I hesitate, looking to Lieutenant Voss uncertainly.

  "It's your choice," she says, though I can sense her reservations. "But if you agree, I recommend doing it under controlled conditions, with monitoring. These kinds of direct mental connections can be... intense."

  "We're already connected," Elara points out. "Have been since he awakened. This would just be making it conscious, deliberate rather than instinctive."

  I look at her outstretched hand, then back to her face—those storm-gray eyes with amber flecks that seem to see right through me. Despite the potential risks, I'm drawn to the possibility of understanding this connection that formed without my knowledge or intent.

  "Alright," I agree, reaching out to take her hand. "Show me."

  The moment our skin touches, the world falls away. The conference room, the other resistants, even our physical bodies seem to recede, becoming distant and irrelevant. What remains is pure consciousness—hers and mine, facing each other in a mental landscape I can't quite describe.

  Her mind is beautiful—a complex architecture of thought and memory, emotion and reason, all interconnected in patterns that somehow feel familiar despite their uniqueness. And mine must appear similarly to her, because I sense her wonder mirroring my own.

  Hello, Andrew, her thoughts form in my mind, more concept than words. This is what the Nexari experience constantly—perfect communion of consciousness. Beautiful, isn't it?

  Yes, I respond in kind, marveling at the ease of this mental communication. But also overwhelming. How do you maintain your sense of self in this?

  Practice, comes her reply, tinged with amusement. And strong boundaries. Watch.

  She demonstrates, showing me how to create mental partitions—walls that don't completely separate but define the borders between her consciousness and mine. I follow her example, finding it surprisingly intuitive, as if my mind already knows how to do this and just needed the reminder.

  Better? she asks.

  Much, I confirm. Now, why are we connected like this? Why you specifically?

  Instead of answering directly, she guides my attention deeper, to a level of consciousness beneath surface thoughts and emotions. Here, the structures of our minds become more abstract, more fundamental. And here, I see it—identical patterns in both our mental architectures, like matching keys cut from the same mold.

  We're resonant, her thoughts explain. Our neural patterns vibrate at the same frequency, create the same structures when activated. Among all the resistants, you and I share a specific configuration that makes our minds naturally seek each other out.

  Is that common? I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

  No, she confirms. It's unprecedented. The others have similarities, compatibilities, but nothing like this perfect resonance. It's why I could sense you from twelve light-years away. Why your awakening called to me across the void.

  I absorb this, trying to understand the implications. So what does it mean for us?

  Her consciousness shifts, a complex emotion I can't quite interpret flowing through our connection. That's what we need to discover. But I have theories.

  She begins to share them, but before the concepts can fully form, a jarring sensation interrupts our mental communion. Physical sensations reassert themselves—hands on my shoulders, shaking me gently but insistently.

  "—need to break the connection now," Lieutenant Voss's voice filters through, distant at first but growing clearer. "Andrew! Elara! That's enough!"

  With reluctance, I pull back from the mental landscape, following the thread of physical sensation back to my body. The conference room resolves around me, the faces of the resistants coming into focus. Some look concerned, others fascinated.

  I'm still holding Elara's hand, I realize. Both of us are standing exactly as we were, though several minutes must have passed. Her eyes slowly focus on mine, returning from the same mental journey.

  "What happened?" I ask, my voice hoarse as if I haven't used it in hours.

  "You two went into some kind of synchronized trance state," Dr. Okafor explains, scanning both of us with a handheld medical device. "Your brain waves matched perfectly—something I've never seen in any telepathic pairing before."

  "And you were glowing," Lopez adds helpfully. "Both of you. Blue light around your heads, getting brighter the longer you stayed connected."

  "How long were we like that?" Elara asks, sounding more composed than I feel.

  "Almost seven minutes," her mother responds, not bothering to hide her concern. "Long enough for Dr. Khoury's sensors to detect the psionic output from three levels away. She and the Admiral are on their way back now."

