Dreaming
Means her brain still works, right?
Hey Sparks!
This post kicks us off at Chapter Two. In case you’ve missed an episode or two, here’s a quick summary of what’s happened so far. If you want to catch up on your own quick, check the INDEX .
but if, like me, you’d rather skip the homework…
In chapter one, a beaten, bloody, and very special, little girl runs away from home, and after a desperate three-day trek through a frozen forest, finally can’t go any more. She sees movement where there shouldn’t be any, and fearful of being recaptured by the soldiers behind her, sees a way out in Logan Luke and Tom, when they arrive on what is supposed to be their family vacation.
She tries to end it all, but instead gets rescued: taken along by the guys when they are kicked off world by those Teleran soldiers that were chasing our girl, because they happen to be Manoriam by descent.
Even though it’s a boon to her, things go south for the guys the moment she enters their lives. While Luke tends her numerous injuries, a frustrated Logan takes a spacewalk in a staticky nebula, and nearly gets left behind when the autopilot kicks back in, because his com is blocked by the static. In his desperate attempt to reconnect with the ship, his override code makes the power cells overheat and the ship goes haywire. Luke and Tom must then scramble to keep everything from falling apart while Logan is tasked with watching over Misty.
When they finally get home, Misty wakes up, realizes that she’s still alive, and no longer helpless, and thinks she better find a way out. Angry and afraid, she tries to fight her way free, but the Raw energy being slung around is bound to cause Luke some problems with his military bosses. They form a plan subdue her quickly, but when Logan jabs her with too much sedative, this happens.
Chapter two, let’s go.
Missed the last one? | INDEX | Next episode
I’m fighting, set up for a perfect strike, and just about to take it, when I get knocked over from behind.
Something bites me in the neck.
Things slow down—a lot.
Time is measured in heartbeats.
Strength bleeds out of my limbs with each slow boom.
Boom, boom.
The air is thick, and the colors are seeping away.
Boom boom.
Triumphant laughter echoes in the narrow metal passage.
Boom.
All sensation is fading.
Boom.
A curtain falls.
Boom.
* * *
I know I am dreaming. In the dream, I fly. There is nothing but air surrounding me, nothing but icy wind, swirling all around to stimulate a sense of touch. The release of all that pent-up power and the peace that comes with it, feeling light and the taste and smell of the thin atmosphere. Utter freedom!
I open my eyes to see Teag standing over me, behind the tinted shimmer of a Stasis Barrier. My muscles tense even though I know it is no use, the rigid energetic cocoon will prevent any movement.
“Remember that you are unique, in all our wide world, sweet little one, there is only one Teleran that can do what you can.” He says oozing pride and self-satisfaction, as his greasy blonde bangs dangle before his eyes. I stare at my trainer, hating him as he paces slowly around the hospital room.
Curse his pride. He is the reason I am here now, immobilized.
I want to scream at him! I can just picture myself beating his face to a bloody pulp with my small fists, but it is useless. This isn’t the first time I have been patched back together with stolen parts - another innocent talented girl mutilated to replace skin and muscle, to speed the recovery of the star pupil. As long as I stay here, it won’t be the last.
“Disregard this confinement and the pain of your injuries. Physical pain is nothing when measured against the immensity of the renewed power you will possess when your body repairs itself. It won’t be long now before-” He prattles on, telling me again how wonderful it is to be Teleran, with my specific Talent, blah, blah, blah. I can’t focus on his words, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. All I can think of is the itch on my eyebrow and the fact that I can’t move to scratch it no matter how hard I try, and how much worse this will get before it’s over.
All I did was lose a sparring match against a boy twice my size and Teag flayed me to satisfy his frustration at the bet he lost, now he acts like it was all worth it because this brush with death will only make me stronger, just like it did last time.
So I don’t have to hear any more, I look inward at the glowing inferno of Raw energy that is already brimming within me, and Teag’s plummy voice fades into the background. I did not release a lot, its regeneration shouldn’t go out of control this time, even inside the stasis barrier, even though it is already starting to burn... Breathe through, James will help.
But James is late in coming and as the burning intensifies, my screams start to get loud enough to go through the force field. The guard smirks and tightens his hold but doesn’t seem bothered by my small voice.
