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I paced the room, my mind racing. This was a different battle than I was used to, but a battle nonetheless. "What can we do?" I asked.

Imogen sank onto the couch, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know," she admitted. "I've gathered evidence of his tampering, but it's my word against his. And he's got years of seniority and influence at the medical center."

I sat beside her, taking her hand in mine. "Then we fight," I said simply. "Not with fists or weapons, but with the truth. We show them the real data, prove what our work can do."

She looked at me, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the gravity of the situation. "You make it sound so simple."

I shrugged. "Maybe it is. On Krixon, we had a saying:The truth is the strongest weapon in any warrior's arsenal."

Imogen laughed softly, some of the tension leaving her body. "I thought Krixon was all about physical strength and combat prowess."

"It was," I admitted. "But the best warriors understood that true strength comes in many forms. Including the strength to stand up for what's right, even when it's difficult."

She leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. "When did you get so wise?" she asked, echoing my words from earlier.

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I had a good teacher," I murmured.

We spent the next few days gathering evidence and preparing our case. It was a different battle than I was used to, but I enjoyed the challenge. My tactical training came in handy as we strategized how to present our findings to the medical center's board of directors.

The morning of the presentation, I woke early, feeling a familiar tension in my muscles. It wasthe same feeling I used to get before a mission, a mix of anticipation and nervous energy.

I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Imogen, and made my way to the small workout area we'd set up in our quarters. As I began my usual routine of stretches and exercises, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror.

The man staring back at me was a far cry from the hardened warrior who had first arrived on Durmox C7. My cybernetic arm gleamed in the low light, a constant reminder of how much had changed. But it was more than just the physical differences. There was a softness in my eyes now, a vulnerability that I once would have seen as weakness.

As I continued my workout, I thought about the journey that had brought me here. The battles I'd fought, the pain I'd endured, the love I'd found. Each experience had shaped me, molded me into the man I was becoming.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't hear Imogen approach until she wrapped her arms around me from behind. "Credit for your thoughts?" she murmured, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

I turned in her embrace, pulling her close. "Just thinking about how much has changed," I said. "How much I've changed."

She smiled up at me, her eyes filled with love and understanding. "Change isn't always easy," she said. "But I think it looks good on you."

I leaned down to kiss her, pouring all my emotions into the gesture. When we finally broke apart, both a little breathless, I rested my forehead against hers. "Ready to go change the world?" I asked.

Imogen grinned. "With you by my side? Always."

The board meeting was tense from the moment we walked in. Dr. Venn sat at one end of the table, his face a mask of smug confidence. But as Imogen presented our findings, laying out the evidence of his data tampering with calm precision, I watched that confidence crumble.

When it was my turn to speak, I stood tall, drawing on every ounce of the warrior's presence I'd cultivated over years of military service. "I stand before you not just as a patient or a test subject," I began, my voice steady and strong. "But as living proof of what Dr. Imogen's work can achieve."

I flexed my cybernetic arm, letting them see the seamless integration of man and machine. "Thanks to the neural interface technology developed here, I'm not just functional. I'm thriving. This arm isn't just a replacement for what I lost. It's an extension of who I am."

I saw several board members lean forward, their interest piqued. "But it's more than just the physical enhancements," I continued. "This technology has the potential to change lives, to give hope to those who thought they had none left. To deny that potential, to try to suppress it out of fear or ego, is not just wrong. It's a betrayal of everything the medical profession stands for."

As I finished speaking, the room fell silent. I could feel the weight of their gazes, assessing, judging. But I stood firm, Imogen at my side, united in our conviction.

The deliberations seemed to stretch on for hours. When the board finally reached their decision, I held my breath, my hand finding Imogen's under the table.

"In light of the evidence presented," the head of the board announced, "we have no choice but to suspend Dr. Venn pending a full investigation. Dr. Imogen, you will take over as head of the neural interface project, effective immediately."

I felt a surge of triumph, chased by a wave of relief so strong it made my knees weak. We'd done it. We'd won.

As we left the boardroom, Imogen turned to me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "We did it," she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

I pulled her into my arms, not caring who saw. "No," I said softly. "You did it. I just provided the muscle."

She laughed, the sound muffled against my chest. "Pretty impressive muscle," she teased, running her hand along my cybernetic arm.