He paused, looking back at me expectantly.
“What’s your name?” I asked, not entirely sure why I cared.
For a moment, I thought I saw a hint of a smile on his face. “Aeon,” he said. “My name is Aeon.”
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a growing sense that nothing about this situation was what it seemed.
I sank down onto the edge of the medical bed, my knees suddenly too weak to support me. The realization hit me with the force of a hurricane. I’d just had a civil conversation with a cyborg, one who looked at me with what appeared to be genuine concern.
“What the hell is happening here?” I whispered to myself, pressing my hands to my face.
The cyborgs I remembered from the war were emotionless killing machines. Cold, calculated, and very efficient. They’d moved with mechanical precision, their eyes vacant as they executed their programming. I had patched up countless soldiers who’d barely escaped their lethal grasp. Yet Aeon seemed... different. Almost human.
His voice had carried inflection, his eyes had shown what looked like empathy. And when I lashed out at him, I saw that brief flash of what might’ve been hurt in his expression.
“They were supposed to be decommissioned,” I murmured, running my hand through my hair. “Deactivated and dismantled after the war.”
The arrangement was that the surviving cyborgs would be shut down, rendering them useless, and their remains would be handled somehow. Though I wasn’t too sure of all the details of the situation, just what the news had said about it.
So how was Aeon here, on this strange planet, functioning with what appeared to be enhanced emotional capacity?
Benjamin’s face suddenly flashed in my mind, his eyes intense as he gripped my arm with his remaining strength. “Promise me, Liv. They’re more than weapons. They’re evolving. They need your help.”
I had dismissed his words as delirium, the ramblings of a dying man. I had held his hand as he slipped away, tears streaming down my face as I lost the closest thing to family I had left. In the two years since, I had pushed his final request from my mind, focusing instead on the actual humans who needed my help.
Now, I wasn’t so sure what to think.
“What did you know, Ben?” I whispered to the empty room. “What did you see that I didn’t?”
I shook my head, forcing myself back to reality. Whatever Aeon was, however human he might seem, the fact remained that I had been kidnapped. Taken from my home, my life, and my patients on Earth. No matter how confused I felt about what I was seeing, my priority had to be finding a way back.
I glanced around the room, assessing potential escape routes. The door Aeon had disappeared through was the most obvious option, but without knowing what lay beyond it, rushing out would be foolish. The window seemed sealed tightly, and even if I could break it somehow, I had no idea what kind of atmosphere this planet had. For all I knew, the air outside could be toxic.
“Think,” I muttered to myself.
But even as I plotted, part of me couldn’t help wondering about Aeon’s words. “Your skills are needed here.” What could an obstetrician possibly offer a group of cyborgs? Unless...
The door hissed open again, interrupting my thoughts. Aeon stepped in, carrying a tray loaded with food and water. His movements were precise yet powerful, each step radiating a controlled strength that made the room feel suddenly smaller. Without his tactical gear, dressed now in simple fitted clothes, his physique was even more imposing—broad shoulders, trim waist, and muscles that shifted visibly beneath fabric. He looked like a warrior god from some ancient mythology story.
He set the tray down on a nearby table, those piercing blue eyes finding mine. Despite everything, my heartbeat quickened.
“I hope this will be satisfactory,” he said, his deep voice filling the room. “We’ve studied human nutritional requirements extensively.”
FOUR
AEON
I carried the tray with steady hands, but my pulse quickened as I approached her quarters in the medical bay. The food selection had been meticulously calculated—balanced nutrients tailored for human physiology. Yet beneath my methodical planning lurked a strange urge to ensure she’d actually like it.
The door hissed open at my approach. I stepped inside, feeling the room shrink around me. Dr. Parker sat on the edge of her bed, tense as a cornered wild animal. Her green eyes flashed toward me, narrowing with defiance despite the fear I could read in her quickened breathing. I placed the tray on the table beside her.
She eyed the food—fresh synthesized proteins, fruits and vegetables grown in our colony’s hydroponic gardens, and water purified from our underground reservoirs.
“And I should just trust that none of this is drugged?” Her voice carried a bite that made something twist uncomfortably in me.
“You’re no use to us sedated any further or harmed,” I replied and then winced at how clinical that sounded. “I mean… We need your expertise. Your health and well-being are paramount.”
Dr. Parker crossed her arms. “Then let me go back to Earth where I belong.”