Time passes like falling snowflakes, now fast now slow. Inside the energetic case, I drift in and out of my airy dream world until I hear my Mind Smith’s voice at last.
“There, my dear. I am here now.” James sings softly as he enters the room, and I cannot resist my subconscious opening to him like a blooming flower when he renews our telepathic link with a touch. James inhales sharply as he feels my pain, Raw energy corroding cells that can no longer contain it. Then he closes our eyes and sighs, and my agony bleeds off instantly. The relief I feel is shamefully divine.
“What no fight for dominance today?” He tut-tuts, as I look away, failing to hide my awkwardness. “There’s no need to feel embarrassed my dear. Pain is the lot of the Penitent, and I want you to know that I waited to come, until you were ready to receive me.”
* * *
The Penitent, the penitent. It echoes. My unfocused eyes see blurry lights. There are some people around me, I don’t know how many. I think I hear voices. “200, clear!” Then I am thrust back. Dreams and memories swirl and eddy in my mind like a cloud of dust in the sunslight. Lessons. Such a rich history. So many details.
* * *
We Telerans are superior in every way.
Anatomy lessons taught me every strength of my body and every weakness that can be used to kill. Most babies are born weak, even in the Elder Races, but we Telerans are born encased in a unique energetic barrier that holds the raw energy in, trapping it so that it concentrates, making us tougher than most, a little more developed. Thus, even though the raw energy can’t escape, can’t even be measured, Teleran babies are born full of concentrated power, as much as they will ever have. Children up to about four or five don’t even have an energy signature, but if they are strong, as most Teleran children are, they should be able to learn to release it before it starts to naturally escape the Vital barrier, which is why parents teach kids Forms, as a basic martial art, from age five. The energy shell spreads out as they grow until it is thin enough to let some little bits of power through, then they can learn to draw it out. As the energy runs down with use, it builds back up again to its natural limit, and the more you use it, the faster it builds.
James told me that my energy signature was already obvious at age three, and unmistakable by five, but it wasn’t because my Vital energy was low. It hurt already, even then.
Mother always said I was a difficult child. James helped me learn about my birth and how, by some trick of fate, I stole some of my mother’s Vital energy and nearly doubled my own. The problem, we only found out later was, my raw energy regen doesn’t slow down when it gets close to the limit of what my Vital energy barrier can contain. Most Telerans stop generating power when they are full. I don’t. I just carry right on building, and the energy people could sense when I was little was leaking out despite my doubled Vital barrier.
And so I suffer.
I learned so fast how to release it, but controlling my energy took longer. I was four then and it was no secret—I was one of the strongest among the other Talented.
“Such a young wielder of Raw energy is unheard of.” They would say, whispering in the corners as I walked by behind Teag on our way to the gym. All the children my age were scared of me. None of them could stand against me in the sparring room, which was why they always pitted me against the older group, bigger, boys, more experienced. It was the only way to challenge me, make me stronger. The problem was that Teag was a betting man, and he didn’t like to lose. I was almost always in recovery for injuries. Even if I didn’t get hurt sparring, Teag seemed to like punishing me when I disappointed his expectations.
* * *
The memories meld together, so heavily that I cannot wake, and even though I know I am dreaming all I can do is observe…
Mother smells so nice, like herbs and wildflowers. I love the way she ties her hair, in a tight braid behind her head, and her dark blue skirts that hug her hips but not her knees. Her soft, cool hands, always full of something.
I never understood why I was different back then. It was James who helped me see that she never looked at me the same way she looked at my older sister. Her loving smiles lied about the fear in her eyes and she always shivered when she touched my skin. He told me she used to be a warrior, even after Kayten was born- but after me, her ability to store Raw energy was crippled and she never really recovered.
James showed me a lot of things that the naivete of babyhood hides, like how obvious it was that I had been marked as Talented from birth and that they had been watching from the start.
I remember my mother cried when they came to test me. Father had been teaching Kayten Forms for a season, and I had been joining in for half that. They were trying to make a fireball, and I was following the instructions, even though Father said I shouldn’t be able to manifest anything yet.
