"The truth is," Wells explains, "humans weren't the first to make contact. The Nexari discovered us nearly a century before we officially encountered them."

  "What?" I look around the table, expecting to see surprise matching my own, but everyone else seems familiar with this revelation. "How is that possible? They don't have FTL technology."

  "They don't need it," Dr. Chen picks up the thread. "The Nexari hive mind isn't limited to physical proximity. Under certain conditions—specific neurotransmitter saturation, synchronized brain wave patterns, quantum entanglement effects we still don't fully understand—their collective consciousness can extend across vast distances."

  "They sent scouts," Wells continues. "Not ships, but mental projections. Extensions of their hive mind that could observe without physical presence."

  I struggle to process this. "Like... astral projection?"

  "In layman's terms, close enough," Dr. Okafor acknowledges. "Though the actual mechanism is considerably more complex."

  "These projections found Earth during our early space exploration era," Wells explains. "They observed us for decades, learning our languages, cultures, technologies. And occasionally... making direct contact with certain humans."

  My mind races ahead to the implication. "Are you saying they tried to assimilate humans before we even knew they existed?"

  "Not assimilate," Elara corrects, her voice softer now. "Connect. Communicate. They were curious about a species so different from their own—individualistic rather than collective, competitive rather than cooperative."

  "But the connection wasn't always beneficial to the humans involved," Lieutenant Voss adds. "The Nexari didn't understand our psychology, our need for individual identity. Many of those they contacted suffered severe psychological trauma. Some developed unusual abilities afterward—precognition, telepathy, telekinesis on a minor scale."

  "The first human psionics," Dr. Chen says. "Long before official contact with the Nexari, Earth governments were already dealing with occasional cases of unexplained mental phenomena. Most were dismissed as hoaxes or delusions, but a few were genuine."

  "And Border Command knows this because...?" I prompt, sensing there's still more to the story.

  "Because Border Command was formed specifically to study and contain these phenomena," Commander Wells reveals. "Decades before we officially encountered the Nexari in space, a classified coalition of Earth nations created the organization that would eventually become Border Command. Their original mission wasn't defending territorial boundaries—it was understanding and controlling psionic potential in the human population."

  The pieces start falling into place in my mind. "So when humans finally did move into Nexari space..."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "It wasn't the accident of expansion it appeared to be," Elara confirms. "It was a deliberate mission to make official contact with the species we already knew was out there. To understand what they had done to us. What they had awakened in us."

  I look around the table at these people—these psionics whose abilities were triggered by Nexari contact. "And that's what the Nexus Protocol is about? Finding and developing more people with these abilities?"

  "Not exactly," Lieutenant Voss says carefully. "The Protocol is more specific than that. It's a classified research initiative with three primary objectives: First, to identify humans with latent psionic potential. Second, to develop methods of activating that potential without requiring direct Nexari exposure. And third..." she hesitates.

  "To weaponize those abilities against the Nexari themselves," Elara finishes for her. "To turn their own evolutionary advantage against them."

  The bluntness of her statement hangs in the air. No one contradicts her, though several look uncomfortable with the directness of her phrasing.

  "It's not that simple," Dr. Chen objects finally. "The research has medical applications, potential benefits beyond military use—"

  "But that's the endgame," Elara insists. "Don't sugarcoat it, Marcus. Border Command wants soldiers who can fight the Nexari on their own mental battlefield. Who can resist assimilation, disrupt their hive mind communication, maybe even turn their own drones against them."

  "And what's wrong with that?" Lopez challenges. "You've seen what they do to people they assimilate. They strip away everything that makes them human, turn them into extensions of their collective. Why shouldn't we defend ourselves?"

  "Because we don't understand what we're dealing with," Elara responds heatedly. "The Nexari aren't the simple threat Border Command portrays them as. Their consciousness, their entire conception of existence is fundamentally different from ours. We're judging them by human standards, human ethics."

  "They eliminate individual identity," Lopez counters. "That's not a cultural misunderstanding—it's an existential threat to what makes us who we are."

  Elara opens her mouth to respond, but Lieutenant Voss cuts her off. "That's enough. This debate has been ongoing for years and we're not going to resolve it today." She turns to me. "The point is, Andrew, that Border Command sees your abilities as potentially valuable. They'll want to study you, train you, and eventually deploy you in some capacity related to Nexari defense."

  "And if I don't want to be deployed?" I ask quietly.

  An uncomfortable silence falls over the room.

  "Technically, you have a choice," Commander Wells says finally. "None of us are prisoners here. But the reality is... complex. Your abilities make you both an asset and a potential security risk. Border Command provides protection, training, purpose. The alternatives are limited and generally less appealing."

  "What she means," Elara says bluntly, "is that they won't force you, but they'll make staying your best option. And they're not wrong about the dangers. Without proper training, these abilities can be destructive—to yourself and others."

  I think about the security officers aboard the Border Command ship, how I unintentionally took control of their motor functions. What might happen if my abilities continue to develop without guidance or restraint.

  "I understand," I say, though I'm not sure I really do. All of this—the secret history, the classified protocol, the hidden purpose of Border Command—it's too much to process at once. "But I still don't understand my connection to Elara. Why did my mind reach for hers specifically?"

  Elara steps closer, moving past her mother this time. "That," she says, "is what I'd like to discover. With your permission?"

  She extends her hand toward me, palm up—an invitation, not a demand.