One Day Away

Maia Dameon

Chief Psychic Officer of the Starship Platinum

Peter had been practicing his empathic abilities for days now, ever since he arrived at the Space Disk. His perception enhancement was sharpening; he could read through lies, sense people’s emotional states from across the room—he could even tell when people were deceiving themselves. But he was still far away from being able to pick up on any presence on the surface of Styx.

Then again, that hadn’t been the enhancement’s intention. The intention had been to apply the perception enhancement to Psychics. But with the Physiological Engineering and Improvement Station destroyed, it would be some time before Foggistan had a suitable station set up for a second series of human trials. So Jagesic improvised.

He sent Peter to Starship Platinum, the nearest starship to Styx’s surface. Peter was again sent to a room isolated from all the rest, and that was where he was now. The room looked just like his pod back home: small, metallic, sparse, clean. And as Peter thought of what he would soon be doing, he looked at himself in the mirror, practicing the expression he needed to convey zero emotion. Jagesic had told him, before sending him off to Starship Platinum, that he would be linked to some of Foggistan’s greatest Psychics, so that they could make use of his new ability. He, along with the rest of the ship’s Psychics, would link to the Psychic Anchor. That way, they could channel and combine their abilities to receive signals from the surface of Styx they could all interpret.

How the Psychic Anchor worked, Peter had no idea. Space stations and starships and Psychics had never been his domain. Why he was involved in this, being the new head of the Foggistani Helo Fleet, was beyond him. Apparently Jagesic saw something in him. Something Peter wasn’t very sure he saw himself.

Peter turned away from the mirror and sat on his bed. He was getting bored. People seemed to spend an awful lot of time keeping him waiting and in the dark, rather than getting him informed and trained for whatever it was he would had to do. Most of his interactions on the Space Disk had been with an old Psychic who was familiar with Jessica Bangs, and familiar with the Perception Enhancement Project. He trained Peter to focus his perception; trained him to control his ability, rather than have his ability control him. It had been effective, but the isolation was beginning to make Peter feel more or less like a quarantined freak. If he had it pretty much under control, why was he still only being allowed limited human interaction?

Peter’s door suddenly slid open. In walked a slender woman wearing a tight black cat suit with light purple stripes down the shoulders and thighs that seemed to glow when directly in the light. Her hair was black and straight, cropped short to rest slightly under her ears, and her bangs slipped over her eyebrows just enough to accentuate her blazing violet eyes. Her facial bone structure was as perfect as any Peter had ever seen. A small, angular nose; soft cheekbones; a small, rounded chin. She was incredibly attractive, but carried an air about her that was also terrifically intimidating.

“Peter, hi,” she said. Her voice was deeper and richer than Peter had expected, with a warm buzz to it that led Peter to guess she’d make an excellent singer.

Peter rose. “Hello,” he extended his hand. The woman shook it, though something about her expression told Peter she wasn’t used to shaking hands.

“My name is Maia Dameon, Chief Psychic Officer of the Platinum. I was told you just arrived.” Her voice was easy and relaxed. Peter could tell she was the kind of girl you could have a beer and an interesting conversation with.

Peter nodded. “Yes. I arrived just under an hour ago.”

Maia smiled. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. I hear you survived quite an accident.”

Peter touched his chest where the quilaire burn mark still remained. “Yes. I still don’t know how I survived, to tell you the truth.”

Maia smiled again. “You somehow appeared outside the Station, were saved by the firemen right before the building’s collapse… I heard. But I’m glad you’re here.” She was being honest. “And you aren’t here just by chance. Could you follow me?”

Peter nodded, and Maia led him out the room and towards the Platinum’s bridge. It was the first time Peter saw so many people at once since he left Coralende. “This is the bridge,” said Maia. “There something I want to show you.” They walked past the bridge, down a corridor, down a set of metallic stairs, and into a large, vaulted chamber. It was like being on the inside of a giant, dark chrome egg. In the center of the chamber was a pill-shaped tank filled with a murky, pink fluid. “I want to show you what it is we’ll be doing.” They approached the tank. It was connected to a series of tubes and cables that came from the walls, floor and ceiling, giving it the illusion of being a giant alien bird’s nest.

“This is what we call the Anchor,” said Maia. “I’m sure you’ve been told how it works.”

Peter nodded. “I don’t know how it works. But I know what it does.”

“That’ll do. Only the engineers who designed this thing actually know how it works anyway.” She smiled again. “So, the Chief Psychic Officer, that’s me, goes in this tank. The other Psychics…” Maia smacked a button on the side of the tank, and around her and Peter arose, in a circular pattern around the main tank a series of smaller tanks filled with the same pink fluid. “Go in these. The Anchor lets us channel and combine our abilities and focus them on any one point in space—in this case, the surface of Styx. Now, what we’re going to do tomorrow is add you to the mix.”

“See, that’s what I was wondering,” said Peter. “I’m not a Psychic. So how is this supposed to work?”

“Well your enhancement has left you pretty damn close to being a Psychic. You’re similar, but different. Call yourself an artificially created branch-off species of the Psychics, if you will. We pick up on thoughts. You pick up on emotions. It’s very different, and just as useful. You could consider Psychics to pick up on the left brains, whereas you pick up on the right brains. Sort of. Does this make any sense?” Peter nodded. He rather enjoyed Maia dumbing things down for him, though he didn’t consider it necessary. “So tomorrow we populate these tanks and see what happens. We haven’t been able to pick up on thoughts coming from Styx’s surface, but emotions might be an entirely different matter.” Peter could tell Maia was excited.

“Follow me,” Maia said as she led Peter out the vaulted chamber and into a Space Viewing Deck. In the not-so-distant distance glowed Styx, the black band down its center now almost fully developed. “Whatever is going on, it’s probably happening along that black band.”

“And tomorrow we find out?” said Peter, placing his hands on the window banister.

“That’s what I hope,” said Maia, looking into Peter’s eyes. “With your help…” she placed her hand over his, “that’s what I hope.”

That night, Peter noticed the surface of Styx had rarely seemed so beautiful.