Mock

(Starspeak)

<That was foolish,> Serral chided me. <But I suspect you already know that far better than I could tell you.>

<There wasn't a single rational thought going through my mind,> I said. <Still…>

<You can't believe how well it turned out?>

<Yeah. I try to kill these rak one day, and the next we have a fun party.>

<I've never paid much more than lip service to religion, so I was always skeptical at the idea of religious people being more forgiving than others,> Serral said, <but maybe these Missionary Marines are the exception to the exception that proves the rule.>

<Well we haven't had any problems with them trying to proselytize us,> I said. <But they're really curious about Earth religions. They wanted copies of every translation of the Bible we had.>

<That might have been a tedious task for anyone else,> Serral chuckled. <But for you?>

<Literally just takes a thought,> I agreed.

Jordan gave the back of my hand a tap. Five-minute warning. Her superlocator and its pearls were valuable, but they did have limits, most notably: time. She had to be asleep—or very close to it—in order for the pearl's twinned position to stabilize.

Even holding one in my mind, continuously subjecting it to every psionic scrutiny I could bring to bear, it was a mystery. The pearl itself was just a hole in my mind leading to nowhere as much as anywhere for all I could tell the difference.

And yet, my superconnector could reach through that hole just fine and talk to Serral on the other side of the star system.

<You were very lucky this turned out so well,> he told me. I couldn't blame him for reiterating the lecture.

<I know,> I said. <And yet? Donnie and Johnny both think Itun moved first. Part of me thinks they really are just being forgiving, but part of me doesn't wonder if they don't want to involve local law because they have some fugitives in their camp they're hoping to reform. So I don't know what to make of it in the end.>

<Was their information about Humans good at least?>

<I don't know yet exactly, but it was at least worth hearing. We already called the Organic Authority office in Pudiligsto—it's tiny, just three people—and they'd heard some rumors to substantiate what the M&Ms told us.>

<M&Ms?> Serral asked dryly.

<Mavriste and Macoru, and Missionary Marines,> I defended. Only the first part worked in Starspeak though. <Hey, you might not get it, but that nickname is funny in English…>

<I have learned at least a little English,> Serral replied, equally defensive. <But I'm seeing Jordan's warnings pop up. You're doing a psionics demonstration for the municipal authorities soon, right?>

<In about five minutes, yeah,> I said.

<Five minutes? And Jordan is asleep?>

<Relax,> I said. <We called an audible. I'm doing it.>

<You're supposed to be on vacation,> Serral reminded me. <Do not just keep working at your old pace.>

<I…had a very relaxing time at the beach party last night,> I tried.

The words were not convincing.

I had nearly gotten in a fight to the death the day before, so, of course they weren't.

<Just promise me you'll at least try to give yourself some rest?>

<I do indeed promise to try.>

<Contact us again within seventy-two hours,> he instructed with a sigh.

The connection winked out from his end.

Jordan's eyes immediately fluttered open. For a moment, she just lay there, staring up at the ceiling of the gulf-city municipal hall's presentation stage.

"[…Rise and shine?]" I said.

She continued to lie with her eyes open, saying nothing.

"[Jordan?]"

"[Just demonstrating to you what relaxing looks like,]" she said, expression utterly sincere.

"[Smartass]," I accused.

It didn't take long for Vorak to begin filing into the auditorium.

Postal workers, utility engineers, police officers, all sorts rolled in quickly finding their seats.

On stage with me was Jordan—still pretending like she hadn't just had a forty-five-minute nap—Peudra, and Halax.

I hated having him here, but Peudra insisted it would lend to our credibility if Humans didn't outnumber Vorak onstage.

When I'd invited the Missionary Marines' leaders to this lesson, I'd almost asked Mavriste if I could borrow any of his rak so I wouldn't need Halax to balance our numbers. But he'd told me Itun was the one he could spare. That was almost certainly a lie, but I was still too embarrassed about trying to kill him to call him out.

Worse, I almost took him up on the offer. My dislike of Halax was entirely related to Nora. I wasn't blind to that.

Itun was a literal murderer. War criminal.

