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TWO

AEON

I pulled off my tactical helmet as Dr. Parker closed her eyes and finally succumbed to the sedative.

Her body went completely slack, her head lolling to one side.

The faint scent of her perfume—something light and floral—lingered in the confined space of the van.

I hadn’t expected her to fight the sedative so vigorously.

Most humans dropped within seconds, but she had remained conscious for nearly four minutes after injection.

“That was... unexpected,” I said, studying her peaceful face. Her dark lashes fanned against her pale cheeks. A strand of her brown hair had fallen across her face. Without thinking, I reached out and tucked it behind her ear.

“You getting emotional on me?” Tegan’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching mine. “Or just making sure the merchandise is intact?”

“She’s not merchandise,” I snapped, the harshness in my voice surprising even me. “She’s a doctor. The best obstetrician on the Eastern Seaboard.”

Tegan’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Whatever you say, Commander. I’m sure that’s the only reason you volunteered to lead this mission.” He turned his attention back to the road. “Next stop, transport station. ETA twelve minutes.”

I glanced down at Dr. Parker again. In sleep, the lines of worry that had marked her face during our surveillance disappeared.

She looked younger, more vulnerable somehow.

My surveillance data hadn’t prepared me for how.

.. human she would feel in person. Observing someone through camera feeds and biometric scans was clinical.

Having her unconscious body mere inches from mine created an unexpected tension in my chest.

“Our people need her,” I said, more to myself than to Tegan.

“Our people need a doctor, yes,” Tegan replied, navigating the van through a series of back streets. “Did it have to be this particular doctor?”

I clenched my jaw. “The algorithm selected her. Ninety-seven percent compatibility with our requirements. Her medical records, her military experience, her adaptability scores, and her psychological profile to name a few.”

The transport station appeared ahead—an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, its deteriorating exterior the perfect cover for our operation. Tegan pulled into the loading dock, the massive doors sliding shut behind us.

“I led this mission because I wanted to ensure it was done properly,” I continued. “Minimal trauma and minimal complications. She’s essential to our future.”

Tegan killed the engine. “And you don’t trust anyone else to handle your precious cargo with appropriate care.”

I lifted her slight form into my arms. Her head rested against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck as I exited the van with practiced efficiency.

“If you’re quite finished with your analysis, we have a schedule to keep,” I said firmly. “Planet Alpha is fourteen hours away at maximum thrust. I want her settled in the medical bay before she regains consciousness.”

I carried Dr. Parker’s unconscious form up the ship’s loading ramp. She weighed next to nothing against my muscular frame, her warmth seeping through my tactical gear. Behind me, Tegan maneuvered our van onto the loading rig, the hydraulic platform whining under the vehicle’s weight.

“Easy with that,” I called back, pausing at the entrance. “Last thing we need is to damage the ship before takeoff.”

“You worry about your doctor,” Tegan shot back, his fingers dancing across the control panel. “I’ve been flying ships since before you were even a blueprint in some engineer’s wet dream.”

The loading bay sealed behind us with a pressurized hiss. Dr. Parker stirred slightly against my shoulder, a small sound escaping her lips. The sedative would hold for another sixteen hours, but I wanted her safe and secured before then.

I made my way through the narrow corridors to the sleeping quarters, ducking beneath low-hanging conduits.

The ship wasn’t built for comfort. It was a repurposed military transport, stripped of weapons and retrofitted for stealth travel.

Just functional enough to get us back to Planet Alpha undetected.

The sleeping quarters were sparse—a single bunk fixed to the wall, with basic restraints for space travel.

I laid Dr. Parker down with more care than the situation called for, my hands lingering longer than necessary as I adjusted her position.

Her hair spilled across the thin pillow, a strand catching on my tactical gear.

I brushed it away, struck by the softness of it between my fingers.

“If you’re done tucking her in, I could really use a copilot,” Tegan’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Earth’s orbital security grid activates in fifteen minutes.”

I secured the restraints across Dr. Parker’s body—loose enough for comfort but tight enough to keep her safe during launch. My gaze lingered on her face, so peaceful in unconsciousness. What would she think when she woke? What would she do?

“Necessary,” I muttered to myself. “This was necessary.”

In the cockpit, Tegan had already begun the preflight sequence, the ship’s engines humming to life beneath us.

“Cutting it close,” he remarked as I dropped into the copilot’s seat. “Getting cold feet about our passenger?”

“Focus on the mission.” I initiated the navigation system, plotting our course to Planet Alpha. “Fourteen hours, maximum thrust once we’re clear of Earth’s atmosphere.”

The ship vibrated as we lifted off, breaking through cloud cover and ascending rapidly toward the stars. Earth shrank beneath us, its blue-green surface obscured by swirling white clouds. Soon it was just another bright point against the black canvas of space.

“You know,” Tegan said, once we had settled into our flight path, “there were other options.”

I settled back in my seat, my eyes fixed on the viewport. “We’ve been over this. The algorithm?—”

“The algorithm gave us a list. You chose her.”

“She’s the best. Her success rate with complicated births is unmatched and her military experience with cyborg soldiers is essential.”

Tegan snorted. “I’m sure her file photo wasn’t a factor at all. Right?”

I ignored the jab. “Our people need this knowledge. Without proper obstetric care, the birth mortality rate on Planet Alpha will make sustainable population growth impossible.” I rubbed my temples, where a tension headache was forming.

The pain and pleasure receptors activated during our reprogramming had made for quite the adjustment period.

