Bennice and Sarah are identical twins, clones. Bennice was raised on Earth – barren and devastated, controlled by powerful corporations including the one that owns her cells, and hopes to exploit her to help them find and mine Armorite – a mineral that fuels instantaneous travel and colonization. Sarah was raised as part of the resistance to that same company on Althea, a planet teeming with life. Both share a powerful psychokinetic talent.

Prologue 

Sabotage – Althea

Artur’s body felt the vibrations of the ore cars. He could smell dust, even through the filter mask. He saw the worried eyes of the other Altheans around him as Artur sat with his bare back to the wall, resting a calloused hand on the bloody bandage on his head.

Artur closed his eyes. He could ignore all of this. What he couldn’t completely ignore was the pain. With his free hand on the bare rock, his land senses stretched out and waves of sensory information hit him. His gut clenched, and he fought back vomit. His observers would see his pain response, but not know why. He was in visceral communion with the sacred rock, as it was broken again and again around him.   

Most people with his abilities cannot not bear to be anywhere near the mining sites. Here the sacred rock screamed in every muscle and bone. He could not block out the agony only continue to breath and endure. He must be here, and he will do what he came to do. Drawing up his strength, Artur reached into the wall with his land senses, gut spasming again. The agony deepened, ripened within him. His consciousness fought past it to flow along the vein of metal to the hub of the Terran’s mine and the locked, guarded cage twenty metres away where the probes were kept. These are tools the Terrans were using to find more sacred sites. Their geoengineers told their bosses that Althea’s fluid magnetic field made it harder for them to find the rock they call ‘armorite’ here than on the other planets the Terrans have stripped of life. These probes are the most sensitive the Terrans have but even they could only find the sacred stone once they are right on top of it.

Artur’s job was to make sure they keep thinking that.

Artur deftly felt his way through the electronics till he found what he was looking for. Using the part of his mind he was able to separate from the pain, he sent his will through the rock touching the sensors, and then into the metal machinery to twist the carefully calibrated sensor a bare millimeter. He withdrew and then moved carefully on to the next sensor, and the next.

Sweat rolled down his skin. The agony of the rock made his own sweat burn on his raw skin. He tried not to flinch. He did not want to appear too badly wounded by his false head injury.  If they thought he could no longer work, the guards could insist he be hauled to the surface and fired as useless, losing access for future missions. He has not finished all the sensors, but it will have to be enough.

There are only so many times Artur can fake an injury or orchestrate another reason to hold still with his bare skin touching the rock, for the twenty minutes or so it takes to make a rock visit to sabotage the sensors. A minor rock fall temporarily blocked the workers from moving one day. He had a ‘head injury’ today. Last month his allies covered for him while he stepped into a side tunnel for an overlong ‘pee break’, risking getting him fired. If they couldn’t arrange enough of these small sabotage missions to get the job done, the guards would have to be distracted so several of them could work at once. Before the adepts like him worked in the mine, some very self-sacrificing Althean priestesses, and occasionally, priests, had provided more time consuming and compelling distractions for individual guards. Posing as the lookout for such trysts gave the adepts an excuse to be standing around doing nothing for a few minutes. The guards kept a close eye on their lovers for treachery, but didn’t consider what the lookouts were doing while they were occupied. Being a lookout had also allowed Artur to keep his comrades from being injured if the guard was not gentle in his pursuits, another blasphemy the Terrans seemed to have no problem with. They violate the circle from all sides. The Terrans were crazy. Guards who raped were likely to find themselves falling ill to a wasting disease called “cave sickness”. The Terran doctors diagnosed a severe Terran allergic reaction to cave gases released in the mines. Those doctors failed to notice that the severe convulsions and nausea occurred during or after their patients had decided to get rough with one of the Althean women or boys.

Artur pulled himself back into his personal body. Rising to his feet, pulling his skin from the embrace of the rock, the vibrations and noise felt abruptly much louder, but the pain lessened enough that he could walk. At least there was no need to fake how bad his body felt. Rubbing his head, he told the others that he was a bit better, and able to work. He rejoined them hauling the ore carts full of screaming, sacred stone out of the mine.