Page 12 of Human Reform (Cyborg Planet Alpha #3)

TWELVE

DAXON

I felt a wave of shyness wash over me that I couldn’t explain.

The fierce determination in Alora’s eyes softened for just a moment.

Her lips curved into a bright smile that hit me with the force of a tactical explosive.

My heart stuttered in my chest, performing some strange skipping rhythm I’d never experienced before.

This woman—beautiful, brilliant, and fierce—made me want to lift her straight out of that office chair and kiss her until neither of us could breathe. I wanted to taste the fire on her lips and feel that passion directed at me. I wanted her body pressed against mine, her hands in my hair, her?—

I inhaled sharply, forcing my thoughts back into order. Commander Helix’s words echoed in my mind. Emotionally compromised. If she knew the extent of it, she’d pull me off this mission without hesitation.

“You need sustenance,” I said, my voice coming out rough. “You haven’t eaten today.”

Alora tilted her head, strands of dark hair falling loose from her braid. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

“May I bring you something to eat? From the marketplace?” I asked, needing a moment away from her to recalibrate.

Her eyes widened slightly, as if surprised by the offer. “That would be wonderful, actually.”

I nodded and stepped back, creating distance between us before I did something reckless. “I won’t be long.”

I left Alora’s private office and headed down the curved corridor toward the main operations floor.

Tegan glanced up from his workstation as I walked by him, his eyes narrowing at the sight of my still-swollen nose.

I ignored him and strode through the main operations area, grateful when the main doors to the security center closed behind me.

Once outside, Planet Alpha’s two suns beat down from directly overhead, casting the settlement in harsh light.

The humid air stuck to my skin as I navigated the stone pathways between structures.

Hybrid orchids in vibrant blues and purples spilled from planters made of old ship parts, their scent sweet and wild.

The marketplace hummed with midday activity.

Human and cyborg colonists mingled around stalls constructed from salvaged materials and native woods, bartering for goods or simply enjoying each other’s company.

A group of toddler children—some human, some hybrid—chased each other through the central plaza, their laughter a sound that still felt new to my ears even after two and a half years.

I made my way to Nexus’s food stall near the edge of the marketplace. The lean cyborg with expressive amber eyes looked up as I approached, his hands already in motion preparing something aromatic.

“Daxon!” Nexus called out. “Twice in three days? The security protocols must be running themselves.”

“I need two protein wraps,” I said, ignoring his commentary. “One mild, one full spice.”

Nexus raised an eyebrow, his hands continuing their practiced movements. “The mild for your human guest, I presume?”

“Yes.”

His fingers deftly folded the wraps, securing them with a thin strip of edible leaf. “You’re smiling, you know. It looks good on you.”

I blinked, bringing my hand to my face unconsciously. “I’m not?—”

“You are,” Nexus insisted, his own smile widening. “Happiness sits well on those broad shoulders of yours. Less brooding, more… living.”

I accepted the wrapped packages, unsure how to respond to his observation. “What do I owe you?”

“Consider it payment enough for the novelty of seeing the great Daxon with an actual expression.” Nexus leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I think she’s good for you.”

Heat crawled up my neck—another new sensation I’d been experiencing more often since Alora’s arrival on Planet Alpha. “This is mission-critical sustenance,” I insisted, but the words sounded hollow even to my ears.

Nexus waved me off. “Go feed your mission , Daxon.”

As I turned away, my eyes caught on a small family—a cyborg father with a human mother, their toddler hybrid daughter balanced on his shoulders. The sight sparked something fierce and protective within me. This was what we’d built here—this peace and this future.

And the sabotaged code threatened all of it.

My hand tightened around the food packages. We couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to our colony and not to whatever was blooming between Alora and me. The thought of losing these new feelings and returning to that cold, logical existence was unbearable.

We would find whoever was trying to destroy our peaceful world, and we would stop them. Me and her—together as one powerful, unstoppable force.

I turned sharply, striding back toward the security center with newfound purpose.

I nodded at several colonists as I passed, something I rarely did before Alora arrived.

My usual path through the colony had always been efficient and direct, without acknowledging others beyond what protocol demanded.

Now, I found myself seeing them—truly seeing the life we’d built here.

Tegan glanced up as I entered the security center, his eyes lingering on the food packages in my hands. Something in his expression made my skin prickle with unease, but I brushed past him without comment.

When I entered Alora’s private office, she was leaning forward in her chair, the glow from the monitors casting a blue light across her features.

Her fingers moved rapidly over the holographic interface, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

The sight of her sent a jolt of something hot and protective through me.

“Food,” I announced, setting the packages on the edge of her desk.

She looked up, her gray eyes brightening as she spotted me. “Thank god. My stomach was starting to think my throat had been cut.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “That’s quite graphic.”

“Country girl.” She shrugged, reaching for the milder of the two wraps. “We don’t mince words where I come from.”

I settled into the chair opposite her, unwrapping my own meal. “Any progress?”

She took a bite, her eyes closing briefly in appreciation before she swallowed.

“Maybe. I’ve been exploring possibilities to neutralize the corrupted sections.

