In the distant future, when humanity conquered the Moon and founded colonies on its surface, life on this unchanging satellite of the Earth became a familiar reality for many generations. Among the pioneers who developed this silent space were the parents of a girl named Delia Yonce.
The baby was born into a family where the cultural roots of her mother from sunny Portugal and her father from reckless America were intertwined. From childhood, she showed an extraordinary craving for movement. The sport that became her first passion covered everything from gymnastics to skiing and swimming, and her grace and precision of movement made her a natural on any stage.
But Delia's true love was art. She showed her talents in the school choir, surprising everyone with her vocals, and dancing, especially jazz and ballet, allowed her to reveal her uniqueness. These early passions became the basis of her future career on stage, where she used not only skill, but also hidden powers.
The moon base, living in the rhythm of scientific discoveries and everyday affairs, often left its inhabitants in the illusion of monotony under the safety of their domes. But Delia always felt something more. Her telekinetic abilities, which she had long hidden from everyone around her, became part of her art. Telekinesis was woven into her dances and roles, giving them that very magic that everyone felt, but only a few could explain.
One fine day, she stood on stage, squinting from the bright beams of spotlights, enveloping her figure in soft light. The performance in which she played the main role was to be the central event of the Festival of Arts and Perfection, held annually at the base. Her movements were flawless, as if honed by years of training in gymnastics and dance. But it was not only about skill "Delia's hidden abilities gave her performance something more.
As soon as the last fragment was finished, the hall exploded with applause.
"Bravo!" a voice came from the back rows.
It was the director of the production, Mr. Berneasy, a man who had seen something special in Delia from the moment she arrived at the Academy.
"Thank you," Delia said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and smiling slightly.
She looked down at the stage floor, feeling her heart beat in time with the completed rehearsal "after all, everyone in the audience had been smiling, clapping, and congratulating her. But a strange premonition had already begun to form inside Delia "a slight twinge of anxiety, as if an invisible thread were pulling her toward something important that had not yet happened.
"Delia, I'm letting you go for today," Berneasy's voice suddenly rang out, bringing her out of her thoughts. "You did great, rest. There's only one day left until the festival, tomorrow we'll do it all over again."
She nodded gratefully and headed backstage, where peace and quiet were the usual companions of these walls. Her personal dressing room was nearby. Delia sat in front of the mirror, peering into her reflection.
"Telekinesis is not the main thing," she reminded herself, recalling the words of her teachers at the Academy.
However, it seemed that everything in her life was beginning to revolve around this power. Delia raised her hand, and the lamp on the table, as if obeying her thought, rose into the air, spinning in zero gravity. She smiled: it was her personal consolation, her way of coping with the chaos that sometimes reigned inside.
"Tomorrow... Earth," suddenly occurred to her.
Soon she would go there, to her boyfriend, to distant Portugal. It should have been a trip filled with ease and relaxation. But for some reason the premonition did not leave her "as if something elusive pulled her attention in another direction. Her communicator rang, startling her. Delia opened the message and saw: "Flight to Earth confirmed. Departure tomorrow at 8:00 AM."
"All set," she thought, and was about to get up from behind the mirror when her communicator beeped again.
She glanced at the screen in irritation, expecting to see another flight confirmation or congratulations on a successful rehearsal. But the message was of a different nature.
"Earth Convention Notice: You have been named as a witness in the case of Japhet Byrnes. Attendance is mandatory. Details will be provided upon arrival in Tokyo."
Delia frowned, clutching the communicator in her hand and rereading the message again, hoping that she had imagined it. But no, it was clear. She had been chosen as a witness. But why? What connection could she have with this mysterious man?
"Impossible..." Delia muttered, staring at the screen.
Her fingers trembled as she quickly typed a reply: "Please clarify the reason for my involvement in this matter. I do not know Japhet Byrnes."
The reply came almost immediately: "Full details will be provided upon arrival. Await further instructions."
She felt anxiety slowly flooding her. Plans for a vacation, a holiday with a loved one began to slowly crumble. Whatever awaited her on Earth, it would no longer be a peaceful trip.
"Why me?" she whispered, peering into the void.
A bad thought was beginning to awaken inside her. Maybe it was her powers? But why was the Convention so interested in her? Delia understood that her abilities were not a secret for a narrow circle of people, but she did not think that they would become a reason for involving her in such serious political affairs.
