Page 2

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, grateful for the gesture. "Thanks, Lila. You're a lifesaver."

She smiled, perching on the edge of my desk. "So, what's the story with our mystery cyborg?"

I took a sip of coffee, savoring the bitter taste. "I wish I knew. His injuries... they're unlike anything I've seen before. Whatever he was involved in, it was serious."

Lila nodded, her expression thoughtful. "The rumor mill is already churning. Some nurses are saying he might be connected to the rebel factions in the outer colonies."

I frowned. Politics wasn't my area of expertise, but I knew enough to understand the implications. The tensions between the central government and the outer colonies had been escalating for months. If this cyborg was indeed involved...

"Let's not jump to conclusions," I said, more sharply than I'd intended. "Right now, he's our patient. That's all that matters."

Lila raised an eyebrow at my tone but didn't push the issue. "Fair enough. You should get somerest, Doc. You've been on your feet for nearly twenty hours straight."

I glanced at the chronometer on my desk and groaned. She was right. The adrenaline that had been keeping me going was wearing off, leaving me feeling drained and heavy-limbed.

"I will," I promised. "I just want to check on our patient one more time."

Lila rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Of course you do. Just don't fall asleep in the recovery room again. The nurses are still talking about the last time they found you curled up in a chair next to a patient's bed."

I felt a flush creep up my cheeks. "That was one time, and he was a critical case."

"They're all critical cases to you, Imogen," Lila said softly. "It's what makes you such a good doctor. Just don't forget to take care of yourself too, okay?"

I nodded, touched by her concern. "I won't. Thanks, Lila."

As she left, I finished my coffee and stood, stretching out the kinks in my back. Despite my exhaustion, I knew I wouldn't be able to rest until I'd checked on the cyborg one last time.

The recovery room was quiet, the soft hum of medical equipment a soothing backdrop. I approached the cyborg's bed, studying the monitors that displayed his vital signs. Everything looked stable, his newly repaired systems functioning within normal parameters.

I turned my attention to the cyborg himself. With the damage repaired, I could better appreciate the fine craftsmanship of his cybernetic enhancements. Whoever had designed him was a true artist, blending form and function in a way that was both beautiful and deadly.

His organic eye was closed now, long lashes resting against his cheek. The cyborg eye looked remarkably like his natural eye. A soft glow behind the pupil indicated its tech and not organic. The synthetic skin we'd applied to the right side of his face was still raw and new, but it was healing rapidly thanks to the nanites coursing through his system.

Without thinking, I reached out, my fingers hovering just above his face. I wanted to touch him, to reassure myself that he was real, that we'd actually saved him against all odds.

Suddenly, his organic eye snapped open. Before I could react, his hand shot up, fingers wrapping around my wrist in an iron grip. I gasped, more in surprise than pain, as I stared into an eye thatburned with confusion and barely contained panic.

"Where am I?" he growled, his voice a raspy whisper. "Who are you?"

I forced myself to remain calm, even as my heart raced. "You're safe," I said softly, meeting his gaze steadily. "You're in the medical facility on Durmox C7. I'm Dr. Imogen. I treated your injuries."

His grip on my wrist loosened slightly, but he didn't let go. His eye darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Durmox C7," he repeated, his brow furrowing. "How did I get here?"

"You were brought in severely injured," I explained, keeping my voice low and soothing. "We've spent the last several hours repairing the damage. Do you remember what happened to you?"

He closed his eye, a look of concentration passing over his face. After a moment, he shook his head. "It's fuzzy. There was a mission. Something went wrong."

I nodded, carefully extracting my wrist from his grip. He let me go, seeming to realize he'd been holding on. "That's not uncommon with the kind of trauma you've experienced. Your memoriesmay return in time."

He opened his eye again, focusing on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "You saved me."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway. "My team and I, yes. You were in pretty rough shape when you came in."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Thank you, Dr. Imogen."

Hearing him say my name sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I busied myself checking his vitals, trying to ignore the strange flutter in my chest. "You should rest," I said, adjusting his IV. "Your body's been through a lot. Sleep will help the healing process."

He caught my hand as I withdrew it, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Will you be here? When I wake up?"