  As if on cue, the door slides open, admitting Admiral Thorn and Dr. Khoury. They pause just inside the entrance, taking in the scene—Elara and me still standing too close together, the other resistants in various states of concern or fascination.

  "What exactly is happening here?" Thorn demands, his gaze fixing on our still-joined hands.

  I release Elara's hand quickly, taking a step back. She does the same, her expression smoothing into professional neutrality.

  "Direct mental link, sir," Commander Wells reports formally. "Established between Elara and Andrew upon physical contact. Unprecedented resonance patterns according to Dr. Okafor's preliminary scans."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Thorn's eyes narrow, shifting between Elara and me with renewed interest. "Is that so? And was this authorized mental contact, Lieutenant Voss?"

  "It was conducted under observation, sir," she responds carefully. "With appropriate monitoring and safety protocols."

  It's not exactly a direct answer to his question, I note. Thorn seems to recognize the evasion as well, but lets it pass for the moment.

  "Dr. Khoury and I were just reviewing the latest scan results," he says instead, moving to the head of the conference table. "It seems our new arrival is even more unique than we initially thought."

  Dr. Khoury activates the room's holographic display, bringing up a three-dimensional model of what appears to be a human brain—presumably mine. Certain regions are highlighted in pulsing colors.

  "This scan was taken during Andrew's initial examination aboard the vessel," she explains. "As you can see, the neural activity patterns already showed unusual connectivity, particularly in the temporal and parietal regions associated with sensory processing and integration."

  The image shifts, replaced by a new scan that must have been taken more recently. The difference is dramatic—the highlighted regions have expanded, with new connections branching out like lightning across the brain's structure.

  "And this is from just twelve hours later," Dr. Khoury continues. "The rate of neural reorganization is beyond anything we've documented in any resistant subject. New synaptic pathways are forming at an exponential rate, particularly in areas associated with telepathic and empathic functions."

  "Is that... dangerous?" I ask, unable to tear my eyes away from the image of my rapidly changing brain.

  "Normally, such rapid neural restructuring would cause severe symptoms," she acknowledges. "Migraines, seizures, cognitive disruption. The fact that you're experiencing none of these suggests your brain was somehow primed for these changes."

  "Primed how?" Lieutenant Voss asks sharply.

  Dr. Khoury hesitates, glancing at Admiral Thorn. He gives a subtle nod, apparently authorizing her to continue.

  "We found markers in Andrew's genetic profile," she says, bringing up a new display showing what looks like a DNA sequence with certain segments highlighted. "Sequences that don't match standard human genome patterns. They appear to be dormant gene modifications designed to activate under specific neural conditions—precisely the conditions created by exposure to the Nexari hive mind."

  A heavy silence falls over the room. Lopez gives a low whistle.

  "So I was right," he says, looking around at the others. "We're not entirely human."

  "That's an overstatement," Dr. Khoury corrects quickly. "The modifications affect less than 0.01% of the total genome. But they're precisely placed to influence neural development and psionic potential."

  "The question," Thorn says, his voice cutting through the growing murmurs, "is who placed them there, and why." He looks directly at me. "Andrew, what do you know about your biological parents?"

  The question catches me off guard. "Not much. I was raised in a state creche on Taranis IV after being found abandoned as an infant. No records of my birth parents."

  "Convenient," Elara murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear.

  Thorn's gaze shifts to her. "You've been surprisingly quiet, Specialist Voss. Given your usual... opinions on such matters, I expected more commentary."

  "Just absorbing the implications, sir," she responds, her tone carefully neutral. But I can sense the tension in her, the effort it takes to maintain that neutrality.

  "Indeed," Thorn says, clearly not believing her. "Well, here are the immediate implications for all of you. First, Andrew will begin the standard integration protocol for newly identified resistants, with modifications to account for his accelerated development. Lieutenant Voss will continue as his primary trainer, with speciality input from Dr. Okafor regarding his empathic abilities."

  He turns to Elara. "Specialist Voss, given the unusual resonance between you and Andrew, you'll be assigned as his secondary trainer, focusing specifically on telepathic range and control. Your other duties are suspended until further notice."

