Blake didn't quite manage to stop his involuntary recoil as the huge alien practically apparated into the small space. How in the world was someone so big so fast?

"Blake, are you okay?" He asked as he made his way through the off-kilter room and started unstrapping Blake. "Thank the stars you're awake. What happened?"

Blake took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the lingering unease from his nightmare.

"Just a bad dream," he said, his voice hoarse. "One I haven't had in a long time, but more… visceral than usual." He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the examination table. "I don't think I've fully processed the last two days. The stress made a familiar nightmare way more fucked up than it needed to be."

Eland studied him with clinical precision. "You get nightmares often?"

Blake let out a dark laugh. Couldn't help it.

"More than most." He wiped the cold sweat from his face, feeling the rough calluses of his palm against stubble. Combat had marked him, inside and out. "Seen too many battlefields. Figure the dreams mean I'm still human. Still processing. No nightmares? That's when you need to worry."

Eland's face hardened with recognition. His next words came measured, weighted with experience: "Wars leave scars. The ones you can't see cut deepest."

Blake sized up the other man. Saw the shadows in his eyes. The kind that only come from seeing too much. He gave a single nod. Some things didn't need words.

"Of course," Eland started again. "I wasn't initially asking about your dream. What happened in out in the piles, Blake? I found you unconscious next to the naked body of a deceased Tylwith noble. I was really hoping you were going to be able to explain that."

"That guy was someone noble?" Blake questioned. "They going to be sending someone to look for the body?"

"Oh there will be people searching, no doubt," Eland responded. "But this depository world is one of many, and we are an incredible distance from the Tylwith borders."

Blake blinked, trying to make sense of Eland's words. "Back up. That Tylwith definitely had some kind of bodysuit on when I found it. The last thing I remember before blacking out was the suit...latching onto me or something."

Eland nodded slowly. "I had a feeling that might be the case."

He leaned back against a counter, crossing his massive arms over his chest. Blake couldn't help but notice how the alien's biceps strained against the fabric of his shirt.

"The suit you encountered is a form of symbiotic bio-technology," Eland explained. "I've personally not seen anything like it. And from what my scans showed, it seems to have...bonded with you while you were unconscious."

Blake's eyes widened. "Bonded with me? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means," Eland said carefully, "that the suit has integrated itself with your biology. It's part of you now, Blake. And from what I can tell, it's already made some...enhancements."

Blake's heart pounded as he tried to process Eland's words. He looked down at his hands, turning them over slowly. At first glance, they seemed the same—scarred knuckles, calloused palms—but something was off. The skin appeared smoother, the veins less prominent. His gaze traveled up his arms; the wiry muscles looked more defined, youthful.

"What kind of enhancements are we talking about here, El?" Blake asked, his voice edged with unease.

Eland hesitated, his eyes searching Blake's face. "Perhaps it would be easier if you saw for yourself."

Confused, Blake swung his legs over the side of the examination table and stood. Vitality flooded his limbs, nothing like the familiar throbbing and tightness that typically greeted him upon waking. Eland gestured toward a polished metallic panel on the wall. Reluctantly, Blake stepped forward.

The reflection that stared back at him made his breath catch. Gone was the salt-and-pepper crewcut he arrived with; he now had an unruly few inches of dark black hair. The lines etched by years of stress and battle had softened or vanished entirely. His eyes were the most damning change, however. Previously his eyes were a muddy hazel—completely forgettable. The eyes staring back at him now were electric by comparison, a vivid amber that was damn near golden. There was no muddy brown or flecks of green left.

"What the hell..." Blake whispered, touching his face as if to confirm the image was real.

"The suit has been... reconstructing your body," Eland said gently. "You've been unconscious for several hours. During that time, it tapped into the ship's power systems to facilitate the process."

Blake tore his gaze from the mirror, his eyes narrowing. "Did you try and put a stop to the strange alien suit reconstructing my body without my consent?"

Eland raised a placating hand. "Of course, I tried to intervene, but based on everything Zephyr was reporting, any attempt to remove the suit mid-process could have been fatal. The damnable thing seems to have determined that this was necessary for optimal integration."

"Optimal integration?" Blake repeated, a mix of anger and disbelief in his tone. "So it's just making decisions about my body for me now? You didn't happen to find an off switch?"

"The technology is highly advanced, possibly even sentient on some level," Eland explained. "It must have calculated that returning you to your physical prime would maximize compatibility. It's… honestly Blake it could have been far worse for you."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Blake ran a hand through his hair, startled again by its thickness. "This is insane. I feel... different. Stronger." Blake didn't want to like that, but reclaiming his youth was undeniably exciting. So long as it didn't have any lethal side-effects.

"That's to be expected," Eland said. "The suit has likely maximized your muscle density, cardio-vascular system, and it definitely reworked your meridian channels. Your natural energy flow is orders of magnitude better than it was this morning. But we won't know the full extent until we run comprehensive diagnostics."

Blake's brow furrowed. "Hold up. Natural energy? Meridian channels? What are you talking about?"

Eland's massive head dropped into his hand with an audible thump. "Right. You're from a non-cultivation world." He straightened up, waving his other hand dismissively. "Look, we have more immediate concerns. The suit's bonded with you, and we need to figure out exactly what that means for your safety."

