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                                 Fantasy/mindstar.10
                               Jeff Buser - (C) 1990
                            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 
                                               away.
                "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 
                                             special".
                     "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".
                                              "What"?
            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 
                                               miss.
             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.

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  At last, the hatch slid 
                                               open.
              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 
                                             psychic".
                                    "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 
                                               here".
                "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 
                                              either".
                                    "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.to More Fantasy Sex Stories and Sexual Fantasies
                                                  
            
                                                  
              
         
                                                  
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