Page 5 of Human Reform (Cyborg Planet Alpha #3)

FIVE

ALORA

I traced my fingers along the walls of my elegant prison, trying to map an escape route through this strange alien colony, even though I haven’t actually seen it yet.

The clothes Olivia had brought earlier fit surprisingly well—the white T-shirt hugged my curves without being restrictive, and the beige tactical pants allowed for quick movement.

I’d tied my hair back in a practical ponytail, ready for whatever opportunities might present themselves.

A soft knock preceded the door being opened, interrupting my planning. Olivia stepped in, her green eyes watching me with that same gentle assessment I’d noticed earlier.

“Mind if I talk to you for a few minutes?” she asked.

I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral. “Sure. Not like I have anywhere else to be.”

She smiled, pulling up a chair. “How’s the shoulder feeling?”

“I’ve had worse hiking injuries,” I said, rotating it slightly. “Look, I appreciate the clothes and the ice pack, but I really just want to go home.”

“I understand that feeling better than you might think.” Olivia crossed her legs, settling in. “Did you know I’m not originally from here, either?”

My eyebrows rose. “Let me guess—another kidnapping victim?”

“Got it in one.” Her smile turned wry. “About a year and a half ago, I was an obstetrician in Boston. Then one night after work, I was grabbed in my driveway. Next thing I knew, I was here.”

“Wait, seriously?” I leaned forward, my full attention captured. “They kidnapped you, too?”

“Aeon—my husband now—brought me here to Planet Alpha against my will. They needed a doctor who specialized in high-risk births for their pregnant cyborg women.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to process this revelation. “Your husband? The one who kidnapped you?”

“Life takes unexpected turns.” Her smile softened. “I tried escaping the first chance I got. I was furious and terrified. But then I started seeing this place for what it really was—not some cyborg military compound but a community of beings trying to build a peaceful life.”

Her words stirred the guilt that had been festering inside me all morning. These were the same beings whose free will I’d helped deliberately strip away during the war.

“And now?” I asked, my voice smaller than I intended.

“Now I’m happily married to Aeon, and we have a one-month-old daughter named Maya.” The pride in her voice was unmistakable. “I can’t imagine my life any other way.”

I twisted the small chain bracelet on my wrist—the only thing I had left of my family. “I’m happy for you, but that’s not… I can’t just…”

“When Aeon and I first met, there was this… connection,” she continued, watching me carefully. “Something I couldn’t explain. Something that terrified me even further.”

My mind flashed to Daxon’s face—to the jolt of awareness when his skin touched mine and to the way his ice-blue eyes seemed to see through every defense I’d built.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

Olivia’s smile told me she wasn’t fooled. “Daxon is different from the others. More intense, more… contained. But there’s more to him than what you’ve seen. Maybe you should give him a chance to show you the real him. It might surprise you.”

Before I could formulate a response that wouldn’t reveal too much, the door slid open again, and there he stood—all six-foot-five of him filling the doorframe with broad shoulders and a presence that seemed to dim everything else in the room.

Daxon’s eyes locked on mine immediately, intense and searching. “Dr. Bridges.” His deep voice sent an involuntary shiver through me. “I’d like to show you our colony, if you’re amenable.”

Olivia stood, giving me a meaningful look. “I should get back to my patients. Think about what I said, Alora.”

As she slipped past Daxon, he stepped into the room slightly, leaving the door ajar, and suddenly the air felt thinner.

“A tour?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Is that standard procedure for all your prisoners?”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re not a prisoner. You’re a guest with… limited departure options.”

“That’s the definition of a prisoner,” I pointed out but found myself standing anyway, drawn toward him like a moth to a flame.

“After you,” Daxon said, extending his arm toward the doorway, his eyes never leaving mine.

Daxon stepped out of the recovery room after me, his presence like a magnetic field I couldn’t escape.

His large hand settled on my lower back, a gentle pressure that sent shivers up my spine as he guided me down the curved corridor.

The lighting adjusted to our movement, warm and responsive instead of the harsh fluorescents I’d grown accustomed to in Earth’s facilities.

When we stepped through the medical bay’s front doors, my senses went into overdrive.

The air hit me first—thick with humidity that instantly beaded on my skin, carrying fragrances I couldn’t name.

Sweet and earthy, like jasmine mixed with something richer.

The twin suns blazed overhead, casting everything in a golden-violet glow that made the metal and composite buildings shimmer against the backdrop of lush jungle foliage.

“It’s… beautiful,” I admitted reluctantly, the confession slipping out before I could stop it.

Daxon’s eyes flicked to mine, the hint of surprise in them making me wonder how many compliments he’d heard in his lifetime. “Planet Alpha has its moments.”

We followed a winding stone path through what seemed to be the heart of the settlement. I’d expected something militaristic and sterile—a reflection of the war machines I’d helped create. Instead, I found myself walking through what looked like a thriving community.

“You have children here?” I asked as we passed a small group of toddlers chasing each other around a tree trunk, their laughter bright against the jungle sounds.

“The first generation born free,” Daxon answered, his deep voice carrying a note of pride I hadn’t heard before. “Some are fully cyborgs. Others are hybrids.”

“Hybrids?” The implications made my scientific mind race.

“Yes. Like Aeon and Olivia’s daughter.”

