Within an hour, she had examined all three women, identified two previously undetected conditions, and proposed modifications to our monitoring parameters. The women responded to her with initial wariness that quickly shifted to relief as they recognized her expertise.
Watching her work stirred something profound in me—a complex mixture of vindication, relief, and something warmer I couldn’t quite name.
“You were right. These women need specialized care,” she said quietly as we left the observation area. “I didn’t fully understand the nuances of cyborg physiology in pregnancy until today.”
“Will you help them then?” I asked, my voice low and intense. I stepped closer, unable to stop myself.
Her eyes met mine and I saw the war within her—her doctor’s oath battling her justified anger at being brought here against her will.
“I’m not saying I forgive you or even trust you,” she finally said, her voice steady. “But I won’t let them suffer when I can help.”
The relief that flooded through me was staggering.
I soon escorted her back to her quarters as night fell over the colony. The jungle beyond our settlement hummed with its nocturnal symphony—whirring insects and distant calls of native fauna. Stars and the twin moons pierced the velvet sky, casting a silvery glow over her soft features.
“You probably saved lives today,” I said, hoping to ease the tension that had built between us on our walk back.
Her shoulders stiffened. “I just did my job. The job I was trained to do. It doesn’t mean I’ve accepted... this.” She gestured broadly at our surroundings.
We arrived at her quarters, and I placed my palm on the security panel. The door slid open gently.
“Tomorrow we’ll continue with?—”
“Let me guess.” She cut me off, her voice razor-sharp. “More forced labor before you lock me up again for the night?”
I felt something tighten in my chest. “Colony policy requires you to remain in secure quarters until full integration.”
“Stop.” Her eyes flashed. “Just stop with the protocol and colony policy bullshit. You’re not a machine anymore, so stop acting like one. Stop following orders blindly without questioning whether they’re right.”
Her words stunned me. I opened my mouth to respond but found nothing to say. The heat of shame crawled up my neck, and I backed away.
“I’ll return in the morning,” I managed before sealing her door tightly.
I walked quickly away from her quarters, my pulse hammering in my ears. The night air felt cool against my flushed skin as I strode through the central pathway of our settlement. I don’t know why her words affected me so much. I was just following the orders I agreed to, but now after spending time with her, I felt like maybe she was right. Maybe I knew deep down this treatment of her was wrong.
I shook off my confusing thoughts as I headed to Commander Helix’s office for my daily report on Olivia’s progress. Massive bioluminescent plants cast a blue-green glow across the walkways, illuminating the faces of colonists who nodded respectfully as I passed.
No matter how hard I tried, my mind kept circling back to Olivia. The fierce intelligence in her eyes when she diagnosed Terra. The gentle precision of her hands as she examined each patient. She had moved with a confident grace that I couldn’t look away from today. Even in her captivity, she radiated a strength that I... admired. More than admired.
I stopped walking, suddenly aware of where my thoughts were heading. This wasn’t part of the mission parameters. My fascination with her was becoming personal in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
Commander Helix’s office loomed ahead, its entrance flanked by native flora that twisted up around the doorframe. I collected myself before entering, schooling my features into something resembling professional detachment.
“Aeon.” Commander Helix looked up from her desk. At eight months pregnant, she embodied everything we were fighting to protect. “Your daily report?”
I stood at attention. “Dr. Parker has exceeded expectations. She identified two medical conditions our systems overlooked and has already begun recalibrating our monitoring protocols.”
Relief softened Helix’s typically stern features. “So she’s cooperating?”
“Under protest,” I admitted. “But her medical ethics won’t allow her to ignore patients in need.”
“That’s enough for now.” Helix nodded. “And your assessment of her capabilities?”
“Exceptional.” The word came out with more feeling than I intended. I cleared my throat. “She understands the unique challenges of cyborg pregnancies faster than anticipated.”
Helix’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You sound impressed.”
“Professionally speaking, she’s exactly what we need.”
