Cascading Echoes

CHAPTER EIGHT

-Deck 12-

Michael's footsteps were quick but deliberate as she fell into the corridor. Moving down the dimly lit hallway, she sprinted toward the storage bay. The pressure of countless emotions causing her to stumble, her pulse hammering in her ears as the whispers of the crew's thoughts once again pressed in on her mind. She had to maintain control—she couldn't afford to lose focus now. The corridor was narrow, the walls lined with conduits and access panels. The dim emergency lighting cast long shadows, creating an eerie atmosphere. The hum of the ship's systems was a constant background noise, a reminder of the life-supporting machinery that kept them all alive in the vastness of space.

The air was cool, almost sterile, carrying the faint scent of metal and ozone as the door to the storage bay slid open. The storage bay was a large, cavernous space filled with crates and containers stacked high. The overhead lights flickered slightly now, casting a harsh, industrial glow over everything. The walls were lined with shelves holding various supplies, and the floor a grid of metal plating, echoing slightly with each step. With a soft hiss the doors closed behind her as Michael rushed inside. The automatic lights were unresponsive as she turned, sensing two minds hidden behind cargo canisters stacked throughout the room. Stepping out as Michael tried to exit the room, Chief Petty Officer Korrak, the towering Klingon with his usual stoic intensity, and Petty Officer Tharok, the blind Aenar, his white, sightless eyes watching her more keenly than anyone else aboard Discovery, greeted her.

"I guess he was right after all," Korrak said surprised.

Turning to face them, Michael knew, they knew, why she was there—and why they would stop her.

Michael barely had time to think as she darted behind a row of crates, her heart pounding in her chest. Tharok's mental attack hit her like a tidal wave, the telepathic force knocking her off balance. Her mind was bombarded with an overwhelming rush of sensations—his heightened senses flooding into her, the cold metal of the storage room, the faint vibrations of the ship's hull, even the steady rhythm of Korrak's pulse. Her vision blurred as she tried to fend off the invasive thoughts, but the weight of it threatened to drown her.

Gritting her teeth, Michael fought to regain control. She couldn't afford to succumb to Tharok's mental assault, not now. As she struggled to push back, Korrak's thunderous steps closed in, the sound of his boots clanging against the metal floor echoing through the storage bay. A stun blast whizzed past her shoulder, barely missing her as she dove to the side, rolling behind another stack of crates.

"Korrak, don't make this harder than it has to be," Michael shouted, her voice strained. But the Klingon gave no reply. Another stun blast, then another, forcing her to stay on the defensive, darting between crates as the heavy clang of Korrak's boots got closer.

The telepathic pressure in her mind intensified as Tharok's influence deepened. She felt his presence probing her every thought, searching for weaknesses, exploiting her distractions. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she fought to suppress the panic rising in her chest. The room seemed to close in on her, the walls and crates pressing tighter.

Then, something snapped inside her.

Michael's hand shot up instinctively, and the air around her shimmered as a powerful pulse of telekinetic energy exploded outward. Crates and cargo canisters were flung across the room as if swept by an invisible hurricane, smashing into walls and scattering debris. Tharok recoiled as if struck by a physical blow, his mental attack disrupted, while Korrak staggered backward, momentarily stunned by the force of the blast.

The telekinetic surge coursed through Michael's veins, wild and untamed. Her mind felt raw, her thoughts burning with newfound power. She could feel everything now—the weight of every object in the room, the tension in the air, the subtle vibrations of the ship beneath her feet. And she could feel them—Tharok's calculated focus, Korrak's burning resolve.

She didn't have time to process it. Korrak recovered quickly, lunging at her with the speed and ferocity of a true warrior. He swung his disruptor rifle like a club, aiming for her midsection. But Michael's reflexes, heightened by her telekinetic awareness, kicked in. She sidestepped the blow with ease, her hand shooting up once more. This time, she focused on the rifle itself, and with a flick of her wrist, the weapon was wrenched from Korrak's grasp and sent spinning across the room.

The Klingon roared in frustration, charging at her with fists raised. He was faster than she expected—too fast. His first punch grazed her arm, sending a jolt of pain through her body. But the second strike never landed. Michael's mind reached out instinctively, halting Korrak's attack mid-swing. His arm froze in place, suspended by her telekinetic grip. The look of shock on his face was almost comical as he realized what was happening.

"Not today," she muttered through gritted teeth.

With a forceful push, Michael sent Korrak flying backward. He crashed into a stack of crates with a thunderous impact, the metal creaking under his weight as the entire structure collapsed around him.

But there was no time to savor the victory. Tharok had recovered, and now his telepathic assult intensified. The mental pressure returned with full force, sharper and more focused this time. Michael winced as the pain shot through her skull, threatening to tear her mind apart. She could hear his voice in her head, cold and relentless.

You cannot win, Commander. You are outmatched.

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. "I'm just getting started."

Gathering every ounce of her strength, Michael pushed back. The mental battle between them was fierce, their thoughts colliding in a maelstrom of raw psychic energy. Tharok's mental grip tightened, like sharp teeth bitting into her mind. But Michael's own telepathic abilities surged in response, growing stronger with every second. She could feel the barriers of her mind breaking down, her power expanding beyond anything she had ever known. Snapping the jaws of Tharok's mental hold, his mind unhinged.

In a sudden burst of mental clarity, Michael broke through. Tharok gasped, his telepathic connection severed, as he staggered backward. His hands shot to his head, covering his temples, his face contorted in pain. Without missing a beat, Michael reached out with her telekinesis, yanking his comms badge from his chest and crushing it in midair.

"I'm sorry, Tharok," Michael said, her voice tinged with regret. "But I can't let you stop me."

With her crewmates down and her powers fully unleashed, Michael took a steadying breath and stepped forward, her mind still humming with the energy she had tapped into. This wasn't over, but she was ready. For the first time in her life, she felt truly in control.

Her path was clear. Nothing would stop her now.