“Ursa.”

Senator Stal Ursa was not accustomed to his name being spoken, quietly and without formality. The surprise of it immediately took his attention form the reports he was studying, and when he looked up, he froze.

Everyone knew of the Edge girl from Asteroid Base 42. How could they not, when she had fallen into orbit with Cygnus Volans as if she was made to be there. How could Ursa fail to take note of the woman whose disappearance, presumed death, turned his most powerful psion into a near-mindless weapon. And who, upon her return, somehow got more powerful. Somehow, during her imprisonment, she discovered a way to destroy the ships that were tearing apart their own attempts at defense. The tie was turning. Slowly, but surely. Because of her.

So yes, Ursa knew about Andromeda Oct. He knew where she came from, and that she was an orphan, with no family, and nothing interesting in her future until she came mind-to-mind with Cygnus.

He also knew that she was still fragile. That her talents, apparently as varied and powerful as Cygnus’ own, were unstable at the best of times.

She could probably hear every thought that passed his mind.

He hated working with psionics.

“Come in,” he said, and nodded a dismissal to his aid as Andra walked in with Cygnus’ arm over her shoulders. He was ashy and looked ill, and Ursa wondered what kind of trouble they possibly could have found in the few short hours since he saw them at the last briefing. “What can I do for you?”

Andra shared a long look with Cygnus, no doubt sharing thoughts, before she nodded once.

“Cyg had a vision,” she said without preamble, and didn’t blink when Ursa muttered a curse. Precognition. It was so unreliable that he tried not to rely on it, but when it came, it could make a difference. “About the war. The ships we’re facing are scout ships. The real force hasn’t even made it here yet, but they’re coming.”

That warranted a stronger curse, and Ursa dropped into his chair as fear threatened to steal his reason.

“We’ve been fighting the vanguard?” he rasped through a throat that suddenly felt dry as desert sand. His head swam at the very thought. How could they possibly face a force greater than the one that already threatened to ruin them? What hope was there, if the great, sleek destroyers that were ripping apart whole planets were nothing but the frontrunners? “This whole time?”

(Not even that.) Ursa jumped, but there was no doubt of the ‘voice’ in his mind. Cygnus shrugged faintly, a little shamefaced behind his mop of dark curls. (Sorry. My voice is too shot for vocal speech. Can we show you what we saw? You should… you should know what we’re up against.)

There was very little that Ursa wanted less, but he nodded anyway. He had never been one to shy away from the unpleasant duties of his station, and that now included trying to save his race from obliteration. If this vision would help, he could do nothing more than try to use it to the fullest.

Of course, he also remembered the last two visions he saw Cygnus have, realized why the psion was speaking telepathically, and profoundly hoped that he would not scream himself raw.

“You won’t,” Andra said softly, and tried to offer a smile. It came out as more of a grimace, but Ursa appreciated the effort. “We’ll buffer you from the… the worst of it. You’ll ‘see’ the vision, but you won’t experience it like Cyg does.”

That did help, although Ursa still didn’t like the idea any.

Oh well.

“Once more into the breech,” he said with a half-shrug. “We need information. Will you be able to share this vision with the rest of our command?”

(If they’re willing. I won’t force it on anyone,) Cygnus assured him. He reached out, and Ursa noted with alarm that Cygnus’ fingers trembled slightly, barely noticeable, but distinctly there. (Take a deep breath in, and release it slowly.)

Before Ursa could do more than breathe, blackness, the dark of open space, engulphed him like falling backwards into shadowy water filled with stars.

(You’re safe.)

That was Andra. Ursa scrambled for his sense of self amid the whirling stars, disoriented and struggling, until bright, brassy-green glimmers appeared out of the darkness and wrapped around him. A moment later, they were followed by more, this time haloed in orange-yellow that somehow felt like amusement.

(Take a minute to get yourself together,) Cygnus, the orange-yellow glimmers, told him calmly. (We’re not going to let you ‘drown’. You’re in my mind. Specifically, on the leading edge of the vision-memory.)

(We didn’t realize how disorienting this would be for you,) Andra agreed, her green glimmers fading to apologetic blue. (It’s easy to forget that what we do isn’t normal for most people.)

(How do you function like this?!) Ursa said incredulously, and didn’t realize he had responded telepathically until the words came out as vivid orange alarm, shot through with pink ribbons of curiosity. (No, don’t explain it. I don’t want to know.)

He took a breath, now vaguely aware of his own body responding, somewhere far away, and braced himself. (I’m ready. Show me.)

(Remember, this is a memory of a vision,) Andra told him when the stars rippled, like the reflection of a night sky on glassy water, disturbed by a single jumping fish. (Nothing here can hurt you.)

Ursa wanted to ask what she meant, and then his eyes fell on the ships.

Thousands of them. Immense, towering vessels. The kind that were specially designed for deep space travel, but much, much bigger. Immense beyond understanding, until he realized that they were asteroids, and moons, and farther back, so far that it was almost lost in the black of space, a ship carved of what could only be a planet.

It wasn’t until his mind shuddered, and he looked closer, that he realized what he thought were little one-man fighters, hovering in swarms around the bigger ships, were actually the same titanic destroyers that were shredding apert his fleet without the slightest effort.

And there were millions of them.

Before he could do anything more than take a single, panicked breath, the stars rippled again and were gone all at once.

He made it to his waste basket just in time to lose everything in his stomach. Icy terror stole the strength from his legs and left him heaving into the little plastic container until he could barely breath and black spots danced around the edges of his vision.

Small hands steadied him and helped him sit back, supported by the wall. Andra offered him a tiny smile even as Cygnus poured a glass of water and knelt to press it into his hand.

(Now you see,) Cygnus told him as he drank, panicked again, and discovered more of the brassy-green glimmers in his mind, soothing away the terror. Andra gave him a tiny, comforting nod, and Ursa couldn’t find it in himself to be anything except grateful for her intervention. (I don’t know how much time we have, but some is more than none. We need to call all our forces together. Because they’re coming, and when they get here, we have to be ready.)