Chapter 9

Area 51, Mindblade Compound

Space.  It defined the reach.  The mind was limited by the senses—since grasping beyond that was akin to digging through oil for 8-balls.  And the senses were limited by matter—things that invaded space.  So for reaching, space was all that mattered; all that required focus.  If one could map, could sense, a space, once could reach there.  Senses were limited by the same space, though, so reaching became difficult once one reached farther than a few feet away and became all but impossible if one couldn’t see where he was reaching.  All things have limits.

Even those things normally reserved for gods.

Alexi didn’t buy any of it, though.  Limits were for the weak—for those who lacked confidence or skill, and he lacked neither.  Space didn’t define his reach, it empowered it.  He was different.  Better.  He saw beyond the pathetic theories and self-imposed limitations the weak had thought up; dreamed up in order to limit the things they feared most about themselves.  Some men were forever convincing others they were gods while convincing themselves they were dirt.  They feared the potential they possessed and yet craved the attentions such potential inevitably brought.  Braggarts and underachievers all at once.  Full of pride and crippling terror.  Able to change the world but far too content with the pathetic status quos simply because they were familiar.  Like caged beasts who stay long after the door is opened because they were never able to leave in the past.  But caged power wasn’t power at all; potential unused was functionally no different than no potential at all.

So Alexi denied the ‘facts’ he had been taught about reaching and stretched further.  Slowly he lifted from the floor in his room, hovering a few inches from the ground, arms straight out, angled like an “A” from his body.  His mindblades slipped from their sheaths and spun through the air, orbiting around him like dread steel moons.  A pen followed them, then another and another.  Alexi began to sweat form the strain, but pressed on.

I am special.  Different.  Better.  I will not be caged.

His mind continued grabbing things: paper; an empty soda can; coins; even his pillow.  Everything he should be able to reach, he did.  Everything within a few feet twirled like a mobile around his floating form.  Then he reached further.  Shoes scraped over the floor to join the aerial dance, followed by one CD after another until Alexi could barely see through the clutter surrounding him.  A grin split his face then as an idea came to him. 

He probed with mental fingers along the wall, pushing his thoughts, straining out of sight—beyond his senses.  He felt something hard, resisting, but pressed until he felt only space again.  Like the probing tentacle of some invisible creature, he prodded until he heard the soft thump of plastic landing on marble counter.  He pushed again and felt something give, then grasped and pulled, watching as the shampoo bottle came wobbling from his bathroom.

The bathroom he couldn’t see into.

His face sweaty and flushed, his grin more a gritting of teeth, he exulted.  He had extended his reach beyond his senses.  Invaded space he shouldn’t have access to.  So much for the lessons on space and senses and all that other nonsense about limitations.  Space did not limit him.  Sight did not limit him.  Nothing could limit him.  Further proof that he was among lesser men here.

An abrupt ringing broke his concentration; sent the flotsam that spun around him like satellites a planet tumbling to the ground, bouncing away and ricocheting off of his shins and feet.

He cursed and grabbed the phone, “What?” He demanded more than asked.

The captain’s voice buzzed over the phone—somewhat surprising Alexi, who hadn’t gotten it into his head that the vision of the captain slumped against his wall and bleeding was only a dream.  “You’re late for your session, Alexi.  You may have time to waste but I do not.”

As if someone as weak as you could possibly teach me anything.  “I’ll be there shortly.” 

The other line clicked.  The captain had never had the stomach for the horror of conversation over the phone.  Come to think of it, he disliked conversation in general—he had plenty to say, he just didn’t much care for anyone else’s opinions.

Alexi glanced about his disastrous room and grinned.  To anyone else it would have seemed a complete mess, but to Alexi it was only lingering evidence of his superiority.  A hint at the secrets he had discovered.  A clue to his true power.  The others wouldn’t even think to try what he had already accomplished!  It was beyond even Rhistal’s ability.  And if one could outdo the legendary Rhistal…

Colonel Ramizov had a nice ring to it.

 *                                  *                                      *

Bullets ricocheted in a myriad of directions, scattering like lead water falling sideways at him, hitting an imaginary windshield a dozen inches from Alexi’s face.  The Mindblade floated a few inches from the floor, arms stiff and straight, held out to either side at 45 degree angles from his body as he stared straight ahead at nothing, his focus around him, his mind too occupied with holding up his force shield and keeping a tight grip on his mindblades to bother with something as trivial as focused sight.

The long shafts of light spun to his left and right as he moved slowly through the training exercise, slicing holographic soldiers into chunks of meat all around him, filling the air with hollow screams, the scent of burnt flesh and the whirling neon hum of his mind-wielded weapons.  The soldier ahead of him—the target—continued to futilely empty his gun at the floating Alexi, now less than ten feet away as the hail of bullets cascaded at and then away from him. 

