We've Reached Epsilon!

Every blood cell told Paul that he was a freak. Rainbow scales shivered up his torso and breathed grotesquely, sucking in atmospheric moisture in the dank underground complex. Paul felt that if he found a mirror, he would smash it and cut his own throat.

Tal'Shen was deliciously rupturing the opaque turquoise fleshy bulbs on his back. Suicide? She stopped.

Lysanna's twin, Linfjen, froze Maya rigid. She bombarded Lysanna with telepathic spears. She must protect Paul's Rejection of the progeny.

From afar, Lysanna grew alarmed. Humans were uniquely physically vulnerable to Fonae spawn. Unfortunately, among the galaxy's sentient races, humans were also alone in their infinite capacity for self-hatred. Mental illnesses poisoned their brainfields. Lysanna's fledgling screeched for help. But Lysanna was wounded. Tal'Shen must face Rejection alone.

Tears washed the meaty, translucent eyes growing out of Paul's face. Rage. Defeat. All I wanted was a job. Now I am a freak! Outcast! Tal'Shen pleaded with cerebral licks. It made him angrier. He would never see his family again. His brother Richard. Tania. He would never keep his promise to her.

You-whatever-you-are. I am not your host. I am still a man. I. Am. Free.

Please – Tal'Shen wailed – If you expel me now, you will die, as will I! I cannot leave!

Then.  We. Will. Die. And YOU – Paul crackled through Lysanna's psi-membrane with electric arcs. He roared into her sanctum: RELEASE ME.

Linfjen rejoiced. Progenies always sought faintly psychic humans to form a bond. Linfjen had been certain that a spawn would eventually locate a human whose extreme Psych-Rejection would unleash psi-capabilities which surpassed those of her own race. Such humans would be perfect weapons. They would control this planet. They would control her planet! They would conquer other worlds! Messy incubations were a thing of the past. Now she, Linfjen, need only control this human, and she could claim her birthright ...

Paul turned on Linfjen: YOU DO NOT CONTROL ME. Release Maya. NOW.

Elsewhere in the complex, electroencephalographs detected Paul's brainwaves. "General! Paul's brainwave frequency is cycling past Gamma range. 89 Hertz! 100 cycles per second – HyperGamma! 138 Hertz! Lambda range, Sir! 259 Hertz! Now, his brainwaves are ... oscillating faster and slower at the same time. We've reached Epsilon, Sir! And his heart is still beating! Impossible."

The General snapped, "His heart is still beating because that thing is keeping it beating." Paul's cell video feed lit the man's severe face. "You may be right," he admitted acidly to a scientist at his side, "Let us hope to God, Doctor, that Paul will succeed where the others have failed."

The Doctor sighed heavily. "If we can control him."