And yet for a few awful heartbeats, I toyed with the idea of using him instead of Halax.

It wasn't until Mavriste and Macoru joined the audience that I realized I could have asked one of them directly rather than going to Halax or Itun.

There was a small countdown displayed until the lecture began. It was built into the wall itself. Vorak did like to be punctual.

Standing on stage, plainly visible while the audience entered, was a bit of an odd experience for me. This auditorium lacked any kind of curtain. I wonder if that was true of all Vorak theaters?

Ding, ding.

"[Showtime,]" I said. "Peudra, if you'd please start us off?"

They were a skilled public speaker, launching into terse introduction in Tarassin before introducing the other three of us as well as the morning's topic: psionics.

"And now, Harpe Hane will take the stage and share some of their expertise," Peudra said.

"Good evening," I said, immediately grimacing and biting my tongue. "Except it's morning. My apologies, most of these workshops have been at night.

The one undeniable advantage of every former theater kid?

Lots of experience memorizing scripts.

Even in an alien language I only half spoke, my grammar was flawless as I went through my own introduction. Practice didn't make perfect, it made performance.

With the speech itself practically automatic at this point, I turned some of my attention toward Mavriste and Macoru near the back. Their superconstructs still lingering behind their eyes. What did they do? I had so many theories about what distinguished a superconstruct from ordinary creations, but with a sample size of just Jordan and I…

Focus Caleb. You need to stay professional.

"…so for the sake of clarity, I will proceed in Starspeak while Harpe Peudra offers a translation <psionically>," I finished.

One scan of the room had been all we needed to know that every attendee was equipped with their own psionics.

"So, just for my own edification, how many of you can still understand me? A human crowd would just raise their hands, so go ahead and throw up an arm…okay…"

Ever dutiful, Peudra translated that too, and it took a few moments for the incorrect hands to realize exactly what I meant.

The number was around one third of those in attendance. Maybe twenty people in total? But many of those hands seemed hesitant.

"Well that's just fine," I said. "Harpe Peudra is well experienced. If you can understand their translation of what I'm saying, now raise your hand."

Every arm in the audience went up.

"Excellent," I said. "Now, you all are equipped with basic psionics already. If you're here, you are someone who has some experience with mental machines. This is not the basic course. There will be two parts to this lecture: the first is psionic utilities. What exactly is and isn't possible is an immense topic, and I assure you this will only cover the tiniest fraction of those possibilities. But the possibilities we do cover?"

I leaned toward the audience conspiratorially.

"They'll be advanced far past the basic course. Now the main constraint of psionics is the separation of minds…"

One Vorak near the front raised a hand.

"Yes?" I paused.

"You said the first half would cover psionic utility," they said—their uniform said they were local police, and they used Starspeak. "What about the second?"

I took careful aim in response, aiming the equivalent of a psionic toothpick fired from a crossbow.

It impacted the Vorak's default firewall and stuck there, completely harmless but impossible to overlook.

"Part two is psionic combat," I said.

·····

The first half of the lecture went smoothly.

We covered psionic filing systems, communication networks, the concept of modern digital email…

In the end, a surprising amount of the lecture went into modern Earth ideas about IT and digital, interconnected technology.

The main difference in alien computers wasn't actually speed or power. Casti-made bioprocessors could achieve comparable results to Earth's silicon microchips. They were just a lot larger and more expensive.

Psionics, in a sense, represented a portable technology that closely resembled the cellphone and smartphone back on earth.

Most of what psionics could do was perfectly achievable with other devices. Just not as conveniently.

The city's electrical and water engineers were especially interested in embedded materials. Psionic constructs embedded into wires or pipes could—if built correctly—could give some limited feedback on maintenance or precise locations of breaks or leaks.

Every bureaucrat in the city would want to learn about psionic document processing. A modern secretary with a laptop was better than a whole office of their pre-digital predecessors, and psionics let even the most acute reading disabilities more than double their words per minute—with fewer errors to boot too.

