Page 18 of Human Reform (Cyborg Planet Alpha #3)

EIGHTEEN

DAXON

I stood frozen in Alora’s office as the door vibrated from her emotional exit. The Planet Alpha emblem over my heart seemed to burn against my skin, a physical reminder of the duty I had just chosen over the woman who had completely upended my existence.

“Shit,” I whispered, the curse feeling foreign on my tongue.

My fist clenched at my side as I replayed the hurt in her storm-gray eyes, and the way her voice had cracked when she’d said, “I can’t lose you. Not after… not after everything . I already lost Tim, I can’t ? —”

I’d silenced her. Cut her off like her pain meant nothing compared to my duty.

The monitors still displayed the simulation results, taunting me with their clinical assessment: AGGRESSIVE PATTERNS AND REWRITING NEUTRALIZED. FAILSAFE CODE PRESERVED. MEMORY CORE INTEGRITY COMPROMISE DETECTED.

What would I forget? The smell of her hair when I woke up with her in my arms this morning? The taste of her skin? The sound of her laughter?

My chest tightened with an unfamiliar deep ache. When had Alora become so essential that the thought of forgetting her felt like dying?

“You’re an idiot,” I growled at myself.

Sage’s warning echoed in my ears: “You’re totally emotionally compromised. I should report you to Commander Helix as a liability.”

I’d promised Sage I wouldn’t choose Alora over the colony. That my duty would come first. And I’d meant it—or I thought I had until I saw Alora’s face crumple at my decision.

“There has to be another solution,” I muttered, pacing the small confines of the office.

The jungle light filtered through the window, casting long shadows across Alora’s workspace. I glanced at her datapad, still connected to the simulation environment, and an idea suddenly struck me.

What if I didn’t have to choose? What if I could fulfill my duty to the colony and keep my promise to protect what Alora and I had built between us?

My fingers flew across her interface, pulling up the patch prototype. If I could archive my neural framework first, and then implement the patch prototype to myself, all while she was gone…

“Sorry, Alora,” I whispered as I transferred the patch prototype data to a portable drive. “I have to try to do both. Save the colony and save us.”

I slipped the drive into my pocket and strode toward the door, already calculating the fastest route to the central processing hub where I could archive my neural framework first and then upload the patch prototype directly to it.

I paused at the threshold, where Alora had pushed past me just ten minutes before. The ghost of her touch lingered on my arm, a reminder of everything I stood to forget.

“It doesn’t matter,” I decided aloud. “Even if I forget you, I’ll find you again.”

Because that was the truth I’d been fighting since the moment I first saw her. Some connections transcended memory or programming. Some bonds couldn’t be deleted, no matter how thoroughly you corrupted the code.

I stepped out into the corridor, resolve hardening my spine. I would sacrifice myself—not just for the colony but for her. So she wouldn’t have to make hard choices. So she wouldn’t have to live with the grief of someone else she loved disappearing forever.

I headed for my workstation in the main operations area, already planning my next move. Tegan glanced up as I approached, his eyes narrowing slightly at whatever he saw in my expression.

“Everything all right, Daxon?” he asked, his voice carrying just enough suspicion to put me on edge.

“Fine,” I replied curtly, sliding into my chair. “Just finalizing some security protocols.”

He nodded slowly, unconvinced. “Where’s Dr. Bridges?”

“Taking a break,” I said, which wasn’t technically a lie.

I accessed my terminal, creating a diversion that would clear the central processing hub for a while. A minor security alert in the hydroponics dome—nothing dangerous, just enough to draw attention away from the hub for the thirty minutes I’d need.

My fingers hesitated over the command keys at my workstation. Once I did this, there was no going back. I might wake up with no memory of Alora’s taste, her touch, or that beautiful mind that challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. The thought made my chest constrict painfully.

But I would still be me. And she would still be her. And maybe that would be enough for us to find our way back to each other.

I stared at the monitor, the code for the minor security alert already loaded. One press and I’d set everything in motion.

“This is for the colony,” I whispered to myself. “And for her.”

I pressed the key. Immediately, the alert system blared through the security center’s speakers—not loud enough to panic the colonists but enough to grab everyone’s attention.

“Security breach detected in hydroponics dome, sector three,” announced the automated system. “Security personnel respond immediately.”

Tegan’s head snapped up, his green eyes narrowing. “That’s strange. The dome’s scanners were fine this morning.”

“I’ll handle it,” I said, standing with a casualness I didn’t feel. My heart pounded against my ribs like a war drum. “Get the team from the central processing hub to assist me.”

