy legs and took up a more conventional posture on the couch. "I am so sorry to have frightened you like that. Let me introduce myself. I am Andranovich of Manyarner."

"Is that supposed to mean something to us?" asked Paul acerbically. "I don't know how you got in here, but this is our Lab and you'd better start explaining yourself pretty damn quick, or you'll be in trouble."

"Andranovich is Stephen's son," came John's matter-of-fact response from across the room. He was just closing the outer door that led into the disused underground tunnels in which the Lab was housed. As he swung around, they noticed that he was carrying a propane camper's lamp, which bathed the lab in an eerie half-light.

Paul looked back and forth between John and the stranger. (But he's an alie…)

"…Alien," finished Andranovich, with a wry smile. "During my years living in a totally psionic community, I have taken on a somewhat Manyarnern appearance. But I can assure you that my parentage is genuine."

This young man was nothing like Stephen in appearance. His unruly mass of long brown hair almost reached to his waist and both his skin and eyes had an incandescence that Elena found very unnerving.

Andranovich cleared his throat and began to speak again. "My unannounced arrival seems to have caught you all off guard. And for that I am truly sorry. It was necessary for me to converse with you without the Galactic Federation's knowledge, and to this end I was forced into rendering your biotronic unit inoperative for a short while."

"So that explains why TIM's turned off," commented Elena, as she took a seat on the couch beside Andranovich. "But it doesn't explain why we were never told that Stephen had a son, or what you're doing here without the Federation's approval?"

Andranovich sighed. "This is going to take quite some time to explain. Please be patient with me. I may be half-human but I have lived my entire life on my home world and find this sort of vocal communication most difficult to deal with."

"Come on, come on…" muttered Stephen under his breath, as he pushed his psi-awareness further into the locking mechanism. "Damn Sorson technology isn't meant to be this hard to decode. Of course, if I were Mike I'd be inside the computer hub by now, halfway through the data transfer."

Despite the sarcasm at his predicament he knew that Mike's part in their mission was equally, if not more, important than his own. Convincing the Sorsons that they were a group of nomadic musicians was an ideal cover, but one which actually required some talent. "You'd better be giving the performance of your life, my friend," he whispered as he felt the final tumbler fall into place. "I'll need at least two encores to give me time to complete the download and get back up to the control deck!"

He was halfway through the doorway when he heard a shout from behind him. "You there! In the name of the Sorson Imperial Guard I order you to stop, or I'll shoot!"

Stephen turned around slowly and stepped out into full view of the guard. Holding his hands above his head in the universally understood gesture of capitulation, he formulated his plan. If he jaunted to just behind the guards, their limited ability to move quickly would give him plenty of time to whip out his stun gun and freeze them in their tracks. With a wry smile he focused his attention on the molecular structure of his body and… nothing happened. Shit! He thought. The computer hub must be protected from unwanted teleporters by a psi-dampening field. This definitely puts a different light on things.

By now the senior of the imperial guards had waddled forward and was pointing his blaster directly at Stephen's chest. "What are you doing in a restricted area of the ship? You will explain yourself immediately."

Stephen attempted to look surprised by the guard's words. "Restricted? Oh my, I'm so sorry. I was looking for a toilet. You know? A sanitation device. You do have such things, don't you?"

"Do you take me for some kind of fool? This area can only be accessed via a heavily guarded walkway. You would not have been allowed into this section of the ship, whatever you were looking for." Turning towards the rest of his team, he signalled for one of them to come forward.

Seizing his opportunity Stephen broke into a run. Pushing the approaching guards to the floor as he passed, he ran at full tilt back towards the open air-duct through which he had crawled earlier. (Mike! Get the hell out of here! The mission's been compromised,) he pathed, all the time knowing that the psi-dampener was blocking both his telepathy and jaunting ability.

Some minutes later he rounded the bend in the corridor and ran straight into another Sorson patrol. "Whoops!" he exclaimed, as he retreated once again and headed into an unknown part of the ship.

With sirens wailing all around him he found his escape route blocked time and time again. In each compartment he would just manage to dodge blaster fire or leap clear of an approaching group of Sorson guards, only to find himself trapped a few minutes later in another part of the ship.

Eventually exhaustion overtook him. He leaned back against one of the bulkheads, panting for breath, and desperately tried to overcome the effects of the psi-dampening field.

In defeated resignation Stephen slid down the cold metal surface until he was sitting on the floor. "Are you talking to me?" he asked, without looking up.

"Pathetic Federation telepath. Thought you were so clever talking your way into our commanders' confidence with your disguises and false promises. You and your friend are going to make perfect target practice for my imperial warriors. On your knees and beg me to spare your miserable life."

Still Stephen did not look up at his captor. Instead he stared at his right hand as it began to tingle unnaturally, as if full of static charge.

The Sorson guard had approached very close now and slapped the top of Stephen's head angrily with its flipper. "I said on your knees, Federation Spy!"

Stephen felt a burst of indignant hostility. How dare these pathetic creatures strike him in such a manner? He would never bow down to the infantile ramblings of such a megalomaniac species. As the anger rose within him the tingling in his palm changed into the crackling of raw energy. Forks of pure white lightening sprang out of the walls and formed themselves into a blowing mass of energy resting in his upturned hand.

At sight of the psionic lightening the Sorsons were thrown into utter confusion. They started to jiggle up and down anxiously, their flippers flapping about like fish floundering on the deck of a ship. Jumping to his feet Stephen brandished the psionic lightening towards them menacingly. "Now the boot's on the other foot, isn't it?" he spat aggressively. "Be good boys and head back down that corridor, or I'll let you know what the Federation is truly capable of!"

What am I saying? He thought. I could no more hurt them than… No time to debate ethics… Must get out of here before they realise I'm bluffing. Once again Stephen fled as fast as his legs would carry him. Where he was heading he had no idea, but every fibre of his being told him that he must put some distance between himself and the pursuing guards before he did something unthinkable to them.

Some minutes later he had run into yet another dead end. By now he was on the upper deck of the ship, beside the engine compartment. Frantically scanning for any means of escape from the ship, he opened the door to a nearby escape hatch. 'If only I had my A.E. suite on,' he mused. But there was no time for further deliberations. His pursuers had caught up with him once again.

"There is no where for you to run, Federation Spy. The might of the Sorson Imperial Guard has you surrounded."

There it was again. The tingling in his palm that rose rapidly until his whole hand was throbbing with pure energy. "Stay back." He threatened. "Stay away from me or I'll…"

"You'll what?" taunted the closest Sorson. "You Federation are homo-superior. You are incapable of killing us and you know it!"

Stephen stepped away from the wall and faced his enemy directly. "I am more capable than you think!" With this he raised his hand, as if to throw the bolt of energy towards his captors.

There was a sudden excruciating pain in his temples. His whole body began to shake at the realisation of how close he was to killing these aliens. His mind swam and he felt himself lose his balance. Wave after wave of nausea shook his stomach. Every muscle in his body convulsed at the repugnant intention to kill. His mind clouded over with the mental conflict between the need to fight for his freedom and to escape from this place. As he clutched his temples with both hands, the psionic lightening dissipated almost as fast as it had formed. Biology had won the battle at last and he passed out in total exhaustion.

Stephen awoke to find himself strapped to an interrogation table. As he struggled against his bonds, the webbing across his chest, wrists and ankles tightened with every movement. Eventually the pain became too intense and he relaxed his muscles. Immediately the straps loosened their grip.

"It would be better for you if you remained calm. The restraints are designed to respond to a subject's movement. The more you fight them the tighter they will become."

Stephen strained to turn his head toward the source of the voice. "Thanks. I'd figured that out for myself."

Peering over his shoulder from this prone position he could just make out the main features of the dimly lit room. There were Sorson scientists fiddling with equipment some distance away and a small group of guards standing nonchalantly by the door. One particular alien caught his attention; tall and willowy, this creature was not from a Federation world.

(That is correct,) pathed the stranger. (I am from the galaxy, which you designate as XP47T. And yes, I am psionic like you. Telepathic, I think you would say.)

Stephen struggled to respond to his captor, but soon realised that his own powers were still being blocked somehow. "So what are you doing here working for the Sorsons?"