The real standouts were the few Adepts in the crowd. Macoru tried to be slick about asking, but when she'd questioned if psionics could be embedded into exotic materials—potentially to build some sort of control interface, I knew some of what she had in mind.

Instead of having to devise complicated physical mechanisms in a creation to trigger certain changes in a creation, a simple psionic trigger could be used instead.

The example I demonstrated for the audience was a pane of transparent crystal that could become opaque with a thought. It was made so that a certain psionic signal would catalyze an almost imperceptible chemical change in the composition that completely altered its transmittance. Another signal could reverse the catalyzation.

Jordan borrowed a blue print from Madeline's repertoire and demonstrated a length of metal joints connected in series. Each joint was fitted with a simple actuator that was controlled psionically. The result was prehensile metal tube Jordan could wave around with her mind. It didn't go fast or grip very firmly, but the design was rudimentary.

Every Adept knew what it represented: a huge shift in the limits to self-moving Adeptry.

It had always been possible to make Adept-machines with moving parts. But the motion of those parts had to be governed by conventional controls.

Now?

I knew Madeline and Aarti had both created adhesive grappling 'hooks' whose adhesive could be engaged or disabled with a thought.

Dustin had told me about the computer their group had built for Nora so that she could operate with her mind from anywhere up to a mile away.

That wasn't even covering the really cool machines that Ben had put together.

Every Saturday cartoon villain's overly convenient gadget suddenly became a lot more feasible when minutiae of its operation could be slaved to the user's own mind.

There was only so much time in the morning though. After a quick break for water, it was on to part two.

"Why are so many of the municipal workers sticking around for this?" Jordan wondered. "I would have thought it would just be the cops interested in the psionic combat part."

"Think about what we just heard about them wanting to build. Even if they don't think they'll need to learn to attack, they'll want to defend the psionics they learn to create," I said.

"Ah."

She would miss that point.

Turns out, Adept range was quite a trump card in psionic combat. Not because you could actually outrange an opponent, but because psionic transmission intensity exponentially correlated to the size of the transmitter.

High range Adepts like Jordan could just build a bigger transmitter and blow through any defenses this crowd would care to erect.

"Alright, this is part you've all been waiting for, I know. Since psionics aren't much of a visual spectacle, I'm going to link you all into my own perspective a little bit. I'm not going to be able to move for this next part. So it will be easiest if you all divide into groups," I said. "Three to five should be fine."

Peudra chattered away a translation, and the crowd shuffled into small clusters.

I took my own seat on the small stage, crossing my legs like I was ready to meditate.

"Jordan first," I said. Connecting to this many people in the past, even shallowly, had drawn sharp side-effects. But in a strange way, adding even more minds made it easier.

They were prepared to help me handle any unexpected surges in the connections, which, with a crowd this size, were a virtual certainty.

<Nai, you're outside, right?>

<Yes?>

<Link up too, I could use the buffer.>

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

<Sure.>

My super connector spun up slowly, taking its time linking me into both Nai and Jordan's minds without the sharp feedback building an instant connection came with.

Good grief, feeling that much Adeptry at our fingertips was absurd. Had to dial things back, imbalance the exchange…full blown Coalescence was gross overkill in this case. I only needed enough of a bridge to share the most general psionic perceptions. We didn't need everyone intimately aware of each other's every last thought and emotion.

Nai and Jordan were just buffer.

Peudra got added next.

<Okay,> I announced to the room. <Group by group, left to right.>

Peudra once again repeated what I said in clean spoken Tarassin. They pointed at the first group, and I waited until the four of them flinched in anticipation.

Building connections with multiple groups made my job simpler. Managing the broad strokes of the connections for five distinct groups was much easier than micromanaging twenty-four individual bridges into their minds.

<See? That wasn't so bad,> I said.

Instead of repeating my words, Peudra rebroadcast her translation practically in real time. Less than a tenth of a second of delay.

Hmm. 'Her'. Her branch of the network was a bit too open. Bits of her own perspective and emotions were leaking through to mine.

I adjusted.

Peudra might think of themselves that way, but they'd been clear in the past about their relationship with the Flotilla: professional.

