The Shape of Surrender

Nalyra lay motionless on the floor. She lay there in a heap, and no one seemed to notice. They just walked around her, or even stepped directly over her. Her mind was quiet, unable to even touch a single person’s thoughts. Where was Vessa? Mikka? Tor’laen? Wasn’t he supposed to be guarding her? He should be there…

She was so distraught that it took her a moment to realize someone had noticed her. The slight, placid-looking Zakkili woman from the minister’s memories crouched in front of her. The woman’s face was bland, almost bemused. She wore Falara’s robes, her sister’s crest unmistakable. How did she have those? Falara was safe, back on Zakkili, right?

The woman gave a smile — a faint, lifeless thing — and reached out. With an almost maternal gentleness, she pressed a finger into Nalyra’s chest, just below her collarbone. Then, she settled back on her haunches, watching. That bemused look settled once more on her face.

To Nalyra’s horror, the Crown Daughter found herself sinking into the floor. Her mind railed against the impossibility of the act. She desperately tried to keep her head above the surface, but it was no use. Not a single muscle in her body obeyed her will. Nalyra slipped beneath the tiles, slipped into an ink-like pool of darkness, as black as a funeral shroud.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind screamed.

A small glimmer of gold passed in front of her. She reached out to catch it, and the world came apart.

Nalyra crashed back into wakefulness, flailing as she pushed the tangled sheets off of her body. Freeing herself from the silken covers, she scrambled over to her nightstand, snatching the dagger off it. She whipped the weapon from its sheath, holding the naked blade out in front of her. Her pulse raced and her eyes darted around the room. There was someone there. There must be. She pushed out with her mind, searching for any trace of thought, no matter how slight, within her cabin.

Nothing. There was no one.

Slowly, she lowered the dagger, though she kept it tight in her grip.

She was alone.

Nalyra had been bred into solitude. It had been her constant companion growing up, and the safety she could retreat into when things became…too much. A comfort.

At the moment, it felt suffocating.

Reflexively, her hand went to her collarbone, rubbing the soft green flesh just below it. She slid out of bed, the imitation wooden flooring warm beneath her bare feet. A stroll. Yes, that would help. A necessary way to recenter herself. Striding to her closet, she impatiently grabbed a light coat, throwing the garment over her nightgown before sliding her feet into a pair of slippers.

With a flick of her hand, the door to her cabin slid open, and she stepped out into the quiet hallways of the High Deck. The lights had been suitably dimmed as fourth watch approached, the low light barely reflecting off of the golden trim of the walls and railings.

Nalyra paced the empty corridors slowly, deliberately. This was her kingdom. It belonged to her. She was in control here, the place where her word was law.

The corridors were quiet, as expected. Only the faint hum of the Aegis itself was audible, an ever-present truth of life aboard a starship. She walked, with no real destination in mind, through the ornamented hallways. Slowly, the nightmare’s grip on her lessened, fading into an unsettling memory.

She had not sunk into darkness. She had been saved.

Before Nalyra even consciously realized it, she was headed toward the Observatory. The room was located at the very peak of the High Deck, its domed ceiling completely transparent, offering an uninterrupted view of the empyrean. Perhaps the most breathtaking sight on the entire citadel.

Soon, the Crown Daughter found herself before the entrance and she lightly tapped the door panel. It slid open, and Nalyra froze.

The room wasn’t empty.

Seated at one of the low tables in the room, Mikka was sipping a drink, a sizable bottle of alcohol and a collection of snacks next to her. Across from the woman was Nivi, bent over the table, working on some sort of device in front of her. Next to the engineer, Vessa had her chin in her hand, brow furrowed, as she gazed at the game board on the table.

Finally, giving the impression that he was not quite sure why he was there, Tor’laen made up the last member of the group, a somewhat bemused expression on his scarred face. He sat across from the Admiral, dressed in hastily fitted shipboard clothes, the white bandage around his thigh stark against the dark fabric.

The sound of the door opening turned all eyes to Nalyra, and she stiffened the slightest bit. Her hair was completely down, a black curtain across her back, and her coat-covered nightgown was a far cry from the proper attire of a Royal Hand. It wasn’t a problem for Vessa or Mikka to see, but Nivi and the Ydani…

Nalyra set her jaw, and walked into the room. She made fleeting eye contact with Tor’laen, daring him to say something about her current appearance, but he merely gave her a slight nod before turning his attention back to the game.

“Heeeey, Lyra,” Mikka called out in an almost sing-song voice. “You couldn’t sleep either, eh?”

“I found my sleep…restless,” the Crown Daughter replied. “And don’t call me that, Mikka. Not in present company, at least.”

