1.15.2

Evocation

The Static Opposition was out for blood for whatever occurred at Sanctuary Argos.

Behind Astrid’s closed lids, she imagined those grenades, a completely indiscriminatory weapon, chucked over the walls of her home.

Of people like Finn, and Maya, caught in the blast. Of Guardians she’d come to know as protectors, like Cole, slain for standing in the way.

The children playing games in the courtyard, helpless victims of ignorance. No harm to anyone. But to the S.O., these innocents were the enemy. Better off dead.

The horrific images her imagination portrayed made tortured her.

Keeper Alethea would die to defend her charges. Everyone Astrid ever knew, on the Aldebaran, on Endra, everyone she ever cared for, were now at risk of being butchered by blind hate.

And she had to stop it.

Astrid ground her teeth and felt the energy simmer under her skin.

She made herself watch the scene that played out in her mind’s eye, made herself take in visions of blood and fire, things she never wanted to come to pass.

She cultivated her anger, her stress, her determination, and her loss, and shoved it all back into the world with a frustrated growl.

Blue and white wisps lapped at the deck with a crackle, weak at first. But Astrid latched on to the sensation. If those responsible stood before her, if she could end it all right now by tearing the villains apart, she had to try.

Nothing would take anyone away from her again, she determined. Not like Gi. Not Alethea, not Terrell, not Tenya, not Romo, Dell, Karth, or Anders—

As the pent rage boiled over, another discharge lashed the hull in thin arcs of snapping sparks. She opened her eyes to see Karth and Anders, both awed, withdraw another couple steps.

“That’s it,” Karth encouraged. “Do it again.”

Her body grew hot, her core tightened and flexed, and she fell back on the protective fury she experienced on Penelope.

She could save them, she told herself. She could stop it all if she dared will it.

As if by discharging it all now she could end the war before it started, Astrid pushed with all her might. All that she could summon, and energy crackled before her in a bursting cone that sent her friends withdrawing into the dark.

Light danced over her face, flogged the hull, and cracked the air until a few minutes later, lamps embedded in the ship wavered with interference.

Finally, Astrid relinquished her assault on her invisible enemy. The battery pack thudded to the floor, dead and empty, and she stared down at her fingers, simultaneously thrilled and frightened.

“Incredible…” Anders whispered, enraptured. “How many Channelers can do this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe all of them, we just…” Astrid breathed. Her hair felt as though it were on fire. “We never knew.”

Karth approached with a second pack, and though her fingers grew numb, Astrid accepted.

“Now we condition you,” he determined. “Until it’s easier.”

