Page 16 of The First Child
“Impossible.” The voice belongs to Dr. Elena Vasquez, the TCA representative whose presence I’ve dreaded since we walked into the chamber. Her reputation for ruthless scientific objectivity is matched only by her complete disregard for individual dignity when it conflicts with research goals. “Humans lack the neural architecture for stable empathic bonding. Any connection you experienced was likely psychological projection rather than genuine telepathic link.”
“Commander Ominox was present during the entire process,” I say evenly. “Perhaps he can provide the expert analysis you seem to require.”
All eyes turn to Sylas, whose calm expression doesn’t shift even under the weight of multiple species’ expectations. When he speaks, his voice carries the measured authority of someone accustomed to being believed without question.
“Captain Blaxton successfully formed and maintained a stable empathic connection with Aniska,” he confirms. “The bond enabled her to provide emotional healing that traditional Zephyrian techniques could not achieve. More significantly, the connection appears to be permanent—a development that challenges fundamental assumptions about human telepathic capacity.”
“You’re both mistaken,” Dr. Vasquez insists. “Whatever you observed can be explained through conventional psychology and suggestion. True empathic bonding requires?—”
“May I demonstrate?”
The quiet question comes from Elder Lunai, whose ancient eyes hold depths of knowledge I can’t begin to fathom. She rises from her seat with the careful grace of someone whose body carries the weight of centuries, moving toward me with a purpose that makes everyone else in the chamber fall silent.
“I am one of the strongest telepaths in our community,” she explains, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “If you have truly formed an empathic bond with the child, I will be able to sense it through direct contact. Are you willing to submit to such an examination?”
The offer feels like a test and a threat wrapped in formal courtesy. Direct telepathic contact with an elder—someone whose mental abilities make even trained priests look like beginners—could expose every thought, every emotion, every secret I’ve ever kept hidden.
But if it proves that Aniska and I share something real, something worth protecting… I have only one answer: “Yes.”
Elder Lunai extends one pale hand, her bioluminescent markings pulsing with complex patterns that seem to resonate in my bones. “Place your palm against mine. Maintain eye contact. Do not resist whatever you experience.”
Her skin feels cooler than a human touch but carries an electric quality that makes my nerve endings buzz with unexpected energy. The moment our palms connect fully, her consciousness brushes against mine like silk against steel—gentle but utterly implacable.
The telepathic probe goes deeper than I expected, past surface thoughts to the core patterns that define who I am. I feel her mapping my memories, my motivations, the carefully compartmentalized grief that’s shaped every decision since Margot’s death. But instead of invasion, the contact feels like… recognition.
And then she finds it. The glowing thread of connection that links my consciousness to Aniska’s, stronger and more complex than anything I could have imagined. Through Elder Lunai’s perception, I see the bond for what it truly is—not just emotional attachment, but quantum entanglement at the cellular level. Two minds learning to function as complementary parts of a larger whole.
Extraordinary,her voice whispers directly into my thoughts.You carry her emotional signature as if it were your own. This is not psychological projection—this is genuine telepathic symbiosis.
The contact breaks as quickly as it began, leaving me gasping and slightly disoriented. Elder Lunai studies my face for a long moment before returning to her seat, her expression thoughtful.
“The captain speaks truthfully,” she announces to the chamber. “She has formed a stable empathic bond with the child—something I would not have believed possible without direct confirmation. This development suggests that human telepathic potential may be far greater than we have previously understood.”
“With respect, Elder Lunai,” Dr. Vasquez interjects, “a single anomalous case hardly justifies abandoning established scientific protocols. Even if this woman has developed some form of telepathic sensitivity, that doesn’t qualify her to raise a child whose abilities could reshape our understanding of consciousness itself.”
“And what qualifies you?” The question emerges before I can stop myself, carrying enough venom to make several council members shift uncomfortably. “Your research credentials? Your clinical detachment? Your complete inability to see Aniska as anything more than a test subject?”
“I see her as what she is—the first member of a new subspecies whose development could determine the future of human-Zephyrian relations. That’s far too important to leave to amateurs, regardless of their emotional investment.”
“She’s not a subspecies.” The words crack like a whip, echoing off the chamber walls with enough force to make the bioluminescent patterns flicker. “She’s a little girl who lost her parents and needs someone to love her unconditionally. If you can’t understand the difference, you have no business making decisions about her future.”
“Captain Blaxton.” Commander Genova’s voice carries warning, but I’m past caring about diplomatic protocol.
“No. You want to hear about qualifications? Here’s mine—I would die before I let anyone hurt that child. I would sacrifice everything I have to keep her safe and happy and loved. That’s not scientific methodology, but it’s the only qualification that actually matters.”
Silence stretches through the chamber like a held breath. I probably just destroyed any chance of favorable ruling, but I don’t regret the words. Some truths are more important than political strategy.
“Commander Ominox,” Elder Lunai says finally. “What is your assessment of this proposed partnership?”
Sylas rises with fluid grace, his silver-gold eyes meeting mine across the table. When he speaks, his voice carries absolute conviction.
“Captain Blaxton has demonstrated empathic abilities that complement and enhance traditional Zephyrian techniques. Her bond with Aniska provides emotional stability that no amount of scientific expertise could replicate. More importantly, she approaches the child’s care with the fierce protectiveness that all young creatures require to thrive.”
“And you believe joint custody would serve the child’s interests?”
“I believe denying Aniska access to either heritage would be a form of cultural amputation. She needs both her human and Zephyrian identity to develop properly. Captain Blaxton and I can provide that integration in ways that no single guardian could achieve alone.”
“Even if it means accepting non-traditional family structures?” Commander Genova asks. “Joint custody between species representatives isn’t exactly standard protocol.”