“Awww, come on.” The woman grinned. “We’re all friends here.”

Nalyra simply rolled her eyes, sitting herself at the head of the table, between Vessa and Tor’laen. Their board was in a complex state, the battlelines of their game a confusing mess. Her Admiral was clearly improving.

“Good evening, Crown Daughter,” Vessa said, tearing her eyes from her plastic fleets.

“Not that formal, Vessa,” Nalyra sighed, giving her friend a wry smile.

She let her gaze drift upwards, taking in the sight. The far-flung lights of the empyrean glittered across the dark reaches of its emptiness. A quarter of the view was taken up by Orphila, the gaps in the planet’s clouds revealing the lights of the capital. So distant, yet it looked close enough to reach out and brush with her hand.

“The way they made these circuits is fascinating…”

Nivi’s voice brought Nalyra’s attention back to the table. As her gaze found her Master Engineer, Nalyra got a slight jolt. The woman had the Ydani’s translator, the small device that he had worn on his wrist, in front of her, half of its components spread across the table. Tor’laen was watching Nalyra, noting where her gaze was directed.

“She was curious about the make and design of Ydani technology,” he said when she glanced at him. “I have no more use for the thing, so…”

His voice was casual, but there was a tiny undercurrent of pain to it. Nalyra could feel it bleed off of him. No more than a sting, but still present.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

She was saved from answering by Vessa.

“I’m diving my fleet in, Tor’laen. That planet will be mine.” She snapped a card down onto the table, then started corralling the little ships across the board.

“A sound decision, Vessa. Just be sure not to overreach.”

Vessa, not Admiral. Interesting.

Nalyra absentmindedly watched the game for a few marks, tracking the progress of Vessa’s offensive, then the Ydani’s counterattack. Tor’laen’s focus was so complete that faint traces of his concentration seemed to brush against her mind. It was somewhat endearing, the fact that he was so into the game. When they had seemed to reach a minor impasse, the Admiral looked up at the Crown Daughter.

“Nalyra, about the evidence recovered from the scene-”

She was cut off by a balled up snack wrapper bouncing off her head.

“Hey, no talking shop tonight. You promised,” Mikka growled, readying another projectile.

“Fine. I will defer it until the morning.”

A second wrapper bounced off her head anyway. Vessa gave the woman a friendly glare, causing Mikka to simply cackle. She was about to launch a third shot when Nivi reached across the table, rapping the back of the Lieutenant Commander’s hand with the handle of her tool.

“Stop. You keep bumping the table.”

Mikka stared at the younger woman for a moment, her expression torn between amusement and surprise, but Nivi’s attention had already returned to her tinkering. Carefully, Mikka leaned away from the table, and threw the wrapper anyway. Vessa was ready for this one, snatching the projectile out of midair.

“We have to find someone to warm your bed, Mikka. You are intolerable when you go too long without getting laid.” Vessa launched the ball of plastic back, the soldier ducking to dodge the attack.

Mikka extended two bent fingers and swept her hand upward — the nonverbal equivalent of telling someone to leave and pleasure themselves.

“You’re right, though,” Mikka sighed, taking another drink from her glass. “I should find someone. Hmmm…”

Her gaze went to Tor’laen, running up and down his body, and Nalyra realized that she was checking him out. Her eyes widened the tiniest bit at the scandalous thought.

Before she could rebuke her Troop Commander, Mikka reached out and gently patted Tor’laen’s forearm.

“Sorry big guy. You’re pretty good looking, but I like it when I can toss my partner around in bed.”

The Ydani simply stared at her, confusion plain on his face.

“Don’t take it personally, Tor’laen,” Vessa reassured him. “The woman is simply a menace, both on the battlefield and off.”

Nalyra let herself sag a little, resting an elbow on the table, then her cheek on her hand. There were probably a dozen breaches in etiquette that had happened, and were continuing to happen, but perhaps she could let them slide. Slowly, the last little grip of the nightmare, that faint sensation of sinking into darkness, faded from her mind. Her breaths came calmly, naturally.

It was amusing, she supposed. The off-duty shape of the women she surrounded herself with.

Tor’laen’s gaze found her.

“Something funny, Crown Daughter?” His brow furrowed.

Nalyra sat bolt upright. She hadn’t bled that feeling, and she certainly hadn’t sent it to him.

“No…I am…” She almost stuttered, snapping her mind shut like a steel trap. “I was simply interested in the progress of your game,” she lied, and then leaned over to examine the board state more closely. The look of confusion on his face told her that Tor’laen hadn’t understood what happened.

