Conduit

You'd felt so proud when you were given a ship of your own. A small one, like most, just enough room for you and two others - a navigator to chart your path and mind your communications, and a technician to operate the delicate machinery of Observation. After taking a few test flights with a teacher's help, you'd received permission to pilot it alone. And you'd chosen to invite two friends - your very closest friends - to travel by your side. Only as passengers, not crew, since all you were meant to do was follow the rest of the fleet back to the Sungrazer. But you had reminded them, dizzy with happiness, that you would choose them as crew the very moment you received your first official assignment.

You'd gotten ready for the flight like always. That nervous anticipation swirling in your stomach, just like always. And, just like always, it slipped away as soon as you slid the mask over your face and reached out to the controls, letting your awareness slide out from your body and into your ship.

You hadn't noticed anything off about either of your passengers, any warning signs in their actions. Nothing. You'd known what they both were doing, of course, a gentle awareness in the back of your mind as you focused on flight - your technician deeply asleep in a bunk, unlikely to wake up for most of the journey, and your navigator sitting near you, watching you intently as your hands danced across the controls and your power arced from your eyes, down your arms, into your ship.

Maybe there had been warning signs.

But you just hadn't realized. You'd barely even noticed when they stood up and stepped toward you in an oddly purposeful way, you'd only been surprised when their fingers brushed your hair aside, grazing your neck. The touch wasn't enough to pull you out of flight-trance, of course - there isn't much that can pull someone out of flight-trance if they don't want to be. But it was enough to make you notice. And then they'd pressed harder, letting their power flicker down their arm and into their fingertips to spark against your skin.

They've been there for a few seconds now, long enough for you to realize that something is terribly wrong. They smile, slowly, seeing you shiver in a delayed reaction to their touch.

Then they speak.

"We're not going to the Sungrazer station."

You try to respond, but you're too deep in flight-trance to use your voice. Instead, its sound comes through the little speakers set into the ceiling. You'd almost forgotten your ship could do that, and - underneath the fear that's starting to creep through you - you feel a little glow of pride. "Yeah we are, that's where we're all going this trip. I told you that already."

They laugh, and move their hand slightly. From a less-than-gentle touch, to a firm grip on the back of your neck. You can feel the pulse of their power within their hand, the current running down your spinal cord miniscule in comparison, and you realize that all they have to do is bring that power out slightly, and then it'll be their electricity in your nerves, their will overriding your motion. "No, we aren't," they say. "You're going to take us to Exequia Wake. You know where that is, right?"

As they tighten their grip just slightly, you notice a sensation in your stomach like it's being pulled downward within you. That's fear, you remember. Fear localized to the physical body. Distantly, you wonder if there's something important about that. You're so deep in the ship that you want to ignore your friend's hand around your neck, their power a fingerswidth from your spine. But then your power sparks, a small uncontrolled arc that breaks from the flow into the ship and instead sinks into your skin. You can see from every angle the small burn mark just next to your left eye, and the slightly singed line on the underside of your mask. And you remember. Why you can't let yourself panic. Fear puts the body on alert, ready to run and hide. Fear breaks your control of your power. If you let the fear overwhelm you, you'll lose control. You'll lose the trance, you'll lose your ship, you'll lose everything. Nothing matters now except controlling that fear.

You slow your breaths, feeling your body shake slightly as, under your mask, another spark makes contact with your skin. Your friend asks, "Well? Are you going to take us to the Wake, or do I have to make you?" Their fingers tap in a rhythmic pattern on the side of your neck, gently sparking with each touch.

You respond through the ship's speakers. "I'll go to Exequia Wake." Your voice sounds surprisingly calm - the half-controlled fear is still apparent, but none of the hesitancy that your shaking vocal cords would have given it makes it through.

They don't move their hand. "Good, good. Get to it."

Obediently, you begin to adjust course. You know you're still in control of your motions, but as you watch your hands move across the controls, it almost feels like they're doing so without your input. Every few seconds, a stray spark runs off one finger or another and leaves a smudge of soot on the panel. You're still panicking. "Can you... please move your hand?" you dare to ask. "It's making me... I'm..." You trail off, losing track of your words as you try to focus on controlling your power.

"Aw, scared? Are you really going to let a little fear stop you? You're a talented pilot, you know... you're not as delicate as they say you are." Your friend taps their fingers in a little rhythm against your neck again. "And I like watching you work. I'll stay right here and watch, as you prove them all wrong."

"You can still watch, just hhhh, don't-" Even through the speakers, you're losing speech. Your body is breathing more quickly now, despite your efforts to control it.

"And," they interrupt, "I'd like to see you do it a bit faster, too. Can you do that? Give it a bit more speed? For me?" Their voice suddenly becomes terrifyingly gentle.

"I... I'm already..."

They briefly tighten their grip again, letting some power through their fingertips to sting your skin. It's not a request.

You accelerate, pushing more power into the ship from within yourself, and simultaneously pushing your awareness deeper in as well. Your body is shaking too much to use the controls now, but it doesn't matter, you're directing the ship with nothing but your mind as your trembling hands curl weakly around the levers. Your power arcs out from your eyes in spurts that singe the inside of your mask before sinking deep into your skin to trace now-glowing lines down your face and arms, lines that you can distantly feel a burning pain pulse through with every rapid heartbeat. Thin wisps of smoke begin to rise from the blackened surfaces of the levers where your fingertips touch them. You hear a strange sound within the ship, and it takes you several minutes to realize it's your own breathing, now more similar to sobbing.

You almost don't notice when your friend lifts their hand from your neck after one of the numerous sparks wracking your body sinks into their skin, and when, without their grip to hold it in place, your body collapses forward, masked face pressing against the controls you've long since cut off input from.

And you fully fail to notice that your other friend has woken up, that they've gotten out of their bunk and are running to the front of the ship. All you can see is your flight path, all you can feel is the power overflowing from your body and pouring into your body. You can't hear them as they shout, "What are you doing to them?!" You can't hear the response, spoken too quietly for anyone to hear over the sounds of power arcing from your eyes, from your hands, into your circuits. You can't see as one passenger moves to confront the other, you can't feel as their hand accidentally brushes your back where you lie slumped over at the controls. You can't hear the explosion as three bodies' worth of electricity rips through both of your dearest friends and into the metal floor. You can't smell the odor of burnt hair and scorched flesh that slowly rises through the now much quieter ship.

You don't even notice the flow of electricity from your still twitching body beginning to lessen. It doesn't stop, just slows, to a volume that some still dimly aware part of you knows can be sustained. All you can feel is your flight path, your course still charted for the planet Exequia Wake.

Eventually, there's no more path to follow, and you're almost aware of the atmosphere that suddenly surrounds you. Distantly, so distantly, you notice ground approaching, and you decelerate just in time for it to hit, feeling your hull scrape across the stone as you come to a stop.