Page 6 of The First Child
The comment carries an edge that makes my markings flicker with annoyance. Everything about this woman seems designed to provoke reaction—her blunt manner, her obvious skepticism of Zephyrian customs, her complete certainty that human solutions apply to problems she doesn’t understand.
“Or perhaps,” I say carefully, “she responds to emotional stability rather than genetic heritage.”
Captain Blaxton’s blue eyes narrow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning her empathic abilities are more sophisticated than her age suggests. She’s not simply broadcasting distress—she seeks connection. When you provide that connection, her entire nervous system stabilizes.”
“You make it sound like she’s choosing to calm down.”
“In a sense, she is. Empathic projection is fundamentally about communication. Aniska has tried to tell us something since her parents died. You’re the first person who understood the message.”
The captain stares down at the sleeping child, her expression unreadable. “What message?”
I move closer, drawn by curiosity and something else I don’t want to examine too closely. At this distance, I smell the lingering traces of ship’s air in her hair, see the way her military-issue clothing fails to disguise the curves beneath. She’s smaller than most soldiers I’ve known, but there’s nothing fragile abouther. Every line of her body speaks of trained strength and hard-won competence.
“That she’s afraid,” I say quietly. “That she knows her parents are gone and she doesn’t understand why. That she needs someone to promise they won’t leave her, too.”
Captain Blaxton’s throat works as she swallows hard. “Kids that young don’t understand death.”
“Human children might not. But Aniska carries Zephyrian genetic markers for advanced empathic development. She experiences emotion as directly as you experience physical sensation. Her parents’ deaths registered as a complete severing of connection—the empathic equivalent of losing a limb.”
“That’s…” She trails off, one hand moving unconsciously toward the carrier.
“Traumatic. Yes.” I watch her face, fascinated by the play of emotions across features that seem designed for concealment. “She’s searching for someone who can restore that sense of connection. Someone whose emotional resonance feels safe.”
“And you think that’s me?”
“I think Lieutenant Altell chose well.”
The admission surprises us both. Captain Blaxton straightens, her defensive posture softening just slightly. “You didn’t sound like you thought that earlier.”
“Earlier, I was operating under assumptions that appear to be incorrect.” I gesture toward my meditation alcove, where crystalline formations focus ambient energy into patterns that promote contemplation. “I’ve spent the afternoon trying to understand what I observed in the nursery. The connectionbetween you and Aniska shouldn’t be possible according to conventional empathic theory.”
“Maybe your theory is wrong.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps there are aspects of human-Zephyrian interaction we haven’t explored.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “Lieutenant Altell mentioned that she experienced enhanced telepathic sensitivity since beginning her relationship with Krel’lun. We assumed it was a temporary side effect of extended contact with Zephyrian mental techniques.”
“But?”
“But she also mentioned that you served together for three years. That you saved her life multiple times, and she’d done the same for you. That kind of battlefield bond creates its own form of empathic connection.”
Captain Blaxton goes very still. “You’re saying I’m telepathic?”
“I’m saying you may have developed sensitivity through proximity to Lieutenant Altell’s enhanced abilities. Humans exposed to Zephyrian empathic fields sometimes demonstrate increased neural connectivity. Usually temporary, but in rare cases…”
“Permanent.” She finishes for me.
“Yes.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, studying Aniska’s sleeping face. When she speaks again, her voice carries a note of vulnerability that makes my chest tighten unexpectedly.
“I always knew when she was in trouble. During missions, I mean. Even when we were separated, I felt when something was wrong. I thought it was just intuition.”
“It may have been both.”
“And now?”
“Now that connection may be what Aniska needs most. Not just human comfort or Zephyrian spiritual guidance, but the specific empathic signature that her mother carried. A bridge between both halves of her heritage.”