” She tapped the screen, bringing up a complex neural pattern.

“See, I think we might need to preserve the original architecture of the code while eliminating the corruption.”

I frowned, setting my food down. “Why save any of it? The code is a weapon against us. We should purge it completely.”

“It’s not that simple,” she argued, leaning forward. “My original code wasn’t bad. It was brilliant, actually. It was just used for the wrong purpose.” Her fingers traced the intricate patterns on the screen. “If we can salvage the core architecture while removing the malicious elements?—”

“No.” The word came out harsher than I intended. “What you created may have been brilliant and unique, but it still needs to be destroyed so no one can ever enslave us again.”

Her cheeks flushed with color. “I’m just saying?—”

“I lived it, Alora.” I leaned forward, matching her intensity. “I was there when that code stripped away everything that made me an individual. When it turned me into a weapon.” My voice dropped lower. “I killed blindly because of that code.”

The air between us crackled with tension. Her eyes locked with mine, neither of us willing to look away first.

“I’m not saying we keep the kill switches or the override protocols,” she said finally, her voice softer.

“But some of the elegant solutions in that framework could be repurposed.” Her fingers twisted the small bracelet on her wrist—a nervous habit I’d noticed before.

“Destroying something brilliant feels wasteful when it could be redeemed.”

I understood then that she wasn’t just talking about the code.

“Some things can’t be redeemed,” I said quietly. “Only destroyed and rebuilt.”

She was silent for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. Finally, she nodded. “You’re right.” Her voice had a wistful quality. “If complete destruction is what it takes to ensure your freedom, that’s what we’ll do.”

I reached across the desk, my hand covering hers. “Our freedom,” I corrected her. “And our future.”

Something shifted in her expression—a vulnerability that made my chest tight. “Our future,” she repeated softly.

We stayed like that, connected, as the implications of those two simple words hung in the air between us.

A vision suddenly bloomed in my mind—Alora with a rounded belly, her gray eyes bright with joy as I held her in my arms. A small child with her dark hair and my blue eyes running through our home. A family. Our family.

The emotions that surged through me were so powerful that I felt moisture gathering in my eyes.

I blinked rapidly, startled by this physical reaction to an imagined future.

Three days. I’d known her for only three days, and already I was picturing a life with her—the kind of life I’d watched Aeon build with Olivia, the kind Rune and Talia were building now.

What if she didn’t want that? What if the connection I felt was one-sided? And worse—what if we couldn’t fix the corrupted code? What if I reverted back to the mindless weapon I once was, all memories of her and these feelings wiped away like footprints in sand?

Panic seized me. I pulled my hand away abruptly, clearing my throat.

“Tell me about your life before,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “Before CyberEvolution, before all of this.”

Alora’s eyes flickered with something—disappointment maybe?—before she leaned back in her chair.

“Not much to tell,” she said, turning that bracelet on her wrist. “I was a problem child, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow, finding it hard to imagine this brilliant woman as anything but exceptional. “A problem?”

“Oh yeah.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “I had a pretty serious juvenile record by sixteen. Nothing too wild—mostly destruction of property, light vandalism. I was angry at the world and didn’t know what to do with it.”

“What changed?”

Her smile faded. “My parents kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday. Said they’d done their duty and couldn’t handle my ‘reckless behavior’ anymore.” The pain in her voice was raw, even after all these years.

“They sound like assholes,” I said bluntly.

That startled a laugh out of her. “They were just… conventional people who couldn’t understand why their daughter kept blowing things up instead of applying to college.”

“You blew things up?”

“Figure of speech. Mostly.” She grinned. “I did set one dumpster on fire by accident.”

I smiled, picturing a younger, wilder Alora. “Where did you go after they kicked you out?”

“My brother, Tim, took me in.” Her voice softened, filled with a tenderness I hadn’t heard before.

“He was five years older, already in the army as a strategist. We shared a tiny apartment until he got deployed. It was cramped and we fought like hell sometimes, but…” She trailed off, absentmindedly touching the small chain bracelet on her wrist.

“He gave you that,” I guessed.

Alora nodded, her eyes suddenly shimmering with tears. “Before his last deployment four years ago. They…” Her voice broke. “They never found him. Or his body. He’s just gone.”

The pain in her voice cut through me like a knife. Without thinking, I stood and moved around the desk. I pulled her up from her chair and wrapped my arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head as she pressed her face against my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair, breathing in her scent. “I’m so sorry, Alora.”

She clung to me, her tears soaking through my shirt. I held her tighter, something fierce and protective roaring within me. I wanted so badly to take her pain away and shield her from any more hurt.

“He was all I had left,” she whispered against my chest. “After he disappeared, I just… shut down. I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t care about anyone or anything.”

I ran my hand down her back in slow, soothing strokes. “Is that when you left CyberEvolution?”

She nodded. “Six months later. I couldn’t keep coding weapons when my brother was…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

I cupped her face between my hands, tilting it up so she could see my eyes. “You won’t lose anyone or anything else,” I promised fiercely. “Not on my watch.”