Page 113 of Rebirth

A shiver goes through me, the cool air finally getting to me now that the warm water’s evaporating off my skin, and a wave moves all through my frame.

I’d felt it before. Once. That time when I had He’rox’s ba’clan on me, trying to save my life. But this time, it’s different.

Far more powerful, like a thick cloak spreading all across my skin, and a gasp comes from my lips as I stagger back, eyes wide as I look down at myself.

Black ink’s flooded all across my body. And I can see them.

For the first time, they’re clear.

Right before me, they move and sway across my body, organizing themselves into an impenetrable shield. A new version of ba’clan. Dark now, not white like before.

“He fixed you,” I whisper.

A pulse goes through my entire frame as the ba’clan respond.

My heart thumps hard as I move back to the cylinder, pressing my hands against it once more.

“He’rox,” I whisper. “Please wake up. I need you.”

Still, he does not stir.

Gaze flicking to the ba’clan that’s covered even my fingers, I stare at them.

“He gave me this gift,” I whisper again, more to myself than to them, but they pulse against me once more. Their knowledge floods into me in a way I don’t know or understand. Memories of He’rox’s experiments, his hopes for a way to fight the Gryken threat from within. A genetic modification that could be shared, not forced.

Yet in desperation to save me, he did the unthinkable. And against all odds, it worked.

As the ba’clan pulse over my entire body, I feel their alien consciousness merge with my own. Almost as if we are now one, working in harmony.

And still…something else.

“Did you…” I gulp, wondering if I want the answer to my next question. But the ba’clan aren’t evil. If they were, I’d be dead already. They would have used my body without me having a choice in the matter.

Like the network wanted.

“Did you get rid of it?” I whisper.

There is no pulse and I wonder how much direct speech they can understand.

“The Gryken parasite. The network. Did you…”

My hands pulse against the regen tank—or rather, the ba’clan pulses so hard against my palms that I feel even my bones vibrate. And then…

My eyes widen as threads of black ink spread like veins across the glass.

Frozen in terror, I don’t even think to pull my hands away.

The veins spread so fast, they almost cover the entire surface.

Like an alien entity with unknown power, they network and web together, stretching out from where my ba’clan-coated palms rest upon the surface.

Instant panic rises within me and I start to pull my hands away.

But they’re glued to the surface, only coming an inch away from it as the veins continue to network over the transparent material.

“He’rox,” I say his name, eyes locking with his closed ones, praying he’d wake up. “He’rox!”

Nothing. No response.

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