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Archive-name: Fantasy/mindstar.10

Archive-author: Jeff Buser - (C) 1990

Archive-title: Those Of A Mindstar Born -10

"I love watching a professional at work," Major Andria said.

"Rot.  In.  Hell."  Wendy sat straight and still, fists clenched and shaking, 

voice barely audible.

"Wendy, please don't take this as a threat.  We have no intention of harming 

you.  I can tell you that straight out because you probably wouldn't respond 

well to torture anyway.  We need your mind, you see.  And the easiest way of 

ensuring your cooperation is by repeating the performance you just saw with 

one of your other compatriots.  Lovely Carli Silver perhaps, though it would 

be a shame to waste such a perfect physical specimen.  We could evey try your 

leader, Sarah Liman, though .  .  ." The major looked closely at Wendy's 

face, seeing what she was trying desparately to conceal.

From the small pile of personal effects that she had dumped on the table, the 

Major selected Wendy's picture of Sarah and stared at it a minute;  she then 

crumpled it into a small wad.  "That's it, isn't it.  Even though the woman 

seduced you to get you to join her little rebel band, you still love her. 

Good, good.  I'd hate to make a martyr of her, but I will if necessary".

"It's not up to me.  They'll never just let you take me out of here".

"Very shrewd.  You're quite correct.  Thus, the environment suits and gas 

grenades," she explained, gesturing to her uniform which Wendy now noticed 

had cleverly concealed hermetic cuffs and collar like a space suit.  In some 

of those bulging pockets there were probably gloves and a soft helmet that 

would completely isolate the wearer from the outside air.  "We'll be out of 

this cell block and out of the center before anyone far enough away to be 

left alive has a chance to even raise an alarm.  Unless you waive your right 

to local prosecution and submit yourself to Imperial law aboard my ship".

"Why me"?

"You don't know?  Either Sarah's little group has much better internal 

security than I thought or you all have been fighting rather stupidly against 

things you really don't understand.  Amazing.  At any rate, that, as they 

say, is for me to know and you to find out".

Defeated, Wendy consented.  Within hours she was aboard the Imperial carrier, 

slowly drifting, almost a million kilometers from the planet.  She was 

marched immediately to a large white room which she recognized with some 

horror as the torture room from the crystal.  The guards went through the 

procedure she had seen before, strapping her feet to the chair.  They left 

the cuffs on her wrists but attatched them to the back of the chair as well.  

She was left alone for a long time;  she guessed it was an hour or more.

A man in a white lab coat and protective mask entered, carrying a large clear 

container full of what Wendy assumed was 'jac discharge.  As he came closer, 

Wendy stared into his eyes and abruptly recognized him.  It was the man who 

had murdered Kate.

"Hello, Wendy.  My name is Doctor Eldin and I will be handling your case from 

here on.  Relax, Wendy, there is nothing to be afraid of.  I'm not going to 

hurt you".

"Like you didn't hurt Kate, you evil bastard?  Murderer!"

Wendy spat at him, but her head was turned too far to the side and it merely 

spattered on the floor, leaving a thin bead hanging on her chin.  The doctor 

seemed totally unperturbed.

"You are mistaken.  I do not know anyone named 'Kate', and I have certainly 

never tortured or killed anyone.  I am a scientist".

"You son of a bitch, I'll see you dead"!

"Now, now, temper, temper," he admonished cheerily.

Wendy fell silent, her breaths short and shallow.  The man was behind her now 

and she had no idea what he was doing; no matter how she turned her head she 

could not get a glimpse of him.  She jumped and barely supressed a scream 

when she felt a gloved hand touch her shoulder.

"Really, Wendy; you should try to relax.  This kind of stress is not good for 

your mind or your body".

He patted her reassuringly.  He stepped in front of her, holding a clear 

cylinder filled with some transparent fluid.  It had a plunger at one end and 

a long, sharp needle at the other.