<Okay, are we all in this network?> I asked. <Anyone who can't see this signal series, raise a hand…>

None of the onlooker Vorak were left out.

I did see Mavriste in the background raise his hand. The two of them had neglected to join a group, I saw. But I didn't extend the superconnector toward them. Did they think they could see enough of what was about to unfold with their own psionic senses?

Knowing they had superconstructs…they actually might.

"[Smart-ass]," I accused.

Macoru shot him a withering glare, and he cut it out.

<Can everyone see what I'm doing then?> I asked as I began shuffling around the constructs in my head.

I got nods from our onlookers as they peered into my psionics through the branching connections. Not good enough.

<Someone take a stab at sharing an answer,> I said. <Show off a bit. Now, don't be shy…>

They were all a bit too Vorak to read the humor in the words, and Peudra shot me glance to hint as much.

Fine, fine…

<Halax?> I asked.

<You're packing up your more sensitive constructs, moving them to a fortified section of your mind. You're making them less accessible in the short-term, but also more durable in anticipation of coming under attack,> he answered.

<Correct. You are doing the same,> I said.

<Yes.>

<Serious question for the audience. Why have I divided my fortified area this way?> I highlighted the division in question.

Still no answers.

<Okay, pivot…this will be a mock battle, with no physical conflict accompanying it,> I said. <But in real conflicts psionics can provide tangible benefits. Consulting a map, for instance, without taking your eyes off a certain doorway or exit. How would I get at that map if I've just packed it up in my fortification?>

<…You are discriminating based on utility,> one rak said.

Peudra's translation had a bit of pride in it. They were happy at even the first sign of the locals engaging. There would be more shortly though. Peudra didn't know how much of a spectacle this kind of thing could be.

Just how much of a fight would Halax put up?

<Correct,> I said. <If I need certain information or blueprints in a conflict, there are tradeoffs to be made between security and accessibility.>

<What about the constructs which aren't being put under fortifications?> another asked. <Err…these ones.>

Impressively, the officer in question grasped the ping/spotlight system we used to draw attention to indicated constructs.

<Just wait and see,> I said. <I plan to use them.>

<…You're also…joining your inner fortification to the exterior firewall,> yet another otter said. <That must make the structure on the whole more durable?>

<In concept, yes,> I agreed. <But be careful not to fall too far into one perspective. Using an architectural metaphor, yes, structure and connectedness will increase resilience. But Halax doesn't have to attack using that paradigm. He could attack with something that punishes interconnectedness instead.>

I created a fake attack to demonstrate what I meant: a scary seeming psionic goo that spread over and through constructs it came into contact with.

<See how I could attack the fortified constructs through these very reinforcements?>

The goo spread from the outside of the firewall, being sucked up through the radiating supports straight to the most secure documents and constructs I had.

<If such a defense is so easily breached, why demonstrate it?> yet another onlooker asked.

<Who's to say it is easy?> I said. <Think you can make a liquid attack viable? This region experiences storms, doesn't it? How do you defend a coastline from nature's liquid attack?>

<I feel like I am getting lost,> an onlooker said. <Liquid attacks?>

<Metaphor is the only way to parse these interactions,> I warned. <Psionics are helpful because they can be rigid and unvarying when we want them to be. But they are still figments of your mind, and if you're caught unprepared they can change faster than the sea.>

<There seem to be multiple constructs that are identical, but then they…align. These ones. What's their purpose?>

<They're bullets,> I said. <I carry some copies because they're consumed upon use, and I'm going to use more than one. Others because I anticipate losing one or more.>

<How do you carry so many copies then?>

<Experience,> I said. <What you're about to see is well beyond 'average' psionic capability. The purpose of this demonstration is to expand your horizons about what's possible and recontextualize just how high you can aim to take your skills in the future.>

Before another question could be asked…

<Ready,> Halax declared.

<Thirty second handicap,> I warned. <Don't waste it.>

<I won't,> he declared, and launched his assault.

One-hundred twenty eight javelins made contact with my firewall simultaneously, each one synchronized to land at precisely the same moment with the precision of thought itself.

They didn't penetrate.