(My race has specialised talents that the Sorson Empire seem in need of. You Federation beings, with your psionic talents, have a distinct advantage over their kind. With help from my race we can redress the balance and aid them in their struggle against the Federated worlds.) While he was speaking, the alien stepped out of the shadows and came close to the table. Stephen noticed that he carried a strange U-shaped device, which he began to fix into an aperture close to Stephen's head. On one end of the device there was a needle-thin metallic extension about six inches long.

In panic, Stephen realised that this device was about to be fastened over the centre of his skull and began to struggle against his bonds once again. "What the hell are you doing? Get that thing away from me!"

(You are in no position to make such foolish demands. If you desist from your persistent fidgeting, the Psycho-probe will be a much less traumatic experience.) the alien flicked his twelve dextrous digits over the control mechanism and the needle began to tighten against the skin on the top of Stephen's skull. Although unable to see what was happening, he guessed from the distinct smell that the device was burning away his hair to reveal the skin beneath.

"I demand to speak to the officer in charge. You have no right to treat me like this!" he cried. The alien simply ignored him however and continued its calibration of the apparatus.

Stephen saw that his pleading was falling on deaf ears and decided to change tack. "I don't know what you think you can learn by scanning my brain. I may be a Federation citizen, but I know nothing of any strategic value to the Sorson fleet. Do you hear me?" He shouted loudly, in an attempt to grab the attention of the Sorson guards. "You may destroy my mind but there's nothing that you can gain from this."

The mysterious alien leaned in close to Stephen's face. It's putrid breath stank of something reminiscent of horse manure. (Whoever said it was Federation secrets we are looking for? You are no ordinary being. Back on the ship,you demonstrated talents well beyond any species we have yet encountered. What we want to know is how you single-handedly managed to summon an electro-magnetic charge in excess of thirty thousand joules. More importantly, how a Homo Superior acquired the ability to defend itself with such a lethal weapon.)

As the alien finished speaking, Stephen felt the first effects of the probe. Excruciating pain shot through his head as the probe punctured the skin and began to burrow its way through the skull towards his brain. Streams of bright scarlet blood ran down his face from the wound, forcing him to close his eyes tight. With each passing second the probe pushed deeper through the bone until it eventually pierced the soft cortical tissues beneath.

With the last vestiges of consciousness Stephen cried out for help, any help that would rid him of the unbearable torture. "Help me, please! Angie, John … Help me!" Were the last thing he screamed before he lost his mind.

The entity started to shift and change, forming and reforming into familiar faces, voices, and images from his past. Each floating in and out of his awareness, in and out of the void that swirled all about him in this nowhere place between space and time…

Stephen struggled to make out what was being said. As he focussed his attention it all became suddenly clear once again.

(I wanted to, my dearest. But I couldn't leave… couldn't get away,) replied Angie apologetically.

(Do they matter to you so much more than me? You call me your dearest, but you love them more than me.)

(I wish I could love everyone, and I know I hurt you when I wanted to stay. Life on Earth was too difficult for me… my own world was in such pain. They needed me more than you.)

(And what about now? I need you now! I needed you back then too, when they filled my head with their garbage and made me do those terrible things. Where were you when I was pleading with them to stop?)

(This is getting us nowhere, your mind is closed to me. I will come again, when you are ready to listen to me.)

The shifting patterns of light swirled around his mind. (That's it; leave me to rot in this place. Go running back to your precious planet with its rituals and archaic laws. You were never there, not when I really needed you.)

(I was always here, and will always be here as long as my life thread is linked to yours my love…)

As the image faded, the doctor increased the dosage of intravenous tranquilliser. Stretching wearily, he shook his head at the nurse. "I almost thought I had him then, but his resistance increased at the last minute."

"Do you want me to recalibrate the neuro-leptic probe? We can try again with another image from his past?"

"Very well doctor. I'll reschedule him for treatment at ten a.m. in the morning."

"Well, what did you two make of that?" asked John, once Andranovich had stepped into the transporter beam.

"From your tone I suspect, that you don't quite believe everything he told us?" commented Elena.

"I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. Stephen's son or not, there was definitely something wrong about what he said. Right, John?"

"Yes, Paul. But it's not what he said that made me suspicious; it's what he didn't say. Manyarnerns are usually very keen to link with other telepaths. They prefer to share things mind to mind instead of wasting time on long-winded vocal discussions. At first, when he didn't suggest it, I thought he was trying to be polite. But later, when he went into all that detail about Stephen's condition, how Angeriana is trapped by her obligations on their home world and unable to come to his aid, he could have passed such information to us instantaneously in a mind-meld. Instead he took great pains to spell out all those details of Manyarnern law vocally."

Elena looked puzzled "D'you think it was all lies? Why bother to come all this way if he was just stringing us a line?"

"And why all the cloak-and-dagger stuff about the Federation? Manyarner may not be on the best of diplomatic terms with them at the moment, but that hardly called for him to switch TIM off and make us all sit in the dark for over two hours."

"I know, Paul," remarked John earnestly. "But where does all this leave us? I feel for Stephen, I really do. I'm partly to blame for his condition, after all. If his condition is worsening it may be best for him to be taken back to Manyarner where Angie can heal him herself."

"Yes. But why doesn't Andranovich just talk to Timus himself and request Stephen's extradition to that planet? Why travel across the galaxy on a Paldrinian freighter just to ask us to do the job for him? He is Stephen's son. Surely the Federation won't refuse such a request on humanitarian grounds?"

Paul jumped to his feet and headed across to TIM's circuit-board cabinet. "Whatever we do, we can't sit here in the dark all night. Let's sleep on it and maybe things will seem clearer in the morning."

John nodded at Paul's silent request. "OK, Paul. You power up TIM. There's not much we can do at this hour, anyway…"

Sensing his anguish, Trilly stepped forward and took Andranovich in her arms. (You have done the best you can for both their sakes,) she pathed, passing much more than concern in her thoughts. "My shield is rapidly failing. In a few more hours we will be forced to leave the temple."

Andranovich glanced across at the raised central dais, where he could see the prostrate figure of his mother hovering just above its surface. The psionic glow of her cocoon reflected the many hieroglyphs that adorned the imposing stone structures around her.

"The elders have done everything they can to revive her. They have advised me that she cannot be moved without causing her irreparable physical damage. All we can do is move our group away from the combat zone to a place of safety and hope that when the liberation forces get here they will respect her condition."

"Then we are all doomed. It is only the residual energies held in Angie's subconscious mind that is keeping the biosphere stable on this continent. If she were killed the liberationists would do more than just destroying centuries of religious and philosophical belief. They will have damaged our planet beyond repair."

The shadowy figure of Stephen slowly solidified until he was clearly visible on the bio-bed. "Transport complete," called Elena.

"Great! Now let's get the hell out of here before the Federation medics realise that one of their patients is missing." Paul punched the control switch and the hyperlight generators sprang into life, instantaneously shifting the small craft out of the plane of normal space time and accelerating it into the void of hyperspace.

A few hours later Elena, Paul and John were seated across the room from the corpse-like figure of Stephen. Each took a sip of the lukewarm coffee supplied by the food replicator and sighed.

"What do you think they'll do when they find out we took Stephen?" asked Elena eventually.

"You know what the Federation's like. There'll be an official enquiry followed by a long-winded debate in the council chambers of the 'One Mind'," commented John, although he didn't sound as sure of their plan as he had been back in the Lab earlier that day. "By the time they've agreed what to do we'll be on Manyarner, and hopefully Stephen will be cured."

"I don't see how they can pin it on us anyway," said Paul brashly. "Teleporting him out from under their noses onto a Manyarnern Kalinar. We're too small to show up as more than a blip on the Trig's sensor net."

Elena leaned back in her chair and rubbed her neck. "We may have got away with it so far, but Timus only has to put two and two together and contact TIM. You know how pedantic he is about sticking to Federation regulations. Even if he guesses that we're doing this for Stephen's benefit, he'll still be obliged to tell Timus that we took the Kalinar."

"Yeah, John. That's something I've been meaning to ask you. When exactly were you gonna tell Ellie and me that you had a spaceship stashed away beneath a Scottish loch? And come to think of it, how did you get hold a Manyarnern Kalinar in the first place?"

John looked slightly embarrassed, a situation he had to face all too often since being joined by this new wave of TP's. "The Kalinar isn't mine, its Angie's. Well hers and Stephen's. They left it behind when they moved off world some years ago. I didn't mention it before because I saw no need for the two of you to know about it."

