Page 36 of Dreikx

Engage long-range sensors, my head of com said. I purse my lips. The side effect of telepathy is expending energy on shielding myself from infiltrating the thoughts of people around me. I walk around with a mental shield, something I’ve gotten used to over the years. It hasn’t occurred to me to mentally scan until today. And I wonder if bonding Tamey has expanded my range. I wonder if I could search for Mike. Before bonding, my telepathic range was relatively short and precise, but the probability the mating changed that is high.

I would love to practice and sit on this for a while, but Mike has been active and I should be too. Leaning back in my chair, I start peeling back the layers of mental sheets that form a shield around my mind, and mentally scan my ship. The crew members’ thoughts slowly drift into my head. There’re thousands of them, and I grit my teeth against the onslaught, then retreat and try again, scanning one area at a time starting with the control room and moving down to the lower decks. Everyone is focused on their task, and we have a thermal leak in engineering. I make a note to inquire about it. Past the control room, my crew roams the halls below, and farther down, I scan the medical floor, finding Tamey easily, but exit her thoughts immediately so she won’t latch on to my feels.

“Open open open,” a strong projecting thought screams in my head.

It’s unlike a Telean mind to project this strongly, and I grow curious.

Carefully, I infiltrate the mind and watch through his eyes as he flies into the docking station. I’m using a visceral approach, and with this approach, I can’t identify a Telean during the scan unless I ravage his memories, which is the opposite of scanning. Actively asserting my control over another’s mind and body is an attack that, if executed poorly, could leave my crew member permanently damaged.

The male docks the pod in slot thirty-four and brings up his scanners. Why is he scanning the ship? The ship’s interior pops up on the holo screen, and the male sifts manually through the different areas with his hand instead of using voice commands. His hand movements look familiar. It can’t be…

“Docking station one on screen,” I say.

“The scanners are fully engaged, sir. If we disrupt the visual now—”

“Do it,” I bark.

Docking station one replaces the visual of district two. The thoughts of my crew members roam inside my open mind. They are questioning me, curious about the sudden change in my demeanor and tone. The intrusion of their thoughts severs my mental connection with the male in the pod. Gritting my teeth, I stand and approach the screen. “Slot thirty-four.”

The screen shows a pod like all other pods in our arsenal. Black, round, nondescript.

“Pod specifics on screen.”

The maintenance sensors in the docking station read pod specifics and scan the pods as they return from outside. They detect anomalies and upload updates. Today, they detect pod number one thousand and one. Both the pilot and the defense strategist turn in their chairs and stare at me. They expect an answer. “In a minute I’ll explain. Now, show me the side views.”

“Of…?” they ask.

“Of the pod.”

They glance at each other but turn back to work.

On the screen, the pod shows side dents, an esthetic design of the two-thousand manufacturing line. The docking station’s sensors read pod one thousand and one.

“Two-thousand pod-line body,” my defense strategist says. “The scan is wrong. Why is the scan wrong?”

“The scan is wrong because it’s been tampered with,” I say.

The defense strategist will follow the protocol, and I would like to work off the protocol as I have a feeling the male inside has returned for a purpose. I’d like to know why. I’d like to know a great many whys and many other things I won’t get by following our intruder protocol. “Don’t sound the alarm. Stay on the pod, namely the pilot.”

The pod door slides open, and a Telean crew member exits. It’s not Mike. Exhales sound around the room, everyone feeling relief we’re not dealing with a security breach.

“Who is this?” I ask.

“Mohagox. Medicine and infusion technology,” my pilot says.

“Disable the pod,” I say. “Follow him.”

“A report came back from the docking station, sir.”

“And?”

“The false number has been corrected. The station is reporting a glitch in the reading system.”

“Stay on the male.”

“That’s Mohagox,” the pilot says. “I know him well. Perhaps the maintenance crew is running a test or a safety drill.”

“I should know about testing and drills, no?”

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