Instead of allowing them to stay embedded, my firewall sheared away the outermost layer of the itself, discarding some defense, but discarding the javelins along with it: preventing him from driving them in further.

<The rules say I need to wait thirty-seconds until I start acting in response to his assault, so anything that happens right now is pre-devised on my part,> I explained. <His goal is to insert a construct into my mind that can retrieve this construct intact, so he can read its contents. If he reads the contents, he wins.>

I highlighted the checkered flag in question.

<It's not inside your fortification construct?>

<Hmm. It's not. How about that?> I said coyly.

Halax gave me a determined look. I was taunting him and he knew it.

<No timeframe?>

<Halax's timeframe is how long it takes me to complete a counter-attack,> I said. <He can't get the goal in my head if he doesn't have any constructs in his head to attack with.>

His onslaught continued. He was mixing in some cleverly packed constructs. They were designed to be innocuous on their own, and each one even sank into my firewall, being erroneously whitelisted.

Clever, clever…he'd created them to mimic the construction of my discarded firewall pieces.

Alas, they didn't even sink halfway through before I caught the trick and shuffled my firewall's allowances. In the split second before his compacts were expelled, he triggered them.

I grinned.

He thought he'd been clever getting psionic explosives embedded that deeply into my firewall.

I was ready for it though.

<You should have started with a concentrated assault,> I said. <This customized firewall is modular. Damaged sections shear away so the exterior doesn't give you any footholds. If you focused all your effort on one spot, you could have sheared away more layers before your handicap is over.>

<Well it's not over yet,> he growled.

Halax renewed the javelins, still not targeting one spot, but he did restrict the attack to just one third of my total firewall. He only needed to breach it in one place.

Truth was…he might actually break through my firewall at this rate.

<His javelins are custom work,> I said, highlighting the design for the audience. <He's leaning quite far into the physical metaphor, and it's working for him. He's plying the metaphor that the firewall is a physical obstacle that needs to be broken through like the walls of a city. But what if I switch the metaphor on him?>

<Can you?> one otter asked. <I thought simple constructs were broader, more likely to function correctly under multiple interpretive perspectives.>

<True,> I said. <But I am very good at forcing new metaphors.>

With that, his thirty seconds were up, and I flicked a switch.

It was true that I couldn't change the firewall from something solid and defending. It was too central to the purpose of it. Maybe if there was a way to forcibly reinterpret Halax's javelins as invaders, and my firewall as a moat…

But no, the penetrative properties of the javelins would likely have remained, just in a new presentation to match the new metaphor.

No, I wanted my firewall nice and solid.

It was just too easy to think of it as a purely defensive measure…

Halax didn't see it coming when my firewall broke itself apart, launching out of my mind in pieces!

His reaction was so visceral, he actually leapt up from his seat on stage in a moment of panic. The impression my attack gave off was huge pieces of rocks the size of buildings strapped to rockets, flying right at him.

Abandoning all defense, I cannibalized my own firewall piece by piece, launching it toward Halax's mind as crude meteors. Each one crashed into Halax's own firewall with the vivid sensation of a landslide crashing through everything in its path.

It took less than half my firewall to completely obliterate his.

<His own recognition of my firewall worked against him,> I explained. <He thought of my defenses as something heavy and unyielding. So it's going to take him that much more effort to defend against, because he expects it to.>

<How do you defend against something like that then?>

<I'm curious about that myself,> Halax muttered, surveying his obliterated defenses.

<Reinterpret,> I said. <It's not easy, and you have to have a high degree of confidence in your own imagination. But you could imagine some kind of orbital gun shooting the meteors apart. You could divert their trajectory. You could also just pull your psionics more into alignment with realspace and just physically avoid the meteors.>

Okay, that last suggestion wasn't going to be viable for anyone but me and Jordan. But the point of this was to get them to aim for the skies, wasn't it?

