Disclaimer: Aliens can't own Twilight.
21
London, Terra, 2621
Lieutenant Commander Khai could only identify his mood as vexed, which in itself was vexing, especially when he logically considered his race and their cultural emotional detachment and the preferred absence of a mood. Yet, he appeared to have no control over his emotions or the physical manifestations of this emotion – which led him to become more vexed.
And rather confused; had he not completed the emotional reboot? He feels his lips pull into an infinitesimal frown as his eidetic memory recalls each catalogued moment of his deep meditation when he arrived to his assigned quarters the night before; he had not slept, but had sunk into a meditation so deep that he disrupted his Sunday routine and seeped into his Monday routine. He had essentially purged his emotions in his attempt to regain homeostasis.
It had not worked. Rather, in the case of the Cadet, it did not seem to matter. He paused in his deliberations, examining his previous thoughts. He referred to her as the Cadet, though this was illogical because the Federation Academy had over 500 Cadets at the current count - there was nothing distinctive about the Cadet that should influence his thoughts to consider only her as the face behind the label he had bestowed upon her.
With a sigh that could only be described as frustrated, Khai steeples his fingers, leaning his elbows on his blank desk, and retraces his actions from the morning, exactly 8.21 minutes ago. After rousing from his deep meditation and determining that his schedule was off by .8 seconds, Khai had quickly used the sonic shower and facilities, dressed in his charcoal instructor uniform, and boarded a hover-bus to campus, where he planned to review his lesson plans for the week as he did every Monday. All of this was normal, save for the time lapse, which was attributed to the depth of his meditation, which was an odd experience to say in the least. Upon arriving on campus, he had taken the most direct route to the teaching building when he had caught the faint smell of familiar blood. He was shamed to recall his own heart tightening the moment he ascertained who the blood belonged to – the Cadet, carried in the arms of a Me'atal. It was at this point that Khai had to restrain his body from lunging at the Me'atal Cadet and taking his Cadet from the other male; instead, he had forced himself to inquire as to her condition and determined that, based on her clothing, she was injured during a physical assessment. He had followed and then eventually bypassed the Me'atal Cadet to the infirmary, where he uncharacteristically and forcefully demanded the Cadet get the best care – illogical, given the fact that all medical staff opted to give all patients the best care available.
Khai's eyes are unfocused as he recalls his own arrival to his office, where he had been without a task for exactly .79 minutes as his thoughts were distracted by the condition of the Cadet.
He sits back and re-examines his actions, his show of emotions, his lost time, his need to purge his emotions in the first place – and the fact that one sighting of the Cadet had ruined over 37 hours of deep meditation, thus returning the feelings that he sought to purge with logic.
Khai was emotionally compromised by the Cadet.
Undoubtedly.
The realization is not sudden or surprising – rather, it is a logical conclusion that makes Khai frown, an exact expression that involved a .3-centimeter downturn of his lips.
For a moment, he thought to determined what it was about the Cadet that caused this shameful compromise. Certainly, she was beautiful in a dangerous, exotic way, with serious, slightly slanted eyes, lily-white skin, and the scent of tea and honey. And her intelligence, her understanding of languages and thereby culture, was truly impressive given the fact that her knowledge of Xenolinguistics surpassed even his own. He silently admitted to finding her appealing in a sexual way and he found her personality fascinating.
Yet, those factors simply were not enough for an emotional compromise to manifest. She was not Giidas. And he was superior to Giidas, the urge to mate seemingly non-existent until now.
After a very long moment in which his mind revolted against his logical progression of thought, Khai finally came to two conclusions that explained his emotional compromise, the failure of his purged emotions, and the reason as to why only she became "the Cadet".
First, Khai's genetics were obviously imperfect – a failure to the Giidas Science Institute, as his mating drive was very much in tact.
Second, the primal aspect of his Giidas heritage had identified the Cadet as a potential mate, to which Khai could admit she would be more than suitable as a life partner, even with the disadvantage of her own DNA that lacked any Giidas traits and would therefore make offspring unlikely.
Khai sat back in his chair, expression blank. His conclusions were logical. The Cadet – Astra – was the reason behind his shaking control and had been since that day in Cairo in late autumn when he had tackled her on the sand dunes. Satisfied that, for the moment, his lapse in control over his own mind had been solved, Khai moves on to a considerably more worrisome issue; his odd meditation.
