Excerpt from
Promise of the Flame

Book Two of the Founders of Maclairn science fiction duology

by Sylvia Engdahl

You had to trust your own unconscious mind, Jesse thought. You had to believe in its power to function in ways past your understanding. Like Luke Skywalker, you had to trust the Force. . . .

He was drifting, spinning, into a dream, but he knew where the ground was, partly because Peter knew, but also because he sensed it, sensed even the location of the landing pad, and he was aware, with some astonishment, that this was how the remote viewers had seen the planet from far above. He had not been trained in remote viewing, but Peter was showing him now what in a less urgent situation might have taken him weeks of practice to grasp. It was instantaneous because psi functioning of this sort occurs outside time. It demanded altered consciousness; he could not have absorbed it if he'd been fully awake. As it was, the skill in flying spacecraft gained through long experience combined with a new and more awesome skill. His hands knew what to do with the controls as Peter's did not, and he knew, too, the contours of the land below them; but only through Peter was he in touch with the reality of the ship's position in time and space. Alone, neither of them could bring it down. Together. . . .

But it was too dangerous! Drawn by the settlement's electronic beacon, the ship had reached low altitude. In sudden panic Jesse jolted back to awareness, struggling unsuccessfully to rise out of sleep. He must take control. . . .

No, Jess, no! Don't fight it! You can't wake now, you'll break the contact. Trust it! Trust your inner mind; it's our only chance.

Peter--we'll be too close to the shelters! I have to control--if I miss the landing pad I'll crash into them!

That's not going to happen.

How can you be sure it won't?

Because I won't let it.

You can't-- Jesse stopped in mid-thought. Peter could. He knew without any exchange of words that Peter was prepared for that possibility. They might die if they failed, but they wouldn't kill the people on the ground. Committing himself fully, he sank once more into the dream state, and the ring of boundary lights, magnified as seen through Peter's eyes, merged with the memory of candlelight . . . they blurred into flames, a bright circle of fire. Always fire . . . time after time, the crises of his life had been marked by fire . . . hearthfire, candles, torches . . . the burning safe house he'd entered to save friends . . . the pyre that had been the Lodge . . . and now he was plummeting into the center of a flaming wheel that rushed up to meet him. His hands were on the controls but he wasn't aware of what they were doing; they acted of their own accord. The ship was on target. Beneath it, the landing lights illumined the pad within the encircling flame; he needed no eyes to know that, for he saw it with the same new inner sense that told him their speed was precisely right.

And then, abruptly, the lights veered to one side, and the ship was coming down too fast. It lurched with a force that threw him hard against his seat harness and the yoke jerked in his hands, so that he no longer had any form of power over it, and the brightness he perceived swung sharply around from right to left. Too fast for even an exchange of thought, Peter had taken over. I'm dreaming, Jesse thought, and I'll wake soon next to Carla . . . and Carla responded instantly, Jesse! Jesse, I'm with you! With you forever--

The thought cut off, and he did not have time to dream about the crash.