<…If an opponent is assaulting your psionics, they must use their concentration and imagination to do so,> a Vorak noted. <Those aren't so easy if you engage physically as well as psionically.>

<Yup. Just like how psionics can win you a physical battle? A good old fashioned haymaker can win you a psionic one too. I'm not going to hit Halax though. I'm just going to turn his world upside down and then grind his goal into dust.>

Halax renewed his attack, without any firewall to obscure his preparations either. If he'd been a member of the Flotilla, he would have been able to recreate an entire firewall in just a minute or two. All of us had so much practice copying the intro module, we could recreate any of its contents with nary a thought.

I didn't need to attack Halax as he put together more advanced javelins—no, these weren't simple weapons. They took longer to make. They were more active. Like…snakes.

No…

Eels.

Halax launched them toward me. His pace now actually exceeded his javelin attack too, despite the increased complexity.

He was digging in his heels, trying to be defiant, knowing that at any time, I could fire up the rockets in another chunk of my firewall and wipe out every snake approaching me.

I let the eels approach though, each one gravitating toward the now-missing chunks of my firewall.

As soon as one slid into my mind, I snatched it up to show the audience through our connection.

<This is the psionic defender's advantage. Anything he puts into my mind? I can manipulate it freely as if it were my own, only limited by my own capability and talents.>

I crushed the eel in a psionic grip to demonstrate.

<This form of attack is one through saturation and avoidance,> I said. <He can make the eels try to wriggle out of my grip before I can crush them, and he can try sending more eels than I can crush quickly enough.>

<Harpe Halax can't know how many are demanded to overwhelm you though,> an onlooker noted.

<Correct. I could use another meteor, but like I said: I'm going to turn his whole world upside down.>

And with that, I promptly flipped my own mind.

Every eel fell right out of my mind, upward, away from me.

Halax and every single member of the audience flinched at the disorientation.

<Metaphorical gravity?> someone asked, dismayed.

<Unlike psionic utility, psionic combat is increasingly un intuitive,> I agreed. <There's a reason I put so much emphasis on your imagination: no other advantage rivals it in a psionic struggle.>

<Then I'll fly,> Halax said, shifting his attack.

Eels became…bird…bat…things. Aboutirs, Peudra's consciousness informed me. Winged bugs of such a variety of sizes it boggled the mind.

Thousands of them swarmed toward the checkered flag, boldly mocking all attackers, undefended in my mind.

All Halax had to do was steer one of his flying psionic interlopers to steal even the slightest scrap of it. He'd win.

I made sure to rub in just how lax I was being as I shot down the aboutirs.

But little by little they made progress, through the gap in my firewall, through the streaks of psychic lighting and fire I stirred around in my own mind.

For a split second, Halax's minions made a breakthrough, a dozen different bug-bats broke through, streaking for the checkered flag.

I couldn't stop all of them.

He knew it.

I knew it.

So it was with the utmost enjoyment that I closed my mind's grip around the checkered flag itself…and burned it.

Every bug Halax had sent into my mind froze in confusion, and I just grinned.

<Let that be a lesson,> I said. <Psionics can be used to pillage other psionics. But if a secret isn't kept in your psionics? Only in your mind? Psionics can never steal it.>

<Cheater,> Halax accused.

<I warned you I would reduce your goal to dust,> I shrugged. <Besides, no part of our rules prohibited it.>

Just to rub salt in the wound, I reformed the gap in my firewall and turned it opaque with Halax's thousands of infiltrators still caught inside.

Had I flooded my mind with fire? Had I corralled them into cells for later dissection? How could he ever find out? The mystery would bother him more than seeing them destroyed.

I took it all back.

Doing this with Itun wouldn't have been nearly as fun.

But there was one thing that still nagged me as I let my superconnector spin down.

<So if you two learned something here, think that earns me some information about your two superconstructs?> I asked.

Mavriste and Macoru were still at the back. And would you believe it? They had the gall to look unimpressed.

<Perhaps,> Mavriste said quietly. <But perhaps not.>

<In any case, not today,> Macoru said.

They had to be bluffing, right? They were being coy. Had to be. I tried ignoring the shiver that went down my spine. Had none of that surprised them? Just how good were they at psionics?

For the first time, I began to doubt if I was the best psionic alive.

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