When we scream, our lips don't make a sound

We march, with feet on solid ground

We walk, where no one wants to go, on this untraveled road.

- Untraveled Road by Thousand Foot Krutch

Republic world of Krigertenkere

Sinn'Are'Sen celebrates his fifth birthday with another trip to a Republic facility. Five years ago his adopted mother, Are'Aken'Sen, had pulled him from the wreckage of a crashed orbital station. Republic Scout Command had ran hundreds of tests on his body in the year since they had found him. By Sinn's second birthday, he had been transferred to the Republic Medical and Science Command, with Are as his mother and keeper. Now Sinn was turning five - or at least, it was five years since he had been found – and Are was leading him into the hands of yet another bureaucratic instrument of the Republic: the Republic Psionics Command.

Sinn looks up at his mother with wide jade green eyes, a question hanging unasked on his lips. Are patts his black hair comfortingly, then runs her hand along his ash gray cheek.

“I know you don't look like anyone else Sinn, and you think that you are different from everyone else. You're not wrong, but also not completely right. Everyone gets medical care from the RMSC and everyone gets tested by the RPC. Not many are tested as young as you are, so perhaps the RMSC found something.”

Sinn shakes his head, “it's the dreams mother. The night-terrors.”

“Perhaps.”

That word carries the two across the threshold and into the waiting room of the RPC's Krigertenkere bureau. At this early hour of the morning the appointments line was still quite short; the wait only forty five minutes long before a dull clerk directs Sinn to an examination room and Are to the parent's waiting lounge.

Sinn walks down the indicated corridor towards the examination room and thought over what he knew of the RPC. The answer was not much, little more than the content's of a children's educational book. All citizens of the Republic were tested for psionic potential by the RPC. Most had none and returned to their lives without fuss or bother. The few who did have potential were brought in by the PRC and trained to serve the Republic as only psions could.

Sinn knew in his gut that he was different then the other children in his education creche. His skin was ash gray and his eyes jade green were telling, a pair of traits none of his playmates shared. The other thing that Sinn knew set him apart were the dreams that woke him up in the middle of the night screaming. Sinn only remembered fragments of those dream: a metal clamp across the back of his head, the cold tentacles of machine-thought etching into his brain, the heat and the shaking piercing through the cold sleep, and a great golden winged eye staring into his mind.

Sinn steps into the examination room and found the usual sterile environment: white walls and white tiled floor, off-blue privacy curtain on a rail in front of the door, sink and cabinets, needle disposal unit on the wall, computer terminal wit attendant plastic chair, padded examination table covered in a disposable paper cover. Sinn uses the chair and climbs up onto the table before laying down to wait. He has almost fallen asleep before the nurse bustles in to perform the usual tests. Height, weight, eyesight, blood pressure, and reflexes examined and recorded, the nurse hustles back out to file her paperwork. Sinn lies back down, closes his eyes, and drifts back towards sleep while waiting.

“... fourth mark? Are you sure?”

“Yes doctor, he didn't even react to...”

The door to the examination room opened and the doctor strides in. He made the usual greetings, which Sinn ignored. He had heard them all before, so he just lay on the examination table waiting for the anointment to be over and done with.

“Time to wake up Sinn'Are'Sen.”

Sin opens one eye and looks at the doctor. The usual sterile white coat over off-blue shirt and pants.

“I heard. Ask your questions.”

The doctor chuckles and drops into the chair, “tired of the appointment already Sinn'Are'Sen?”

“I have been in and out of appointments all my life.”

“None like this one however. Can you feel the pressure on the back of your mind?”

Sinn pauses long enough to feel for any pressure.

“Only the padding of the table.”

The doctor sets the clipboard down on the edge of the computer terminal, “your record tells of a history of bad dreams? Tell me about them.”

“I wake screaming and can not recall them clearly. A great heat and shaking when all should be cold and sleeping is the most common.”

“Mmh, and does the word 'Ovae-et-ter' mean anything to you?”

Sinn frowns in thought, “can you spell it?”

The doctor looks at his cliboard for confirmation, “Oh Vee Aaa Eee Tee...”

“Ovaettr. I know that name.”

“And it is related to...”

“Where I was found?”

“That's right Sinn'Are'Sen, how did you know that?”

“Mother told me when I asked why I looked different.”

“Hmm, and you still feel no pressure on the back of your head?”

“None. Should I?”

“Sinn'Are'Sen, I am a three-mark psion trying to put pressure on the back of your head. Most citizens of the Republic would feel it. Only trained psions of the RPC would be able to ignore it or not feel it at all.”

“So I'm a psion then? I certainly look the part at least.”

“Stronger then most candidates your age, yes. Welcome to the RPC Sinn'Are'Sen.”