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The small containment unit looked very much like a fish tank, but instead of water, it held swirling clouds of pink gas that flashed as if a lightning storm were brewing inside. Angry lightning. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but something in those brief pulses of light felt hostile.
Jack was bent over with his hands on his knees, peering into the containment unit. “So that's Pennfield's symbiont,” he muttered. “Have we been able to communicate with it?”
Behind him, Nareo sat at the table with his elbow on its surface, his chin resting on the knuckles of his fist. He was fixated on the smaller Overseer device that still hung from metal hooks. “Several Nassai specialists have been in and out of here over the last few days,” he said absently. “They're not sure what to make of it.