Nalyra continued to keep her mind clenched shut, her ears starting to burn. Thankfully, the Ydani and her Admiral shifted their focus back to the game, proceeding with a sizable space battle. Internally, Nalyra was torn between wanting to scream and wanting to cover her face.

She had Bridged him. She could feel it clearly now. By the Maker. An alien. Her secret charge from the Queen. The man she had been ordered to observe, to understand, to control. And she had Bridged him.

It had never happened to Nalyra personally, but she knew of the phenomena. A kind of residual psychic connection that generally came from extremely deep mental contact, uncontrolled and undisciplined Delving, or just repeated mutual psychic connection. A Bridged pair could more easily understand each other’s emotions and feelings, even without either party trying to project or receive them. It most often occurred between lovers, or husbands and wives.

And she had Bridged Tor’laen.

It must have been while her mind was weakened by the toxin. When she had needed to dive deep into his mind to pull out the little wretch who was invading it. It made logical sense, but it didn’t stop her ears from continuing to burn.

Nalyra kept her embarrassment locked deep within her mind, now wary of a stray thought or feeling being pulled toward the Ydani as if magnetized. Bridges were the sort of thing careless young nobles whispered about after overindulgent courtships, not something that happened to Royal Hands. And she was a Crown Daughter on top of that. Her mind was not that undisciplined.

Did Bridges fade with time? Distance? She wasn’t sure. Maybe they were permanent. She had certainly never heard of a Bridge disappearing. Then again, it generally wasn’t a conversation topic for polite company.

A tiny part of her wanted to order the Ydani back to the Mid Deck, to store him away in his cabin until she had time to process this.

No. This was nothing he had done. He should not be punished. It had been necessary. It had been a part of saving him, which in turn saved her. It might be embarrassing on the surface, but there was no need to feel shame over the act, right?

No, this was all very mortifying. No denying that fact.

She eased open her mind, just the slightest bit, gently reaching for Tor’laen. Before she had even brushed his thoughts, the feeling of his concentration and amusement lapped against her mind. She snapped the door shut once more. That was a Bridge, no doubt.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the game, Nalyra slowly started to build a mental wall, brick by brick, between her and the Ydani. It was an old psychic strategy she had been taught when she was still a child. By visualizing the process of erecting a barricade or wall of some kind, the mind would firmly grasp the concept, providing a strong defense against intrusion. Or stray emotions in this case.

After she placed the last brick on the wall, Nalyra tentatively eased her mind open once more. She could lightly feel the minds of her command staff — Vessa’s mental presence dwarfing the two other women. And Tor’laen was there, but she could only feel the faintest whisper of his thoughts and emotions through the mental wall.

Nalyra gave an internal sigh of relief.

This was a manageable level. She doubted he would be able to feel her inner feelings, or at least be able to recognize them, while she maintained the barrier between them.

The Dominion game had seemed to reach its climax, the relatively massive fleets of her Admiral and the Ydani meeting near Vessa’s homeworld. Even Nivi had stopped tinkering to watch, the translator still half-assembled.

“Kick her ass, Tor’laen!” Mikka cheered, raising her glass as if saluting the Ydani.

“I appreciate the support, Mikka,” muttered the Admiral, her face intense as she stared down at the board.

A few marks, and the outcome was clear. Vessa’s fleet put up a valiant defense, but Tor’laen managed to push through, taking down the Zakkili’s carrier with a daring gambit, sacrificing a pair of his destroyers to do so.

“Well played, Vessa.” Tor’laen extended his hand, and the Admiral took it and shook, a rueful grin on her face.

“One more game.”

Mikka chuckled and shook her head, as the two started to reset the game board. Tor’laen simply smiled, and a whisper of his amusement echoed across the Bridge. Their Bridge.

“Can I pour you a glass, Nalyra?” the Lieutenant Commander asked, waggling an extra cup at the Crown Daughter.

She probably shouldn’t. Right on the heels of discovering her new uninvited connection with Tor’laen, and considering the attempt on her life earlier that day, it would probably be wiser to abstain.

“Yes. Give me a cup of whatever swill you dragged up here tonight.” Nalyra grinned.

Mikka poured the amber liquid into the glass, chuckling, as Nivi returned her attention back to the translator, fishing another circuit board out of the device. The Lieutenant Commander slid the glass along the table, and Vessa snatched it up just before it hit the game board, passing the drink to Nalyra. The Crown Daughter silently raised the cup towards Mikka, a gesture which the woman returned, and settled in to watch the game. From start to finish, this time — it would be a suitable way to evaluate both her Admiral and the Ydani’s tactical prowess. Vessa leaned eagerly over the board.

“You move first this time, Tor’laen.”