Page 24 of A Mate For Matrix (Cyborg Protection Unit #1)

Chapter Seventeen

M atrix adjusted the settings on the navigation console, his fingers dancing across the glowing surface with practiced ease.

Outside the forward view screen, the stars glimmered like distant, frozen sparks—silent, beautiful, and utterly unaware of the chaos currently unfolding aboard The Nebulosity .

A screech echoed down the corridor.

Matrix didn’t flinch. He barely blinked.

Another yowl followed, accompanied by the sharp clink of something valuable—or fragile—hitting the floor.

Then came K-Nine’s low, mechanical snarl:

“I warned you about that box, Biscuit. That has my limited-edition paw pads from the Interstellar Trade Embassy in it. They are not toys, they are highly prized paw mittens!”

Matrix chuckled under his breath and shook his head. Life aboard The Nebulosity had… changed.

Radically.

In the span of a few weeks, the sleek, silent warship that had once felt more like a tomb than a home had transformed into something alive. Noisy. Slightly chaotic. Warm.

Now, it smelled of fresh bread and roasted meat instead of sterile air.

His galley, once home to nutrient packs and the occasional scorched ration cube, now produced meals so mouthwatering he’d seriously considered putting Jana in for a culinary commendation.

If such a thing existed. One should be created just to reward Jana with it.

She had claimed the galley. She had claimed his cabin. And, perhaps most disturbingly, she had claimed his heart.

He glanced at the empty co-pilot seat beside him and smiled. Just the thought of her—barefoot, humming while cooking, wearing one of his shirts and not much else—was enough to heat his circuits. Every time he walked into their cabin, he found himself hoping she’d be there.

Behind him, a crash rattled the ventilation grates, followed by an outraged mechanical bark.

“Biscuit, Butter—contain yourselves! I am not a climbing post!”

Matrix twisted in his chair just as K-Nine stormed onto the bridge, his furred chassis ruffled and one glowing eye flickering in exasperation.

Matrix arched an eyebrow. “Everything alright?”

K-Nine’s eyes narrowed. “They’ve breached the barrier around my command charging station. Again. I found Honey asleep on my power core.”

Matrix smothered a grin. “She’s clever. It’s warm there.”

“You’re going to feel warm when you’re the one getting chewed on while trying to regenerate,” K-Nine grumbled. Then he added, almost as an afterthought: “You’ll understand once Jana is breeding.”

Matrix blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”

K-Nine huffed, shaking out his mechanical fur. “Puppies, kittens, infants—it’s all the same. They swarm. Climb. Drool. You’ll see once she’s carrying.”

Matrix froze. “Carrying…?”

“Offspring. Your spawn. A miniature combination of your DNA and hers, likely with impressive lungs and zero boundaries.”

Matrix’s face went slack. His internal diagnostics spiked.

He hadn’t… considered that. At all.

Reproducing. With Jana.

She could be… already… breeding. Right now.

Matrix groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I need to talk to her.”

“You think?” K-Nine muttered.

A sharp chime interrupted them as the navigation panel pulsed red. Matrix turned, grateful for the distraction—and mildly alarmed.

“We’re approaching the jump point,” K-Nine reported. “The gate is activating.”

Matrix tapped the internal comms. “Jana, we’re about to make the jump. I need you on the bridge.”

“On my way!” came her cheerful reply.

She appeared a minute later, a vision of cozy domestic chaos. Honey was draped over her shoulder like a purring stole while Butter chased Biscuit in wild figure-eights around her boots. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion—or laughter.

“You rang, Captain?” she asked, smiling.

Matrix’s heart thudded.

K-Nine released a low growl. The two trailing kittens skidded to a stop, then dashed behind Jana’s legs like soldiers retreating to safety.

“You’re terrifying,” Jana scolded playfully.

“Good,” K-Nine replied. “Fear inspires obedience.”

Matrix bit back another smile and turned his attention to the console as the gate’s energy signature pulsed across the viewscreen.

“Sit, strap in, and hold on,” he murmured. Once she’d done so and gathered the kittens into the special carriers they’d designed for this, he said, “Engaging in three… two… one…”

The ship shuddered.

The lights dimmed, as they always did during a jump. Space seemed to bend, folding in on itself like origami. The stars vanished, swallowed by the spiraling ribbon of energy ahead.

But something was off.

The hum deepened. Shifted.

An alarm shrieked to life.

“Disruption in the gate’s energy signature,” K-Nine barked, his head snapping up. “It’s… fluctuating!”

Matrix’s hands flew over the controls. “Attempting to compensate. Rerouting power. No response!”

“Matrix?” Jana asked, her voice tight.

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

The console flickered, systems cascading offline one after the other. A blinding burst of white surged across the view screen like a solar flare from the void.

“Brace for impact!” K-Nine roared.

There was a sound—high-pitched and unnatural, like a scream torn from the universe itself?—

And then:

Everything went black.

“Matrix. Wake up.”

The voice was distant, mechanical. Familiar.

Matrix groaned, his head throbbing in time with the sluggish beat of his heart. Darkness pulsed behind his closed eyes, and every system in his body—natural and enhanced—felt misaligned.