"There you go again, John. Thinking for the rest of us. Making decisions based on your own judgement without consulting us." Elena realised that she sounded angrier than she had intended and tried to soften her tone. "I thought we were supposed to be a team. Isn't that what you're always telling Paul and me? That unless we work together the future of the Tomorrow People is in serious jeopardy."

John sprang to his feet and scanned the computational unit. "Looks like we've dropped out of Hyperspace early. The Hyperlight engines have already completed their shut down sequence."

"Are you sure that this ship is still spaceworthy after ten years at the bottom of a loch?" said Elena nervously.

"Don't look so worried, Ellie. John and me did a very thorough pre-flight check. Whatever's causing us to slow down now, this close to the Manyarnern system, must be a spatial anomaly of some kind. The system's designed to kick out of Hyperspace as a safety mechanism."

By the time Paul had finished speaking, the Kalinar had passed through the sub-light barrier and the protective blast door had lifted from the viewscreen ahead of them. As they caught their first glimpse of the Manyarnern star alarms and trips began to wail all over the ship.

"Proximity alarms," shouted John above the din. "There's something clos…" But he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, for the small craft veered within a few hundred feet of a huge star ship. As they skimmed across its surface, John just managed to flick the controls to manual and initiate a roll procedure before they impacted a forward gun turret of the heavily armoured vessel.

"What the?" shouted Paul, as he and Elena strapped themselves into the co-pilots stations.

"Hold on everyone," called John. "I'll take us across its path as fast as I can."

"John's right, Ellie. If we intersect their shields at an acute angle we'll appear as a piece of space debris on their scanners. Hopefully they won't want to take a pot shot at us for target practice."

"But who are they and where are they headed this far out in the Galaxy?" Said Elena to no one in particular.

"If I'm not mistaken that's a Sorson battle cruiser and if I just…" John punched some data into the navigational unit and awaited confirmation. A few seconds later the equipment beeped and he nodded slowly to himself. "Just as I suspected - the flight path will take them directly to Manyarner."

Elena was almost hysterical. "John! We've got to warn them. That ship could destroy the entire planet!"

"I know, Elena. We do have one advantage. Judging from their speed we're a lot faster than they are. Hopefully we'll reach Manyarner a few hours ahead of the Sorson ship, then we can contact the planet's elders and warn them of the impending attack!"

Forty minutes later they had entered a low geo-stationary orbit of the planet Manyarner and began to broadcast their warning message on all federation frequencies.

"Why haven't they replied?" Asked a worried Elena as her two companions busied themselves at the Kalinar's communications console. "Are you sure they can hear us?"

John looked up from his activities and sighed. "Yes, Elena they could hear us if they were listening, but frankly I don't think there's anyone alive down there capable of doing anything about the Sorson attack, even if they received the warning."

"John's right." Added Paul. "If these readings are correct the first and second continents are complete wastelands. I'm getting no bio-readings at all from them. The third continent has some weak and scattered signals but the capitol city of each province seems completely deserted."

"And the forth?" she asked insistently. "That's where Angie's family come from. What about the forth continent?"

John stood and began to pace up and down the small compartment, glancing across as Stephen every so often. Recognising that he was deep in thought the others remained quiet until he had finished his deliberations.

"OK, I've made a decision. I'm going down there and taking Stephen with me. Paul you get an anti-grav unit from the cargo hold and we'll use it as a makeshift stretcher."

Paul began to follow John's orders then suddenly stopped in his tracks. "What exactly do you mean, you're going down there? Elena and me didn't come along just for the ride. We're in this together." To emphasise his point Paul sat back down at the flight console and crossed his arms.

"Paul, Elena," began John. "I don't have time for your childish theatricals. I know you mean well but there's obviously something going on down there, something serious enough to cause a catastrophic failure in the planet's environmental systems. And if that weren't enough we've got a Sorson battle cruiser a few hours away…"

"All the more reason for needing us with you." Stated Elena, jumping to Paul's defence.

"Yeah, John. We haven't even brought any stun guns. How're you gonna defend yourself?" added Paul.

"When we left earth we hardly thought we'd running into the Sorsons, but despite this, I'm convinced that it's best for me to go alone. This was meant to be a humanitarian mission, after all." He looked at the earnestly. "Elena, Paul, I know you have good intentions but Stephen is my problem not yours. I need the two of you to turn this ship around and get back to the Trig as fast as you can. Warn them that the Sorsons have moved into this section of the Galaxy and push them for some sort of action. After that you can both get back to earth where your futures lie."

"Nothing's certain Paul. But think of this. What will future TP's do if there's no one on earth to help them through their break out? I need to know that the future of our own species is assured. Things on the planet's surface do look pretty grim; and chances are that even if I do manage to find some sort of infrastructure still operational down there, they'll be in no state to put up a fight when the Sorsons get here. All I can hope for is that I find Angie quick and accomplish what we came hear to do. To cure Stephen." He cocked his head on one side. "Will you get that anti-grave unit or not? I'll re-program the hyperlight drive to take you back to Federation space."

Looking across at Elena with defeated resignation, Paul stood up and headed for the cargo hold access hatch.

**********
A few minutes later John materialised on the parched lawns that ringed the lake of Qualmarth. (Everything looks quiet down here,) he pathed, as he quickly pulled the makeshift stretcher into the shadows of a nearby Markless tree. (Paul, It was a good suggestion of yours to jaunt in some distance away from the house but there doesn't seem to be anyone around.)

Paul was slightly hurt by John's tone (Yeah, but it doesn't hurt to be careful.) He replied.

(Now I'm here, I might as well walk the rest of the way. At least I won't give anyone a shock by my sudden arrival.)

(Are you sure you can manage on your own?) Asked Elena, her thoughts betraying the deep anxiety she felt at his predicament.

(Yes, Elena. I'll be fine. I appreciate your concern. Everything's quiet around here. I can see the escarpment that marks the boundary of Angie's family estate, a hundred feet ahead of me. The house should be just over the next ridge. I don't know what caused this devastation to the landscape, but I'm sure Andranovich can explain everything once I find him. Now you two get out of here, before that Sorson ship arrives.)

They felt rather than heard his efforts, as he pulled Stephen's stretcher across the clearing and up the gently inclined grassy bank.

Having completed his pre-flight checks, it was Paul who broke the silence between them. (We're all set here. Once we make the jump we'll lose contact pretty quick.)

John paused in his efforts. (OK, Paul. I'll see you both back on Earth very soon.)

(Take care, John,) they pathed in unison and the hyperlight generators kicked into action, immediately snatching them out of the space-time continuum.

With a sigh, John gathered his strength and began the long slog up to Angie's family home.

Ten minutes later he found himself panting for breath in the welcoming shade of the lower hall of this imposing building. Above his head the various floors of the dwelling were cut directly into the rock face of the escarpment, each doorway opening out onto a suspended balcony. Far above that the vaulted ceiling formed a dome reminiscent of the beautiful architecture found in the churches of Rome. He had to admit it; this place did have a sombre and somewhat religious atmosphere.

Lowering the anti-grav unit to the floor, he went further inside to explore the other ground level rooms. "Hello," he called. "Is there anybody here?" But from the echoing silence it was soon apparent that he was alone.

Finding his way through the labyrinth of passageways he stepped out, some minutes later, into the sunshine on the other side of the ridge. Picking up one of the discarded loungers, he dusted off the badly worn seat, kicked away the debris from the brightly coloured paving stones and lay down to rest. It had been many years since he had holidayed here with Stephen, Angie, Liz, Mike and the others…How times had changed, he thought. Fifteen years ago this planet had come as a welcome release from the enforced secrecy of earth. Living amongst people totally at home with telepathy and telekinesis had allowed them to explore the extremes of their powers. Angie's cousin Trilly, the acting Lens for Vanya Province, had even helped him learn how to focus his mind at the microscopic and sub-atomic level.

But those happy times did not last for long. When Angie was appointed as Premier and proclaimed as 'The One', she lost her carefree, playful side, a fact Stephen began to notice very quickly. Tied down with obligations and ceremonial duties their holidays soon turned into formal state visits.

He and Stephen had sat here on many occasions discussing vocally, for fear that their telepathy would be overheard, about how Angie had changed. "It's one thing being married to a member of royalty," Stephen had once said, "but it gets on my nerves when she goes around acting like she's some kind of super-being all the time!"

