Andra was thinking about her ship’s navigation system in excruciating detail.

Really, there was no better way to drown a telepath than to focus hard on a detailed task that didn’t allow for any additional thoughts to sneak to the surface.

Cygnus Volans was a legend. His telepathy could reach across the galaxy if he really tried. He could rip apart a Destroyer with his mind, and had enough precognition to make shooting him a serious challenge.

He was also the leader of the Blood Star Mercenaries, renowned for their psionic abilities and their truly, shockingly, high price tag.

Senator Ursa had brought him along as heavy-handed insurance to make sure the peace treaties between the Edge worlds and the Inner worlds went smoothly.

Probably for the best. An assassination attempt wouldn’t be a bad option, and Senator Ursa was one of the most influential senator of the era. If he died here, the Edge Revolution stood a real chance of overthrowing the Inner World Consortium.

But that wasn’t Andra’s concern. She was a pilot, and mechanic, and a decent hand on a fight, but political assassination was a little above her pay grade.

For now, she was thinking about her navigation system. Specifically, the programming console, which had been buggy for the last few solar weeks.

Low laughter caught her attention, and she looked up to meet the odd grey-green-gold eyes of the very man who was the cause of her mental preoccupation.

He was watching her, and there was suddenly a polite tap on her mind, like a request for admittance.

(If you expect me to believe you haven’t been reading my mind this whole time, she thought casually, and imagined a door opening up a crack. If he really wanted in, her low-grade telepathy wasn’t going to keep him out. It was nice that he was being polite. (You’re somewhat deluded.)

He snorted in amusement and his lips curled up at the edges. People, including Ursa, looked at him, and were largely ignored.

(Of course I was,) he replied in a lighter mental ‘voice’ than she had expected from a man his size. (But you’re the first person here to pick a preoccupation that is actually interesting.)

(Interesting, but not effective?) she fired back, dismayed. She had hoped the detailed thought project would be enough. (Damn.)

Probably she should be more upset, but honestly, she hadn’t really expected it to work all that well. It was decent for chasing low-level telepaths out. Cygnus Volans was nobody’s idea of low-level

Although apparently picking a unique topic was distracting enough to derail him. That was… interesting.

(You aren’t very afraid of me,) he noted curiously as he prodded at her thoughts. Andra imagined a flyswatter coming down on his fingers in vivid detail, and he had to fight back laughter again. (That was rude.)

(So is digging through my mind without permission.)

(You allowed me in.)

(Only because you might blow the door off the hinges if I didn’t.)

She accompanied that with more vivid imagery, this time of a cheap screen door falling off the hinges on its own and then spontaneously lighting on fire.

Ursa glared over his shoulder when the feared leader of the Blood Star Mercenaries started laughing behind him. The negotiations were at a particularly sensitive, and solemn, moment.

“Apologies,” Cygnus excused himself as he got himself under control. “An errant thought. Nothing more.”

(Rude,) Andra said cheerfully, confident he could still hear her. (Aren’t you supposed to be protecting him?)

(If someone doesn’t get to killing him soon, I’m going to have to do it myself,) he replied with a decidedly put-upon huff of annoyance. (Although it might be difficult to get paid if I kill him in front of all these witnesses.)

(You don’t care about the peace?) That was an odd thought. The revolution had been underway for nearly fifteen years. She had thought everyone had a stake in it. (Why not?)

(I’m a mercenary and I live on a space station,) he said, with the mental equivalent of a shrug. She eyed him from across the room, and he tilted his head just slightly in her direction. (It’s good to have work.)

(Innocent people are dying.)

(So? Unless they try to kill my Contract, they aren’t my problem and if they do, they aren’t innocent.)

Andra hid a growl. He might be able to get away with disturbing the meeting, but she was just a pilot, and definitely couldn’t.

Alarm suddenly blared across their open connection and Andra jerked back as Cygnus tensed suddenly and his mental ‘touch’ went sideways into a yawning pit. He had an iron grip on her mind, and she couldn’t figure out what happened until the images started to come, almost too fast to parse.

Across the room, Cygnus started to seize.

“What-!” Ursa said, and shot to his feet, but Andra was already moving, urgency making her bold.

“Precog!” She hollered, and elbowed her way through dignitaries and officials to Cygnus just in time to catch him as he keeled out of his chair. “He’s having an episode!”

The whirl of images threatened to pull her in, and Andra anchored herself, cursing somewhere in the back of her mind.

If this was what high-level precognition was like, she wanted none of it, thank you very much.

After a few heartbeats, she managed to get a look at some of what he was Seeing, and it left her cold.

Ships. Thousands upon thousands of ships that Andra had never seen before, that moved like angry bees and flooded towards them, so many they blotted out the sun. Behind them came bigger ships. Carriers and destroyers, each enough to dominate a planet alone.

They were coming. A force greater than anything their part of space could hold off.

Through the haze, Cygnus realized she was there, in his mind. He somehow used their connection to haul himself out of the vision and back into waking life, taking her with him.

(Thanks,) his mind voice felt fragile and shaken. That was fair. She felt that way too. (I didn’t mean to drag you in.)

Before Andra could reply, he sat up, face tight and drawn.

“Your peace treaty no longer matters,” he said into the stunned silence. “Nothing else matters except rallying our forces as fast as we possibly can.”

“Why?” Ursa asked. He, at least, was taking Cygnus seriously. That was good, because Andra still couldn’t find words for what they had seen. “What did you see?”

“Invasion,” Cygnus rasped, and his hand closed around Andra’s wrist where her hand rested on his shoulder. His finger were cold and clammy with sweat, and shook almost imperceptibly. “An invasion is coming, and they want to kill us all.”