She rose from her chair and nervously paced the room, trying to comprehend what had happened. Her thoughts rushed from one question to another. Who is this Japhet Byrnes? Why does the Convention require her as a witness? And what is happening on Earth anyway?
"We must calm down," she told herself, taking a deep breath. "Now is not the time to panic. Perhaps this is just a mistake or a bureaucratic formality."
But something inside her was already bothering her, as if an invisible dark vortex was beginning to swirl around her life.
Delia stopped at the window and looked at the Earth. In the black velvet of space, it glowed with an even blue light, seemed so far away and at the same time close. No matter how hard she tried to calm down, the uneasy premonition grew.
The Earth, which was supposed to be a place of rest for her, was now associated with something dangerous, mysterious. Delia's thoughts rushed between the joy of the upcoming meeting with her beloved and the growing anxiety from the unexpected message. She knew that this visit would change, but she was still determined to go. She was not going to refuse the trip to Earth, despite this strange requirement of the Convention.
"This could be a mistake," she convinced herself. "Everything will become clear when I arrive."
For a few more minutes, she tried to force herself to calm down, after which she slowly walked to the closet and began to pack her things. The trip to Earth required minimal luggage, so her light bag was almost empty. Outfits for performances and personal items, some mementos that she always surrounded herself with during her travels.
As she got ready, she mentally replayed the conversation with her beloved "how to explain to him that her plans had changed? However, deep down, Delia already knew the answer: she would not tell him anything.
"Better to leave him in the dark," she muttered, putting the last set of clothes into her bag.
Her boyfriend didn't know about her powers, about the political intrigue, or about the strange things that the Convention was involved in. She didn't want to involve him in this chaos. If this was really a mistake, as she hoped, he wouldn't know anything, and if it was more serious, it would be safer for him.
Delia stopped in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection. Mixed emotions were reflected in the depths of her eyes "joy at the fact that she would soon see her boyfriend, and anxiety about what awaited her on Earth.
She smiled, and her communicator blinked again "the time for departure was approaching. Delia took one last look at the room that had been her home since she was born. Her entire life on the Moon Base, from her studies at the Academy to rehearsals, seemed distant and unreal at this moment.
Closing the door behind her, Delia headed for the elevator leading to the spaceport. Images of the upcoming trip, meeting the guy, the inevitable confrontation with the Convention and... Japhet Byrnes flashed through her mind. Who was this man? And why had she been chosen to take part in his case?
The moon corridors stretched in silence, broken only by Delia's light steps. The path to the spaceport on the Moon Base was one of the busiest places on the station. The white sterile corridor, filled with the voices and noise of passengers, created a contrast with the silent emptiness of space beyond its walls. People hurried, dragging luggage behind them, talking to each other, animatedly discussing their plans and routes.
Delia held a bag in her hands, which now seemed even lighter to her than before. She walked through the automatic doors and up to the front desk, trying to remain calm.
"Your ID, please," the robotic voice behind the desk said monotonously.
Delia swiped the chip through the scanner, and the device quickly checked her details.
"Delia Yonce, flight to Earth, direction Tokyo. Departure in forty-five minutes. Please proceed to customs control," the robot continued.
She nodded and took her document. Everything inside her sank "thoughts of what awaited her in Tokyo did not give her peace. She tried to imagine a meeting with the Convention, thoughts of Japhet Byrnes flashed through her head like uninvited shadows. However, Delia still hoped that this was a misunderstanding, that her stay in Tokyo would be limited to formalities only, and she would soon get to her beloved Portugalia.
Following the signs, she soon found herself in the customs control zone. Here, people were divided into several rows, each was checked for the presence of prohibited technologies or substances. The moon base, being an autonomous facility with special laws, had strict rules for departure to Earth. Abilities like Delia's telekinesis were not recorded in the databases, so she could pass through the checks without attracting unnecessary attention. Her powers were a personal secret, known only to a few people at the Academy.
"Please step into the scanner," the customs officer said, pointing her to a large transparent chamber surrounded by many sensors.
Delia nodded silently and stepped inside. The scanning took a few seconds. The air around her turned cold for a moment as the scanner beams scanned her body and belongings.
"It's all right, miss Yonce," the officer said. "You may go."
Delia thanked him and walked into the boarding area. Soon, a huge transparent dome appeared before her eyes, behind which her ship was visible "shiny and slender, like a giant silver arrow ready to rush into space. It was beautiful in its technological perfection, and this sight calmed her anxiety a little.
