“Rather basic. Maxtin wanted top students for field experience.” JC contemplates, The Admiral was to assign cadets he could groom toward his political policies and keep the UCP out of the Mokarran war. Tempted to scan this girl to uncover what makes her special, JC holds her thought.
“He understood my time with the crew would help develop my skills as a liaison officer, and Mark with his piloting skills. Simulators are effective, but the best pilots need to fly for real.”
“An accurate assessment,” Reynard concurs.
“Maxtin sent me to train you,” Mark chimes in.
“You should be training dozens of cadets and not wasting time with me.”
“It’s not a waste, Sir. The Admiral said…”
“There’s a learning curve on Mecats, I’m unable to grasp.”
“Your people did when the Iphigenians invaded your home world. They trained them to fly combat weaponry and it hasn’t changed much.”
“They screened those with an aptitude for the technology. I was not selected on my math skills,” Reynard says. “We’ve time to utilize the simulator, Cadet. Let’s see how well you instruct.”
TASKED IN FINDING the Genesis code, Amye takes what she learned in the storage bay to access Athena. As she waits for a program to run, she glances at Scott, who also attempts a reprogramming. Doug jacks into the system. Kymberlynn relaxes across from her station and rolls her eyes.
“I’ve never met a telepath either,” Leahla says.
Oh great! JC screams in her own head. “We’re not exactly popular. Personal thoughts are all anyone has considered truly private.”
“Not when you’re around.”
“Only the law and harsh punishments prevent unauthorized brain scans.”
“Must be difficult to control.” Leahla fails to hide her curiosity.
“I’ve been trained since childhood to control my gift. Some women never leave the temple unless they accept a lobotomy. Some never master the control of keeping the voices out.”
“I would think you’d want to know what everyone’s thinking,” Leahla says.
“No. Most surface thoughts are mundane. People wonder about the dumbest mind-numbing things,” JC says.
“What am I thinking?”
“I don’t need to read your mind to know you’re excited about field operations and working with alien species you’ve never met before.”
“Admiral Maxtin selects only the top students for a field internship.”
“Glad it makes you happy.” Amye rolls her eyes.
Leahla smiles. She shifts into her professional mode. “Why do you dress like that?”
“Like what?”
“The low-cut leather top squishes your mammary glands out so much.”
“It’s actually a trick to circumvent the law,” Amye chimes.
“I don’t understand,” Leahla admits.
“Liaison officers learn from their telepaths,” Australia adds.
“Even nontelepaths are capable of controlling their thoughts or hiding thoughts from a scan unless they are distracted. Telepaths are female. Gives us a distinct advantage. Deep scans are forbidden by law, but surface brain traffic naturally radiates off most people. So we dress in a revealing nature to cause distraction, allowing more thoughts to float on the surface. We learn information about people without breaking the law,” JC explains.
“Fascinating.”
“It’s extremely effective on males who are genetically disposed to be attracted to breasts for mating purposes.”
Leahla cups her own chest. Her smile slumps a bit as most of her figure is padded uniform.
The graduating cadet’s eagerness bothers JC. “Time to report to your quarters.”
“Take the mercenary to his as well,” Australia orders.
Hauser hops from the couch and pats his pistol. “No weapons check?”
JC can’t figure out how she forgot about him. Whatever implants have been added to his facial reconstruction block her surface scan.
“Unnecessary. You’ve no clearance level.”
Kymberlynn leans over to whisper to Amye, “She’s bugging Australia and the telepath. Keep her off your back. I do wonder why she’s so interested in the Nysaean.”
“In thirty years Aus’s the only Nysaean to arrive in UCP space. There are few enduring records of the entire people. The Tibbar decimated everything about their culture.”
“Nysaean rarely traveled off-world. Since their computer brains remember everything, she has memories of the invasion and before, of a peace-loving group of people.”
“Isolated peace lovers make for easy targets for imperialistic invaders seeking to dominate the universe,” Amye notes.
“The Tibbar didn’t seek domination. They needed a new home planet. They believe they must die in battle. Instead of claiming an uninhabited world they invaded an occupied one.”
“A world of peace lovers isn’t much of a challenge to a warrior race,” Amye notes.
“JC knows something about the Tibbar invasion…” Kymberlynn adds, “She isn’t sharing.”
“She might have gleamed someone’s thoughts. Relieving information would endanger her under the law.”
“It’s more. Watch her gaze toward Australia.” Kymberlynn points at the telepath.
“She’s unable to enter a Nysaean mind—something about their brain chemistry—she’s probably making an attempt to see if it’s possible. I think I would if there was a mind I couldn’t read.”
“I’d want to see if I could.”
“Amye, pay attention next time. JC has knowledge about Nysaeans she’s never shared with Australia. I’ll bet your next bottle of liquor.”
“How are you going to prove it so we can bet?”
“I’ll find a way if it keeps you from a drink for a few hours.”
“I don’t drink excessively,” Amye snaps.
“You’re the textbook case of co-dependency.”
“Osirian psychology mumbo-jumbo doesn’t apply.”
“To just you or the entire Osirian species, because you have alcohol bottles hidden, not just in your quarters, and you drink to suppress your pain.”
“What do you know about it? You weren’t there. You weren’t there to protect me.”
“You weren’t there to save me,” Kymberlynn quips back.
“Childish.”
“You know the truth. You can’t accept it. I’m here because you can’t accept the truth. If you could you wouldn’t need the drink to conquer how you feel.”
“You don’t know what happened,” Amye says.
“Tell me. Tell me, so you and I can move on. Better yet…tell him.”
“Not Reynard. He’s…He’s the kind of person I want to be with, and if I tell him what happened…why I do what I did before I met him…he’d never want to be with me.”
“You think he wants a drunk? Some hussy who immerses herself in drink to ply away
