Page 4 of Human Reform (Cyborg Planet Alpha #3)

FOUR

DAXON

I knelt before Alora in the medical bay recovery room, holding the ice pack against her injured shoulder while my other hand cupped her soft cheek.

Something inside me shifted when she leaned ever so slightly into my palm.

My thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone, committing its delicate architecture to memory.

The sensation of her skin beneath my fingertips sent electricity through my nervous system—an effect I couldn’t explain through logic or programming parameters.

I cleared my throat, steadying myself. This wasn’t the reason I’d come here this morning. The colony desperately needed her help, regardless of whatever inexplicable pull was happening between us.

“Dr. Bridges—Alora—we’ve been experiencing colony-wide system glitches in our neural framework for the past several months,” I said, keeping my voice measured. “Similar to what you witnessed yesterday when I… lost control.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “That outburst?”

“Yes.” I adjusted the ice pack on her shoulder, noting how the bruise was already forming beneath her pale skin. “It’s affecting many of us. Random aggression spikes. Memory lapses. Combat protocols activating without triggers.”

“And you think I can help?”

“I know you can. You wrote the original code. The glitches appear to be fragments of it resurfacing, overriding our reprogramming.”

For a moment, I felt hope surge through me. The way she looked at me, those intelligent eyes analyzing the problem—like she was already mentally dissecting the code architecture.

“No,” she said flatly.

I blinked, certain I’d misheard. “Excuse me?”

“I said no.” Alora pulled away from my touch, leaving my hand suspended in empty air. “I don’t owe any of you anything. I’ve spent three years trying to leave that part of my life behind.”

The rejection hit me with a physical force I hadn’t anticipated. “People are getting hurt,” I said, my voice rougher than intended.

“That’s not my problem anymore.” She looked away, her fingers twisting in the thin fabric of her medical gown. “All I want is to go home. Back to my mountains. Back to peace and quiet and isolation. I’m done with CyberEvolution, with cyborgs, with all of it.”

Something fractured inside me—a hairline crack in a system I thought impenetrable. “We need you.”

I need you , my mind corrected, which made no logical sense at all.

“I can’t,” she said, and her voice broke. “I’ve been drowning in guilt for almost a decade of my life. Do you have any idea what it’s like? Knowing you helped turn thinking beings into mindless weapons? I ran away because I couldn’t face it anymore.”

Tears gathered in her eyes, and seeing them triggered something primal in me—a fierce, protective instinct that overrode every rational thought. I wanted to gather her into my arms, shield her from pain, and promise her safety. The intensity of it terrified me.

“Then face it now,” I urged, fighting to keep the desperation from my voice. “Help us fix what was broken in the first place.”

A tear escaped, tracking down her cheek. “Take me home. Please.”

The simple request along with the realization that she didn’t want to be here and didn’t want to be near me sent a wave of unfamiliar emotion through my system. Something hot and sharp that had no logical place in my programming—hurt.

I stood abruptly, needing distance between us. My carefully constructed barriers were failing, revealing vulnerabilities I’d never acknowledged. The way my pulse accelerated when she looked at me. The way my thoughts scattered when she was near. The irrational desire to feel her in my arms again.

“Daxon?” Her voice had softened, confusion evident in her tone.

I couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’ll have Olivia bring you breakfast. We can discuss this further when you’ve had time to reconsider.”

“I won’t change my mind.” Steel lay beneath her tears.

I moved toward the door, desperate for the recycled air of the corridor and for space to recalibrate my thoughts.

“Where are you going?” she called after me.

I paused but didn’t turn around. “I have duties to attend to.”

And a fundamental problem of my own to address—this inexplicable, illogical emotional response to a woman I’d just met. A woman who wanted nothing to do with me or our colony.

I pressed the small button on my wrist communicator to activate the door using my security system clearance before she could respond. I needed to flee from these feelings I didn’t understand and couldn’t control around her.

I stalked down the medical bay’s curved corridor, my footsteps echoing against the polished floor as I tried to make sense of the storm raging inside me. Rejection. That’s what this feeling really was—sharp and uncomfortable, lodged somewhere beneath my sternum.

Why did I care so much that this human woman, this stranger, didn’t want to stay? Why did the thought of her leaving twist something vital inside me?

I found Olivia in the supply room, sorting through freshly sterilized medical instruments. Her brown waves were pulled back in a practical ponytail, her practiced hands moving with efficient purpose.

“Olivia,” I said, my voice sounding rougher than intended.

She looked up, her green eyes scanning my face with that uncanny perception that made her such an effective doctor. “Daxon. Everything okay with our guest?”

“She needs breakfast,” I said flatly, crossing my arms over my chest. “And she wants to leave.”

Olivia set down the instrument tray and turned to face me fully. “That’s not surprising. I’d have been shocked if she immediately embraced being kidnapped.”

“We didn’t kidnap her. We… requisitioned her expertise.”

A slight smile curved her lips. “That’s what Aeon called it when he brought me here against my will, too.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “This is different.”

“Is it?” Olivia’s eyebrow arched in that knowing way that reminded me so much of Aeon when he thought he was being clever. “Let me guess. You can’t stop thinking about her. You’re already measuring your words carefully around her. Something about her presence makes your chest feel tight.”

Heat crept up my neck. “We need her technical skills to fix the glitches.”

“Of course you do,” she said, not bothering to hide her amusement. “I’ll get her something to eat and check her shoulder. But, Daxon?”

“What?”

