Chapter XVIII
“Mr. Beckett,” I turn my head carefully to face the head of Comet XI’s board of directors, Alejandro Del Muendo.
The man who saw my potential as a young, aspiring engineer and gave me a chance.
The pride in his eyes means the world to me as I lie on the Quantum Force Transfer Station, hooked up to it like a car battery.
Arius is strapped into the one beside me, being photographed for documentation and media coverage.
“See you on the other side,” Mr. Muendo salutes me.
I nod as best as I can with the contraption on my head. The number of supporters who showed up for this makes me wonder if it’ll actually work. I might mentally be in outer space soon. Whatever the hell that will be like.
The room is swarmed with scientists and assistants who have been preparing for this for years. Nobody is allowed onto the platforms with the beds, but I see them all in my peripherals, observing the project. It’s a little intimidating, but I’m comforted to see Gomez among them.
Dr. Ritza said that the first thing we should do when we come back, whether it works or not, is look for a familiar face. That will allow our memory to adapt after such an accelerated journey to another timeline. With Ari in this beside me, I figured Gomez would be my anchor.
Behind the quiet chatter, I only hear my heartbeat on a nearby monitor and my heavy breaths.
This has certainly distracted me from the scandal, so I can only imagine everyone else feels the same.
I’d doubted this project every step of the way, but now that I’m lying here, I’m starting to feel the gravity of it.
“Knox.”
My name sounds fuzzy, projected over the noise in the room. I stare up at the high ceiling, knowing there is only one person in here who calls me by my first name.
“Ari,” I reply.
People around hush so we can communicate.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. Excited.”
“Nervous?” Even from over there he can tell. I suck in a breath and let it go with a dry chuckle.
“Yeah. But I’m ready. We’ve got this.”
I wish I could hold his hand. I wonder if we’ll be together in space, our minds on the same wavelength.
That would be beautiful if we could experience this together, but it might be different for the both of us.
That’s why the test requires an Alpha and an Omega.
Dr. Ritza will be able to assess the similarities and differences of what our brains capture while we’re under the control of the transfer station.
A speaker crackles, and many scientists move into their respective positions. My mom and dad are somewhere in a room up above, observing through a window with Ari’s parents. I know that if anything goes wrong or we show signs of distress, our mothers will shut this place down in a heartbeat.
“Alright. Testing focal lenses and ocular neuron receptors,” Dr. Ritza announces.
The bed I’m hooked up to makes a whirring noise like a computer waking up.
“Subjects, engage frequency discs.”
I pull a lever near my left hand. The machine beneath me makes promising noises, as does Ari’s.
“Closing cover slides.”
A glass dome the size of a biker helmet encloses my head with all the mechanics. My eyes follow the darting lines of the translucent screen as it scans my retinas and reads my brain functions. So far so good. The green checkmarks of stability calm my racing heart.
The transfer bed clicks and shifts, growing louder by the minute. We were warned that it can take a few hours to start up and prepare for a successful launch. Dr. Ritza’s voice is now in my ear coming through the small speaker that was inserted.
“Vision checks cleared. Subjects, brace for phase one.”
I try to relax and follow the procedure. I’m hardly worried about myself, but I hope Ari is doing alright. This is intense.
I keep my eyes open, locking them on the glass shield, letting the machine do what it needs to find a compatible electromagnetic signal from space to connect with the neurons in my brain. My back itches from sweat pooling between myself and the cold metal of the bed.
Cushions would’ve been nice. I let my brain focus on the discomfort to distract me from the fear of fucking with my brain waves.
Dr. Ritza is convinced that nothing can harm us, and that if something doesn’t work or goes wrong, then the machine will simply fail. I’ll just wake up having gone nowhere.
Nothing else happens for so long that I wonder if this is it. It didn’t work. I’m sure as hell not in space. The sterile, concrete scent of the lab still fills my nose. I don’t think more than an hour has passed. I’m just lying on the transfer bed while machinery hums to life around me.
And then I feel it. Like a sedative seeping into my veins. My brain disconnects from my body, still aware, but no longer focused on my physical form. My fingertips twitch and my hearing takes on a low hum.
I don’t know when Dr. Ritza’s voice stopped coming through, but it’s notably absent now. My vision tingles and blurs, never focusing on anything in front of me. I feel lucid. Floating someplace dreamlike between sleep and awake. Did I fall asleep?
This is pretty much what I expected. A numb, tingling sensation accompanied by an insistent hum. My thoughts become simplified and I can’t seem to focus on one thing for too long.
“Arius…” I find myself muttering his name in a whisper far too quiet for anyone else to hear.
I feel like I’m floating, far and fast. Everything is dark, but I can feel something. Harsh coldness. And then burning hot. Torturous temperature changes until things begin to level out and I feel like I’ve crossed a threshold.
If I had to guess, I’d say it’s a new layer of space. Beyond our atmosphere. Beyond our world. I still can’t see, but I can feel it. It’s remarkable. I’m… I’m there. The wavelength. My brain and outer space are traveling parallel on the same plane.
No fucking way.
With my feelings and emotions heightened, I’m drenched with overwhelming excitement.
So much that I begin hearing beeping that sounds out of place.
I vaguely recognize it as a heart monitor, but my brain refuses to make sense of it.