I shook my head in amazement. The beings I’d helped program to kill were now creating life. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

As we entered what Daxon called the central plaza, I was struck by how…

normal everything seemed. Humans and cyborgs mingled freely at market stalls and gathering spaces.

Some sat at outdoor tables sharing meals, while others worked together on construction at the edge of the plaza.

If not for the occasional glimpse of advanced tech, it could have been any frontier settlement on Earth.

“I never imagined…” I began, but my words died as shouting erupted nearby.

A teenage cyborg boy, maybe sixteen, had suddenly frozen mid-conversation with an older woman. His body went rigid, his eyes glazing over. Before anyone could react, he lashed out, knocking over a display of fruits and shoving the woman backward.

“Stay here,” Daxon commanded, striding toward the scene with controlled urgency.

I watched, my heart in my throat, as Daxon approached the boy from behind. With swift precision, he wrapped one arm around the teenager’s chest while his other hand pressed against the base of his skull. He spoke low words I couldn’t hear, his mouth close to the boy’s ear.

The boy struggled, his movements wild and uncoordinated. But Daxon held him firmly, never increasing the pressure to a harmful degree, just containing the chaos until, suddenly, the boy went slack in his arms.

When awareness returned to the boy’s eyes, horror replaced the blankness. “I-I didn’t mean to,” the boy stammered, trembling. “It happened again. I couldn’t stop it.”

My stomach twisted into knots. This was my code—my work—still terrorizing them years later. The kill switch I’d engineered was supposed to have been disabled by any reprogramming, yet here it was, erupting through the surface like a volcano no one could predict.

Daxon spoke reassuringly to the boy before making his way back to me. My legs felt weak.

“I need to… I can’t…” I couldn’t formulate a coherent thought.

Daxon’s expression softened as he read my distress. “Come with me.”

He led me away from the plaza, down a narrow path that wound between towering trees draped with vines.

The sounds of the settlement faded behind us, replaced by alien birdsong and the rustle of leaves.

After several minutes of walking in silence, the path opened to a small clearing with a pond at its center.

The water gleamed like liquid silver beneath the alien sky, unnervingly beautiful.

A roughly hewn bench sat at the pond’s edge. I sank onto it, drawing shaky breaths. Daxon lowered himself beside me, so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“What you saw…” he began.

“Was my fault,” I finished, staring at the rippling water. “My code is still hurting people.”

“No. What I was going to say is that what you saw is why we need your help so badly.” His voice was steady, but beneath it ran an undercurrent of something raw. “These episodes are becoming more frequent. More severe.”

I twisted my brother’s bracelet around my wrist, a nervous habit. “How do you manage them?”

“We have protocols. Interventions.” He hesitated but then added, “I experience them too now, as you unfortunately witnessed last night in the medical bay. I’ve always prided myself on control. These… lapses… they’re difficult to accept.”

The admission seemed to cost him, and I found myself reaching out without thinking, my fingers brushing his forearm. The contact sent that same electric current through me, and I saw his pupils dilate slightly in response.

“I never thought about what would happen after the war,” I confessed. “I never considered you all would… evolve like this. Build something beautiful.”

“Is that what you see here? Beauty?” His blue eyes studied me with an intensity that made my heart rate quicken.

“Yes,” I answered honestly. “And my handiwork trying to destroy it.”

My throat constricted as the weight of what I’d done—what I was still doing to these people—crashed down on me.

I’d been so careful to avoid this exact feeling for three years, barricading myself away in those mountains, pretending I didn’t need connection or redemption or anything beyond my own survival.

The teenager’s terrified face flashed in my mind. The boy who couldn’t control his own body. Just like hundreds of others walking around this colony with a ticking time bomb I’d planted inside them. Just like Daxon.

“I told myself I was protecting myself by living alone,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “But I was hiding. From this. From what I’d done.”

My hands began to tremble. I twisted my bracelet frantically, the metal links digging into my skin.

“Three years pretending I didn’t need anyone. That I was better off alone. And during that time, you were here, building families, creating a future, while I…” The dam broke, and a sob tore from my chest. “What if I’m always alone? What if that’s all I deserve?”

Tears spilled down my cheeks as years of carefully controlled isolation crumbled around me. I pressed my palms against my face, trying desperately to stop the flood, but it was useless.

Daxon moved decisively. His strong arms encircled me, drawing me against his chest with a gentleness that contradicted his size. One large hand cradled the back of my head while the other spanned my back, holding me together as I fell apart.

“You’re not alone now,” he murmured into my hair, his voice a deep rumble I could feel against my cheek.

I clutched at his shirt, sobbing into the solid wall of his chest. He smelled like something clean and earthy—like cedar and rain and something uniquely him.

His warmth enveloped me completely, and for the first time in years, I didn’t feel the need to run away or rebuild my walls.

Instead, I leaned in, accepting the comfort he offered.

My body shook with each sob, but Daxon held me steady, his thumb tracing small circles on my back.

“I can fix this,” I finally managed between hiccupping breaths. “I need to fix this.”

Daxon pulled back just enough to look down at me, his eyes now holding a faint violet glow around the edges of that icy blue. “You will,” he said with absolute certainty. “We will.”

At that moment, something sparked inside me—not just the strange electric attraction but something I hadn’t felt in so long I’d almost forgotten its name. Hope.