"Do you know what this is Wendy?  Long ago, instruments like these were used 

to administer medicine through the skin.  This needle is hollow, and once it 

has penetrated into the desired area the plunger is used to force the 

medicine into the body.

"Do you know what I find very interesting about subcutaneous injections, 

Wendy?  I think this will amuse you;  very frequently they were used to 

administer painkillers.  Quite ironic, don't you think?"

Without warning, he grabbed a handful of her thigh and jabbed the needle deep 

into the flesh.  It hurt, but not as badly as Wendy had expected.  The needle 

was thin, and if people had really used these things all the time in the 

past, she could deal with it now.  Then he started pressing the plunger.  A 

burning agony shot through her leg, spreading out from the location of the 

injection toward her toes and up into her stomach.  Wendy screamed though she 

tried not to;  the pain was unbearably intense and she clenched her eyes 

shut, hoping for unconsciousness that did not come.

When her screams had stopped, he whispered into her ear, "This particular 

injection is a nerve stimulant, a reletively new development of mine.  I'm 

very proud of it.  It intensifies the sensitivity of your sense of touch, in 

a way.  Aren't you proud of me"?

Wendy remained silent.  The man laid his hand softly on her shoulder, but his 

touch was like a branding iron against her skin.  She screamed as he lightly 

rubbed her neck, feeling a scraping like a high speed sander tearing her skin 


"Now Wendy, you recognize what I have in this container, don't you"?

Slowly she nodded.  "Yes.  It's discharge from an ejaculoid".

"Besides being white and sticky, what other unusual properties does it have"?

"It's alive".

"Very good.  What else"?

"The 'jacs eat it".

He smiled.  "You're avoiding the question.  You know what I want to hear.  Be 

a good girl and tell me so we can get this over with and have some real fun".

The shackles at her wrists and ankles seemed to be grinding through her limbs 

down to the bone.  She shifted in her chair but it sent thunderclaps of pain 

up her spine.  She croaked out, "If a 'jac fertilizes it, it grows into 

another 'jac.  It's alive.  I don't know, I don't know, what do you want me 

to say"?

"Wendy, you're a beautiful little girl.  Please don't make me punish you.  I 

only want to help you.  Please tell me what makes the ejaculoids' cum 


"It's . . . it has an empathic response with some humans".

"See how easy this is?  Yes!  That's it!  Now, tell me how you communicate 

with it".


He walked over to her, lowering his face until it was level with hers, only 

centimeters from it.  His hand rested on the chair between her legs.  

"Wendy," he said softly, "the one thing that I can't accept is playing 

stupid.  Please don't act stupid, or I will be forced to treat you like a 

stupid person. Please answer the question".

"But I can't!  I can't communicate with the natives.  I don't know where you 

got that idea but I can't"!

"Wendy," he whispered softly, "that's not what Kate told us".

"You bastard".  She spat at his face, and this time it was impossible to 


When Wendy was finally carried from the room, there was not a mark on her 

body, but she had told them everything there was to tell.  She lay in her 

cell a long time, trying not to move while the effects of the nerve stimulant 

wore off.  When the door was finally opened again, it was by Major Andria.

"Come, Wendy.  I have some things to show you".

The command bridge of the Imperial battle carrier was huge.  Wendy's hands 

and feet were free, and she was being given a tour as if she were one of the 

Emperor's children.  They stood now before a massive console with banks of 

screens and extensive keypads.  Most of the screens were blank; the remainder 

displayed reams of technical data which Wendy did not understand.

"This is the Fleet Control console.  This ship carries over two hundred 

smaller vessels of various types.  When those craft are operating, this 

console monitors and coordinates their activities.  Lieutenant Hanson, show 

our guest the docking bays".

The officer seated at the console pressed keys and some of the screens 

switched to various views of the immense bays in which the smaller ships were 

stored and maintained.  Wendy stood expressionless.

"Our final stop is the one you will find most interesting.  Walk this way.  I 

suppose I really needn't have bored you with all the other details of the 

operations of this ship, but I couldn't help myself.  I'm quite proud of her, 

you know.  Ah, here we are".

