The colony marketplace bustled with morning activity as we made our way through. Modular structures adorned with climbing vines formed a semicircle around an open plaza where traders displayed their wares—everything from cultivated fruits to handcrafted items. The jungle loomed beyond the settlement boundaries, a wall of vibrant green stretching toward the azure sky.
Her initial defiance gradually softened as we walked. Her eyes widened, taking in the sights—cyborgs and some humans chatting and laughing, exchanging goods, living ordinary lives amidst extraordinary surroundings.
“I didn’t expect it to be so...” She trailed off.
“Normal?” I suggested.
“Human,” she finished, glancing sideways at me.
Something warm unfurled within me at her words. “That’s what we fought so hard for. The right to be more than weapons. To create something meaningful and lasting.”
She stopped to examine a display of woven fabrics, reaching out to touch one with surprising gentleness. “It’s beautiful craftsmanship.”
“Serena makes them. She?—”
“Help! Someone help!”
The desperate cry cut through the marketplace chatter. We both turned to see Serena herself doubled over near a fruit stall, clutching her belly.
Before I moved, Olivia rushed forward, medical instincts overtaking her. I followed quickly, watching as she helped Serena to a bench and knelt before her.
“Breathe,” Olivia instructed, demonstrating a deep, controlled breath. “That’s it. Can you tell me where the pain is?”
Serena gestured to her lower abdomen, fear evident in her eyes.
I observed as Olivia’s entire demeanor transformed. The wariness and defiance vanished, replaced by focused compassion. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency as she checked Serena’s pulse and asked targeted questions.
“Aeon, we need to get her to the medical bay now,” Olivia said, not looking up from her patient. There was no hesitation in her voice, no reminder that she was a captive being forced to help.
As we carefully escorted Serena toward the medical bay, I found myself watching Olivia more than the path ahead. She was remarkable—fierce and skilled and undeniably caring. Despite everything we had done to her, she hadn’t hesitated to help someone in need.
That night, after settling Olivia back in her quarters—Serena resting comfortably after what turned out to be Braxton Hicks contractions—I returned to my own sparse living space. Lying on my bed, staring at my ceiling, I couldn’t shake thoughts of Olivia from my mind.
Her resilience astounded me. Taken from her home, thrust into an alien environment, yet still maintaining her core identity—her compassion, her strength, and her undeniably sharp wit. She bent but didn’t break.
With each passing minute, something powerful and unsettling was growing inside me—a protective instinct that went beyond my duty to the colony. I wanted to shield her, not just watch over her. I wanted to see her smile without reservation and to hear her laugh without the shadow of captivity darkening her eyes.
This pull toward her frightened me with its intensity. It felt primal, so undeniably human, and so seemingly impossible for a cyborg like me. Something deep within me whispered that she was important, not just to our colony’s future but to mine personally. The thought was exhilarating and terrifying.
I rolled onto my side, punching my pillow into shape with more force than necessary. Whatever this feeling was, I couldn’t afford to indulge it. Not yet. Not while she still saw me as her kidnapper.
But for the first time since bringing her here, I allowed myself to hope that might change someday.
NINE
OLIVIA
I woke to the sound of my quarters’ door opening. The moonlight that filtered in through my small, reinforced window caught the silhouette of a man I was beginning to recognize by his broad shoulders alone. Aeon stood there, his hair disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His typically composed demeanor had cracked, revealing something I hadn’t seen before—raw worry etched across his features.
“Olivia. It’s Mira.” His voice strained in the darkness. “Something’s wrong.”
I sat up, sleep evaporating instantly. “What kind of wrong?”
“Pain. Sudden onset. Thirty-six weeks along.” He spoke in fragments, his usual measured cadence abandoned. “We don’t know what— She’s asking for you.”
That was all I needed to hear. I quickly swung my legs over the small bed, grateful I’d fallen asleep in my scrubs. “Take me to her.”
The surroundings blurred as we moved. Aeon’s long strides forced me to almost jog beside him, his hand occasionally hovering near my back when I lagged, never quite touching but ready to steady me.