It was an accident. No one told me the energy would be so hot, and I only shook it to get it off my hands. I didn’t mean to hurt the neighbor’s boy.
The Hackers came the next day. They said even getting tested was a great honor for the family. James came after that-
No. No more!
* * *
I am asleep. Warm and comfortable and safe. I don’t know how I know, but I am—safe.
I try to remember... Everything is muddled now.
Chrys and I escaped from TTH. I ran until I couldn’t anymore and then... The Manorians found me - saved me? I think. I remember the warmth of their ship and the fight and then... what happened then?
“I’ll stay with her, if that’s okay.” I say to Luke, when I find him later in the library, feeling especially sorry for myself, after spending the day in the gym, trying and failing to get the girl off my mind. “Tom has gone off somewhere. I haven’t seen him in hours. You don’t know where he is do you?”
Luke is watching the fire. He has his troubled face on. We have not really spoken since the nebula. He has even declined to extend his influence. Normally I would think, blessedly, but it seems now to be the height of his displeasure.
Eleven minutes, eleven and a half. A human brain dies in six. Who knows how much damage I caused.
“I’ve not seen much of Thomas either,” Luke smiles, eyes glued to the fireplace, “but there isn’t much you can do, my boy.”
The anger has passed, I think.
“I’m sorry. I should have... been more careful... or something...” I mumble haltingly trying to disguise the tremor in my voice. I sit down beside him on the soft, white leather sofa, breathing deeply.
He puts his arm around my shoulders. “It’s alright. There’s nothing to be done about it. We’ve had a roller-coaster week, haven’t we?”
I nod, blinking out the dust that has inexplicably lodged itself in my eyes and swallowing hard to once again steady my voice, I reply, “You can say that again.”
We sit together, hardly speaking, until the fire dies down and Luke goes to bed. He says the girl will live. He says she is stable, and the scans say everything is normal. There should be no lasting ill effects. I hope he is right.
A good night’s rest and some breakfast would have worked wonders on me, had my conscience allowed it. I tell myself that a shower will have to suffice. Luke joins me in the infirmary shortly after sunrise to check in on his patient. The Team’s gone home, so we are on our own.
Years of watching Luke work has taught me to interpret the scan data, not to the extent he does of course, but enough to get by. It isn’t a coma; she should wake up when she is ready. Her whole system has just been shocked. Her liver and kidneys are strained but healing. Her ribs and sternum are being held in place with dissolving carbon cables, and more than half her skin is covered in fresh bandages, but everything is on the mend.
She looks so sweet and innocent, lying there at peace, despite the bruises. Her eyelashes are long and delicately curved, they twitch every few seconds. Dreaming means her brain is still working, doesn’t it?
She hardly seems alive.
Elle. I must remember to call her Elle.
* * *
Five tedious days later, Tom is still not back. Luke says he has gone to the mountain cabin like he wanted back on the ship. It’s better he’s not here. He’s not the one who held the needle. He doesn’t understand.
Elle still hasn’t woken, though she’s healing quickly. Luke and I moved her to her own room, not far from mine on the East wing, with her window facing the sunrise. Freshly painted and furnished just for a little girl, all cream and lilac.
Though her condition is not much different, I spend as much time with her as I can, which is a good deal. All my schoolwork and activities were deferred for our holiday which was supposed to have lasted a month, and sleep has eluded me pretty much since we got home. Maybe it is being surrounded by purple, ugh, or it’s the lack of exercise. I haven’t been to the gym in days.
Luke comes and goes, running endless tests and scans. Without the support of his team, the results keep him busy for hours at a time. Whenever he checks in, he orders me to “get out some.” But I have my headphones and tablet for company and a feeling that Elle will wake up soon.
The numerous tubes and wires that were attached to her body are now gone. The skin on her arms and legs has mostly smoothed to the color of milk, marred only slightly by the network of thin pink scars. It is hard to believe that just eight days ago she was all cut up and bloody.
There is a soft purple armchair near the window, across from Elle’s hospital bed. It is ugly as sin but quite comfortable, and I am lounging, peeling an orange which happens to be the only thing I can stomach these days. I nearly have the skin off when a drop of the deliciously tangy juice escapes and dribbles down my arm.