They stood outside a closed hatch leading from the command bridge.  Major 

Andria pressed her thumb to the lock.  It acknowledged her thumbprint and 

requried her to type in a complex code of numbers.  At last, the hatch slid 


The room beyond was nearly empty;  surrounded by blank walls sat a man, 

strapped into a chair.  His eyes were closed and for all Wendy could tell he 

might have been dead.  The chair itself was large and complex, various 

screens and keypads built into it.  Oddly, most of these were on the sides 

and back of the chair and not on the arms where he could easily reach them.  

Large tubes and bundles of wires dangled between the ceiling and the back of 

the chair.

"This," explained Major Andria, "is Commander Jon Karlson.  Commander Karlson 

is our communications officer.  What you see before you is his life support 

system.  I know it must look outrageously bulky to you, but there is a 

requirement for multiple redundancy on all systems and the ability to 

automatically handle any medical emergency which might arise.  In fact, if 

you were to remove the Commander from his seat, he would die.

"The Commander has the supreme honor of having given his life, quite

literally, to the Empire.  He is the recipient of certain experimental drugs 

which enhance the meager psychic abilities of most humans and which 

unfortunately have serious side effects on the human metabolism".

"Why are you telling me," Wendy asked suspisciously.

"Because, my dear Wendy, I feel that you have the key to our problem.  We 

originally thought we could use the native organism on your world to 

stimulate psychic activity in our communications officers, or even use the 

organism itself in the communication apparatus.  Thus, the prophylactans were 

designed and sent to collect the raw psychic energy of your planet.  When the 

organism shut down it's own life cycle to end our gathering attempts we were 

forced to investigate in person.  And here we found you, an unenhanced 


"Why not stick with radio"?

"Too slow.  If I were to send a radio message to your captiol from here, they 

would not hear my voice until two or three seconds after I had spoken. 

Psychic communication is instantaneous.  With Commander Karlson at his 

station, and a telepathic receiver on the ground, that message would be heard 

at the very same time I spoke it.  But perhaps more importantly, the range is 

not limited.  As we speak, our conversation is being monitored on Earth".

"But that's impossible.  Messages take seventy years to reach Earth from 


"Radio messages, yes.  Telepathic messages, no.  So you see why this

technology is vital".

"So your scouts can spy on the Free Planets and instantly inform Earth?  So 

your fleets can anticipate our every move when you make war against us?  This 

is what you want from me?  Well, you're wrong.  I'll die before I help you. 

If you toture me I might give in, but not before my mind is so wrecked that 

it would be of no use.  Find your own . . ."

"Calm down, Wendy.  I have no intention of killing or torturing you.  The 

very worst case I can imagine is that I fail to find any answers here.  In 

that case I would merely insure that the Free Planets don't get the answers 


"And how would you do that"?

"As you must know, Wendy, within a week this ship could reduce the entire 

surface of your planet to molten lava.  I believe that would suffice".

"You wouldn't," Wendy protested, but she knew that the Major would.

"We have an entirely separate link here, Wendy.  What I would like you to do 

is try to send or receive anything from our subject on Earth".  She handed 

Wendy a thin lead which extended from the chair and terminated in a shiny 

metal sphere.

Wendy took it.  She didn't really think it would work; she knew absolutely 

nothing about the technology she was dealing with and had no idea how to 

control her ability.  Indeed the only times she had consciously tried to feel 

the emotions of others she had failed.  She was still wondering what she was 

supposed to do, when the feeling hit her, unmistakably real, though at a 

great distance.

"Fear," Wendy said, "Pain.  I feel that".  And abruptly she realized that 

they were torturing someone on distant Earth for her benefit.

"Stop it.  All right, you've seen what you want to see; now stop it"!

"Don't worry.  The person whose emotions you are feeling is a convicted 

criminal who agreed to participate in this experiment in exchange for waiver 

of his sentece".

"What was his crime?  A traffic violation"?

