The floor was still cold, but the chill felt trivial next to the heaviness inside my chest. My muscles throbbed, joints rang with an inner hum that still echoed in my ears. Yet I didn't want to stay on the metal any longer. Something deep urged me to leave this room—maybe for a few sips of cool air, maybe for a few minutes of silence.
I stood slowly. From ankles to shoulders, every part of me felt like an over-worked machine. I reached the door, opened it, and the corridor's cool air hit my skin. The passage was dim, refreshingly quiet.
I walked with no real aim, mind trailing behind my body. After a few turns and a flight down, faint footsteps, hushed talk, and soft panel pings told me I was near the station's core. I slipped into the cafeteria.
It wasn't empty. A few soldiers ate in silence; two others sat at a back table, absorbed in tablets. No one looked my way—if they did, I missed it. Exactly what I needed.
I stepped to the dispenser wall. Most drinks were unfamiliar, but one caught my eye: a green-and-crimson mix labeled "Sarnix Tuzuğu."
"Why not?" I muttered.
A cup dropped, filled. The smell—sharp, metallic. The first sip tingled on my tongue: bitter, sour, icy at once, sending coolness up my sinuses. Unsettling, but it kept me alert.
"Strange, but it works," I said to myself, cup in hand as I left.
I considered my room, decided against it. As I sipped, I rounded a corner—and nearly walked into Valsera.
She wore no lab coat today, only a plain light-gray field jacket. Her golden-brown skin caught the corridor glow; her long tail swayed in a calm-yet-tense rhythm. Green eyes met mine, flashing surprise and scientific curiosity.
"Okan," she said, voice soft yet firm. "I was looking for you."
I raised the cup in greeting. "Is something wrong?"
She studied me—sweat-damp clothes, fatigue—then spoke. "I reviewed yesterday's tests. Everything looks normal, but a few values spiked. I need today's samples. And you?"
Lynx stepped from behind me then—same gray-black training gear as yesterday, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "I came to take him to morning training. He needs every ounce of endurance before the procedure."
Two disciplines, one goal: me. I was the hinge.
Valsera's gaze hardened. "Between day one and day two, some markers tripled—IL-6, VEGF-A, FGF-2, LDH. Even reticulocytes. That speed of adaptation doesn't happen."
Lynx frowned. "Is that bad?"
"Not yet. But I need the cause." She turned to me. "Blood, scan, now."
Lynx straightened. "I'll stay."
Valsera hesitated, then allowed it. "Quiet, then." Together, we walked to the lab. The ozone bite greeted us; Lynx posted near the door like a sentry.
Valsera drew three tubes of blood—needle light as a feather—then slid me into a narrow scanner. The ring hummed over me; the gel was icy. Yaren stayed silent, a shadow watcher.
Finished, Valsera expanded rows of data on her tablet and showed Lynx:
Parameter = Day 1/ Day 2 /Day 3
IL-6 (pg/mL) = 2.4 / 58 / 25
VEGF-A (pg/mL) = 42 / 165 / 210
FGF-2 (pg/mL) = 7 / 29 / 31
LDH (U/L) = 190 / 422 / 410
Retikülosit (%) = 1.0 / 4.5 / 3.8
Kortizol (nmol/L) = 320 / 260 / 255
YOU ARE READING
GATE: First Encounter
FantasyA stranger in his own body... An intruder in his own mind... Okan had no idea he was living the last ordinary day of his life. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his own bed but a captive on Aetherion-a distant world beyond the stars. How...