“Everything we fought for and everything we built this past year—it ends if we can’t reproduce successfully. ”

“And hacking Earth’s medical databases was too risky.”

“CyberEvolution still has operatives embedded in Earth’s security networks.

One wrong move, they trace us back to Planet Alpha, and it’s not just you and me at risk.

It’s our entire race.” I closed my eyes, remembering the war in fragments.

The cyborg soldiers programmed solely to kill the enemy with no conscious thought or free will.

“We’re free now. Ever since the war ended and our reprogramming. I won’t risk that freedom.”

“So instead, we kidnap one human doctor,” Tegan retorted.

“One doctor with the exact knowledge and experience we need. One life disrupted instead of millions ended across the galaxies.”

Commander Helix’s face soon filled the ship’s screen, her features drawn tight with discomfort. Even through the grainy ship feed, I noticed the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her pregnancy had advanced to the third trimester, her belly swollen beneath her tactical uniform.

“Status report, Commander Aeon,” she demanded, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Is the doctor secure? Undamaged?”

“Dr. Parker is sedated and in perfect condition,” I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the twinge of unease her word choice triggered. Undamaged. Like Dr. Parker was equipment. “We’re approximately seven hours from Planet Alpha.”

Helix winced, one hand moving to cradle her abdomen. “The contractions have started. Nothing serious yet, I don’t think.”

“False labor,” I said automatically, my sparse medical programming supplying the term though I didn’t fully understand what it meant. “But without proper obstetric care?—”

“I’m well aware of our situation, Aeon.” Her voice cut through mine, sharp as a scalpel. “Three women have died in childbirth since we established the colony. Three women and five children who never drew breath.” Her eyes locked with mine through the screen. “I don’t intend to be the fourth.”

I straightened my posture. “You won’t be. We’ll be planet side in seven hours. Dr. Parker will be conscious shortly after arrival.”

“The council was thinking of preparing a welcome reception. They want to make our... guest... feel at home.”

“A reception might be premature,” I cautioned. “She’s been abducted against her will.”

Helix’s lips thinned. “Just get her here, Aeon. The future of our people depends on it.” The screen went black before I could respond.

I soon leaned back into my seat, fatigue washing over me. Tegan had taken the controls, allowing me a brief respite. Through the viewport, endless stars streaked past, each one a blazing reminder of how far we had come and how far we were taking Dr. Parker from her home.

I closed my eyes, but instead of darkness, I saw her face as I’d lifted her unconscious body from the van. The vulnerability there. The trust that she’d never have granted me had she been awake.

Could I have approached her differently?

Perhaps a diplomatic mission, an invitation to visit Planet Alpha to assist a budding civilization?

But what if she had refused? What if Earth’s authorities had been alerted?

We couldn’t risk the colony’s location becoming known—not with CyberEvolution still possibly hunting rogue cyborgs.

Yet the weight of her small form in my arms haunted me. The softness of her hair against my fingers. The gentle rhythm of her breathing. She wasn’t just medical knowledge in human form. She was a person with a life I’d torn her from.

A light kick to my boot jarred me.

“Rise and shine,” Tegan quipped. “We’re approaching Planet Alpha’s orbit. Need your help with landing protocols.”

I blinked sleep from my eyes, surprised I had actually dozed off. “How long was I out?”

“Long enough to miss my riveting monologue about interstellar navigation.” He gestured to the viewscreen where Planet Alpha loomed, a vibrant sphere of blues and greens against the black void. “Home sweet jungle.”

I took my position at the copilot controls, guiding our descent through the atmosphere. The ship shuddered as we broke through cloud cover, revealing the vast canopy of the rainforest below. In the distance, the glass domes of our colony gleamed in the alien sunlight.

“She’s going to hate it here,” I muttered.

“Or she might surprise us,” Tegan countered, easing the ship toward the landing pad. “Humans are adaptable. It’s why we’re modeled after them.”

The landing gear engaged with a metallic groan, and the ship settled onto the pad with a slight bounce. I could see a gathering crowd through the viewport—council members, medical staff, and curious onlookers, all eager for their first glimpse of the human doctor who would save their future.

I moved to the sleeping quarters, where Dr. Parker still lay unconscious. Her sedation would wear off soon. Would her first memory of Planet Alpha be fear? Anger? Would she look at me and see only her captor?

I lifted her gently, cradling her against my broad chest. Her warmth flooded through my uniform, her head nestling naturally into the crook of my neck.

For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a different scenario—one where she had come willingly, where her eyes would open with curiosity rather than terror.

“Time to face the music,” Tegan said from the doorway.

I carried her through the ship’s corridor and down the ramp, into the humid air of Planet Alpha. The assembled crowd fell silent at the sight of her in my arms.

“Medical bay,” I ordered, striding past their stares. “And I want everyone out except essential personnel. She’s not a spectacle.”

The colony’s medical facility was our pride—equipped with salvaged and adapted human technology but lacking the human expertise to use it effectively. I placed her on the main diagnostic bed, carefully arranging her limbs in a comfortable position.

As I prepped equipment, I caught myself studying the curve of her jaw, and the slight part of her lips. Soon those lips would likely be shouting accusations at me. Soon those eyes would open, and whatever trust might have existed between us would be shattered before it began.

But at least she’d be safe. At least she’d be alive.

And maybe, just maybe, once she understood our situation—once she saw pregnant women like Helix, desperate for her help—she might forgive me.