John understood Stephen too well. He had seen him grow from boy to man, seen him show courage well beyond his years when they faced countless deadly enemies, and watched him mature into a resilient and thoughtful adult. And throughout this Stephen had always kept his sense of humour. But once joined with Angie, circumstances had forced him to play a role for which he was not suited. His resentment of Angie and her people began to rise until the breaking point; the day when she refused to return to Earth.

By that time their friendship was under severe strain too. John had needed Stephen's help with various earthbound tasks, including some tragic breakouts, and sent many urgent requests for him to come home. But time and time again he received excuses and eventually learned to manage on his own. He was as shocked as the others when he heard that Stephen had left Manyarner to take up a position with the Galactic Federation. Believing that this kind of distraction was exactly what Stephen needed, he had encouraged the move. How little he knew about Stephen's unhappiness. He failed to realise, until it was too late, that this was, in fact, a cry for help. What Stephen had needed most was to be brought home to the Lab where he belonged, not to be sent halfway across the galaxy on one of Timus' private ventures.

Feeling something wet against his cheek, John wiped his face with the back of his hand. Much to his surprise, he realised that there was a lone tear running down from his eye. Shocked by his own feelings of sadness, he sat upright and shook himself alert. This planet, with its strange spirituality, was getting to him. He couldn't allow himself to be drawn into self-pity when there was a Sorson ship a few hours away.

John froze in mid-movement and looked back over his right shoulder. (Can I at least get up?) He asked. (Leaning over like this is very uncomfortable?)
The Liberationist soldier stepped out from behind a clump of Fructa bushes and fixed him with a hard glare. (OK, but very slowly.)

John stood up and faced his opponent. "What now?" He said, switching back to speech.

Another man, taller than the first and carrying a heavy backpack, came into view. (Who are you and what are you doing here?)

John crossed his arms defiantly. "I was about to ask you two the same thing. My name is John and this house belongs to a friend of mine. I was waiting for him to return to meet me."

The taller man stepped forward menacingly. (Sub vocal! Speak sub vocally.) He ordered. (That way we will know when you are telling us the truth.)

(I am Rejack and this is Darwan, my scout. We are a tracker squad working out of Tao Province for the Liberationist alliance. We sensed you materialise down in the valley and followed you up here.) He noticed John stiffen. (You have nothing to fear from us, John. You are not our enemy you're not even Manyarnern. What species are you?)

(I am from the planet Earth. What I said earlier it true; this house belongs, or rather belonged, to a friend of mine.)

(You are referring to the cocooned figure back there,) remarked Darwan, waving towards the doorway that led back into the house.

Rejack and Darwan fell about laughing at John's ineffectual attempts to lie telepathically. (You are obviously not of this world. Your thoughts have already told us all we need to know, John.) replied Rejack, as he walked over to the edge of the cliff and surveyed the landscape beyond. (Your loyalty to this sick friend is most commendable; but when you so blindly followed Andranovich's request to bring him here what you did not know is that Manyarner has been involved in a civil war for the past three moons.)

Rejack spun around. (Hah! You spit the words like a true Liberationist. It's nice to know that the Galactic Federation acknowledges the injustice of the Manyarnern way of life. To dictate our destiny by labelling us at birth, to command every member of society to follow ancient rules and rituals as part of their daily routine, and worst of all to deny everyone's right to freedom of movement to and from other worlds. That is the injustice placed upon us by the so-called academics. We went to the temples and begged the Lenses for the right to move off world, but all they could say was that our energies were needed here. We urged them to seek help from the Galactic Federation, who would gladly provide us with technology to supplement our dwindling psionic reserves, but this request also fell on deaf ears. Eventually we took the only step left to us: we fought for freedom with our own blood and won! There are no more academics left alive, no more Lenses to restrict our bloodline or force us to worship in their temples. It is timely that you have come to us now. You may take our message back to the Federation and formally request any technological aid they can give us to help re-build our world. If your friend was joined to Angerianaasusilicana then his condition is probably terminal. Without his link to her, then he will surely die!)

John was stunned by what he had just heard. (You're telling me that there's no one from the old order left alive? That you killed them all and destroyed the biosphere on two continents just to have the right to use technology? Oh, my God! What have you done?)

As soon as he said this, the two soldiers picked up the details of the imminent Sorson attack from his unshielded mind. Merging with one another, they instantaneously formulated their next move. (We must get back to Tao Province with this information. If we can rally enough of the scattered Tracker squads we can try to put up some kind of resistance to the Sorson attack.) Rejack turned towards John. (Will you travel with us back to our headquarters? Explain to our leaders about this Sorson battle cruiser and help us hold it off until your friends can bring Federation reinforcements?)

(Of course not,) replied Rejack. (Perhaps one of our medics can do something for his condition.) But despite his tone, John was sure he felt uncertainty in Rejack's thoughts. Rejack smiled and patted John on the back. (There is no time to lose. Darwan can pull the anti-grav unit with his mind much faster than you can push it with your hands. Come along with us and we will stand against these would-be invaders together.)

John nodded and the three men headed back into the house to collect Stephen's stretcher.

Elena edged her way cautiously across the filthy maintenance tunnel and whispered in Paul's ear. "I'm not sure that this was such a good idea, Paul. John was quite adamant that we go back to the Trig to get help."

Although she couldn't make out his features in the total blackness she was sure that he gave her an exasperated look. "It was you who insisted on helping him in the first place. Disabling the Sorson ship from within will buy him a little more time before they attack." He paused to listen for any sign that their presence had been detected then continued, "besides, we're here now, and the Kalinar is half way across the galaxy. It's a bit late to get cold feet."

Elena began to raise her voice. "I never said I had col.." She was silenced mid sentence by Paul's firm hand across her mouth. Intently they listened to the sound of footsteps in the nearby engine compartment. There was the muffled sound of voices, their squeaky tone unmistakable as Sorson. This was followed by clanking and whooshing as some sort of machinery sprang into life. Within a few seconds the noise grew in intensity. "Move," urged Paul, pushing Elena away from whatever threat was approaching. "I don't know what that noise is, but I don't like the sound of it."

They scrambled, as fast as they could, on hands and knees for a few minutes, then discovered that the tunnel had widened and they could stand up. Moving at a faster pace, they were relieved to hear that the noise had receded into the background.

Paul stopped, and bending forward, rested his hands on his knees. "There wasn't much time to choose a jaunt-in site before the Kalinar jumped to Hyperspace. I just picked the part of the ship that the scanners said was least occupied."

"And that was here, wherever here is?" Elena waved her hands about dejectedly.

Paul stood up and began to move forward again. "As I said, there wasn't much time. I picked the least likely place that the Sorsons would find us."

"Paul, why do I get the feeling you're holding out on me? Where exactly are we?"

Paul looked around them sheepishly. "We're in part of the automated maintenance system."

Elena looked down at her feet in disgust. "You're telling me that we've been crawling around in radioactive waste?"

Paul looked quite contrite. "Sorry, Ellie. There wasn't any time to choose a better place. Let's keep moving. We're bound to find an inspection hatch eventually. If there's machinery down here someone must have put it here, so there must be a way in and out."

Without further comment Elena pushed past her companion and strode off into the distance. Turning around, she smiled and beckoned for Paul to follow her. "Come on then," she urged. "We'd better get on with what we came here to do, before we both start glowing in the dark!"

After many minutes in the air John became fairly accustomed to the art of flying, or lifting, as the Manyarnerns called it. Once his initial anxiety had passed, the long slow flight out across the turquoise lake and towards the distant mountains gave him time to consider the differences between their two worlds.

On both planets psionics had become the next jump in evolution, but unlike the Tomorrow People, for some reason the Manyarnerns had never developed the ability to jaunt. In fact most Manyarnerns found the act of disassembling one's body and calculating its trajectory through Hyperspace too uncomfortable to accomplish without the aid of a matter transporter. On his recent visit to the Lab Andranovich had even mentioned the intense headache it caused to be transported more than a few hundred feet. So instead of teleporting, the Manyarnerns had developed the ability to use psionic fields to cushion their bodies high up in the air, and them push themselves along with TK. Perhaps this is a skill I should teach to Elena and Paul, he mused. It's quite fun, as long as I don't look dow… As he thought this, he glanced at the scenery flashing past below them and a wave of vertigo almost caused him to lose his concentration.

(Is everything all right, John?) called Darwan, who had noticed John's momentary wobble in mid flight.