Refuses to remember why I hear a heart monitor.
Then it stops. The sound is swiftly blocked. Now it’s just me and the hum again.
Remembering my mission, I try to open my watery eyes, but I don’t think they’re closed.
I’m just somewhere impossibly dark. I try desperately to focus on anything through my tears of overwhelmed joy.
After many failed attempts, I force myself to relax and just concentrate on what I feel. Peaceful. Cold. Something grainy.
Yes, that’s interesting. What is that? A grainy texture in outer space. Dust? Rocks? I have zero concept of size. It could either be a handful of something or surrounding me entirely.
I focus on it for as long as I can, but then my brain gets sucked into a vacuum.
At least, that’s what it feels like. If I were capable, I would be screaming and thrashing at the awful sensation.
Begging for it to stop. I see flashes in my vision, and I allow my eyes to focus on them.
I feel compelled to pay attention to them as if I’ve done this before.
As if they’re the answer to escaping this misery.
The rocks… I wish I could’ve brought them with me. Grainy rocks. I don’t… I don’t know where I would take them, but I wanted them.
My ears ring with more hums. Different hums of different frequencies. Some high, some low. Some beeping, some whirring. I hate it. All these sirens. I want them to stop.
I wake up in my physical body, but it isn’t relieving in the slightest. Like the worst fever one could imagine. I’m coated in a cold sweat. My muscles painfully seize and relax, protesting the restraints.
Why the fuck am I restrained? Why can’t I see anything yet?! What the hell is this?!
My heart pounds and my blood rushes. I can sense my Alpha pheromones permeating the room.
A threat to anyone who thinks they can attack me.
Amidst all the blaring alarms, I hear my own voice yelling in agony.
I’m expecting to see a hospital room. That’s what this is, right?
Something went wrong. Maybe an accident, and I’m waking up in a hospital.
Gasping for breath, I try to focus on my surroundings. Blurry visuals soon become colorful movements. Flashes of white, yellow, and gray.
“Vitals stabilizing,” someone comments through a distant haze while I seethe through clenched teeth.
“Knox! Can you hear me?!” another voice. Much closer. “Gomez, do something! Somebody! Please!”
I glance at a man standing on a platform behind a yellow railing. Gomez, I guess. I don’t recognize him or the name. He looks distraught and uncertain about what to do.
My motor functions slowly come back to me, but then I feel tired. Extreme exhaustion weighing me down, convincing me that if I just sleep for a few minutes, I’ll feel more energized. Just for a second.
I blink awake in a much calmer environment. No more beeping, no more shouting or blurry movements. A hospital. Yes, I remember. I believe I was in an accident and woke up in pain. I just…don’t remember anything before that. Or after.
Cautious and stiff, I sit up, slowly assessing the standard beige room with soft yellow lighting. Nothing hurts anymore.
I’m wearing gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt.
Some wires are connected to my skin beneath the tight fabric, so I stand and peel it off.
As I release myself from the wires and tubes, the door opens.
An Alpha doctor and an Omega enter. They look at me worried, but I feel fine.
Much better than…whatever the fuck that nightmare was.
The Omega throws himself at me. I stammer back as his arms squeeze me tight and his warm cheek presses against my bare chest. I hug him back awkwardly, dick stiffening inappropriately against his warmth.
“Knox! Thank fuck you’re okay! We were so worried!” the Omega pulls away with watery eyes, staring up at me as if I’m his world.
“... Me?” I ask, unfamiliar with the name.
Knox. I kind of like it. It feels right. I don’t know what else my name would be if not that. The Omega searches my gaze and pulls back further to assess me.
“Yes, you, Knox!” he turns to the doctor. “Check his vitals one more time. Including the frontal cortex functions.”
“Already on it,” she mutters, tapping at a tablet screen. Whatever she sees doesn’t look promising. She finally looks up, eyeing me with concern.
“Knox. What is the last thing you remember?”
“Rocks… Pain,” I shrug, scratching the back of my neck as I try to remember anything. My mind comes up short. No clue where I’m at. Who I am. Or what I did.
“Rocks… He saw the rocks! I saw rocks, too!” the Omega beams at the doctor, but she doesn’t join his excitement. She takes a careful step forward like I’m something easily startled.
“Knox… Can you tell me the name of this Omega?” she asks me softly.
The Omega goes rigid, smile falling as he gazes up at me with hopeful blue eyes.
What a pretty shade. As deep and immeasurable as the universe.
Familiar in a comforting way, but still mysteriously unknown.
I shake my head, staring into the blue depths as they begin to flood with the mass of the ocean.
I’ve never met him before. I think I would remember those eyes.
The Omega flinches as if I’d hit him.
“And me? Do you know my name?” the doctor continues.
I break away from the Omega’s weeping eyes for only a second to shake my head. I meant it when I said that all I remember are rocks and pain. Nothing else.
“He’s suffering from memory loss,” the doctor decides and the Omega makes a sound of hurt.
“Fix him, Ritza!” he cries.
“What happened to me?”
“We were doing a– “
“Hush!” the doctor silences him and we both look at her. “We can’t tell him everything. That will only overwhelm him more. To avoid this being permanent we need to allow him to recover at his own pace. Let him do what feels natural and hopefully…he’ll remember. But don’t force it.”