  Something passes between them—a tension that suggests history I'm not privy to. Elara inclines her head in acknowledgment, though I can sense her mixed feelings about the assignment.

  "The rest of you," Thorn continues, addressing the group at large, "will continue your regular duties while remaining available for consultation as needed. Dr. Khoury's team will conduct further analysis of Andrew's genetic markers and compare them with samples from all of you. If there are connections to be found, we will find them."

  He looks around the table, meeting each person's eyes briefly. "I don't need to remind you that everything discussed in this room remains classified at the highest level. The existence of the genetic modifications, the resonance phenomenon between Andrew and Specialist Voss, all of it stays within this circle until further notice."

  With that, he turns and strides toward the exit, pausing only to add, "Lieutenant Voss, get Andrew settled in his permanent quarters. Training begins at 0800 tomorrow." Then he's gone, Dr. Khoury following quickly in his wake.

  The atmosphere in the room relaxes slightly with their departure, though an undercurrent of tension remains. The revelations about my genetic makeup have clearly unsettled everyone, myself included.

  "Well," says Lopez with forced lightness, "welcome to Outpost Helios, where the mysteries just keep piling up and the answers are always classified."

  Commander Wells shoots him a reproving look before turning to me. "Don't let it overwhelm you, Andrew. Whatever these genetic markers mean, you're still you. Your choices remain your own."

  "Do they?" I ask quietly. "Because it's starting to feel like my entire existence has been engineered for someone else's purpose."

  "Join the club," mutters one of the others—a woman who introduced herself earlier as Dr. Patel, a quantum physicist.

  Lieutenant Voss stands, signaling an end to the meeting. "Let's get you settled in, Andrew. You'll have plenty of time to discuss existential crises with your new colleagues later."

  As the group begins to disperse, Elara approaches me directly. "We need to talk privately," she says, her voice low enough that only I can hear. "Real privacy, not the kind my mother or the Admiral sanctions. Tonight, 2300 hours. I'll find you."

  Before I can respond, she turns and leaves, following the others out of the conference room. Only Lieutenant Voss remains, watching me with an expression I can't quite interpret.

  "My daughter," she says after a moment, "is brilliant, dedicated, and usually right about more things than she's wrong about." She steps closer, her voice dropping. "She's also impulsive, secretive, and convinced that her perspective is the only valid one. Keep that in mind when she inevitably tries to recruit you to her way of thinking."

  "You don't trust her?" I ask, surprised by the candid assessment.

  "I love her," Voss corrects. "That's not the same as trusting her judgment in all things. Especially when it comes to the Nexari." She gestures toward the door. "Come on. Your quarters are in the residential section for special personnel. You'll have more space and privacy than on the ship."

  As we leave the conference room, my mind spins with all that I've learned in the past hour. The secret history of human-Nexari contact. The true purpose of Border Command and the Nexus Protocol. The genetic modifications that apparently set me apart even from other resistants. And most immediately puzzling, the perfect resonance between my mind and Elara's.

  I glance at Lieutenant Voss as we walk. "The resonance between Elara and me—you didn't seem surprised by it. Has something like this happened before?"

  She keeps her eyes forward, but I sense her careful consideration of how to answer. "Not exactly. But there have been... theories. Predictions about possible synergistic effects between resistants with complementary abilities." She glances at me briefly. "Elara has been particularly interested in those theories."

  "Is that why she requested transfer as soon as she sensed me?"

  A small, sad smile crosses Voss's face. "Elara has her own agenda regarding the Nexari and Border Command's policies. She's been looking for something—or someone—that might validate her perspective for a long time." She stops walking, turning to face me directly. "Just be careful about getting pulled into decades-old conflicts you don't yet understand."

  With that cryptic warning, she resumes leading me through Outpost Helios toward my new quarters and whatever future awaits me in this strange new world of psionic abilities, classified protocols, and minds that reach across the stars to find their resonant partners.