Her flight was ready to land. She paused for a moment, breathing in the light, sterile air of the spaceport. It seemed that every step she took brought her closer to something unknown and dangerous. A mixture of joy and anxiety continued to play in her heart, like two intertwining melodies. She quickly checked her communicator "no new messages.
Delia headed for the entrance to the ship. The stewardess, smiling politely, checked her ticket and pointed to the right seat.
"Have a nice flight, miss Yonce," she said with professional courtesy.
Nodding, Delia walked along the narrow aisle, among the other passengers, and sat down in her seat by the window. Beyond, black stars were visible and the Earth, closer and closer. Delia's heart beat alarmingly, but she knew "there was no way back.
Soon she found herself on Earth, in Tokyo. The spaceport there was noisy and crowded. When Delia stepped off the ship, she was immediately surrounded by a stream of people rushing to their business, meeting relatives, or simply wandering in the endless rhythm of the metropolis. The space was saturated with smells, voices, and endless movement. But in all this bustle, Delia felt something else "subtle glances that seemed to pierce her, forcing her to tense up inside. People moved around her, but it seemed that some of them lingered a little longer than necessary, looking at her furtively, as if recognizing her, although there was no logic to it. Of course, she could attract attention with her appearance "a brunette beauty with unusual features reminiscent of a mixture of Portuguese and American blood "but this seemed more like something conscious, as if someone was watching her every step.
She tried not to panic and, throwing her bag over her shoulder, headed towards the exit of the spaceport. As she walked through the hall, she caught someone's gaze again "this time from a man in a formal suit, who was standing by the wall, pretending to talk on a communicator. His eyes slid over her figure, then quickly returned to the screen of the device. "Just a coincidence," Delia tried to convince herself, but the feeling of being watched was becoming more and more intrusive.
As soon as she left the spaceport building, she was greeted by the humid air of Tokyo, warm and a little heavy. The feeling of being watched intensified, although there were hundreds of people around. She pulled the strap of her bag a little tighter and turned the corner, leaving the main road. Now her goal was to get to the hotel where she was supposed to stay before the Convention contacted her. It all seemed like a strange dream, where reality was intertwined with growing anxiety.
Suddenly her communicator vibrated. Delia stopped, taking it out of her pocket. An unfamiliar name appeared on the screen: "Convention Representative."
"We know you have already arrived. Await instructions and do not try to hide. We are watching."
The words passed like a cold icy stream down her spine. Delia looked around. The crowd around her continued to move, but now she was sure "she was really being watched. The message on her communicator screen confirmed her worst fears. A mixture of fear and anger flared up inside her.
"Watched? For how long?" her thoughts raced, but she knew it was too late to retreat.
She needed to find out what they wanted from her. As soon as she read the first message, the communicator vibrated again and gave a second: "Car is waiting at the corner." Delia took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to run, and headed for the location indicated in the message. A dark, nondescript car was parked on the corner of the street. The window was slightly open, and a man in a gray suit "clearly one of the types she had spotted back at the spaceport "nodded at her.
"Delia Yonce?" he asked, bowing his head slightly as if greeting her.
She nodded, and the man opened the door, motioning her inside. The interior was greeted by a faint smell of artificial leather and a subdued tension. There were already two people inside "a middle-aged woman with dark hair pulled back, and a man with silver stubble and a stern gaze. Both looked like representatives of authority, and their presence exuded a cold, formal air.
"My name is Joan Hart," the woman said evenly, turning to Delia. "And this is my colleague, Paul Buher. We are representatives of the Convention."
Delia nodded, trying to hide her nervousness.
"We are grateful that you arrived so promptly," Joan continued, cutting her off from the conversation. "Your abilities may prove most useful in a delicate matter."
"In the Japhet Byrnes case?" Delia finally asked, feeling her insides tighten.
Her voice was unexpectedly firm, although she wanted to scream in indignation. Joan nodded, glancing at her colleague before focusing her attention back on Delia.
"Exactly. Japhet Byrnes has been accused of a number of crimes against the Earth Convention. But his actions are much more complex than they may seem at first glance. We suspect that behind his activities there are larger intrigues connected with the disappearance of several important people and technologies," her gaze became even sharper. "And we have reason to believe that your abilities can help in finding out the truth."
"Why me?" Delia could not hide her bewilderment and slight annoyance. "I am an actress, not an agent."