(Sleeping like an infant. He's so far gone he has no idea where he is. If I dropped him now, he'd die in ignorant bliss of all the trouble we're going to!)

That was another thing that John was beginning to notice about the Manyarnerns, especially these liberationist soldiers. They seemed to have such little regard for sentient life. He had always known that Angie's people did not have the Prime Barrier, but on all the occasions he'd visited her family and friends they had come across as such a pious and contemplative society that their ability to kill seemed far removed from their daily activities. Stephen had even pointed out that they were, unlike most humans, totally vegetarian and couldn't bear the thought of killing animals for their food. A point frequently discussed amongst the Tomorrow People, but seldom resolved without serious disagreement on both sides.

For the whole population to turn their powers against one another and become embroiled in this devastating civil war was something he would have described as impossible had he not witnessed the damage caused with his own eyes.

Rejack spun around in a sort of double back flip and came to rest at John's side. (You judge us too harshly, John.) He noticed John's eyes widen. (If you really wanted to keep your thoughts secret you should shield much more carefully.) John nodded and Rejack continued. (As I was saying, you do not understand what it was like for us living on this world as the planet's psionic field began to weaken. We were forced to spend more and more time each day sitting in the nearest temple meditating, while the Lens sucked our minds dry of the available energy and channelled it into either the power grid or weather system. All we wanted was for the elders to implement the limited use of technology, so as to supplement the power and set us free to live normal lives once again.)

(I understand what you're saying,) sympathised John. (But my race couldn't possibly take another's life, not even to save ourselves. It's an inhibition hard-wired into our genome. What I don't understand is why you had to resort to violence to resolve your differences with the academics.)

By this time the small group had begun to lower their altitude and eventually came to a halt in a thicket at the foot of the mountain range. Holding up his hand for silence, Rejack listened intently to the noises around them, then sniffed the air in a manner not unlike that of an animal. (All clear,) he pathed at last. (There's a family of lafta cats up in the hills, but at this time of night they're not interested in us.)
Pulling off his backpack, he threw John a cushioned sleeping roll. (Better get some rest before we tackle the climb into the mountains tomorrow. I'll take the first watch. Darwan, you mark up a perimeter, just to be on the safe side. That Sorson ship must be in orbit by now. We may not have seen anything of them yet, but I'm sure they won't wait forever before they make their move.)

Searching for somewhere to lie down, John walked over to a small outcrop of boulders and threw the sleep roll onto the ground. Without speaking he lay down on his back and closed his eyes.

It was quite some time before he heard Rejack climb on top of the nearby rocks.

Without opening his eyes John pathed to his companion. (You never answered my question, Rejack. Why did your people choose war as the solution to your problems?)

There was a long silence, during which John became acutely aware of the noises of various wild animals close by, and above this the slow and deliberate panting of his companion's breath. (What few off-worlders know is that our race was genetically engineered many millennia ago. In exchange for superior psionic abilities we gave up this prime inhibition that you so proudly speak of.) There was another long pause. (You ask me why we resorted to war? The only answer that I can think of is because we could…)

John awoke to the screeching engines of a Sorson attack ship, as it emerged out of the darkness and blasted the countryside around him. Jumping up, he dived behind the closest rock, just as the laser canon struck the spot where he had been sleeping.

Scanning the area, he noticed the distant figure of Darwan, angrily hurling ball after ball of glowing psionic lightening towards the attacking ship. These spheres of pure energy either impacted against the small craft's shields, creating a cascade of intense sparks that lit up the night skyline, or slowly dissipated to mingle with the starscape overhead. If the situation weren't so desperate it would have been quite beautiful, he thought.

Rejack appeared at Darwan's side, and together they intensified their bombardment of the ship. As he looked on, he noticed that it was beginning to turn, ready to make another pass on their position. Suddenly, out of the cover of darkness, came another craft. Skimming across the planet's surface, it had used the tree line to mask its approach. Swinging around, Darwan directed his attack towards this new threat and managed, at last, to penetrate its shield and clip the tip of the wing. There was a loud bang and the ship lurched sideways as its atmospheric stabilisers cut out.

For a few seconds John stared dumbfounded as the ship wobbled from side to side, its pilot undoubtedly fighting to regain some kind of control. It was a shout from Rejack which brought him to his senses, as he realised that the ship was plunging headlong towards the rocky outcrop where he was hiding. He was just about to dive clear of the approaching bulk when he remembered Stephen's stretcher, lying a few feet away. Assessing the situation, he immediately jaunted to his friend's side and threw himself on top of Stephen.

He couldn't bear to look up as he both heard and felt the craft impact the ground, its metal hull plating buckling under the strain, as it buried itself nose first into the soft Manyarnern soil. In the next instant huge shards of razor-sharp debris tore themselves from the superstructure and cascaded to the ground all around him.

Realising that he had been holding his breath he sighed with relief as the din, subsided but this moment of relaxation had come too soon. The engines of the craft went critical, and there was a deafening explosion that tore the remains of the craft apart and sent more debris raining down on him.

Intense pain shot through his whole body as a lump of the wreckage hit him on the back with great force. Its jagged edge cut deep into the muscle of his left shoulder and pinned him hopelessly beneath its bulky mass. For a few seconds he almost lost consciousness, as his body succumbed to the shock of the injury, but through intense focussing of his mind he resisted the worst of the pain and remained awake.

Darwan ran over to his side. (John, are you all right? John, can you hear me?)

Straining to lift his head he managed to glance awkwardly up at Darwan (I'm fine,) he replied unconvincingly. (Can you get this off me and help me up, please?)

(There's no time. The other ship is making another pass… Can you still jaunt?)

For a moment John was confused by the question. (Wha…? Oh yes, probably. But what about Stephen?)

(While you were sleeping Rejack rigged the matter transporter to activate automatically at your control. When you jaunt you'll take Stephen with you wherever you go.)

As he finished speaking, the attack craft reappeared overhead and began to resume its bombardment of the thicket. (John, jaunt now. Up to the caves. You'll be safe there.)

Darwan touched John's forehead with his hand instantly transferring detailed plans of a route they had planned to take through the heart of the mountains. (We'll hold off the Sorsons and meet you on the other side.)

(This is our life, John. What we are trained for. You must go - now. Rejack cannot hold his shield any longer.)

John had been wondering where Rejack had gone. He now became aware of his new friend sitting high up in the branches of a nearby tree, deep in a meditative trance, using his whole strength to form a protective shield above John, Stephen and Darwan.

"Thanks, thanks to both of you, " called, John before jaunting with Stephen up to the relative safety of the nearby caves.

Materialising just inside, John rubbed his shoulder and was surprised to find that during the brief contact with Darwan his wound had been partially healed. The muscle still felt bruised and his left arm would be difficult to move for a while, but the worst of the bleeding had stopped.

Hearing the sound of engines he edged his way to the cave entrance and peered at the scene below. From his vantage point he could clearly see three Sorson attack ships; two had already landed and disembarked their crew, whilst the other was circling overhead, guiding the raiding party towards where Darwan and Rejack waited in ambush.

Slowly the Sorsons approached, blasting a path through the undergrowth as they advanced. When they were within a few feet Darwan jumped up from his foxhole and extended his arm towards the would-be attackers. The small group of Sorsons suddenly screeched in pain and collapsed onto the ground. For a few seconds they writhed around in uncontrollable convulsions, then fell silent as death overtook them. Hearing the others' plight, another group of Sorsons approached, a little more cautious than their fellows had been, but within seconds this group was also dead.

John lowered his gaze and turned away from the scene, shocked not only by the carnage playing out before him, but by the excited look on the faces of both Darwan and Rejack. The ease with which they killed showed not just in their expressions, but also in the sheer delight they transmitted telepathically to anyone able to perceive it.

Picking himself up from the hard cave floor, John prepared to move on. It's not my place to judge these people, he thought. After all, they are buying me the time to escape. Pushing the images to the back of his mind, John focussed on the journey ahead. Although, thanks to Darwan's help, he knew the layout of the cave complex, he still felt uneasy teleporting inside the heart of a mountain. His best course of action seemed to be to make the journey in short line-of-sight jaunts. Walking over to the stretcher, he looked down. "Don't worry, Stephen. Sorsons or no Sorsons, we'll find her. I promise." He immediately blinked out of sight and re-materialised a few hundred metres ahead. "One down, a couple of hundred to go," he whispered, as he jaunted once again.
**********

Rising from their stations the three section heads bowed deeply as Commander Bitlar approached. From his demeanour it was obvious that their attack on Manyarner was not proceeding to his liking. There was a long silence during which he stared at each of the section heads in turn.

