The Wasps attack at night this time.

It doesn't matter to me in the least. But they don't know it. They only know that in the past it was a successful strategy. They have no idea the jet fighters don't need their eyes anymore. I am their eyes.

Master Auberon gives a little speech before the soldiers take off. Just the usual bullshit, about heroism and hard times. But this time, everyone else takes it seriously. They look at him as if a god was talking to them. It's more than admiration. It's worshipping. They would die for him without thinking twice.

And probably they will. But not today. If everything goes well, I won't let them.

When Master Auberon calls the Wasps soulless monsters, my mouth twitches, but I don't start to argue, of course. If they didn't have a soul, I wouldn't be able to sense them, but he's probably just as aware of it as I am. He just says what's good for the morale. In a way, which is good for the morale.

His voice helps a lot. It's deep, determined and commanding. When he talks about our upcoming victory, the pilots believe him. Without a doubt. And it's only me, who sees him, how wistfully he looks after the last fighter, taking off.

This time I'm the operator from the start. Timur stands by me and helps me.

I promise myself not to go too deep.

Maybe it won't be necessary either. Maybe there will be fewer of them this time. Their human, or rather, insectian resources can't be infinite either.

When the attack arrives, we can't believe our eyes. It's a bigger swarm than ever.

"How is it possible?" whispers Master Auberon somewhere behind my back, standing strictly two steps away from me.

That's my question exactly, but I have neither the strength, nor the time to agree.

When I open the doors of perception, my mind gets flooded at once. Everything is happening too fast. The dots appearing on my inner map are seemingly endless. When I finally rule my urge to let some of them slip out of my mental grasp, an instant headache hits me.

It's so immediate, that it feels like divine a punishment. Sent directly by the absent gods themselves, for trying to see everything. For overstepping the line, by stealing a peek at the infinite. For making an attempt to take over their job. Just like Master Auberon told me, just in all seriousness this time, without a joke.

I spread my arms on the surface of the table. It feels like a fixed point in a world of pain.

I already feel at the end of my endurance, and it only has started. Just when I feel that I'm in control of everything, things get even faster. Almost too fast to follow, not only for me, but for the pilots too. My orders are becoming a bit slurred, but I can't help it. It's not me, it's the events.

Timur praises me in that calm, reassuring voice of his. He tells me that I'm doing well. If he knew exactly what I'm doing at the moment, he'd look for another adjective though, like desperate, or crazy, or something like this. But he can't see what's happening outside the radar's radius.

I'm trying to speak articulately, but I'm a pulsating epicenter of agony. I imagine that I send the pain out of my head, through my brainwaves, and I kill the entire army of wasps in a second. But unfortunately, it doesn't work that way.

I also try not to faint. But it's getting harder and harder to refuse the comfort of unconsciousness.

Timur can't help me anymore. He tries to soothe my obvious pain, massaging my back, and holding my hand. Master Auberon is pacing again behind my back, sounding worried. If he is, I can't blame him. The battle doesn't look good for us. Especially if I'm out of it soon.

I feel tears smearing my face. They somehow escaped my closed eyelids.

My body's rebelling against the pressure. It starts with trembling. Then it turns into violent shaking.

I close my eyes tightly, trying to stop it. I hear Timur's voice, but it sounds as if he was standing behind a closed door. It's just probably the closing barriers of my mind.

"Come out," he begs me. Even his usual cool seems to vanish.

I can't. It would mean that I abandon our people. So I go on, even if I feel like my head is splitting open by the junctions. But my sheer will doesn't seem to be enough to keep me there. I feel like floating. Like flying away. It's not my body, it's my consciousness. I'm in urgent need of an anchor.

I bite my tongue, to make it move. Somehow I manage to squeeze a few words out.

"I need an anchor."

Timur doesn't understand it. He sounds close to panicking. I must look terrible, like a possessed soul from a horror movie in urgent need of an exorcist, but still, I need his help. I touch the microphone first, then I touch his shoulder. This, he finally understands. And he does what he does best. He takes the operation over, as seamlessly as humanly possible. I hardly hear how he warns the fighters to retreat for an unspecified time. The buzzing in my head is too loud.

But I'm still keeping my inner map alive. I simply can't let go of the targets. I don't want to, either. If I do, we lose. Frankly and squarely. And I'd rather die trying than to give up.

I grab the arms of my chair, to anchor my consciousness into the material world. It always worked. Except for now. Now it's not enough. I still feel like leaving my body.

"Fuck, I need a—" I groan desperately.

I feel a pair of hands touching my shoulders. Heavy and strong hands. They are pressing me back to my seat. Physically, of course, but strangely, it's also having an effect on my mind. My body is kept in place, and also, as illogical it sounds, I am also kept in my body. It's finally something steady in a realm of chaos.

A moment later I feel a cool forehead pressing against the nape of my neck. The soothing effect is as immediate as the headache was before. There is also a deep voice, coming from behind my back. It's determined and commanding, devoid of any gentleness.

"Breathe," Master Auberon orders, and I comply without thinking.

"Okay," he goes on. "You're doing great. Now follow my lead."

I follow his breathing, without giving it a second thought. It's much slower than mine.

It helps. When I fall into his pattern, it makes me slow down too. The anxiety leaves my body, and I feel able to concentrate again.

I've never thought that breathing could be such a demanding task, until he came and took it over from me. It feels like being on life support. Our harmonized state also makes me feel as if we had a collective nervous system, just like the wasps. And it's not only me. He feels it too.

"If there's any way you can use me...," he mutters, leaving the rest to me. And I know exactly what he means. He means what he says. Word by word. Giving me permission, that if I happen to have a mystical method to expand my mind, using his too, to go on with it. But I don't.

So I can't use him. Not in a way he imagined it. But in another way, I absolutely can. And not just as a ventilator.

He's on my map now. I can see him. Honestly, I'd see him even if I wanted to disregard him. It's impossible not to pay attention to the small dot positioned so close to me. Because it's unlike any other. It's burning bright. It has a strong, piercing light of its own. So I can't help it, I detect everything, without even looking.

He's not scared.

He's the only target on the whole map that's not scared at all. And he wasn't lying. He's ready for anything. Anything, in a literal sense of the word. Open for whatever the situation requires, without trying to uphold any kind of mental protection. He's an open book. And absolutely fearless.

For a second I forget about everything, the Wasps, the battle, even Master Auberon's psychical self, pressing his forehead against my neck, keeping me breathing.

I just stare mentally at the bright, distinctive dot, with my mouth agape.

It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.