Astrid set her lips in a firm line, gripped the batteries tight, and tried again.

~~~

Success stoked her ambition, but inexperience limited her stamina.

She began to recognize, and replicate, the feelings and sensation needed to form such a burst. But too soon, she grew tired, hot, and weak, once more.

After only fifteen minutes of solid repetition, her posture slumped.

“I think that’s all I can do… I’m starting to feel lightheaded.”

“I’d say you’ve made excellent progress,” Karth comforted. “Let’s give you a chance to recover. We can still spend more time on weapons and armor training today if you’re up for it. After a snack.”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

“Good.”

Karth collected the spent battery packs and parted on a quest for food, and Anders guided Astrid to her usual worktable, to rest.

“That was amazing,” he told her. “We never knew Channelers could manifest their ability like that. Imagine what you could do with more finesse.”

Astrid sidled into a seat. Anders propped himself against the table’s edge, all wonder and excitement.

“How do you mean?”

She wove her fingers in her hair to support her fatigued head with an elbow on the tabletop.

“Well, imagine if you could somehow contain it to something like a bolt, something you could shoot or send across a distance. You wouldn’t need weapons at all.”

“That sounds very complicated. I don’t know if it works that way.”

“A few days ago, you didn’t think it worked this way,” he countered.

Her body already felt so weary. Astrid couldn’t wrap her head around what it would take to achieve that much precision and control.

“Hey,” Anders frowned at her subdued tone. “You should be ecstatic. Are you okay?”

“It’s just draining,” she confessed. “Not just physically but… Dell’s been teaching me to tap into my emotion to channel better. It’s something totally new to me. I’m having a hard time navigating the feelings. The things I have to think about to overcome all those years of repression and meditation… It’s exhausting. Not to mention, depressing.”

Anders moved to settle properly, across from her. “It can be. Even Statics have to work to avoid dwelling on things that no longer ‘serve’ us.”

“And how do you do that?”

“Focusing on something better, I guess?” Anders leaned over the table and folded his arms. “Like… what about good connections? Do you have any family?”

“None of us have family.”

“I was asking specifically about you. Now that you’re out, you have no interest in tracking them down?”

“I don’t even know their names,” Astrid replied. “None of us do. It purposefully complicates any efforts to find one another. Our surnames are taken from whoever brought us in. Ships, their captains or maybe an officer, or a Guardian. ‘Hale’ was the name of the yeoman from the vessel on which I arrived. The person that physically carried me into the Sanctuary. That’s it.”

His gaze softened in sympathy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Astrid’s own gaze fell to her fingers. They trembled from the exertion of her rehearsal.

“What about adoptive family? I mean, you must have had friends in the Sanctuary, right?”

Not long ago, Astrid would have agreed. But now, as invested in her current company as she felt, her views on what constituted friendship shifted. As much as she loved her fellow Channelers, she’d rather spend a year stranded with the Aldebaran’s crew than a few weeks with Terrell.

“Astrid?”

“Hm?” She blinked and looked up, caught in a field of ferns.

“Was there no one?”

She paused before she confessed. “There was someone, once. Then we were separated. I have other friends. People I look out for. But we aren’t really permitted to be…”

“Close?”

Astrid found herself nodding. “I’ve since come to understand that while Channelers remain human, isolation is the only way to foster the tranquility required to repress our powers. Not just from the world, but from each other. The Sanctuaries have made loneliness synonymous with responsibility.”

The lieutenant’s face darkened. His own eyes drifted to the distance between them.

“In a weird way, it’s starting to make more sense now,” Astrid further explained before he grew too melancholy. “For years, I wondered what would have been so bad about Channelers getting close to one another. After all, we’re all each other had. But since coming here, getting to know you all, discovering what I’m capable of when I feel... I understand now. Why it’s so dangerous to care about someone so much.”

“But, Astrid, you don’t have to live that way anymore.”

“Don’t I?” This time, she searched Anders for understanding. “Look at what I’ve done in such a short time of being away. What I might do if someone hurt you could be so much worse than anything a Static would inflict. And I may not always be able to control it. Rue was right, I’m a liability just by being here.”

“What do you mean ‘Rue was right’?” Anders scowled.

Astrid straightened her back and shook off the sense she’d overshared.

“Nothing. She just expressed concerns that I might be a risk. And she was right to think so.”

“Captain believes Channelers are simply the next evolution of Humanity. That one day we’ll all be like you. Isn’t it better to pave the way for how to control it? To discover and design for yourself what that looks like?”

“For every Channeler born another mother dies, incapable of bearing more children. A life for a life. Not to mention accidental deaths surrounding an unregulated Channeler, incidents like Sanctuary Argos, or however many deaths that groups like the S.O. would claim before they’re finished.

“If every human born was a Channeler, we would only ebb away at our species. The human population would diminish.”

“Unless Channelers themselves began to reproduce. Or if a Channeler had been in the room when your mother had you, maybe they could have kept her alive.”

“I was the Channeler in the room when my mother had me. We know how that worked out.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice sharpened. “Why do you hate yourself so much?”

Astrid realized they were rapidly on the verge of an argument she didn’t want to have. Let alone that they arrived at a question she didn’t want to answer.

“I’m sorry,” Anders sighed when she winced away from his inquiry. “I just wish you could see your potential. What we see, you know?”

“And one day, I’d like to be seen for more than my talent,” Astrid expressed. “Captain wants me to be a Poster Child for Channeler Integration. It feels like I could be the most well-behaved, self-disciplined, and genuinely good person in the galaxy, and I’ll still only ever be seen as a Channeler.”

Suddenly, her companion’s lips formed into a wry smile.

“I know you were trying to make a point there, but are you aware that was the first time you referred to your ability in terms of a ‘talent’ rather than a burden?”

Astrid blushed and looked away. “My point still stands.”

“Yeah, you made it,” Anders finally submitted with a sly grin. “You want to be seen as a person. I get that. Don’t worry. I’m looking at that, too.”

Astrid narrowed her eyes back to him. “Did you just--?”

“Anders!” Karth interrupted from the bottom of the stairs. “Officers are coming aboard to oversee the transfer!”

“Come on!” The lieutenant's entire demeanor swiftly shifted. He rose to his feet and ushered Astrid to do the same. “We need to get you to the Med Lab. Ishioka will hide you out in her quarters.”

“What do you mean ‘hide out’?”

Refusing to answer, Anders prodded her, keen to move. She scrambled to her feet and he herded her back up the staircase to the mid-level.

“Anders, what is going on?!”

“Shh. Please, come on.”