The closest Sorson cracked under the strain and began to mumble incomprehensible apologies. "Our intelligence… no way of knowing… ambushed on all sides…" he stuttered.

"No excuses!" snapped Bitlar, pulling his laser pistol from its holster and blasting him where he stood. "Now, does anyone have anything positive to report?"

"Our attack ships are hunting down the Manyarnern barbarians even as we speak Commander. The glorious hour of our, I mean your, victory over their planet is at hand. The small pockets of resistance are no match for the skill of our warriors. You will soon be crowned as ruler of this planet and all its riches."

Bitlar sneered. "But that is precisely the problem. The intelligence reports described Manyarner as a planet of extreme wealth, but all I see is destruction and a half-starved population of clerics. Where are the temples covered in gold and precious gems? Where is the immense technology that has allowed this species to rise to such a high status amongst other Federated worlds? And where, by the four moons of Raltar, are the people?" He banged his flippered arm down on the desk in front of him.

All heads turned, as the tall nameless grey alien walked solemnly into the centre of the room. "There is no need to argue amongst yourselves. I promised you a glorious victory for the Sorson Empire and that goal is still achievable."

"But you said all the wealth of Manyarner would be ours for the taking," began Bitlar, who, from his tone, was obviously scared of this mysterious ally. "You promised…"

"I promised you nothing of the sort. If you were foolish enough to interpret my words to mean that Manyarner had physical wealth, then you are more of a fool than I thought. What you fail to see in your rush for conquest is that there is something much more valuable here. Something intangible, yet more powerful than you can possibly imagine." The alien leaned in close and breathed in Bitlar's face. "Just think what you could do with such power? Take over as fleet commander, perhaps? Lead the Sorsons into the most glorious of victories over the Galactic Federation? After all, Sorsons are supreme."

Deciding that the conversation had reached a turning point, the remaining section heads stood to attention and began to chant in unison. "Sorsons are supreme! Sorsons are supreme!"

Some minutes later, the section heads left the meeting, each feeling welcome relief that they had survived the encounter. Bitlar and the alien were left alone in the small room.

As he prepared to leave, Bitlar drew his weapon once again and pointed it directly at his companion. "You speak with very confident words, friend. But never forget this: I'm in command here, and it's my decision who lives and who dies."

Drawing himself up to his full seven feet in height, the alien's eyes glowed as he stared towards the pistol. With a jerk it flew from Bitlar's grasp and the alien snatched it out of mid-air. "Don't you worry, I know exactly who is in charge around here." He dropped the laser and it clattered noisily onto the metal floor. Without further comment the alien left a stunned Commander alone in the room.

John had counted one hundred and sixty seven separate jaunts by the time he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. "Phew," he said aloud, as he patted the side of Stephen's makeshift stretcher. "Looks like we made it."

Pulling the anti-grav unit up to the cave mouth, he stepped out into the bright sunshine of late morning, and gasped. He was standing on the narrowest of rock ledges at least two hundred feet above a heavily forested valley. The sheer rock face stretched far below him until it disappeared into a thick cloud of mist that hung around the tops of the trees. He wasn't really sure what he'd expected to find on the other side of the tunnels. A path perhaps, leading down to a settlement of some kind. This scenery, despite the intensity of the sunshine, was dark and foreboding, almost primeval in nature. And, he noted with dismay, there was no visible sign of a route off the mountainside.

After a few minutes of serious contemplation, there seemed to be only one possible solution to his predicament. He'd have to step from the cliff and trust himself to the psionic fields around him, then use TK to glide gently down to the valley bottom. Assuming, that the valley actually had a bottom, hidden from view by the dense fog. This seemed a fairly simple task to achieve, but what worried John most, was how to keep the bulky anti-grav unit stable enough to prevent Stephen from falling off. Looking over his shoulder he estimated the total weight of his charge. I've levitated bigger things than that before, he thought.

Making up his mind, John walked back into the cave and raised Stephen's stretcher with TK until it hovered at waist height beside him. Here goes nothing, he thought and walked forward towards the bright Manyarnern sunshine.

For a fraction of a second he hung motionless in mid-air, then without warning, he began to plummet uncontrollably towards the ground.

With arms flailing about in terror, John was swallowed up by the dense shroud of mist and disappeared.

**********
Paul opened the locker door gently and peered out into the corridor. "Ellie, where are you?" he whispered.

"Over here," she replied, as she stepped out from her hiding place into the now empty corridor. "That was a bit too close for comfort, Paul."

"I know." He gave her a weak smile as he extricated himself from the locker's contents and quietly closed the door behind him. "At least we found our way out of the engineering section."

Elena walked forward and peered around the bend in the corridor. "That group of Sorsons were heading in this direction. Perhaps it would be best for us to go the other way?"

"After we've come this far?" He drew closer and scanned the area. "You were as sure as me that the armoury was down there somewhere. Why turn around now when we're so close to being able to knock out their weapons systems?"

Elena gave him a sideways look. "We may find the armoury, but that doesn't mean we can get access to their weapons control system. Those sort of things are usually handled by the bridge, you know?"

"OK Ellie, I get your point. This was a bad idea, I admit it. But now we're here we can at least try to do something to help John and the others on the planet." He paused. "Shhhh… What was that?" They listened intently as an alarm began to sound in some distant part of the ship.

"I don't know about you, Paul, but I think it's time for us to abandon this plan and try to find a way out of here."

Paul nodded. "You're right, Ellie. This was definitely one of the dumbest ideas I've had in a long time. Remind me about it when we get back to the Lab."

She smiled. "If we do make it out of here alive, I promise I'll never let you forget you just said that."

Laughing quietly to themselves they started up the corridor, both scanning desperately for anything they could use as a possible escape route off the Sorson battle cruiser.

(You are like every other Lens I've known; you speak in riddles. Didn't anyone ever tell you? People don't talk like that anymore. Well, not real people. Only characters in novels or on TV use that sort of language.)

(I don't believe anything any more.) He walked across and looked at the immense columns of ornately carved stone. (Where am I?)

Stephen turned and stared intently at the woman. Her gently glowing eyes, with their subtle kindness, and the soft roundness of her face, were definitely familiar to him. (I knew you before… You were related to my wife…you're Angie's cousin Trilliafortunecta.) His face lit up with pleasure at the sight of an old friend. (Was it you who brought me here?)

(I'm back on Manyarner. I can feel it, feel them, hundreds of them all around me. It's good to be back after so long.)

Trilly walked over to Stephen and took his hand in hers. (You are partially right, Stephen. You have indeed been brought back to the home-world of your joining partner. But that is not exactly where you are at the moment.)

He snatched his hand away angrily. (There you go again, speaking in riddles. How can I be here and not here at the same time? Answer me that, Miss know-it-all High Priestess? Go on, I dare you to tell me the truth, the plain and simple truth. Where are we? And how did we get here?)

(We are in your unconscious mind, Stephen. You brought yourself here after you killed Hsui Tai and Kenny. I am currently blending my mind with yours in order to reach you and make my request.)

Stephen fell about laughing with disbelief. (Now this is gonna be good. What in Gods name do you want to ask me so badly, that you came into my subconscious mind?)

(My request is simply this: wake up, Stephen. You must wake up from your cocoon now - before it kills you.)

(Didn't anyone ever tell you?) he said, with deep sarcasm. (I'm a Tomorrow Person and I can't kill. If this is my mind, then how could I be killing myself?) He stepped forward menacingly. (Answer that one then, Trilly. How can I possibly have killed anyone if I'm a Tomorrow Person?)

With a deep breath Trilly broke her contact with Stephen and opened her eyes. "I'm sorry, John," she said. "There's no way for me to bring him out of it. He refuses to accept that he's the cause of his own suffering. I tried to get through to him, to make his rational mind see reason, but he's just too stubborn to help himself. Unless he lets go of his own guilt he'll remain in this state indefinitely. Eventually his internal organs will fail and he'll die." She lowered her gaze and started to walk away. "I commend you, John, for the sacrifices you made to bring him here. It couldn't have been easy stepping from the cliff like that. Thankfully you fell straight into my protective shield. A few hours more and we could have moved our camp once again." She looked back over her shoulder. "Stephen is lucky to have such a brave and loyal friend. I'll leave you alone now, I must meditate while I scan for other survivors of the Sorson attack."

