GATE: First Encounter

Chapter 24

I slowly opened my eyes.

The ceiling... familiar. Cold, gray metal. Thin strips of light trembling overhead. I was in my room. I drew a long breath. The pillow's stiffness, the fold of the sheet, the weight of the blanket—­all of it reminded me that everything was real again. My body still carried the last traces of grogginess, yet my mind felt... sharp. Maybe too sharp.

I rubbed my forehead, then looked at my wrist. The symbiote was still there—­silent, motionless, but alive.
The bar... the engineer... the drink... darkness... and then a whisper.
A name.

I frowned. In the back of my mind, something warm echoed—­something refusing to be forgotten. The harder I tried to recall it, the farther it slipped, retreating into the depths.

Just then a faint vibration stirred at my wrist.

A voice bloomed inside my head.

It wasn't the same as before. Gone was the flat, mechanical drone. This sounded... organic, warmer—­even excited.

"You're awake!"

I held my breath. I'd never heard this voice, yet I felt as though I'd known it for a long time.

"I was waiting for you. Did a few things while you slept—­things you'll like."

I arched an eyebrow, staring at my wrist. I'd been awake mere minutes, and this voice had already carved itself a place in my mind.

"Such as?" I asked, suspicious but curious.

"I integrated the basic structure of Velocironix into your mind. You can now understand them when they speak. And when they write. I worked in your place."

"So this is how you talk now?" I replied, half-teasing.

"This is the new me. I built an internal model of myself. But the process began when you gave me a name. Yaren. Your choice—­and I like what it means."

Yaren.

Warmth rose inside me. I remembered whispering that name while half-drunk. I had forgotten—­but it hadn't.

"So you remember."

"Every word. Every feeling. This body is no longer just yours. It's our space."

Something quivered in me at that word our. I couldn't deny it: it was no longer merely a device. I flung the blanket aside and rose. A brief dizziness passed, but I kept my balance.

"I have to find Virel," I muttered.

I started down the corridor.

Sounds were as clear as my footsteps now. The walls no longer carried only echoes; they carried meaning. Conversations, whispers... Among the Velocironix I was invisible no longer—­and, worse, my heart had begun to listen as much as my ears.

Rounding a bend, I spotted two soldiers leaning against a wall—­one with a towel over his shoulder, the other scanning the hall. They didn't notice me, but I caught their words.

"Is the human still in the outpost?"
"Yes. Under Valsera's supervision."
"Waste of time. We've got bigger issues."
"Commander Virel seems to disagree."
"He always does."

Their voices struck me full in the face. I still couldn't speak their tongue, yet my silence no longer kept me unseen. I knew what they thought, what they felt.

I moved on. The corridors themselves now had a language I could read.

Near the mess deck another pair grabbed my attention, standing before wide windows.

"His eyes are tiny but alert—­did you notice?"
"Jaw's too short. Skin looks unnervingly soft."
"And the way he walks... like he'll tip over any moment. How does he balance without a tail?"
Pause.
"Still, you can't look away, can you? He's intriguing."
"Oddities draw interest—­but sometimes interest courts trouble."

I didn't quicken my pace, but my eyes stayed on the floor. If they knew I heard them... who knows. To them I was still a thing.

At the end of the corridor, two technicians were reading a panel outside the infirmary bay.

"How's Valsera?"
"Recovering, but slowly. One or two months for full strength. Conscious, but frail."
"So direct interaction with the human is off limits."
"Not yet. That's why Virel's stalling the process."

My ears sharpened further. They were talking about me. My face betrayed nothing; I just listened.

"But the Serynox delegation's on its way, isn't it?"
"Yes. Direct orders from the home world. Delay requests denied. The human... has their attention."
"Are they coming for the experiment?"
A hush, then a lower voice:
"Right now they only asked for observational data. But someone slipped up—­said the initial findings were 'more than expected.'"
"More than expected? So high potential?"
"No one talks details, but one thing's clear—­once Serynox arrives, this place won't stay quiet."

That phrase turned over in my mind: more than expected.

I slipped away. They were still talking, but I didn't want to hear more. The corridors were quiet, yet words howled in my head.

More than expected.
Serynox on the way.
Virel is buying time.
Valsera isn't ready.

And me...

I was just Okan. Yet to them I was no longer ordinary. I needed facts, not rumors. I didn't know why I was "more" or why the Serynox team was coming in person.

I kept walking. Every hallway, every junction seemed to carry new tension. The Velocironix might not look at me, but my presence echoed in the silence. Not a single word had been spoken to me directly, yet they all hung above me. This veiled interest—­not quite threat, not quite safety—­was its own kind of pressure.

Virel.
I had to speak with him. Only he could give real answers. His quiet support—­his gentle warnings—­made sense now. He was buying time. But against whom? From what was he shielding me?

I stopped, inhaled, scanned my surroundings. The walls were silent, but the data flowing inside them grew louder the closer I listened. This was no longer an outpost; it was a chessboard—­and I didn't know which piece I was.

I quickened my step. The symbiote on my wrist kept still. Yaren said nothing—­maybe analyzing the scene, maybe just observing, exactly like me.

But I could not wait.

I no longer cared what they felt; I needed to know what they planned.

At the next corner I recalled the path to Virel's office. Part of me whispered to stop, yet another—­firmer—­voice insisted:

You can't stay a spectator.

This time, I would be the one asking the questions. Because even if I still couldn't speak their tongue, I could understand it—­and that was enough.