Usually, while meditating, Khai focused on his brainwaves to sooth and build walls around them in order to control the emotions he experienced. Khai's meditation was not similar to other Giidas; unlike him, the rest of the Giidas population very literally relived the more emotional moments of their day and purged the emotions out of their interactions. Khai's genetics determined that his own meditation process was much more logical and efficient.
Yet, during his emotional reset, Khai's meditation did not focus on his own brainwaves. In fact, the deep meditation of 37 hours barely involved Khai at all; instead of his brainwaves or even his own memories and emotions, Khai inexplicably experienced parts of the Cadet's life. He must have touched her when his mind was rebooting, he decides. The fact that a mere touch of the Cadet's skin transferred such vivid emotions and memories was fascinating. Even now, he could easily recall her memories –
The Cadet easily reads the kanji on the storefront, the blue neon holo-letters beckoning her to try some of the local Japanese cuisine, but she knows that she has no money. The sky has grown darker since her arrival; she estimates the time to be near seven in the evening and, with a growling stomach, deduces that she doesn't have enough time to stop and perform on her li'lute to earn credits or coins. Her reflection in the reinforced glass window indicates her age is near fourteen or fifteen and, while she looks healthy, her cheeks are gaunt and her silver wisp eyes are cautious. She isn't comfortable in her environment yet. Astra turns away from the storefront and scans her surroundings quickly – too busy around here for sleeping but not lively enough for performing. She considers asking the locals where a suitable location might be but hesitates; she's seen the looks she's gotten so far, the untrusting eyes, as if she were about to swindle them all. Astra drifts through the streets, seeking the Tokyo nightlife, knowing that there, at least, some of the shadier people might know where gypsies stay during the nights. She thought of China and the hostel-like places on the edge of Beijing; she hoped to find a similar place in Tokyo.
Though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, Astra was tired of sleeping on benches in parks, tired of being hungry, tired of watching her back every second of everyday, and especially tired of mothers pulling their children away and telling them not to stare at "that filthy gypsy". But this was the only life she had ever known and her ability to see the world – any world – more than made up for the realities of her existence.
By the time Astra manages to stumbled into the nightlife of Tokyo, the sun has set against the backdrop of traditional Shinto shrines and the tall towers of Federation buildings. Her dull, heavy handmade leather cloak blends her into the shadows, the hood hiding her face; she learned long ago to walk like a male and adopted that stance now, hoping she slightly shorter height wouldn't be an issue in her disguise. She watches the people of all races, dressed in reflective silver clothing and black-light absorbing glitter, funnel into clubs and restaurants, her eyes roving her surroundings looking for someone who isn't joining in the everyday festivities. There. A similar hooded figure – no cloak, but a hood and that was good enough for Astra's tired mind and hungry body. She approaches carefully, glued to the shadows, and waits until the figure is alone, identifying the hooded character as a man by his posture.
When she speaks, she pitches her voice lower and adopts an accent she picked up in the Southern United States – Nanini had grilled these practices into Astra's mind in an attempt to protect the girl from everything, including being tracked by her natural flawless accent. It was bad enough she was gypsy. "I'm new 'round here. Have any idea where the outposts are?"
Immediately, Astra curses internally – she still sounded too feminine and by the sudden change in the man's body language, he figured it out, too. She takes a step back and winces when his arm closes around her wrist. Run, run, her mind whispers uselessly. She can't. She's caught.
The man flips down his hood, exposing strong Asian features. She would have considered him handsome if not for the sneer on his face and the fact that he reaches forward, flicking her own hood down. "Ah, a little gypsy girl, looking for a place to stay, hmm?"
Astra tries to jerk her arm back and forces the wobble out of her throat. "Le'mme go," she demands, thankfully holding onto the thick accent.
The man leers at her and with his other hand, reaches forward and pulls her cloak apart, peering at her body appreciatively, catching sight of the case strapped across her chest. "You're a pretty little creature, Gypsy. What are you doing with a li'lute?"
Astra feels wild – like a caged animal. What is she supposed to do? What can she do? Among the lessons that Nanini had seared into her very soul, the lesson of always look for a way out was the most important. Astra was resourceful. She would get out of this. She had to.
So she acts and stops struggling; in fact, she steps forward, schooling her features into an expression that she hopes shows interest. Holding onto the southern accent, she offers a coy smile, praying that it doesn't look like a grimace. "I play. I could….play for you," she says with a pointed glance down below the man's belt.