Sage crossed her arms. “You? Volunteering for fieldwork instead of staying behind your precious screens? That’s new.”

“If you’d prefer to go instead…” I challenged, letting my voice drop to that growl I knew intimidated most.

“Easy, tiger.” She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Just making an observation.”

Tegan gave me a long look. “Something’s off with you.”

“Just doing my job, Lieutenant.” I stared him down, daring him to question me further. I outranked him, and we both knew it.

He backed down first, turning to his console. “I’ll alert the processing hub team.”

“Good.” I strode away from the main operations area, the portable drive with Alora’s patch prototype burning a hole in my pocket.

I moved quickly through the security center, trying to focus on the task at hand. But all I could think about was Alora—the way her gray eyes lit up when she figured out a solution, how her body fit perfectly against mine, the small sounds she made when I?—

I shook my head. I needed to stay completely focused.

When I reached the central processing hub, four security team members were already preparing to leave.

“Processing hub team, report to the hydroponics dome immediately,” I ordered, my voice leaving no room for question.

“Is there a breach?” Kel asked, his hand already on his weapon.

“Potentially. I’ll monitor from here. Go.” I stepped aside as they filed out and then shut the door behind them.

Alone at last, I moved to the main console and began the archive process. My fingers tapped frantically over the controls, setting up my neural framework backup to Alora’s private workspace.

“Save memory index, emphasis parameters alpha-one through delta-seven,” I instructed the system. Those should hopefully capture everything about Alora—every moment, every touch, and every word.

The screen flashed: BACKUP INITIATED. ESTIMATED TIME: 10 MINUTES.

I sat rigidly in the chair, watching the progress bar inch forward. I rarely sweated, but now I felt a drop slide down my temple. Ten minutes. Just ten minutes to preserve everything that had suddenly come to mean so much to me.

When the backup completed, I inserted the portable drive containing Alora’s patch prototype. The screen prompted me for confirmation to proceed with my neural framework alteration.

I hesitated only for a moment before pressing YES.

“Neural framework modification commencing,” stated the system’s cool voice. “Subject must remain stationary for complete integration. Shutdown imminent.”

My vision began to blur around the edges. I gripped the armrests of the chair, determined to face this with control.

“Estimated time: twenty minutes.”

The darkness closed in from the periphery of my vision. My last conscious thought was of Alora’s face smiling back at me this morning in my bed. I hoped I’d remember what it felt like to love her.

Then everything went black.

I woke up to brightness and confusion.

“Subject’s neural framework operational,” said a voice from somewhere.

I blinked, trying to orient myself. I was in the central processing hub, seated at the main console. The screen showed a successful implementation of some kind of patch.

I knew my name—Daxon. I knew my purpose—Core Logic Overseer on Planet Alpha. I knew my duties—maintain security systems and oversee neural framework maintenance. Well-worn facts all slotted perfectly into place.

But why was I here? Why had I implemented a patch to my own neural framework?

I checked the time—twenty minutes had passed. Why couldn’t I remember what had brought me here?

The door to the hub burst open, and a woman rushed in, her face flushed and her gray eyes wide with what looked like panic.

Long dark brown hair cascaded down her back, and her fitted white T-shirt and beige tactical pants hugged her curves.

Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

“Daxon! What did you do?” Her voice was breathless and accusatory.

I stood up, instinctively defensive. “Who are you?”

The color drained from her face. “You don’t… you don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?” I asked, scanning her face for some point of reference. Nothing clicked. “Are you new to the colony?”

She stepped back as if I’d struck her. “It’s me. Alora.” Her voice cracked on the name. “We had…” She gestured helplessly. “We had sex last night, and now you don’t even know my name?”

I frowned. That couldn’t be right. I didn’t do that sort of thing. I had no attachments and no intimate relationships. My priority was the colony’s systems. Nothing more.

“I think there’s been some mistake,” I said, straightening my shirt. The Planet Alpha emblem felt firm and reassuring against my chest. “I should get back to my workstation.”

As I moved past her, she grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in with surprising strength.

“Look at me,” she demanded, her gray eyes boring into my blue ones. “Really look at me.”

I studied her face. She was objectively beautiful with delicate features and faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, but nothing sparked recognition.

“I apologize for any confusion,” I said formally, withdrawing my arm from her grasp, “but I have duties to attend to.”

A single tear slid down her cheek, but her jaw set firmly. “You stubborn, self-sacrificing idiot,” she whispered. “You actually did it.”