GATE: First Encounter

Chapter 30

I hadn't even pushed myself fully off the floor. The ground was still cold, but the chill felt trivial next to the heaviness inside my chest. Muscles throbbed, joints hummed with an inner ringing. I didn't want to stay on the metal any longer; something deep in me urged me out of the room—maybe for a few gulps of cool air, maybe just for a moment of silence.

I rose slowly. Every joint, from my ankles to my shoulders, locked and creaked like an over-worked machine. I opened the door and felt a welcome draft on my skin. The corridor lay dim but peacefully quiet.

I wandered without direction, mind trailing a few steps behind my body. After several turns and a flight of stairs, the murmur of low voices, soft footfalls, and panel beeps told me I'd reached the station's central spine. At last I entered the cafeteria.

It wasn't empty. A handful of soldiers ate in silence; two more sat over tablets at a back table. No one paid me any mind—or I failed to notice if they did. That suited me.

I moved to the dispenser wall. Most beverage names meant nothing to me, but one listing caught my eye: a green-and-crimson swirl labeled "Sarnix Tuzuğu."

"Well... why not?" I muttered.

I tapped the panel. A cup dropped and filled in seconds. A metallic tang rose when I sniffed it. The first sip jolted my tongue—bitter, sour, cold all at once, leaving a mild electric tingle up my nose. Strange, but it worked; it kept me awake.

"Odd, but it does the job," I said to myself, then left the cafeteria, cup in hand.

I thought of heading back to my room yet felt unready. I kept sipping as I walked. Rounding a corner, I nearly collided with a familiar figure.

Valsera.

No lab coat tonight—she wore a plain gray field jacket. Her golden-brown skin caught the corridor's soft light, and her tail swayed with controlled tension. When her green eyes met mine they flashed—equal parts scientific curiosity and mild surprise.

"Okan," she said, voice soft but firm. "I was just looking for you."

I lifted my cup in greeting. "Something wrong?"

She approached, scanning me head to toe—taking in the sweat-stained clothes and training fatigue. An eyebrow twitched.

"Not wrong," she said. "I reviewed yesterday's baseline tests this morning. Everything reads normal, but a few parameters drifted. I need today's samples to verify."

I sighed. "More tests, then."

"Yes," she nodded. "The protocol calls for a three-day data set before the procedure. Today's the second day—simple repeats of blood and neural response. Routine."

She still hasn't noticed the training, I thought—perhaps a blessing.

I finished the drink, wincing at the metallic after-taste. "Just... try not to stab me without warning this time."

A rare smile touched her lips. "I'll be gentler."

"Fine, lead the way."

We walked in silence to the lab wing—the antiseptic chill settling over us. Inside, Valsera prepped equipment while I perched on a steel counter.

A question I'd forgotten surfaced. "I had something to ask," I began.

She glanced over, vial in hand. "Yes?"

"These symbiotes on our arms..." I tapped my wrist. "Can they develop an actual personality? Make their own choices while protecting us?"

Valsera paused, a strange look flickering. Then she shook her head.

"Under normal conditions, no. Symbiotes link to a host's nervous and nutrient systems—no independent consciousness." She hesitated. "Though... in rare trauma cases, we've seen minor autonomous reactions—basic survival reflexes, not true personality."

"I see," I nodded—her answer echoed Virel's earlier words.

She drew blood more gently this time. The cool sting lingered as the vial filled. Maybe there are things even you don't know, I thought.

While she set the sample in the analyzer, I stared at Yaren's housing on my wrist.

"Do you still distrust me?" Yaren whispered.

Not distrust—curiosity, I answered silently. Giving you a name changed everything. When you find a full voice... will our balance shift?

A pause, then:

"It was your choice—even drunk. All happens with your permission. We're both learning more than you think."

Before I could reply, Valsera called, "Okan?"

I looked up. She studied me over her tablet, probing. "Any special reason for the symbiote questions? Just curiosity, or are you experiencing something unusual?"

I shrugged and smiled. "Just curiosity. Everything here is new."

Her eyes narrowed, then she nodded. "Understanding helps adaptation, but remember—symbiotes run within strict boundaries. Don't read too much into them."

She checked my pupils, asked about sleep, warned me to report anything odd. I agreed.

After scanning the last readings, she straightened. "That's all for today. I'll analyze overnight—if something appears, I'll call you in the morning."

"Thanks," I said, easing off the counter. My legs trembled less now—rest sounded good.

"Rest well, Okan. This may be tougher than you expect—physically and mentally."

I headed out, corridor hush closing around me. As I walked, Yaren murmured:

"Still many question marks."

There will always be questions, I replied without a smile. But not tonight. I need sleep.

"Understood," Yaren said, voice gentle.

Back in my room, the dim lights and metallic tang felt almost comforting. I shut the door, collapsed onto the bunk, and stared at the ceiling. The day's events drifted through my mind until exhaustion smothered them.

"Time to rest," I whispered. My eyes grew heavy, and at last fatigue won.