ask her out. She does not need anything else to upset her.”
Diving back into Nila’s mind, Kirsten ferreted out the telltale energy patterns of a long-term suggestion. Inflicting them was beyond her understanding; her use of suggestion so far had been limited to brief short-term commands. Other psionics, those who excelled at it, could leave psychic land mines. Enduring directions or lingering changes in behavior, sometimes even sleeper commands that would remain unnoticed for days, months, or even years before they triggered and forced the victim to do something.
In Nila’s case, it appeared he had used her to flee the approaching army of police, and created a false dread about returning to work, making her think doing so would cause immediate death.
Surprised he didn’t kill her.
Kirsten frowned.
Probably just didn’t want the heat of murdering two cops.
Sweat ran down the sides of her neck, the exertion of stumbling through the hatchet job in Nila’s mind more strenuous than five swipes of a lash. “I think I got it. She should probably go talk to Lt. Cmdr. Ashford when she collects herself.”
Kirsten shivered just thinking of him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’ll find out she helped him escape and wipe her back to infancy.”
“Now you’re the one being paranoid. She didn’t consciously do that; it was suggestion. I’m only a grade two telepath, maybe a three in suggestion. I don’t really like using it.”
It just comes in so damn handy sometimes.
“For Nila’s sake, she should make sure it’s been cleaned out. I don’t want to run the risk of there being some deep implant I’m not good enough to find coming out and doing something years from now.”
“Ugh.” Nila held her head. “Kirsten? How did you get inside? Where’s Shani? What the hell happened to my wall?”
Kirsten helped her up, out from under the table, and walked her to the couch. “Do you remember me visiting you two days ago in a green dress?”
“Sort of…” She stared at the wall. “No. Not really.”
Wow, I look so pale compared to her.
“I’m sorry to dredge up bad memories, but do you remember the day it happened?”
Nila’s hand slid up her arm, rubbing where she had been shot. “Yes, like it was yesterday. He figured the visor would block eye contact. It was classic Dorian, he was so confident.” A wistful smile parted her lips. “I miss him.”
Dorian continued pacing, grumbling.
“I’m not telling you to go back to active duty, but he blames himself for your PTSD.”
She blinked. “I have PTSD?”
He whirled. “Kirsten, don’t torture her. Please just leave it alone.”
“Maybe you don’t. You seem to have a sharp fear of anything to do with the department. It verges on irrational. It might have been part of the suggestion Rene implanted that is forcing you to avoid anything to do with Division 0.”
“I think you’re going out on a limb about it, I feel fine. I suppose I could call Doctor Kim, see what he thinks.”
A shadow in the hallway made Kirsten look; nothing was there.
“Wait, did you say he blames himself? He’s not dead?”
Dorian lifted his chin, a slight side-to-side shake in his head. “Kirsten, please…”
“I told you the last time I was here, he’s a ghost. He’s right here with us now.”
He hung his head.
Nila barked a nervous laugh, but when Kirsten stayed serious, she lifted an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Don’t you remember a few days ago when I came by with the food? Peek at my head if you want.”
The telltale wave came; a cool band of energy, a breeze that touched only her brain. Kirsten let it in, keeping her eyes on Dorian’s chiding finger. Nila tried to look at the spot of room where he was, estimating by what she saw through Kirsten’s memory.
“D… Dorian.” She gasped, reaching into the coldness that settled onto the sofa next to her.
Kirsten had never seen him display much emotion before; he looked about
Diving back into Nila’s mind, Kirsten ferreted out the telltale energy patterns of a long-term suggestion. Inflicting them was beyond her understanding; her use of suggestion so far had been limited to brief short-term commands. Other psionics, those who excelled at it, could leave psychic land mines. Enduring directions or lingering changes in behavior, sometimes even sleeper commands that would remain unnoticed for days, months, or even years before they triggered and forced the victim to do something.
In Nila’s case, it appeared he had used her to flee the approaching army of police, and created a false dread about returning to work, making her think doing so would cause immediate death.
Surprised he didn’t kill her.
Kirsten frowned.
Probably just didn’t want the heat of murdering two cops.
Sweat ran down the sides of her neck, the exertion of stumbling through the hatchet job in Nila’s mind more strenuous than five swipes of a lash. “I think I got it. She should probably go talk to Lt. Cmdr. Ashford when she collects herself.”
Kirsten shivered just thinking of him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’ll find out she helped him escape and wipe her back to infancy.”
“Now you’re the one being paranoid. She didn’t consciously do that; it was suggestion. I’m only a grade two telepath, maybe a three in suggestion. I don’t really like using it.”
It just comes in so damn handy sometimes.
“For Nila’s sake, she should make sure it’s been cleaned out. I don’t want to run the risk of there being some deep implant I’m not good enough to find coming out and doing something years from now.”
“Ugh.” Nila held her head. “Kirsten? How did you get inside? Where’s Shani? What the hell happened to my wall?”
Kirsten helped her up, out from under the table, and walked her to the couch. “Do you remember me visiting you two days ago in a green dress?”
“Sort of…” She stared at the wall. “No. Not really.”
Wow, I look so pale compared to her.
“I’m sorry to dredge up bad memories, but do you remember the day it happened?”
Nila’s hand slid up her arm, rubbing where she had been shot. “Yes, like it was yesterday. He figured the visor would block eye contact. It was classic Dorian, he was so confident.” A wistful smile parted her lips. “I miss him.”
Dorian continued pacing, grumbling.
“I’m not telling you to go back to active duty, but he blames himself for your PTSD.”
She blinked. “I have PTSD?”
He whirled. “Kirsten, don’t torture her. Please just leave it alone.”
“Maybe you don’t. You seem to have a sharp fear of anything to do with the department. It verges on irrational. It might have been part of the suggestion Rene implanted that is forcing you to avoid anything to do with Division 0.”
“I think you’re going out on a limb about it, I feel fine. I suppose I could call Doctor Kim, see what he thinks.”
A shadow in the hallway made Kirsten look; nothing was there.
“Wait, did you say he blames himself? He’s not dead?”
Dorian lifted his chin, a slight side-to-side shake in his head. “Kirsten, please…”
“I told you the last time I was here, he’s a ghost. He’s right here with us now.”
He hung his head.
Nila barked a nervous laugh, but when Kirsten stayed serious, she lifted an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Don’t you remember a few days ago when I came by with the food? Peek at my head if you want.”
The telltale wave came; a cool band of energy, a breeze that touched only her brain. Kirsten let it in, keeping her eyes on Dorian’s chiding finger. Nila tried to look at the spot of room where he was, estimating by what she saw through Kirsten’s memory.
“D… Dorian.” She gasped, reaching into the coldness that settled onto the sofa next to her.
Kirsten had never seen him display much emotion before; he looked about
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