"But—"

"I promise I'll explain everything about cultivation over dinner," Eland said. "Including why your energy channels matter. But first, we need to run those diagnostics and make sure you're stable."

Blake glanced down at his rejuvenated body again. Much as he wanted answers about this 'cultivation' business, Eland had a point. Making sure the alien tech hadn't done anything dangerous to him took priority. He shuddered as a few more memories of various Cronenburg classics bubbled up from his grey matter—definitely something to avoid.

Blake took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Alright. You said it drained power from the ship?"

Eland nodded. "A significant amount. It prioritized your transformation over all other systems. I had to drain two full backup cells to maintain life support."

Blake clenched his fists, feeling the fresh power coiled within his muscles, making him even angrier. "So not only did it hijack my body, but it also put us both at risk of being well and truly stranded here."

"Technically, yes," Eland admitted. "But the immediate danger has passed. Now, we need to focus on understanding what's changed."

Blake paced the small room, his movements fluid and effortless. "I've spent a lifetime learning control, Eland. Of myself, of my surroundings. This... violates that on every level. I feel like I should be having a full-on panic attack right now, and the fact that my pulse is barely elevated is freaking me right the hell out."

"Well, about that," Eland said, some of his earlier sheepishness creeping back in. "The auto-doc recommended a short-term mood stabilizer for you, to help you process the changes. I may have let it dose you."

Blake stared daggers at Eland, but eventually relented. Frankly it was working. He was upright and functioning instead of catatonic. He had shrugged off his nightmares faster than usual and was handling a deeply existential crisis about his own state of being. When he thought about it that way it was a good call.

"I understand your frustration," Eland said. "But there's really not much we can do until we've figured out more about what was done to you and whether the process is finished.

Blake stopped his navel-gazing and looked back at Eland. "Right. How could I forget to consider that I could be a ticking time bomb? We have no idea what this damned thing is or what it wants. Shit, I don't even know where it is! Is it inside of me?"

Eland held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Blake, I know this is a lot to process. But panicking won't help us figure it out."

Blake glared at him. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who just got body-snatched by alien tech. Besides, I'm not panicking. Those drugs work wonders."

"You're right, I' suppose I'm not the one directly affected here." Eland's voice was steady. "But I am the one who's going to help you understand what's happening. We'll take this one step at a time."

"Alright," Blake said finally. "We'll run your tests. But if at any point this Venom rip-off takes over and I become a threat—to you, to anyone—you put me down before I do anything I'll earn any new nightmares for. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Eland replied without hesitation. "What's a Venom, in this context?"

Blake chuckled. "A comic book character. A black alien symbiotic life-form."

"An apt parallel," Eland conceded.

Blake exhaled slowly, a semblance of resolve settling over him. "Yeah. So, where do we start? What's step one?"

Eland gestured toward a console embedded in the wall. "First, a full biometric scan now that you're conscious. We'll need baseline readings to monitor any further changes."

----------------------------------------

Blake stood in the center of the med-bay, letting the alien scanners do their work. Their beams crisscrossed through the air like search lights cutting through fog, the steady hum almost meditative. His gut churned, but he kept his posture loose, balanced. The combat stance came naturally, even here.

"Hold steady," Eland said from behind a holographic display swimming with alien text and diagrams.

"Didn't know I was moving," Blake said. The words came out drier than he'd intended.

Eland shot him a look, almost smirking. "Fair point."

The tests blurred together after that. Some device drew his blood without leaving a mark. Holographic targets tested his reflexes. A humming helmet mapped his brain, vibrating against his skull until his teeth ached. Through it all, Blake held position, wondering what the readings were telling them about whatever he was becoming.

"You're handling this quite well," Eland noted, eyes scanning a readout.

Blake shrugged. "Been prodded and poked before. Besides, you've got a good bedside manner."

"Glad to hear it."

Finally, the last machine powered down with a descending chime. Eland tapped a few commands, and the med-bay's lights shifted to a softer hue.

"That's everything?" Blake asked.

"For now." Eland removed his gloves, fixing Blake with a thoughtful gaze. "The results are... impressive."

"In what way?"

Eland gestured to the myriad of data floating beside him. "Your physiology is, as predicted, extraordinary. The suit has enhanced your muscle density, bone strength, cardiovascular efficiency—even your cellular regeneration is operating at unprecedented levels."

Blake crossed his arms. "Bottom line it for me."

"You're still human," Eland said. "But your body has been pushed to the near peak of human performance—as if designed for it."

Blake breathed out, releasing tension in his back and shoulders he had hardly been aware of until that moment. "Okay; me and Steve Rogers, still human. Good."

He paused as a thought occurred to him.

"Eland, how does your ship even have Human data to compare me to?"

Eland stared at Blake a moment before laughing.

"Stars above, right. We've only really spoken for what, an hour total? And that was all business. You don't really know anything."

"Rude, " Blake retorted. "But accurate, I suppose."

"All right. We've made sure you're not going to fall apart. We'll get some food and really talk. There's a lot you need to learn. But before we do that, I need to finish seeing the ship's current state. Want to come with?"

Blake nodded. "I never did get the full tour."