The capsuleer sent tendrils of thought into the body of his ship. His consciousness raced through every power conduit and network bus in the vast infrastructure of the Orca class vessel. Dozens of cameras became his eyes, their attendant microphones his ears. The void caressed the smooth metallic skin of his new body, and it felt good. It felt right. He was home.
With a familiar exertion of his cybernetically enhanced mind, the capsuleer sent his psychic tendrils further outward still. Straining against their limitations, his thoughts reached across the void to penetrate the minds of his fleetmates. He was rewarded with the sensation of possessing many minds at once, many bodies, many ships. No matter how many times he activated the mindlink, the experience never grew old.
In the back of his mind, the foreman felt vague impressions of his fleetmates thoughts, their inherent individuality fighting against his influence. He did not push back. A mindlink was not something to be forced. Rather, he made subtle suggestions, gently guiding their thoughts, letting their responses come slowly and naturally.
In less than an hour, twenty-seven mining lasers were moving in unison with the foreman's thoughts - an entire squad of Hulks. The hulk pilots went about their usual routine - moving their ships from asteroid to asteroid, thinking about their homes and their lives and their hopes and their dreams - but it was the foreman who guided their lasers. In a sense, the other capsuleers were no better than the menial crew aboard the foreman's own Orca. They served as his hands, his body, but he was the mind that controlled the operation. His was the will behind the turn of every gear and the spark of every wire.
Author
Topic: The Foreman [Flash Fiction] (Read 1183 times)