Kinsmen 01 - Silver Shark

They were at war, after all, and extreme expression of emotion was frowned on, just as bright color, loud noise, and leisure. If they did smile, someone would come up and ask, "Why are you smiling? Don't you know we're at war?"
    She didn't examine their minds out of courtesy but she'd learned to read their faces, and she noted the small signs of relaxation: the softening of Nicholas' lips; the way Masha held her spoon, picking at the paste; Dwight's easy pose; Liz's nails, sheathed in transparent coating... manicured nails. Something new.
    "Good morning, Captain," Liz murmured. Slight, with thin blond hair cut short, she seemed washed out, her skin nearly transparent, her hair almost colorless.
    Claire envied her. Of the five of them, Liz was the youngest, barely seventeen. She still had some impulse, some spark of life. She'd joined the unit last year, and since then keeping her alive during the missions proved to be a full-time job. It was a job the rest of them shared, but Claire shouldered the lion's share of it.
    Liz's brain activity spiked, her thought tentatively brushing against Claire's mind. Claire accepted the communication, opening the link between them.
    "I was wondering if I could get a plant," Liz said. "For my room. I was wondering if you knew where I could get one."
    "It will be confiscated," Claire responded.
    "Why?"
    "Because a plant requires nutrients, light, and water. It will be tagged as inappropriate expenditure of resources."
    The younger woman recoiled.
    "I'm sorry," Claire told her aloud.
    Liz ducked her head. "Thank you, Captain."
    A vague feeling of alarm tugged on Claire. The other psychers sensed it as well and the five of them turned in unison toward the incoming threat.
    Major Courtney Rome was making his way through the mess hall toward them. His psych-blocker implant was on, smudging his mind. Smudging but not obscuring. No psych blocker could lock out a psycher of her level completely.
    Her team's minds dimmed around her, as her soldiers snapped their mental shields in place. Courtney couldn't read their minds: they simply reacted to a perceived threat on instinct.
    Courtney halted a few feet from them. She liked calling him by his first name in her mind. If he ever found it, he would take it as an insult, which it was. Trim and middle-aged, Courtney wore a flat expression. She looked past the blocker into his brain and saw anxiety churning. He came to deliver unpleasant news. He never brought any other kind.
    She rose and the rest of her team stood up.
    "Captain Shannon, join me for a private consultation."
    She followed him to one of the booths lining the wall. They sat. A transparent disruptor wall slid from the slit in the wall, sealing the booth from the rest of the dining hall with a sound-proof translucent barrier.
    "Your latest psychological evaluation showed abnormalities." Courtney said. "We are no longer confident that you are giving your all to the war effort."
    "Has my performance been lacking?" she asked.
    "No. Your performance is exemplary. That's why we're having this conversation."
    Claire saw it in his mind: Courtney believed she should be decommissioned, but she was too valuable. Kinsmen like her, with psychic power, came along about one in every six million, and the decision to keep her breathing was made above his pay grade. She could crush his mind like a bug, psych blocker or no.
    Claire leaned back, putting one leg over another. "When we're done here," she said, not sure what possessed her to continue speaking, "you will return to your office where you will read reports and push pseudo paper. It's your job. I will go to my job, where I'll have to murder people."
    Courtney studied her. "They are the enemy."
    "These people I kill, they have children, loved ones, parents. Each of them exists within a network of human emotion. They love, they are loved, they worry. When I sear their minds, all of that ends. They have no choice about engaging in a fight with me, just as I have no choice in being here. For doing this, I am praised and rewarded."
    "Your point?"
    "There is something wrong with a system that glorifies a person for the killing of other human beings."
    "They will kill you if you don't kill them first. They won't hesitate."
    She sighed. "What are we fighting for, Major?"
    "We're fighting for the control of the planet. The winner will get to keep Uley, of course."
    "Have you looked outside, Major? I mean really looked? Keeping Uley isn't a victory; it's