Page 33 of A Mate For Matrix (Cyborg Protection Unit #1)

T he glow of the Medi-scanner trembled slightly in his hand as Matrix leaned over the bed in the medical unit. A storm churned inside him as he watched the screen for the results.

The display pulsed softly, the holographic projection of Jana’s scans hovering above the console in a wash of pale blue light.

Tucked safely in her womb, no larger than the tip of his finger, was the beginning of a new life.

His breath caught, his chest tightening as emotions warred inside him—awe, fear, joy… and a bone-deep uncertainty he hadn’t felt since he was a boy.

Jana laughed softly behind him, her voice carrying the same brightness it always did when she’d set her mind on something. “I’m making us a feast,” she declared, brushing past him to snag her tablet from the counter. “This calls for a celebration.”

He managed a smile as she kissed his cheek and darted from the med bay, humming under her breath.

But when she was gone, the smile faded.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the scanner’s glowing readout, until the weight of everything—their future, the Hive, the Queen, the war—pressed down on his shoulders like gravity.

He needed somewhere to hide—just long enough to get his emotions under control.

The bridge was quiet, lit only by the soft starlight spilling through the viewport. Zion turned slowly below them, blue and green swirled with clouds, a jewel of a world he hadn’t seen in almost a thousand years.

Matrix dropped heavily into the pilot’s chair, bracing his elbows on his knees and dragging both hands over his face. How was he supposed to support a growing family, keep Jana safe, protect their child… while the galaxy itself teetered on the edge?

Something hard clinked against the deck plating.

Matrix glanced down to see a small disk spinning slowly where it had fallen from his pocket.

The disk Rorrak had given him.

Frowning, he retrieved it and slid it into the console’s reader. The holographic interface hummed softly before blooming to life above the console.

And then his breath caught.

It was about his parents.

Lines of data scrolled across the display, but the words blurred together until one line stabbed into his chest like a blade.

Subject: Dr. Sennara Roma. Status: Deceased.

Cause of death: Systemic organ failure, complications of viral degradation. Timeline:…

His mother had died three weeks after his departure.

His throat closed as he read the following entry.

Subject: General Terrex Roma. Status: Deceased.

Cause of death: Cardiac arrest.

His father had joined his mother six months later. The report said cardiac arrest, but he knew it was because his father’s heart had broken.

Matrix gripped the console, his knuckles white as the tidal wave of grief surged up and swallowed him. His vision blurred, and he dropped his head forward, his breath shuddering.

A soft ping interrupted the silence—a folder within the file, marked Vidcoms: Private file: Matrix Roma.

His hands trembled as he opened it.

Sennara Roma’s face appeared, pale but radiant, her soft gray eyes glimmering even as dark circles shadowed them.

“Matrix,” she said, her voice trembling but warm. “My son… my wonderful son.” She swallowed hard, tears glistening as she smiled faintly. “If you’re seeing this, it means you made it home.”

Her breath caught, and she pressed a hand to her chest, steadying herself.

“I don’t know where you are, love. I don’t know what you’ve been through.

But I want you to know… I will always be there with you in spirit.

You are my greatest joy. And wherever you go, whatever you become…

” her lips trembled as a single tear slid down her cheek, “…I am so, so proud of you.”

Her hand reached toward the recorder, as if trying to touch him one last time. “Never forget how loved you are, Matrix.”

Matrix drew in a shuddering breath as the message ended. He barely had a moment to steady himself before the next message began to play.

Terrex Roma’s face filled the projection, his features drawn but composed, the authority in his voice steady despite the grief in his eyes.

“Son.”

He exhaled slowly, like a man forcing strength into every syllable. “If you’re seeing this, it means I didn’t make it. And that’s alright. Your mother’s waiting for me.” A small smile curved his lips, soft but resolute.

“You’ve always carried more weight than anyone should, Matrix. And I wasn’t always good at saying this, but… you made me proud every damn day. Not because of what you could do, but because of who you are. Loyal. Fierce. Unbreakable.”

His father’s gaze softened, and his voice lowered with emotion. “I have to believe you made it back from your mission—that you are somewhere out there. Take care of that damn wolfhound you’re linked to, and know… that no matter where you are, you were always loved.”

Terrex’s expression shifted slightly then, his fingers tapping something off-screen. “I embedded something in this message. Files I couldn’t send openly. Elaine Brim’s research.”

The image shimmered before vanishing.

A new file opened on the console.

Data cascaded across the screen in encrypted bursts, followed by a sudden spike in the system’s processors.

Pain knifed through Matrix’s skull as an unfamiliar phrase rippled through the audio log—a woman’s voice, sharp and clipped, repeating over and over:

“The key is moonrise. The key is moonrise.”

Elaine’s voice.

Flashes exploded behind his eyelids—memories burned into his neural implants: fragments of when Elaine rebuilt his mind and body, images of surgical lights, fragmented commands, encrypted symbols.

He gasped and clutched the console, his body jerking as hidden code embedded in the phrase unlocked.

An avalanche of data poured through him, her data, all of Elaine Brim’s personal files, her notes, her experiments, the details of what she’d done to him—and the Crawlers.

It was too much. Too fast. He forced himself to sever the feed. His heart thundered as he dragged in a breath.

They had something powerful now. Something they could use to help them defeat the Hive queen. But it would take time to sift through.

“Matrix?”

He looked up sharply to find Jana in the doorway, silhouetted by the soft glow of the corridor lights.

Her expression softened when she saw his face. Without a word, he opened his arms, and she crossed the bridge to slide onto his lap.

The holographic image of his parents hovered above the console. Jana followed his gaze, her hand covering his gently.

He closed the vidcom with a quiet click, turning instead toward the viewport.

Below, Zion glimmered like a promise.

“Everything alright?” Jana asked softly.

He inhaled deeply, holding her close. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Everything’s alright.”

She smiled faintly, leaning her forehead against his. “I love you, Matrix. I wouldn’t change any of this for the world.”

He kissed her temple, whispering, “I love you. And maybe… maybe we’re here for a reason.” He gestured toward the planet. “Maybe we’re meant to make sure this world—all the worlds—don’t change for the worse.”

A strange, quiet peace washed over him then, settling somewhere deep inside.

Like Gracie Jones, he was here for a reason.

To protect the galaxy from the Alluthans.

Jana kissed him softly, sliding off his lap.

He caught her around the waist and rose smoothly, scooping her into his arms.

She squealed, laughing. “Matrix! Dinner!”

He arched an eyebrow, grinning for the first time in hours. “How important is dinner?”

She kissed him soundly, breathless and warm. “Not as important as dessert.”

“Perfect,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. “You’re the perfect mate for me, Jana. Everything’s going to be alright. We’re where we’re meant to be—you, me, K-Nine, the kittens—and our child.”