"Repeated absence from his labor schedule.  Now try to send something".

Wendy tried to send comfort, reassurance, love.  There was no change in what 

the victim at the other end kept sending.

"Roger, Earthbase One," the Major said in response to something which only 

she could hear.  "Nothing.  It looks like you are a receiver only, Wendy.  

Please place your other hand in this container".

The Major had produced a clear container of 'jac discharge from a compartment 

which slid back into the wall.  Wendy placed her hand into the container and 

felt the familiar comforting warmth.  Almost instantly things began to 

happen. The Major held her hand to her ear and cocked her head.

"Earthbase One, I'm not reading you," she calmly stated, then more 

frantically, "Earthbase One, we have lost your transmission.  Please 

respond". Her resquests grew more strained as she continued trying to 

reestablish contact.

Wendy saw now that Commander Karlson's monitors were all flatlined, the 

artificial life support which had been keeping him alive now nonfunctional. 

She heard pounding on the hatch behind her, muffled voices behind it 

shouting. Coursing through her was an energy which she had always been on the 

very threshold of feeling, but which she had never felt.  The mind of the 

vast colony encompassed the planet and was as indescribable as love itself.  

It was a glorious feeling, something that made her very glad to be alive, 

though she could easily die at any second.  The raw emotions that surged 

through the colony segment in the container, in and out of her body, into the 

ship's psychic hardware and from there into it's communication circuits were 

not revenge or even anger, but a great protectiveness.  Wendy felt the 

undercurrents of self-preservation, but as much of the feeling was directed 

toward her and her people as was toward the 'jacs.

Alarms were now sounding outside the hatch.  Wendy felt fear, clear directed 

fear aimed specifically at her; the colony was trying to signal her, to tell 

her something.  As she realized this, she was filled with an urge to run.  

She dropped the lead into the container of jism and wiped her hand, looking 

frantically about.  A flashing yellow light appeared above head level from 

the previously blank surface of the wall.  Simultaneously, a rectangular 

outline of black dashes appeared beneath the light with a red square at waist 

level. Wendy ran to it.  She jabbed at the red button, and as the hidden 

emergency hatch slid open she heard a loud hissing noise behind her.  Turning 

as she ran out, she saw Major Andria trying to open the main hatch.

The emergency escape slid closed behind her.  The corridor she was in was 

narrow and long;  opening another hatch at the end, she finally emerged into 

one of the docking bays.  An Imperial officer stood not more than five meters 

from her, staring.  She started to run but he called to her.

"Ma'am, Ma'am!  This way"!

She stopped, not sure why.

"Hurry!  Emperor's orders!  I'm to take you planetside with no further delay. 

Come on"!

She hesitated, and he stepped forward, taking her arm.  Then she ran with him 

to a small shuttle, boarded it, and sat quietly while he guided the craft out 

of the bay through the growing confusion.  When the shuttle was safely away 

she went to the cockpit.  Sitting in the empty seat next to the pilot, she 

started to ask where his orders had come from when there was a bright flash 

from several of the screens on the console.  Quickly glancing down, they saw 

the carrier engulfed in a huge explosion.  The pilot became a flurry of 

activity, activating scanners and calling the ship, but there was no answer. 

No other craft had escaped;  there were no survivors.  Wendy didn't know what 

false information the had organism had fed the ship and it's crew to acheive 

such a spectacular result, but she hoped desparately that what it had told 

the observers on Earth was as good.

The shuttle landed and soon everything was back to normal.  The Imperial 

troops on the merchant ship and on the ground surrended when they heard their 

base ship had been destroyed;  they were released and sent by slow liner back 

to Earth.  The Prophylactan specification document eventually revealed a 

series of sound frequencies that were the recall signal for the invaders to 

return to the ship, which was then anihilated.  Maria managed to give one 

full report of the events onscreen, and then later avoided the topic as if 

she had been asked not to mention it again.  Everything was soon forgotten, 

or, if not forgotten, then at least repressed.


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