This is turning out to be quit an eventful day, thought John, as a small boy, probably no more than six years old, ran over and offered him a plate of food. Accepting the dish he sat on the ground beneath the shade of a nearby Markless tree and began to eat.

Having stepped from the cliff, earlier that morning, he'd found it impossible to use psionic fields to remain airborne. Falling headfirst into the dense mist, he'd expected to die at that moment, not to wake a few minutes later to find Trilly peering down at him. Grateful for her intervention, John decided not to ask for the details of how he was caught by her shield and brought to the secret encampment. We're here now, that's all that matters, he thought.

Trilly had explained how this group of academics, the last remaining people alive in Vanya province, had sought refuge here in the valley from the approaching Liberationist threat. The valley itself contained the source of the river Qualmarth, which snaked down the plain and filled out to form the lake of Qualmarth that he had flown over the previous day. The depth and narrowness of the valley had, by their very nature, protected them when the Sorson attack began. But they knew this protection would not last for long. She was only one Lens, and could not possibly maintain her shield indefinitely, when faced with possible bombardment by conventional weapons.

John looked across towards the huddle of senior people sitting cross-legged in a clearing at the centre of the camp. From their expressions he guessed that they were arguing over something or other. Whatever it was, he noted that various members of the group kept glancing in his direction; or perhaps, he thought, they were looking past him towards Stephen?

Eventually he lost interest, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to fall into a light sleep. He was shaken awake by a smiling Trilly. "Come on, John," she said. "It's time for us to go."

"To find Angie, of course. Your arrival may have brought Manyarner the opportunity we needed to survive this Sorson invasion." She turned around; Stephen's stretcher rose to her silent telekinetic command, then floated over to John's side. "We've got a lot of ground to cover before nightfall. Are you ready for the long lift ahead?"

Trilly looked directly upwards, and John followed her gaze. As he watched, patterns of energy could be seen undulating and spreading across the cloudless lilac skyline. It was almost as if he were looking into a pool of deep water. From the gentlest of movements he became aware that they were ascending towards these energy patterns. Soon, the swirling psionic field was dancing all around them, causing his skin to tingle and his hair to stand on end. A moment later they had punched their way through the shield and began to rise faster towards the mountaintop. Looking down, John was amazed by what he saw. He knew that the valley floor gave shelter to a cluster of small tents and was only partially wooded, but as the patterns of energy subsided, the view changed to show dense vegetation shrouded in a thick layer of mist.

(Thanks, John,) Trilly beamed at him with pride. (We'll be at the cave entrance soon. I know that you jaunted through the mountain this morning, but would it be too much to ask if we make the return journey on foot?)

Recalling how Andranovich had described his dislike for teleportation, John smiled too. (Not at all, Trilly. I'm indebted to you for saving my life once already today. I'm sure a little brisk exercise won't do me any harm.)

Paul and Elena approached the huge doors with caution. "What do you suppose is behind there?" asked Elena. "It must be something pretty massive, whatever it is."

"There's only one way to find out," Paul shrugged, stepping closer to the control panel. After studying it for a short while he turned back towards his companion. "It's written in Sorson."

Elena drew closer. "Of course it is," she grinned. "What else do you expect to find in a Sorson battle cruiser?"

Hesitantly Paul reached out with TK and felt the door's mechanism with his mind. "Piece of cake," he whispered. "Ellie, you keep watch and I'll have this open in an…"

His concentration was broken as a loud klaxon sounded and the huge doors began to retract before them.

Assessing the situation, he quickly pushed Elena through the widening gap and followed her into the hangar. What they met, on the other side, stopped them dead in their tracks. Stretching almost as far as the eye could see was row after row of small Sorson attack craft. Apart from this, the hanger looked completely devoid of guards or technicians of any kind. Paul gave a low whistle and motioned for Elena to hide behind a stack of crates just inside the doorway.

Elena was dumbfounded. "You must be joking, Paul. You're actually proposing that we steal one of those ships? You think we'll just be able to radio the bridge and ask for permission to fly out of here? "

"Of course not, Ellie, but why d'you think they've got so many ships lined up in a hangar like this? They're about to invade Manyarner."

They both turned around to the unmistakable sound of squeaky Sorson voices, approaching up the corridor. Paul looked, almost begged, with his eyes for Elena to agree to this plan.

Nodding to one another, they searched in silence, for some way to gain entrance to the closest ship. Elena soon found a small hatch on the underbelly of the craft, and using TK, released the locking mechanism. It was a tight squeeze, but eventually they both managed to wriggle up into the rear of the flight compartment. (I wonder how the Sorsons manage to get into the pilot's seat?) she pathed.

They peered carefully over the lip of the window, and could just make out a group of Sorsons rapidly assembling. Looking ridiculous in their shiny uniforms, these ovoid lumps of jelly, with their one flippered arm holding tightly on to an oversized laser pistol, seemed most unlikely conquerors of the galaxy. The troop expanded as more Sorsons entered the hanger, then snapped to immediate attention as their senior officer approached. After, what they could only guess was a short briefing, the soldiers fanned out until each one stood beside his respective craft. Straining to look up from the confines of their hiding place, Paul and Elena watched as a kind of grappling arm descended from the ceiling. At the same time they were forced to duck down further as the top section of the vessel they were in lifted up and the Sorsons were each lowered into the pilot's seat.

They held their breath with trepidation as the roof latched back into place and the Sorson began his pre-flight checks. After what felt like an eternity, the engines started and they were thankful that the din covered the sound of their breathing. Clinging to one another for comfort, Elena and Paul exchanged worried looks. (What if we're too heavy to fly? Or there isn't enough air for us all to breathe?) pathed Elena.

(Then this is gonna be the shortest space flight we've ever taken.) Paul cuddled her to him. (I know I get on your nerves sometimes, Ellie, but there's no one I'd rather spend my last few minutes with.)

She looked up into his eyes and gave a weak smile. (Don't write us off too soon. We've escaped from tighter spots than this before.)

(I know, Ellie. But if we don't make it, I'll never get the chance to apologise to John for all the mean things I've ever said to him!)

Their conversation was cut short by the unmistakeable feeling of weightlessness as the Sorson lifted off and followed his comrades into battle. A few seconds later, they were both relieved when the artificial gravity kicked into action. (Phew,) commented Paul, with a smile. (Looks like we won't get asphyxiated after all.)

(I guess I'll have to put up with your ugly mug for another few years then.)

Trilly, John and the comatose Stephen had made rapid progress back through the complex maze of tunnels towards Angie's family estate in Vanya Province. Lit by a glowing sphere of psionic energy, which hovered a few feet in front of them, the passageways seemed far less imposing than they had earlier that day and John found Trilly's companionable silence very welcome. He was also relieved that they were, at last, making some progress towards reuniting Stephen with his wife. A task that, due to circumstances, was turning into even more of a problem than he had anticipated.

Trilly suddenly came to a stop and John almost walked into the back of her. (What was that?) she pathed.

With a nod of agreement, Trilly walked on. Almost immediately there was the howl of a Sorson laser pistol, and a particle beam struck the ground where they had paused only a few seconds before. Pushing Trilly out of the line of fire, John dived across the tunnel and pressed himself against the wall. There was another shot, which passed too close for comfort in front of John's face, and clipped the edge of Stephen's stretcher, followed by silence.

By now Trilly had managed to scramble to her feet and faced him across the tunnel. (I'm a Lens; I can take care of myself.)

As Trilly finished speaking their attacker fired once again, this time hitting the fragile rock ceiling and sending shards of stone and fine dust cascading down onto them.

John began to cough. (We're sitting ducks. One more blast like that might bring the whole roof down on us.) Looking over at his companion he noticed that Trilly was holding a glowing orb of psionic lightning.

(Leave this to me,) she said, throwing the ball of light up the tunnel towards their attacker.

For a moment there was no response and they began to relax, then everything went crazy as the ceiling was bombarded by many simultaneous blasts of fire. There was a loud cracking noise as the rock disintegrated and huge pieces of granite began to fall all around them.

