Rosenkreuz… sweet Rosenkreuz

Ch. 7: Think of the Consequences

It had been nearly a month since his last stint in the laundry.  He knew he was real close to having a more… lasting punishment imposed on him.  So he just grit his teeth and refrained from mouthing off to the bitch.  If she was disappointed by his refusal to rise to her bait, she didn't show it.  She did however start to actually train him.  Maybe that was the result of him ripping some things from her head while they were linked.  Anyways… the point was, she finally started doing what she was supposed to.

He was enjoying the novelty of being able to 'read' the other students' thoughts.  He knew better than to try that trick on the instructors.  Even if they didn't have powerful shields up, they would sense him… and that would be bad.  So he restrained himself to his fellow sheep.  He wasn't trying to 'actively read' them, as the bitch put it, not yet.  He was 'passive' letting what ever they thought come to him rather than try to pry stuff from them.  In general he found, as he rushed between classes, the younger ones and the 'reds' were easiest to read.  His fellow 'blues' often had shields of their own, of varying strengths, so he couldn't always 'read' them.  And the 'greens'… he didn't WANT to read them. 

The 'greenies' as they were called were all healers.  Individuals that could 'heal' were invaluable to an organization like Esset.  If one could 'heal'… it stood to reason that they could also 'harm'.  However, their inevitable ethics about using their gift in such a manner meant that maybe one greenie every five years or so was willing to do what they asked.  Since they refused to use their talents offensively… they were more or less shunned by the more 'powerful' upper echelons of the organization.  That 'shunning' trickled down of course, even to the trainee level.  It manifested itself in cruel pranks and sometimes outright brutality.  It was rare that a greenie made it to graduation without having ended up in the infirmary themselves.  As a result… the greenies were almost all 'broken' in some way.  Touching such a 'broken' mind like that made Schu physically ill, and he was always a little afraid once in he might not make it back out.  So he stayed away from the greenies entirely.  It was safer for his sanity.

He also wouldn't touch anyone who was just back from punishment in the Pit.  He'd done it once… and woke up the next day in the infirmary having no recollection of the previous 14 hours.  Since rumors flew quickly around whenever someone got into trouble, he had no difficulty know who to 'touch' and who to avoid.

His next instructor handed him a note.  The head instructor wanted to see him in his office after the evening meal.  That class, the political structures of the world, passed by in a blur, his mind on the strange note.  He pondered it through his 'activity' period and into the dinner hour.  What could the head instructor want with him?  He couldn't remember any MAJOR rules he'd broken lately.  He'd been lying low after that incident with the bitch.  Eventually… the meal ended, with the instructors only having to break up one minor scuffle involving a second-year greenie and a couple of fifth-years, a major fistfight in the fourth-years, maybe they'd kill each other off and save the rest of them the aggravation, and caught a bunch of first-years trying to sneak food out.  All in all… an uneventful dinner.

"Come in, Schuldich."  The redhead opened the door, the head instructor sat behind his desk sorting paperwork.  Bren relaxed slightly; it couldn't be THAT bad if the man had paperwork out.  "Come on… close the door."

"Yes sir."  He closed the door behind him and crossed the room to stand in front of the desk.

The man finished the paper he was reading and slipped it back into a folder, laying it in a bin on the side of his desk with a dozen or so others just like it.  He swept the rest of the paperwork into a pile and dumped it in another bin on the other side, and then he sat back and looked at Bren.  "You've been here for over two years now… what do you think?"

/Oh this HAS to be a trap./  "It's… interesting, sir."

The man laughed.  "Interesting… I'll have to remember that… very, diplomatic of you.  Perhaps you are learning to curb that tongue of yours."

"I'm trying sir."

"I'm sure you are."  The man leaned forward, his face somber, and perhaps… a bit frightening.  "You know Madame Buchard doesn't like you very much… do you know why?"

Bren shivered inside.  Buchard was the 'bitch'.  "No, sir, I do not."

"Indeed.  Then maybe what she says about you IS true."

"I can't answer that since I don't know what she is saying."

"True.  Let's just say… insubordination like you committed before is just the tip of the iceberg.  She can make a great deal of trouble for you.  You are merely a student here, and a third-year at that.  It is her word against yours… I'm sure I don't have to tell you that she would be believed over you… even if you were in the right."

"Yes sir."

"Good to see you understand how these things work, Schuldich.  However…"  His eyes glittered, and Bren was reminded of a snake about to strike.  "I COULD possibly intervene… if you can convince me what she says is false."

All the warning bells were going off now, this COULDN'T be good.  "What do you mean sir?"

The man smiled.  "I'm sure a bright boy off the streets knows EXACTLY what I mean."  Bren could feel the first 'fingers' of the man's powers insinuating themselves in his mind.  Against his will, Bren felt his body propelled around the desk where the head instructor was already unfastening his pants. 

No… no… NO!!!  Bren shrieked in his mind, even as he was ordered to kneel.  Too many memories flooded his head.  Other times when he'd barely escaped being raped on the streets.  Times when he had traded exactly what this man was forcing him into for money or food to eat.  He doubted the instructor would be satisfied with a 'quickie', this was probably a preliminary for something more… invasive.  "You're quite a pretty boy, Schuldich.  I've been watching you for a while now… be a good boy and you'll have anything you want…"

What he wanted was for this to STOP!  He refused to allow this to happen!  It couldn't happen! 

The man leered at him, lightly stroking his already erect penis.

It was sheer desperation.  That was the only explanation he could come up with later.  Bren gathered his admittedly weak powers and even as the man forced his head down on his weeping cock… the young telepath threw all he had into the man's head in one burst. 

Bren found himself on his back beside the desk, dazed.  Even as the instructor clutched at his head, swearing in half a dozen languages, he just lay there, unable to really move.  He felt warmth on his neck and lifted his hand to it… his fingers came away red, blood.  Herr Shultz was on the phone now… but Bren felt incredibly odd… like he couldn't care what was going on.  He blinked seeing the instructor's painfilled face in his line of sight.  The man was dabbing at this bleeding nose with a handkerchief.  "You've done it now, boy… in a week… you'll BEG me to let you do what ever I want with you."

When the guards came and lifted him upright… the sudden blood rush caused Bren to pass out.

TBC