Aberrant

Chapter 25

Sky Landing, Feuria's main port, gleamed in the planet's morning light. Air traffic hummed over the pristine, almost sculptural structures. Staff and cargo bots raced about with crisp efficiency. A light breeze carried the scent of av fuel, overlaying the perfume of flowering trees in nearby plazas and green spaces.

Kaplan disembarked the Fire Witch and spotted his first appointment waiting at the edge of the landing pad. A senior Rha Si.

His shoulders tightened. A day of meetings and accusations awaited him. More reports of death and destruction. The serenity the designers of the spaceport had hoped to promote would be out of his reach for the foreseeable future.

He turned and ordered Sun to get everyone settled in their accommodation. Multiple sets of dissatisfied eyes locked on him. His team's psionics ran cool, the soldiers having adjusted their attitudes after being reminded where his true loyalty lay and where theirs needed to.

As for a certain aberrant...

Jinx's dark stare promised blood. She took a step forward, no doubt to deliver on that promise, but a large, Zex-covered hand clamped onto her shoulder, halting her. Cruse.

Without a word, the big Atillian steered her back on course, toward the arrivals terminal. The CI's opinion of her "jail warden" and the "lower life form" who'd assigned the big cat that duty was succinct and unambiguous—amusing, but only fleetingly so.

Kaplan's lips flattened as he watched her taut strides chew up the landing deck's concrete. His team would keep the aberrant in line until the investigation committee was done with her. After that, she'd be free to do something stupid. Like hitch a ride with a criminal, back to the carnage she'd just escaped.

Filing his personal thoughts on that, Kaplan strode over to his waiting superior. The Rha Si was difficult to miss. Her deep brown skin, brunette crop, and black business suit stood out starkly against the pale concrete and plex behind her. But she looked as sleek and cool as the high-tech port.

Bianca Tommo. A second-gen Rha Si with a gift for data analysis.

Crystalline blue eyes met his, a rippling psionic shield behind them. No thoughts reached him, but he knew a critical assessment when he saw one. His Rha Si superiors wanted a briefing before the formal discussions.

Senuri Kaplan. The 'pathed greeting and use of his Rha Si title told him this contact wouldn't be part of the official Coalition investigation.

L'senuri. Kaplan returned her greeting, using her higher rank, that of a senior specialist, but didn't offer his hand, knuckles, elbow, or any other polite physical exchange. Tommo was a touch sensitive, one of the side effects Rha Si could suffer. Physical contact could induce a disturbingly strong connection—more so than it did in average Rha Si when they had close contact with non-psi. She'd have got nothing from him; he was Rha Si, and intensive training from an Original in his genetic line had further strengthened his natural shielding. But the weakness had shaped Tommo's personality. She liked data and her own company. Not much else.

Knowing her well, he didn't bother with small talk, simply waited for an instruction.

Tommo jerked her head, indicating he should accompany her.

She led him to a sleek private shuttle a few docks over. Kaplan followed her into its cool, air-conditioned elegance. The cabin felt faintly sterile after the tacky, patched interior of the Fire Witch.

Tommo took a seat on a glossy white couch and extended a plas worktable. A series of files appeared on its surface. Kaplan recognised them as he took the opposite seat: his report and supporting material.