“Matrix. Get. Up. Now.”

The sharp click of claws against metal before he felt a hard shove to his shoulder. His aching head bobbed forward from the movement, sending another shaft of pierce white lightning behind his eyelids.

He opened his eyes to blurry chaos—crackled sparks from the navigation console, dim emergency lighting painting the bridge in flickering red, and K-Nine’s glowing eyes hovering over him like twin moons.

Matrix jerked in his seat. The motion sent nausea lurching through him. His restraints dug into his shoulders like iron bands. He fought them with shaking hands.

“Where is she?” he rasped.

His vision cleared—just enough to make out Jana, slumped in her seat across the bridge. Her head lolled to the side, her arm dangling.

“Jana,” he whispered, panic igniting in his chest.

Matrix tore at the harness, finally releasing it. The instant the buckles snapped free he collapsed forward, landing hard on the floor with a grunt.

“Disorientation should pass in approximately sixty-seven seconds,” K-Nine said helpfully, padding closer.

Matrix growled, fighting to his feet. “Full report. Now.”

“Primary systems are offline. Power levels critical but stabilizing. No hull breaches. Life support is holding steady. Damage is… surprisingly minor,” K-Nine said.

Matrix frowned. There was something in his tone—something off. K-Nine didn’t sound relieved. He sounded uncertain.

But there was no time to dig. Not yet.

Matrix crossed the bridge in four long strides. His knees nearly buckled as he reached her. He crouched beside Jana and pressed two fingers to her neck. Her pulse fluttered—erratic but present.

With infinite care, he unbuckled her harness and swept her into his arms.

Her skin felt cool, and she was too still.

“Medical,” Matrix barked as he turned toward the corridor. “Now.”

K-Nine followed behind him. “Medical is offline.”

Matrix’s jaw clenched. “Then help me get it back. She needs to be checked.”

“I find it strange that the kittens appear unaffected by everything that happened,” K-Nine offered as they exited the bridge.

Three furry blurs shot past them, squeaking and pouncing with all the energy of toddlers high on sugar.

“Wonderful,” Matrix muttered. “At least someone’s immune to interdimensional whiplash.”

“I am this close to punting Biscuit out an airlock,” K-Nine said, tail twitching as the kitten attempted to scale his flank.

“You were the one who wanted a pack,” Matrix growled.

Matrix ignored the wolfhound, focusing on Jana the rest of the way to medical. She was breathing—but unevenly. His arms tightened around her as he carried her through the dim, humming corridor.

They entered the medical bay. It was darker than it should have been, but at least the emergency lights flickered to life as the system recognized his biosignature.

Matrix laid Jana gently onto the nearest diagnostic bed. The moment her body met the cushioned surface, she stirred.

A low moan escaped her lips. Her eyelids fluttered. Then she cracked one eye open and gave him a dazed, bleary smile.

“Hey, handsome,” she mumbled. “Are we dead?”

Matrix barely had time to smile back before her face contorted. She groaned, rolled onto her side with a pitiful whimper, and promptly vomited over the side of the bed.

He winced.

“I’m okay,” she croaked. “Just dying. Totally fine.”

She waved one hand at him without turning back around.

Matrix bent next to her, his fingers threading through her damp hair. “The nausea will pass. Just give it a few minutes.”

Jana curled into a ball with a miserable grunt. “Tea. I need tea. Or a black hole to throw up into. Either’s fine.”

“I’ll make you tea,” he said, brushing the hair back from her clammy forehead.

She mumbled something unintelligible as her eyes closed again.

Matrix straightened, pulling a blanket up and around her trembling form. Then he turned and strode out of medical with K-Nine at his side. Butter zipped between his legs, trailing a stolen rubber glove. Biscuit attempted to climb K-Nine again.

Matrix didn’t even flinch. His mind was already churning.

He waited until they were in the corridor and the door hissed closed behind them.

“Talk,” Matrix said flatly. “What aren’t you telling me?”

K-Nine paused, lowering his head. His mechanical jaw tensed.

“I was connected to the nav system during the jump. I felt it—when the energy from the gate surged….”

“What?” Matrix demanded, his voice low.

“A spike,” K-Nine said. “Massive. Unregulated. It fed through the ship’s engines like a power overload, distorting the gateway’s trajectory. I tried to compensate, but…”

“But what?”

“The numbers didn’t work out,” K-Nine said.

Matrix stopped walking.

His head pounded. His circuits still buzzed from the overload. “Just say it.”

K-Nine sighed, then firmly planted a paw on Biscuit’s tail to keep the kitten from chewing on his leg.

“Fine,” K-Nine said. “We’re not just outside Confederation-controlled space, Matrix. We might be in the wrong… century.”

Matrix blinked.

“Run that again.”

“We didn’t just jump across the galaxy,” K-Nine said. “There was a temporal distortion in the surge. Judging by star position, quantum decay rate, and the fragment signature from the gate… I’d say we’re somewhere between 800 to 850 years in the future.”

Matrix stared at him.

Silence stretched between them.

Then Matrix closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was,” K-Nine replied grimly. “The universe is full of surprises. And right now… we’re probably the biggest one.”