When his leer turns into a smile, Astra wants to vomit.
"I'll make you a deal, Gypsy. You let me have that wonderful little body of yours for a night and I'll pay you 500 credits and tell you where those filthy outposts are. I'll even let you sleep in my bed for a night. What do you say?"
Astra struggles to keep the coy expression on her face – she was absolutely disgusted and completely embarrassed. Outraged, too. People too often assumed that gypsies were willing to do anything for money, including whoring themselves out. Astra was a virgin and she planned to stay that way, but she could recognize an opportunity when she saw one. So she agrees with a flutter of her eyes and allows herself to be dragged down the street and towards a fine building at the end of the block. She doesn't struggle when the man pulls her into the building by her wrist or when he disengages the lock on his door.
She turns her head away when he leans in for an eager kiss. "Wait a sec'," she says breathlessly. "I really do play the li'lute."
"I'm sure you do, baby," he says with a leer. "But I'd like you to play something else-"
She stares at him with large, wide eyes. "Please? Won't you let me…entertain you?"
The man pulls back and adopts a smile, releasing her wrist. He steps back, seating himself in a square chair, his legs spread and his hands behind his head. "Go ahead."
Astra's lips form a dangerous smile as she takes the li'lute out of the case and brings it to her lips. As beautiful as the li'lute was, it was a deadly instrument – rather, it could be, if the player was skilled enough. The fact of the matter is that most people who play the li'lute don't have the skill required for the particular move she was about to make and they didn't have any idea that the li'lute could be a weapon as well as an instrument. This skill was one that Astra herself had discovered in practice and had only needed to use once before. Pressing her fingers against the proper spiraling holes, Astra begins playing, luring his conscious into a safe place before forcefully and quite decisively playing a shrill, high-pitched note that shattered the illusion – and his mind along with it. The note lashed out, angry and charged, painful, and the man's head lolls back, ears bleeding.
Hands shaking, Astra puts the li'lute away quickly. She thinks she might have killed him – but maybe she didn't. She wasn't sure of the exact repercussions of the attack from the li'lute, but she knew it couldn't be good; if anything, she most likely damaged his mind beyond repair. She rushes out of the room, the building, and the area of Tokyo, running until her vision turns back and her stomach is clawing from hunger.
Khai comes out of the memory quite disturbed, though what he had just relived was not as vivid as the experience through meditation. He had easily witnessed a handful of other painful memories during what was supposed to be his emotional purge – the Cadet's life before the Federation Academy was very dark indeed. He found it completely illogical that there was such discrimination against gypsies in such an advanced society but every culture needed a scapegoat.
He tilts his head back, considering the obvious memory transfer. He can't imagine that he would willingly or accidentally touch the Cadet when his mind was rebooting – not for lack of desire, but because his body was on autopilot during that time and he simply would not have initiated contact. The Cadet, then, must have been the one to touch him – most likely a brush to the bare skin of his hand, an unwitting transfer.
Odd, though, that the transfer itself was so strong, so vivid. The amount of information he gained from what he assumes was a simple touch seemed a bit excessive, especially since Terrans were psi-null and not capable of transferring memories or emotions through touch.
The Cadet, however, obviously had transferred a great amount of information.
Khai sits up abruptly.
How had she done that?
Why were the memories so vivid?
His steel-toned eyes harden as he arrives at the only logical conclusion; a bond had been made.
His first inclination is to deny the existence of the bond – certainly he would know if he had accidentally created a mental bond to a Terran Cadet, even if his mind had been shutting down and rebooting at the time.
However, he could not deny the symptoms; nor could he deny the existence of a fledgling bond, which he found upon further examination. His mind and the Cadet's mind were linked together by a delicate silver chain, which was strong for a bond that was so knew; it relayed shimmering responses back to Khai when he tested the chain, tugging slightly with mental finesse to seek her location, which was still in the infirmary.
The fledgling bond, however, was not a full bond – nor was it a First Bond, a joining between prospective mates. The bond itself, regardless of its strength, was rather rudimentary in design and seemed to be focused on transference of memories. Inspecting the silver chain in detail, he found that, specifically, only the Cadet transferred memories to him.