Abruptly, the roar of gunfire was silenced by the cold clicking of an empty clip that promised disaster.  He flung his gun at Alexi and turned to run even as the Mindblade himself hit the floor in a dead sprint, his mind calling his blades to his hands as he took two steps and leapt.  His mind shoved at the ground and he shot forward in a blur, white-hot lines trailing behind him as he closed the distance impossibly fast.  He brought his empty hands forward as if to clap, both hands rushing together.  The man spun at the last moment, knife in hand, diving desperately at the unarmed assassin as if hoping to score the lethal blow before…light like the sun.  Brilliance.  A hum. 

The target dropped to the floor, head thumping off his back and rolling in a lazy lop-sided spin down past his hip before dropping to the floor.  Alexi stood with both mindblades held before him, still crossed like scissors where they had cut through the man’s neck.  He was sweating, but grinning as well.  He had finished the exercise incredibly fast.

Everything faded as the room became an obsidian square again, only marred by the grid of white dots every so often.  A voice boomed and echoed from the control room.

“You’re done for the day, Alexi.  Try to be on time tomorrow.”

Alexi waved his hand in a gesture that could have been an apology or a dismissal and left the room, walking into the brighter hallway outside the training room.  A woman stood waiting for him, dressed in one of the black jumpsuits that passed for casual attire on the base.  Flaming, straight hair that just touched her shoulders cradled a pale, freckled face that lingered on the doorstep of being pretty but seemed a bit too skeptical to actually cross over.

“That was quick.” She said with a slight smile and a uplifting of brows that spoke of appreciation.

“I couldn’t be bothered with the Captain’s games, today.  I have other things on my mind, Alise.”

“Games?  Since when have training exercises been games?”  She asked, raising an eyebrow in slight disbelief.

Since I saw how remedial they were.  How much higher I am than all of this…than all of you.  Alexi shrugged, “I just find them boring, I guess.”

“Two whole missions turned you into a cold, hardened veteran, eh?”  Alise fell in step beside him as he walked, looking at him even as he stared forward, oblivious.

“Of course not…they just seem so…cliché.  I would rather be training against other blades; learning to fight the other things that don’t ‘officially’ exist but have a better chance at killing me.”

“I’m sure that will come soon enough.  For now it might be smart to focus on what ninety-nine percent of the world uses as weapons, since that’s what we’ll be seeing more often than not.”

“But why?  No bullet or knife will ever touch me…us.  Yet we train daily against those things instead of focusing on things that could kill us in our ignorance.”

The girl shrugged as they entered the mess hall, “I don’t know…ask the captain.”

He wants to kill me.  He fears my power…my genius.  “Maybe I will.  After he forgets I was late.  I’m less in the mood for his lectures than I am for his training.”

“Why were you late, anyways?” she asked, grabbing a carton of milk in a way that reminded him of high school.  Another place he was controlled—neutered by the rules; held in check so that he would be ‘safe’.  Just like he was here.

But is it me they’re keeping safe, or themselves?  “I was working on something.”

“’Working on something?’  What does that even mean?”

He paused a moment, looking at her.  Was she working with them?  Keeping an eye on the dangerous new Mindblade?  He stared a moment longer than considered his train of thought, shaking his head and smirking to himself.  He was getting paranoid.  The captain might hate him, but that doesn’t mean everyone was out to get him.  For all his venom, the captain had still behaved professionally—so far.  Alise had been his friend, and off and on lover, since they both arrived as recruits last year.  If he could trust anyone, it was her. 

He paused a moment, taking a deep breath.  “I…moved a shampoo bottle today.”

Alise opened her mouth to say something sarcastic but he interrupted her, “From my room.  I couldn’t see it.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, and then slid her tray down silently.  They both moved down the line, grabbing food items while she let it sink in, the background noise of dishwashers and people eating seemed too loud between them.  She stopped and stared at him.  “You mean…” 

He nodded, motioning her to keep quiet.  “I reached.  I made my reach go beyond my sight; past my senses.”

“How?!?  That’s impossible!” she gasped in a loud whisper.

Perhaps for the children here.  But not for me.  “I know it’s supposed to be…but I did it.”  He said and shrugged as they grabbed the last of their lunches and moved towards the tables.

They sat down silently in the relatively sparse lunch hall.  It was still a good forty-five minutes until lunch so most of the base was still out doing various tasks.  He watched her with growing apprehension as she ate quietly.  Had it been a mistake to tell her?  What if she told others?  He watched her eat slowly, staring at her tray as she absently chewed on a peach.  Her mind was racing, but with what?  His eyes followed her face, watching for indications of fear…maybe awe.

 “What’re you thinking?” he finally asked, almost afraid of the answer and it’s repercussions. 

“I’m thinking…” she said and took a bite of her peach, her eyes slowly moving up from her tray to catch his.  She smiled at him as her mouth worked up and down before she swallowed.  “…that you have to show me.”