“Until the bond becomes irreversible? Perhaps hours. Until it kills us?” He glances at the growing spatial distortion visible through the cargo bay’s small viewport. “Considerably less.”
Jorem moves toward the artifact, his intent clear. “Enough. I will not allow this contamination to spread further.”
But as his hand reaches for the crystal, Zylthar steps between us, his expression resolute. “No, Ambassador. The choice is ours to make.”
“You’re not thinking clearly. The alien influence?—”
“The human influence,” Zylthar corrects, and his voice carries steel I’ve never heard before. “Her name is Selena, and she’s not a contamination. She’s the most remarkable person I’ve ever encountered.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. Not because they’re false, but because they feel true in a way that has nothing to do with alien artifacts or psychic bonds.
And that terrifies me more than any spatial distortion ever could.
CHAPTER 5
SELENA
The emergency briefingroom feels like a pressure cooker about to explode.
Councilor Natalie Cooper sits at the head of the conference table, her perfectly arranged blonde hair and immaculate suit making everyone else look rumpled by comparison. She arrived on the emergency transport from Earth three hours ago, armed with diplomatic credentials and a smile that could cut glass.
“Let me see if I understand the situation correctly,” she says, consulting her tablet with theatrical precision. “We have an alien artifact of unknown power creating spatial distortions that threaten this entire sector. Said artifact is somehow psychically bonded to both our station commander and a Zephyrian diplomat. And your proposed solution is to... leave it alone?”
“That’s not what I said,” I reply, fighting to keep my voice level. Around the table, my senior staff watch the exchange with the careful neutrality of people who know when to stay out of the line of fire.
“Then please, Captain MacGray, explain your position.”
Cooper’s tone carries the particular condescension reserved for military officers who’ve stepped outside their expertise. I’ve dealt with her type before—political climbers who view deep space assignments as opportunities to build their careers on other people’s backs.
“The artifact responds to psychic resonance,” I explain. “Attempting to forcibly remove or destroy it could trigger a catastrophic feedback loop. Ambassador Jorem has confirmed that such attempts have historically resulted in?—”
“Historically?” Cooper interrupts. “According to whom? An alien who has every reason to exaggerate the dangers of surrendering his people’s technology?”
Jorem’s markings flare amber, but his voice remains coldly formal. “Councilor Cooper, I assure you that Zephyrian historical records are meticulously maintained. The Starlight Matrix artifacts have been responsible for at least seventeen documented spatial catastrophes.”
“Assuming those records are accurate and unbiased,” Cooper replies with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Which, frankly, I find difficult to believe.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” I ask.
“I’m suggesting that we’re allowing fear to cloud our judgment. This artifact represents an unprecedented opportunity for Earth—a chance to study alien technology that could revolutionize our understanding of space-time physics. We can’t simply hand it over to the Zephyrians because they claim it’s dangerous.”
“It is dangerous,” Zylthar says quietly from his position near the viewport. “The spatial distortion is proof of that.”
“The spatial distortion is proof that the artifact is active,” Cooper corrects. “Not necessarily that it’s uncontrollable.” She turns to Chief Mullen. “What’s your assessment of the containment options?”
Mullen shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, theoretically, we could modify our quantum field generators to create an isolation matrix. Might be able to suppress the artifact’s energy output.”
“And the risks?”
“Unknown. We’d be working with technology we don’t understand, trying to contain forces that make our most powerful reactors look like birthday candles.”
“But it’s possible?”
“Councilor,” Dr. Yakamura interjects, “I’ve monitored both Captain MacGray and Envoy Quoril since this crisis began. Their neural patterns are increasingly synchronized, and their brainwave activity is off the charts. Whatever this bond is, it’s growing stronger by the hour.”
“Which brings us to the crux of the matter,” Cooper says, leaning forward. “Captain MacGray, I order you to submit to immediate neural intervention. Dr. Yakamura will work with the Zephyrian medical team to sever this psychic connection before it compromises your judgment further.”
The words hit like ice water. Around the table, I see my senior staff’s expressions shift from neutral to alarmed. Commander Blaine’s jaw tightens. Williams looks like someone just kicked his favorite pet.