Bonds, however, were designed to work two ways, an even exchange. The Cadet had unconsciously transmitted the memories that defined her personality and her actions – but what had she gotten in return? Khai's side of the bond showed that he had sent no memories of his own in return, yet his side of the bond did show that he had sent something through the bond. Khai examined the list of logical possibilities, examining the links of their bond chain in depth as he attempted to discover what he had transferred back to the Cadet; if Khai believed in luck, he would deem it fortunate that the Cadet was unconscious at the time of his probing, for he surely would have given the bond away had she been awake and able to feel the tugging on her mindscape.
After finding no answers in the logical possibilities, Khai sighs. If he could not find an answer in logical probabilities, then he would have to resort to the illogical plausibility.
He could sense that part of the Cadet's mind was locked up, in a sense – perhaps blocked off would be a better descriptor. The work wall that separated her conscious mind to her unconscious mind was very well made, almost as if it was made by a Giidas healer or, at the very least, someone with excellent psi skills. From the outline of her mindscape – of which he only found vague images of celestial bodies – Khai reasoned that in exchange for her memories, his own mind must have unlocked the walls of her memory banks, which seeped with rawness, as if she had recently discovered new memories that had previously hidden.
It is this thought – this exchange – that makes Khai stand up and almost compulsorily Replicate tea for himself, finding the inexplicable urge to busy his hands for no other reason than to do something.
Not only were fledgling bonds of this type nearly unheard of among the Giidas race, the strength of the bond was startling in its intensity.
For a moment, he puzzles over the implications, the hot mug in his hand soothing the frays of sensitive psi-nerves in his hands.
But then he recalls the first time he had seen her hooded figure.
Shan'hal'lak.
The Engulfment.
He had shunned the idea, pressing the implications of his experience to the farthest reaches of his mind, so far, so hidden that he had nearly forgotten – but it had happened the moment he saw her flushed lily skin, petal soft lips, the silver wisp eyes painted in lilac. Khai had previously deemed the very notion of The Engulfment as something that was not genetically possible – or compatible – for himself – or the Terran Cadet.
Shan'hal'lak – The Engulfment – love at first sight.
Foolishly, illogically, he had pushed shan'hal'lak away and now he could only postulate that his own refusal to acknowledge The Engulfment had caused the fledgling bond between them to be so incredibly strong so quickly.
He sets the mug of tea on his desk with a soft thunk, mind moving a hundred miles a minute. Had he somehow harmed the Cadet in not acknowledging shan'hal'lak? Most certainly, he determined that his involvement with opening up locked memories most likely lead to her injury that she sustained earlier in the day. For that, he was to blame, as well.
Footsteps sound down the corridor, his sensitive hearing picking up the tap, the distinctive rhythm that he had unconsciously memorized long ago. Automatically, his posture corrects itself, shoulders straightening, hands falling to clasp behind his back as he waits patiently for his door to slide open.
The Cadet steps through and Khai's blood roars to the surface, brought out by the knowledge of the bond they shared – the most primal part of his brain, the section that was supposed to be rendered null by superior genetics, recognized the existence of shan'hal'lak and beat against his control viciously. The inky black emotions that he had attempted to purge scorch past his mental barriers and Khai is forced to slow his metabolic functions, forced to strangle the growl building in his throat.
"Cadet," he greets stonily, teeth gritted together as he grapples for some semblance of control, his heart beating a stucco rhythm when silver eyes fringed with bright blue connect with his own.
"Lieutenant Commander," she says, stepping further into the room. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"
A/N: Oh, dear.
Shout out to the first 10 reviews of the last chapter –
JadeHeartEmm – Ahh! Thank you for finding that error! I'm not so good at the maths.
Fanfictionalcolic – Hopefully not too much suspense!
Lizakimiko – Exactly!
Guest – Uhhh I can't tell you where Nah'huel is lol
LunaDiSangue85 – lol Uhh I can't telll you either.
RainDanceTammy – Uhmmm….I'm afraid I'm going to have to lol
Monique1991 – Ohh, good point!
YesMyRealNameIsBella – Chris Pine is TOTALLY fine, too lol
Siobhan Whitlock – Next chapter is the big reveal!
Snippets Of Whimsy - . I laughed. I must be a 12 year old boy lol
Super special shout out to the first review of the last chapter – Love M Go Blue – Yes! Am'shel was the scientist in the first chapter!
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~cupcakeriot