Chapter 3: Resistance Part 2


    "The Admiral?"


    The door slides open before she can answer. Three people enter—two security officers who take positions on either side of the door, and an older man with silver hair and the bearing of someone accustomed to absolute authority. His uniform bears the insignia of an Admiral in Border Command, though I don''t recognize the specific decorations.


    Voss stands immediately, and I follow her lead a second later.


    "Admiral Thorn, sir," she acknowledges with a crisp salute.


    "At ease, Lieutenant." His voice is deep and gravelly, as if worn down by years of giving orders. His eyes shift to me, piercing and evaluative. "This is our anomaly?"


    The way he says it—our anomaly—sends a chill through me. The same word the Nexari Queen used.


    "Yes, sir. Andrew, formerly of the transport vessel Horizon Drifter." Voss gestures to the datapad. "His scans show the patterns we discussed."


    Admiral Thorn picks up the device, glancing at it briefly before setting it down again. "And he claims no knowledge of why."


    "I''m right here," I interject, unable to contain myself. "You can talk to me directly."


    The Admiral''s eyebrows rise slightly, but he turns to face me fully. "Very well. Andrew, do you know why your brain shows patterns consistent with advanced neural enhancement techniques that, officially, don''t exist?"


    "No," I answer honestly. "Up until three days ago, the most exciting thing in my life was figuring out how to realign a faulty power coupling with improvised tools."


    "And yet," he continues, "you not only resisted assimilation by the Nexari but appear to be developing additional neural connections at an accelerated rate." He taps the datapad. "The doctor''s report indicates a 3% increase in cross-regional connectivity just in the twelve hours since your rescue."


    This is news to me. I look to Voss, who nods confirmation.


    "Your brain is rewiring itself," she explains. "As if... adapting."


    "Adapting to what?" I ask, unease growing in my stomach.


    "That," says the Admiral, "is what we intend to find out." He gestures to the security officers. "Take him to Laboratory 7. Full spectrum analysis, priority alpha."


    Voss steps forward, her posture shifting subtly. "Sir, with respect, he''s been through significant trauma. The protocol recommends at least 48 hours of recovery before—"


    "The protocol," Thorn cuts her off, "doesn''t account for the present circumstances, Lieutenant. The Nexari colony ship we disabled has already sent automated distress signals. Their reinforcements will arrive within 18 hours. I need to know what we''re dealing with before then."


    The security officers move toward me, their expressions professionally blank.


    "Wait," I say, backing away. "What kind of analysis are we talking about?"


    "Non-invasive," Thorn assures me, though something in his tone doesn''t inspire confidence. "Mostly."


    That''s when I feel it again—the pressure in my mind, stronger now, pulsing with what feels like urgency. But this time, something else happens. As my heart rate increases and adrenaline floods my system, the pressure expands outward, like ripples in a pond.


    And I feel them. Voss, concerned but determined. The security officers, focused on their task with underlying nervousness. And Thorn—his mind a complex knot of ambition, fear, and calculating purpose.


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    I stumble backward, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of impressions that aren''t my own. "What''s happening to me?" I gasp.


    Voss is at my side immediately, steadying me. "What is it? What do you feel?"


    "You''re... worried about me," I say, looking into her eyes. "But also worried about your orders. You don''t think the Admiral is telling us everything."


    Her face pales slightly, her grip on my arm tightening. "How do you know that?"


    "I can feel it," I whisper. "Like the Nexari hive mind, but... different. I''m not trying to control, just... connect."


    Admiral Thorn strides forward, his earlier caution replaced by intense interest. "You''re developing empathic abilities," he says, more to himself than to me. "Fascinating. The exposure to their collective consciousness must have triggered latent potential."


    "Sir," Voss interjects, "this changes things. He needs specialized training, not laboratory analysis."


    "On the contrary, Lieutenant," Thorn counters, "this makes our analysis even more critical." He turns to the security officers. "Proceed as ordered."


    One of them produces restraints—sleek, metallic cuffs that look designed for prisoners, not guests.


    "No," I say, backing away further until I hit the wall. "I''m not going to be anyone''s lab rat—not the Nexari''s, and not yours."


    "You don''t have a choice," Thorn says coldly. "What''s happening to you could be the key to turning the tide in this cold war. One man''s comfort doesn''t outweigh the security of trillions."


    The pressure in my mind spikes in response to my fear, expanding further. I can feel more minds now—dozens of them throughout the ship, each a unique constellation of thoughts and emotions. It''s overwhelming, disorienting, like suddenly having extra limbs I don''t know how to control.


    And then something unexpected happens. As a security officer reaches for me, the pressure finds a focal point. Without conscious thought, I push back—not physically, but mentally—the same way I resisted the Nexari hive mind.


    The officer freezes mid-motion, his eyes going wide. "I... can''t..." he stammers.


    Everyone in the room stares at him, then at me. I''m as shocked as they are. But I can feel the connection between us—a tendril of my consciousness wrapped around his motor control centers, gently but firmly restraining him.


    "Release him," Thorn orders, his hand moving toward the sidearm at his hip.


    I don''t know how. I didn''t even know I was doing it in the first place. But as my panic rises, the connection strengthens rather than breaks. Worse, it begins to spread to the other security officer, who also freezes in place.


    "Andrew," Voss says, her voice deliberately calm, "you need to relax. Deep breaths. Whatever you''re doing, you need to stop before this escalates."


    She''s right. I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing the way I used to during maintenance emergencies. In for four counts, hold for four, out for four. Gradually, the pressure in my mind recedes, the connections thinning and finally breaking.


    The security officers stagger as they regain control, looking at me with newfound fear. One of them draws his weapon reflexively.


    "Stand down!" Voss barks, stepping between us. "He didn''t know what he was doing."


    "On the contrary," Thorn says, his expression now alight with what can only be described as greedy fascination, "I think he demonstrated exactly what he''s capable of." He makes a small gesture, and the officers reluctantly holster their weapons. "Perhaps Laboratory 7 is premature. A more... collaborative approach might be warranted."


    The sudden shift in his tone doesn''t fool me. I can still sense his underlying intentions—he sees me as a resource to be exploited, not a person to be protected.


    "I want to know what''s happening to me," I say firmly. "But I''m not going to be locked in a lab and treated like a specimen. The Nexari already tried that approach."


    Thorn considers me for a long moment. "Very well. A compromise, then. You will work with our science team to understand and develop these emerging abilities. In exchange, you''ll receive the training needed to control them." He smiles thinly. "And of course, the full protection of Border Command from any Nexari attempt to recapture you."


    It''s not really a choice. I''m alone on a military vessel, light-years from anything familiar, with abilities I don''t understand and can barely control. And underneath it all, that constant pressure in my mind, still seeking something.


    "Fine," I agree reluctantly. "But Lieutenant Voss oversees the process." I glance at her, sensing her surprise. "She''s the only one here who sees me as a person first and an anomaly second."


    Thorn''s lips tighten momentarily, but he nods. "Agreed. Lieutenant Voss will serve as your liaison and training supervisor." He turns to her. "Get him settled in proper quarters. Begin the standard protocol for empathic containment training. I want daily progress reports."


    "Yes, sir," she responds, her tone professional but with an undercurrent of relief I can now perceive clearly.


    "And Andrew," Thorn adds as he moves toward the door, "understand this: what''s happening to you is unprecedented and potentially vital to humanity''s future. Your cooperation isn''t just appreciated—it''s expected." The threat beneath his words is unmistakable.


    After he leaves, followed by the still-shaken security officers, I slump back into my chair, suddenly exhausted. The brief use of whatever ability I tapped into has drained me physically and mentally.