Spaced Out

Fear Is The Mind-Killer

The suspension bridge rattled under Lily and the captain's footsteps. With a hand at her back, the captain steered her to the western side of the intersecting walkway. Unspoken words weighted the silence.

"I withheld information to protect you," Vortrand finally said.

Lily studied his serious profile.

"You appeared overwhelmed by your new surroundings and situation. When I suspected the memories were implanted, I acted to prevent your panic."

"That's kind of you."

"Don't assume the reason behind my motives."

The captain led her down a flight of stairs and into a stunted corridor that emptied into the cargo bay. High above, the suspension bridge stretched like a crucifix to the cardinal points of the third tier.

"Panic accelerates the bleed," Vortrand said. "We could lose information through internal erosion or deterioration. You're handling the truth better than I anticipated."

Lily stiffened. Surviving adolescence taught her a unique strength. A hand clutched at her forehead. She tugged the long ends of her hair. When those memories bubbled up, she seized then shoved them into their steel cage. She didn't want to think about that anymore. Not ever again. College was supposed to be a new life. Now, she was here. Trapped and at the mercy of powers largely out of her control. The captain was still talking.

"Bralians mastered memory and identity manipulation and storage. Now they're gone and the Utori prevent us from back-engineering any of that technology."

Captain Vortrand's path skirted the labyrinth of storage crate towers and brought them to a broad archway that opened into another expansive chamber.

"If the Bralians were so advanced and had all this great technology, why didn't they use whatever superior weapons they had to defeat the Utori?" Lily asked.

"What weapons the Bralians possessed were engineered to kill other Bralians. Soft bodies, delicate skin. None of that matters with a Utori. Here." Halting her, the captain held out his arm. The rolled up sleeves of his gray shirt bared chalk-white forearms. Ropey veins stood in sharp relief over lean muscle. "See how much damage you can do."

Lily put up her hands. "I don't want to hurt you."

"If I thought you could I wouldn't offer."

Taking Vortrand's arm, Lily squeezed and twisted and dug in her nails. Tough, leathery skin dimpled under her fingertips, but did not bruise or break. Without so much as wincing, he shook off her hold.

"Blunt trauma won't do much against a Verakian and we're only part Utori and they layer their natural defenses with armored slicksuits. Not much anyone can do to a Utori hand to hand."

"They don't have any weak spots?"