ACCIDENTALLY HIS LAB EXPERIMENT

CHAPTER 7:CRACKED

The med bay smelled like antiseptic and ozone. Cold light bled from panels overhead and made everything look sterile. Too clean. Like they were trying to bleach the scream out of the walls.

Selene sat on the edge of the bed, blanket pulled to her waist. Her ears looked normal. No blue glow. No dots. Just human skin.But every sound hit her like needles. A nurse’s pen clicked three beds down. A pipe dripped overhead. Once. Twice. She counted them before she could stop.

The Helm sat on a tray beside her. Cracked down the center. Blue circuits dead. Her skull felt like it had been split open with a chisel and stitched back wrong.

She could hear Prof. Kades discussion with Dr Vant from the other room.

“Vitals are stable,” Prof. Kade said. “Calibration fault confirmed. Unit requested by Tech Maya. She’s suspended pending review.”

“Not her fault,” Vant said. Coat still on. Hands faintly shaking. “The fault was old. Stress fracture from previous use. I should’ve caught it.”

“You did catch it,” Kade snapped. “After she nearly hemorrhaged her brain. She hit 40% sync with a cracked regulator. That’s not training. That’s Russian roulette.”

Selene didn’t speak. She pressed her palms to her ears — normal, human ears — and tried to filter the noise. It didn’t work. Her hearing was sensitive again. Unpredictable. One second normal, next second everything amplified.

The door hissed open. Light footsteps.

Cael slipped in holding two paper cups. He grinned when he saw her face. “I come bearing terrible coffee and worse jokes. Medical orders.”

Selene managed a weak smile. “Hospital coffee should be illegal.”

“Exactly. Which is why I stole it from Kade’s private stash.” He set one cup down and sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to touch. “So. On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you currently want to throw the Helm out the airlock?”

“11.”

“Fair.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got a medical diagnosis: Patient suffers from acute Vant-proximity headaches and chronic Serath side-eyes. Prescription: one terrible joke daily.” He leaned in. “What do you call a psychic who just lost his keys?”

Selene stared. “What?”

“A mind-reader.” He waited half a beat. “Because he’s always looking for his lost—”

She snorted. Actual laugh. Small, but real. For two seconds the med bay didn’t feel like a cage.

The air changed. Cold.

Vant was in the room now with Prof. Kade behind him. He hadn’t made a sound. Gray eyes on Cael, flat.

“Out,” Vant said. One word.

Cael stood slowly, hands up like he wasn’t a threat. “I was just—”

“I said out.” Vant didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to. The air went heavy. The kind of silence that makes trained soldiers forget their next word.

Cael glanced at Selene. She gave a tiny nod. He left, but not before muttering, “Keep the joke. You’ll need it when he starts lecturing you about ‘control’.”

Door hissed shut. Silence dropped.

Vant picked up the cracked Helm. His thumb brushed the dial at the back. The same dial he’d twisted down 3% in the glass reflection.

“Leave it,” he said.

Kade, who’d been pretending not to listen, snapped. “Leave what?”

“The crack. Don’t replace the unit yet.”

“That’s insane. She needs a functional regulator or next time she won’t walk out of that chair.”

“She needs control under pressure,” Vant said flatly. “A perfect Helm makes her dependent. A cracked one forces her to learn the filter. Pain is data.”

“Pain is brain damage, Dr Vant.”

Selene touched her ears. Still normal. Still human. But the static was building again. She hissed through her teeth.

Prof. Kade sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. We keep the cracked unit. But she doesn’t touch it until her scans clear. 48 hours minimum.” He turned, then stopped. “And Dr Vant? If this was you, if you sabotaged that dial—”

“It wasn’t me,” Vant said. Too fast.

Prof. Kade left without another word. The doors hissed shut.

Selene exhaled. She heard Vant’s pulse. Steady. Too steady for a man who’d just lied.

“You twisted it,” she said. Voice raw. “Down 3%. I saw it.”

Vant didn’t deny it. He set the Helm back on the tray.

“Your body fights the DNA because it’s not yours,” he said. Low. “If I let the Helm run clean, it will force synchronization. You’ll transform, yes. And you’ll never come back from it. The Apex predator will own you.”

“So you’re saving me?”

“I’m keeping you human long enough to choose.” He finally looked at her. “Control first. Power later. That’s the order.”

Footsteps in the hall. Light. Deliberate.

Serath appeared in the doorway. Golden braid over one shoulder. She leaned against the frame and smiled, sharp.

“Heard the scream all the way in training,” she said. “And the laugh. Dramatic.”

“No one asked for your review,” Vant said without turning.

Serath’s eyes flicked to Selene’s ears. To the cracked Helm. Then back to Vant.

“Touching,” she said. “You never looked at Prof. Kade like that when his unit failed. Only when it’s your Little Thorn.”

Vant’s jaw flexed. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? State facts?” Serath pushed off the doorframe. “She’s human. Still. After all that. Maybe the DNA’s a dud.”

“Maybe you should leave,” Selene said. Quieter than she meant. Her ears picked up Serath’s breath. Fast. Excited.

Serath laughed under her breath. “I’m just worried, Selene. Dr Vant’s risking his career for you. Adjusting dials. Carrying you. All for a girl who can’t even channel.” She tilted her head. “What happens when he realizes you’re not worth it?”

The room temperature dropped. The way the air went still when he looked at you like that. His presence filled the whole med bay without him moving an inch.

“Don’t speak to her,” he said. Quiet. Final. And somehow it cut deeper.

Serath didn’t flinch. At the door she paused. “By the way,Dr Vant. Sector 7’s frequency drift? It’s not drift. Someone’s broadcasting on your old clearance code.” She left before he could answer.

Dr Vant’s pulse spiked. Once. Then locked down.

“Rest,” he told Selene. “I’ll be back in two hours. We test the filter without the Helm. Small steps.”

“You’re not listening,” she said. “I don’t want small steps. I want to stop being helpless.”

“You’re not helpless,” he said. His hand hovered near her shoulder but didn’t touch. “You’re resisting. That’s harder.”

He left.

Selene lay back and stared at the ceiling. Her ears were normal. But the static stayed. And somewhere in the mountain, someone was broadcasting on Vant’s old code.