John instinctively jaunted away from the worst of the rock fall. Re-materialising a few feet away he saw one particular boulder hit Trilly on the temple, causing her to lose consciousness and fall beneath the cascade.

Too shocked to move, John looked on as Trilly was buried beneath the cave-in. He lay panting for breath in the thick dust-filled air for some minutes while he decided what to do. Then, much to his surprise, a glowing orb passed above his head and impacted in the direction of the earlier attack. As it hit the ground three Sorson warriors could be seen silhouetted against the dark tunnel walls.

(Keep your head down, John,) barked Rejack as he approached at a run. (We'll handle these thugs.)

Leaping over the crouching figure of John, Rejack hurled another psionic blast towards the Sorson attackers, this time knocking one to the ground and immediately disintegrating the body. Looking around, John could see Darwan using the cover of Rejack's attack to pull the unconscious Trilly out from beneath the rock fall.

John decided that it was time for him and Stephen to also beat a hasty retreat, and he jaunted further up the tunnel. A satisfied looking Rejack, accompanied by Darwan, carrying Trilly in his arms, joined him a few minutes later.

(Can't leave you alone for a few hours, John, without you go getting yourself in trouble,) laughed, Darwan good-naturedly. He looked down at the unconscious female in his arms. (What's more, you've managed to catch yourself an academic, and a Lens to boot.)

John stood up and brushed the remaining debris from Stephen's stretcher. (Thanks for saving my life, yet again. I seem to be saying that a lot today.) He looked at Trilly's wound. (That's a nasty cut. Hold still while I heal her.) Darwan hesitated and looked at Rejack. Sensing his reluctance to help an academic, John became angered. (Don't you think it's time to put aside your differences? Civil war can wait. Your planet is under threat of invasion and you need everyone to pull together if you stand any chance of fighting off these Sorsons.)

Rejack nodded his compliance and Darwan held Trilly up for John to heal. In no time the wound had stopped seeping purple blood and she began to stir in Darwan's arms. (That's better,) said John. (Now, don't you think we should get out of here before more of them come looking for their friends?)

The small and unlikely band of comrades - one human, two liberationist killers and one Lens - plodded on through the caves towards the Lake of Qualmarth. Each acutely aware of the cocooned figure, oblivious to the destruction around him, trailing behind them on a floating stretcher.

Three hours later they were all flying back across the lake. The deep turquoise water glistened in the afternoon sun, and reminded John of how long it had been since he last took a shower.

(I'm sure you don't smell any worse than the rest of us,) commented Darwan with a cheeky grin. (When you're been out on patrol as long as Rejack and me you sort of forget about home comforts.)

This was the first time any of his companions had spoken in a long time. John had assumed, from their silence, that they were holding a telepathic conversation on a private channel that he was not party to. Deciding that Manyarnern internal affairs were none of his business, he'd used the long lift to relax and think about Stephen's predicament instead. Looking back towards the anti-grav unit that floated just behind him he noted how peaceful Stephen looked, his face betraying none of the inner turmoil that Trilly had described. Looking up, John gasped as he noticed dozens of tiny dots on the horizon.

The others looked around and stared at the dark specks that were growing larger with every second.

(Sorson attack ships,) cried Trilly and the pace of their flight doubled instantly. (I doubt we can out run them, but if we at least make it to shore before they're within weapons range, we might stand a chance of defending ourselves on the ground.)

With the wind blasting his face and stinging his eyes, John found it difficult to see where they were going. He felt somewhat relieved when, a few seconds later, the coastline of the lake came into view below them. By this time the Sorson fleet was almost upon them and he felt sure that they would open fire any minute.

(What're they saying?) asked Elena, as she strained to listen to the muffled sound of Sorson voices.

(I can't quite make it out,) replied Paul, (it reminds me of being in the tube when some annoying Sod has his Walkman up too high, and all you hear is tshh, tshh, tshh… His ear-piece may be on my side, but it doesn't make it any easier to understand.) He paused, (wait…there's something about an attack formation, I think. The leader has picked up a group of Manyarnerns on his scanners.)

(What, up here?) exclaimed Elena. (We're still making our descent from orbit. We can't be any lower than two thousand feet.)

(Quiet a minute,) Paul listened intently. (They're receiving special orders to take these Manyarnerns alive, The Commander wants to interrogate them himself. There's something about a human… Oh my God, Ellie! It's John and Stephen!)

Elena began to rise from her hiding place, but Paul grabbed her and pulled her down again. (What on earth are you doing?)

(How? By giving ourselves away?) He sounded totally confused by Elena's actions.

(No, by stunning him and taking over the ship.) She motioned towards the Sorson pilot. (He's too busy to notice us, and the noise of the engines will cover our approach.)

(We left our stun guns behind in the Lab, remember? If I ever meet Andranovich again, I'll tell him exactly what I think of him; letting us walk into this lot unarmed.)

(They'll be plenty of time to blame each other later. You grab the pilot from behind, and hold him while I do that stun pinch thing that John taught us, then we'll haul him out of the pilot's seat and…)

(Paul, you're turning into John. Let's do it before it's too late and worry about it afterwards, OK?)

He nodded and they stealthily emerged from behind the seat. Closing in on the Sorson pilot, Paul reached forward and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hi there," he said. "Sorry to interrupt you, but we were wondering if you'd be a good boy and give us your ship?"

The Sorson spun round in his seat and made a grab for his blaster, which lay atop the flight console, but Elena got to it first. "Oh no, you don't!" she shouted, brandishing the weapon menacingly in the Sorson's direction. (Now, Paul. Grab him before he gives us any trouble,) she pathed.

Paul reached forward and grabbed the hapless pilot by the flipper, pulling him forward awkwardly. Elena then placed her hand onto the neckline of the Sorson's uniform. "Sleep tight," she said, sending a huge surge of TK through the material of the suit and into the Sorson's nervous system. He gave a gentle whimper and fell forwards into Paul's arms.

"So far, so good," said Paul, as he carried the unconscious Sorson back to where he and Elena had hidden. "Now all we've got to do is figure out how to fly this thing."

Elena scanned the instrumentation before them, then reached out and flicked a switch. The fleet's radio broadcasts could now be heard over the internal speakers. "Sounds like they're trying to force John and the others to land." She looked up. "Paul, can you figure out how to get the ship back to manual control? Perhaps we can turn it around and distract them long enough to give the others time to escape?"

Climbing into the now vacant seat, Paul pressed various keys on the console. "Great," he smiled. "I've taken us off the automated flight plan. What do you suggest now?"

They were interrupted by the loud and insistent voice of the fleet commander. "Green Leader, this is Fleet Control. We show you veering from the correct flight vector. Please advise us of your status. Over."

Paul hesitated for a moment then flicked on the transmitter. "This is Green Leader. Be advised that we have a serious engine malfunction." He said a voice not unlike that of a Sorson.

"Green Leader, this is fleet control. Our sensors do not show your engine failure. Please transmit telemetry immediately. Over"

"Copy that Control. I seem to have a computer malfunction. It must have sent you false signals. The central processing unit says everything's fine but the cockpit display shows major failures in all key systems. Please be advised that my reactor is red lining, it may go critical at any time. Over." Paul switched off the transmitter and waited for a response to his situation.

"You'll see, Ellie. They might not be too bright, but I doubt they'll risk their entire fleet on the off chance that I'm mistaken."

"Green Leader this is Control. You are cleared for manual ascent at your own discretion… This is Fleet Command to all ships, be advised that Green Leader has an imminent reactor breach. All ships in sector five are requested to break formation immediately."

"You did it!" Elena leaned over and kissed Paul on the cheek. "That one's on account." She said mischievously.

Ignoring his comment she looked out of the window. "The other ships are pulling away. See if you can bring us up behind John and the others. Then we can protect them from any Sorson attack."

"Be careful, Paul. You don't have to try that hard to convince them we've got trouble."

"That wasn't me," he replied, punching various keys on the console before him. "I don't understand. The instruments say we're on manual control, but the ship's flying itself."

(So you thought you could steal one of our ships, did you?) came an authoritative telepathic voice. (How foolish you humans are. I have taken over navigation of your vessel and strongly recommend that you stop fighting my telekinetic commands, or I may be forced to crash you into the ground at speed.)

By now the attack ship had levelled off beside Trilly's group, keeping pace with them as they descended towards the ground.

John looked sideways into the small vessel and his expression changed to one of utter disbelief as he recognised E