I move to lick it before it can drip onto the chair, and raising my eyes, I see hers.
Elle is awake.
Shock and awe, slowly allow a vague awareness to seep through, of my now clenched fist and orange juice dripping to stain the couch, but all thought of movement has left my mind. Every muscle in my body is taught as a drawn bow.
Her eyes look too big for her face. They are a strange color, graduated from a charcoal ring around her iris to a quicksilver pool deep enough to drown in, in which drops of pitch float. She blinks slowly, looking back at me and I have time to wonder what might be going on in that little head of hers. It’s a complete turnaround from last time. She doesn’t seem afraid, only curious.
It is only when the door opens that the spell breaks. I start to yell out “Wait!” but Luke’s trolley emerges, and I brace for panic and mayhem.
I keep my eyes closed, resisting the urge to stir; I am not alone and I don’t want to make it obvious I am awake just yet. The Manorian’s energy signature is so heavy it’s almost suffocating and it takes long moments to tear my mind from its memories and organize all the bits and pieces into a straightish timeline of the events following my escape from TTH.
I don’t remember how I got here, but I can tell I am no longer on the spaceship. The room is large and well-lit. The walls are thick and insulating and the ground must have some kind of padding because it doesn’t reverberate sound like a hard surface. Warmth across the lower half of my body tells me that there is a window. The air is very still, scented with an unfamiliar sweetness that makes my mouth water, but it is the wet, fleshy, tearing sound that makes me finally open my eyes and look.
The Manorian is sitting in a thickly padded, purple chair a few paces from my bedside looking intently at the fruit in his hand. It has an amazing color, as bright as molten rock. He moves it slowly round, pulling gently this way and that at the outer layer of skin, until it comes away from the flesh. He is very intent and seems well-practiced until a slight change in pressure releases a drop of juice. It rolls slowly down his forearm and as he tries to catch it with his tongue, his eyes meet mine.
For a moment the entire universe exists only in those fascinating orbs. The irises are the color of new leaves in the sunslight, flecked with gold. The pupils are Manorian blue. For one long serene moment, I do not feel afraid. Even my hardwired dislike of his Manorian energy is forgotten until there is a noise at the door.
“Wait!” He cries out, and the crushed fruit falls and rolls wetly across the floor. My eyes follow it along the fluffy cream carpet to finely polished black shoes. Instinct reminds me that Teag would have flogged me for failing to sense the approach. I swallow hard and force myself to stay still as the blue-eyed Pure one, enters behind a wheeled cart of thin drawers.
That’s it for this week. Happy speculating till Meta-Tuesday and unBottled Embers.
New here? Don’t want to miss out -
Need more and can’t wait - check out the Bottled Embers INDEX for the rest of the story.
Well Jenny, really delayed this time...and a whole song an dance of explanation was forthcoming, along with infinite parsing of this episode...neither being necessary!
Suffice to say this episode leading off Chapter 2 contains a whole lot of important stuff, information about the Gifted Children and Misty in particular! I know I missed or forgot a lot of nuance that would have made my comprehension much quicker on the first go around. Energy management is a big one along with the key differences between Misty and the other children. How her birth affected both herself and her mother and has a huge long term effect! A big question mark is why is the Telaran population being so closely monitored to spot and segregate these kids very early? Are they being groomed as a super army for defensive or offensive purposes? Or? And still the question remains about how reliable is Misty's dream state about these snippets of memory? There is a lot of trauma being alluded to (physical and mental), and terrible if true!
Now there are interesting interactions going on between Misty and Lukes family...some sort of fascination about Logan from Misty, maybe its just his physical appearance and strength or does it spring from not understanding his restraint in dealing with her aggregation? And she has definitely classified Luke as something special 'a blue eyed Pure One'? Is it that he is a genetically pure human from Earth, an Elder Race maybe?
Oh, and at this point Logan seems to have decided on his own to call Misty "Elle" just because he heard her mumble "Christelle" when she was in a previous unconscious state, talk about impulsive! Of course we (I) now know that she calls herself Misty from an early bit of internal dialog, which I missed repeatedly and caused me no end of confusion the first time around!
Ok, that's enough I think, Jenny!