“She’ll never agree to help us if she doesn’t understand what she’s helping. I only came around when I saw the pregnant mothers and the children. When I realized real lives were at stake.”

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration simmering just beneath my skin. “What are you suggesting?”

“Show her the colony. Let her see what we’ve built here—what’s at risk if these glitches continue. People respond to connection, not abstract problems.”

The idea made immediate, visceral sense. I nodded, surprised at how eager I felt at the prospect of spending more time with Alora. “Will you help get her some proper clothes for going outside? The medical gowns aren’t suitable.”

“Of course.” Olivia’s expression softened. “And I’ll talk to her. Woman to woman—share my experience. It might help.”

“Thank you,” I said, the words feeling inadequate for the relief washing through me. “We desperately need her help before something irreparable happens during one of these episodes.”

“I know,” Olivia said, her expression growing serious. “Aeon had one last week while holding our little Maya. Thankfully I was there to take the baby, but…” She trailed off, the implication clear.

My jaw clenched at the thought. Our future—our children—were at risk. “I’ll return in a few hours to take her on a tour.”

Olivia nodded. “I’ll make sure she’s ready.”

I turned to leave but then paused. “Olivia? What if she still refuses?”

Something in my voice must have betrayed the depth of my concern because Olivia’s expression turned thoughtful.

“She won’t,” she said with quiet confidence. “Not once she sees what’s at stake. Not once she sees the real you.”

I frowned, confused by her meaning, but she simply smiled and returned to her work.

The door hissed shut behind me as I exited the medical bay into the morning light.

Planet Alpha’s twin suns filtered through the jungle canopy, casting dappled patterns across the stone pathway.

The colony was already alive with activity—cyborgs and humans moving between buildings, tending gardens, and carrying supplies.

I headed toward the security center, needing space to process the unfamiliar emotions churning inside me.

The thought of Alora leaving—of never seeing her again—created a hollow sensation in my chest that I couldn’t classify or correct.

What was happening to me? I’d never felt this way toward anyone before.

I entered the security center, the door sealing shut behind me with a soft hydraulic hiss. The familiar blue glow of multiple monitors washed over me as I crossed to my workstation. Sage and Tegan were already at their stations, their fingers flying across holographic interfaces.

“Morning,” Sage called without looking up, her intuition as sharp as ever. “Heard you chatted more with our new guest.”

I ignored her obvious fishing for gossip and settled into my chair, calling up the colony’s systems on my primary monitor. “I met with Dr. Bridges again, yes. She’ll hopefully be assisting with our neural framework issues soon.”

Tegan snorted from his station. “If you can convince her to stay.”

I shot him a dark look. “I will.”

“That confident?” Sage’s lips quirked up at the corner as she glanced my way.

“That determined,” I corrected, turning my attention to my workstation.

I lost myself in the familiar rhythms of code and protocol.

System checks. Perimeter reports. Internal communication logs.

The clarity of it calmed me—a world of binary certainties where emotions didn’t intrude.

An hour passed in productive silence as I cleared alerts, adjusted security parameters, and scheduled maintenance routines.

But then, like gravity itself was pulling my attention, I found my eyes straying to my secondary monitor where the medical bay feeds cycled. Alora’s room appeared on the screen, and my breath caught.

She’d changed clothes. The medical gown was gone, replaced by a fitted white T-shirt that hugged the curves of her breasts and beige tactical pants that accentuated her long legs.

Combat boots completed the look—practical, functional, and somehow devastatingly feminine on her.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, revealing the delicate slope of her neck.

Heat pooled low in my abdomen. A primal, visceral response I couldn’t control.

“Well, well,” Sage murmured from behind me. “Someone’s interested in more than just Dr. Bridges’ neural programming skills.”

I didn’t turn. “Don’t you have security protocols to recalibrate?”

“Already done. Unlike some people, I haven’t been distracted by pretty eyes and a sharp tongue.”

I swiveled in my chair, leveling my gaze at her. “This isn’t a joke, Sage. These glitches are getting worse. Aeon nearly dropped his baby during an episode last week.”

Her smile vanished. “I know. I had one during patrol yesterday—found myself aiming at Tobin without even realizing it.”

The gravity of our situation settled back around my shoulders, heavy and urgent. I turned back to the screen, watching as Alora paced her room, studying every detail of her surroundings like she was memorizing escape routes.

“She needs to understand what’s at stake,” I muttered, half to myself.

“Then show her,” Sage said simply. “Don’t just tell her. Show her.”

Olivia’s words echoed in my mind: She’ll never agree to help us if she doesn’t understand what she’s helping… Let her see what we’ve built here.

And more puzzling: She won’t leave. Not once she sees the real you.

The real me. What did that even mean? For so long, I’d defined myself by function—security protocols, system maintenance, and colony protection. The idea that something more was beneath that—something worth seeing—was foreign to me.

But if that’s what it took to convince Alora to stay, to help us fix this dangerous flaw in our programming, I’d have to figure it out. I’d have to show her something I wasn’t certain even existed.

I watched her move across the screen, graceful and precise in her new attire, and felt that strange pull again—like she was the center of a gravity well I couldn’t escape. Like everything was suddenly defined by its proximity to her.

“I’m taking her on a tour of the colony in an hour,” I said, not looking away from the screen.

“Good luck with that,” Tegan called out. “My credits are on her trying to escape at least twice.”

I turned off the feed to her room, gathering my resolve. “Your credits are about to be lost, then.”