Buher, who had been sitting silently with a stone face until now, spoke for the first time, his voice low and serious:
"We know about your unusual abilities, miss Yonce. Telekinesis, energy manipulation, something that others do not have. The Convention has long been monitoring your progress at the Academy and your powers. These abilities may help us in uncovering information that Byrnes is hiding. Perhaps he uses high technology or... Or something that is beyond ordinary understanding.
Delia paused, considering what she had heard. She had always known that her powers set her apart from others, but she had no idea that they had attracted this level of attention. The feeling that she was just a pawn in someone's game was becoming more and more obvious.
"We suspect that Byrnes has access to technology that can hide information or alter consciousness. Such technology can resist conventional interrogation or investigation methods," Joan continued. "But your abilities may help us bypass these barriers."
"And what do you want from me?" Delia was tired of formal speeches. She wanted a clear answer.
"We want you to help us interrogate Byrnes," Buher said calmly. "You'll be able to sense if he tries to use his hidden technology or powers. In fact, your abilities may be able to penetrate his defenses and allow us to get answers."
Delia looked at them, torn between her intuitive distrust and the understanding that she had little choice. She was already caught in their net. The only question was how to get out of it with the least amount of losses.
"Okay," she finally answered, pulling herself together. "But I want to know all the details."
Joan nodded, indicating that this was a reasonable request.
"You will find out everything, Miss Yonce," she promised. "All in good time."
It was getting dark, and Tokyo was bathed in soft light. Soon Delia was sitting at a table in one of the stylish restaurants, where traditional Japanese elements contrasted with modern technology. Large windows overlooked the glittering lights of the city, and the table lights pulsed softly, creating an intimate atmosphere.
In addition to Joan and Buher, there were several other high-profile figures invited to the dinner, and Delia noticed that they were conversing with each other with a slight tension. The conversations ranged from politics to the latest in technology, but Delia found herself wondering if there was more going on behind the polite conversation. She felt her intuition working at full capacity, heightened by the meeting with the Convention representatives.
During dinner, her attention was drawn to one of the men who sat to Joan's right. He looked quite ordinary: polite, with a well-groomed beard and a piercing gaze. But something in his manner of communication made her wary. He tried to smile and ask questions, but there was no sincerity in his voice. Delia noticed how his fingers restlessly fiddled with the cutlery, and his eyes occasionally flickered from side to side, as if he were looking for something or someone.
"Delia, you really do seem to have extraordinary abilities," he began, turning to her, his smile still in place, but there was something else in his eyes. "I wonder what it was like to develop them at the Academy."
"Yes, it was not easy," she answered, trying to sound confident.
But she could not shake the feeling that his interest was more than just professional. His gaze lingered on her a little longer than it should have, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, but it seemed painful. Delia decided she would not remain silent. She studied people, their emotions and intentions. And now something clearly did not add up in his image.
"Don't you think that not only do I have powers, but I also perhaps understand how to use them better than most?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and looking him straight in the eye.
The man looked slightly embarrassed, but his smile did not disappear. He leaned closer to her and said in a low tone:
"You are very perceptive, Delia. It is a very valuable quality. But let's say that sometimes it is better not to know too much. There are things in this world that are best left beyond your understanding."
There was a threat in his tone, disguised as friendliness. Delia could not understand what "things" he meant, but she instinctively knew that his true intentions were hidden under a layer of flattery and politeness. Joan Hart, noticing their exchange of glances, intervened, adding:
"We are here to discuss important matters related to the Byrnes case. I hope we all understand that honesty and openness are the keys to our success."
The man only nodded at this, but Delia's intuition told her that the hidden motives had not yet been revealed. Dinner continued, but Delia could hardly concentrate on the food. Thoughts of the man who seemed to be hiding his true intentions did not leave her. She searched his eyes for an answer, realizing that soon she would have to stand up for not only herself, but also her abilities, which, as it turned out, could play a decisive role in this dangerous game.
The silence that reigned at the table seemed awkward. Delia felt her inner tension growing with each passing minute. She mentally braced herself to use her abilities. Her powers were a gift, but like any weapon, they required careful handling. She knew that touching another person's thoughts was risky, but now she needed to know the truth about the man who seemed too curious and too persistent.
Delia took a deep breath, trying to focus. Her thoughts faded into the background, and she focused on the vibes emanating from the man. At first, she tried to simply feel his emotions, his fears and hopes. But gradually, like a careful beam of light, she directed her energy into his mind.