Joseph could tell the Psions were pleased with themselves. It was obvious in the way they circled him, watching intently as their machines recorded every movent. They wasted no ti testing him after his fight, making him perform a series of rigorous exercises that pushed his body to its limits.
His strength hadn't improved much over the past week—not significantly enough for him to notice. But he could fly now.
It wasn't as simple as just lifting off the ground. His flight was a precise manipulation of gravity, not just for himself but for anything he carried. He didn't repel himself from the ground like a rocket. Instead, he created a localized anti-gravity field that allowed him to move freely in the air. The principle was similar to when he was in his Speed State. Back then, he could extend his speed field to whatever or whoever he carried, ensuring they moved at his pace without experiencing fatal G-forces.
Here, it was the sa. If he picked sothing up, it was enveloped in his field and carried along with him. It took effort, and the strain beca noticeable when he tried to lift sothing heavier than he could normally carry on the ground. But he was getting better. The Psions had tested his flight extensively, making him traverse the length of the lab, forcing him to maneuver in tight spaces, seeing how long he could sustain flight before fatigue set in. He didn't get tired.
He overheard them discussing his speed—just over half the speed of sound.
The air here was similar to Earth's, at least as far as he could tell. That was a good sign. If he got back ho—no, when he got back ho—he wanted his abilities to function the sa way. He wasn't going to die in this place.
Beyond flight, he could sense sothing new inside him. Energy. It was hard to describe. He felt like a battery constantly storing power, though he struggled to manipulate it. It was there—he could feel it coursing through him—but just beyond his grasp, like trying to catch smoke with his hands.
Still, he was adapting. He was learning. And the Psions, in their sick curiosity, were giving him the ti to do so.
"You may leave now," one of them said, barely glancing up from their console.
Joseph didn't need to be told twice. He turned and left, heading to the 52nd room.
**
The best thing about his recent improvents was that the guards and other prisoners were less likely to ss with him. He had made no alliances, no friends. He didn't need them. But now, there was a silent understanding—an invisible line they wouldn't cross. He could kill a few of them before his collar activated. They knew it. And so, they left him alone.
He walked through the tallic halls without incident, arriving at the food distribution area. It was the usual—just a grey, unidentifiable slab they called sustenance. He picked it up with his usual reluctance and made his way to his usual spot.
There, sitting beside him, was the orange-skinned alien he always sat beside.
She was striking. Beautiful, even, in an otherworldly way. She looked human at first glance—slender but well-muscled, her orange-hued skin smooth and unblemished. Her long, red-orange hair cascaded down her back, and her erald green eyes held an intensity that never seed to waver. The contrast against her violet and silver leotard made her look regal. There was sothing fierce about her, sothing that told him she hadn't broken yet.
Joseph had seen her before. She was always alone. Never spoke to anyone. He understood why. In a place like this, making friends was a liability. You never knew when you'd be sent to the arena against them.
She noticed his glance. Then, for the first ti, she spoke to him.
A string of unfamiliar words left her lips. Joseph blinked. He didn't understand her.
He was about to gesture to his collar, to indicate that it wasn't translating, when she suddenly leaned forward.
Her face was close—too close. Her lips parted slightly.
Joseph instinctively grabbed her shoulders, stopping her from getting any closer. "What the hell?" he said, surprised by the suddenness of her action.
She pulled back slightly, but her expression was equally surprised. "You can speak Tamaranean?" she asked, her tone shifting from confusion to curiosity.
Joseph frowned. "What?" He had spoken English just now—hadn't he? But then he noticed sothing strange. His mouth, his tongue—they had moved differently. He had spoken her language without even realizing it.
Thinking back, he had always understood aliens after touching them.
His grip on her shoulders loosened. "Wait… was that why you—?"
"It is easier through the lips," she said simply. As if that explained everything.
Joseph sighed. "You could've just touched my hand."
She tilted her head. "That would have taken longer."
He let go of her, shaking his head. This place kept getting weirder.
"Wait," he said, sothing clicking in his mind. "How did you know I can fly? I thought prisoners weren't allowed to watch the fights live."
"The Psions experint on a lot," she admitted. "Sotis, they bring to their observation rooms. I saw you." Her expression softened. "You fought well."
He wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Thanks, I guess."
She seed excited now, her earlier hesitance gone. "If you can assimilate languages and fly, are you from Tamaran?" she asked. "Perhaps from one of the lost colonies?"
"No," Joseph said firmly. "I'm human. Or… I was, before the Psions got a hold of . I don't know what they did to ."
Her smile faded slightly. "Oh."
He didn't know if that ant she was disappointed or if she simply felt sorry for him. Either way, the conversation stalled. Silence settled between them.
Then, after a mont, she spoke again. "What is your na?" she asked. "I am Koriand'r."
He hesitated. The Gordanians had asked for his na when he was first captured. He had told them it was Flux. They hadn't cared whether it was true or not. To them, he was just another slave.
But now, looking at Koriand'r—at soone who wasn't just another guard, another captor—he didn't want to lie.
"…Joseph," he said finally. "Joseph Bell."
Koriand'r smiled. "It is good to et you, Joseph Bell."
He wasn't sure why, but hearing his full na spoken aloud felt… grounding. Like, for the first ti since he'd arrived, he wasn't just another fighter in the arena.
Maybe he was just tired of feeling alone.
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