Page 62 of A Cyborg for the Alien Mercenary

“While xenobiology isn’treallymy specialty,” the doctor continued. “I’m sure we’ll learn a great deal from him. It’s not every day we get to study a new alien species.”

He turned away from her and moved to the side of the room. With a dramatic flourish, he pulled back a curtain. Behind it, a row of Scorperio suits stood like silent sentinels.

“But let’s talk about you, shall we, Jesh. Do you see these?” He gestured toward the suits. “This is your contribution to the advancement of humanity, even though… well, technically you’re not really human. But that little niggle aside, the technology in your body allowed us to create these beauties.”

She stared at the suits as anger rolled through her. They’d kept her here, tortured her and killed Covak forthese?

Tanner ran his hand over one of the suits’ arms. “It’s just a pity the human operators burn out so quickly. We tried our best with the neural technology we took from you, but the interface with their nervous systems was… well brilliant,” he said with pride, but then his lip curled. “But their nervous systems couldn’t handle the load and—” He spread his hands. “But they did sign up. It’s not my fault they didn’t read the paperwork.”

Rage boiled within her. With a wave, Tanner released the freeze on her vocal cords.

“You fucking idiot!” she yelled, her voice hoarse. “Zodiac tech isn’t meant to be integrated with a human neural system! You’re killing people!”

He turned back to her, a cold smile on his face.

“Oh, I know,” he said softly. “But that was just the first wave. Now, though…” His eyes gleamed fanatically. “Now we have all of your neural circuitry, so I’m confident we can overcome those last few… niggles.”

A chill ran through her. So that’s why she couldn’t move. They had literally torn her apart, piece by piece, until she was nothing more than a shell.

“Don’t worry, though,” he said. “We’re leaving your core systems intact for now. I’ve always wanted to observe the shutdown process.”

He smiled at her, the cold, clinical expression not reaching his eyes. “I estimate you have a few hours left. We’ll leave you here in ‘recovery’ to reflect on your contribution to humanity. It’s the least we can do.”

With that, he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps against the polished floor echoing. The door hissed shut behind him, leaving her alone with the Scorperio suits and the silence.

Tears welled up, blurring her vision before streaming down her cheeks. Covak was dead. A fresh wave of pain washed over her as the pieces of her heart cracked into smaller pieces. He had died trying to protect her, and it was all her fault. If she hadn’t escaped, if she hadn’t involved him and the Reapers, he would still be alive.

Her breath caught on a gasp and a hiccup. She loved him. She loved him and she would never see his smile again, never feel his strong arms around her. She hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye. The tears spilled over, running down her cheeks and pooling in her ears. She couldn’t even wipe them away. Some fucking super-soldier she was.

She blinked, her gaze falling on the Scorperio suits. They just stood there, mocking her. This was her legacy—not the peace the Zodiac had wanted when they’d broken from their masters… but more weapons.

Rage boiled over in her veins. How dare they? How dare they take her technology, her very being, and twist it into this? How dare they kill the man she loved and then tell her to die quietly, proud of what she had “contributed”?

Fuck. That.

She was getting out of here if it was the last thing she did.

The anger gave her strength. She focused on it, let it fill her, fuel her, pushing against the prison of her own body, the heavytech useless without the neural circuitry to control it. Her finger twitched and brushed something.

She froze. What was that?

She fought to move her head. It felt like a ton weight, all her muscles straining with the effort. Her vision swam, blurring and refocusing as she fought to regain even such a tiny movement. Finally, her eyes locked on to something at the very edge of her field of view. Her breath caught in her throat.

It was dull and metallic, little more than a component, unremarkable to most. But to her, it was as familiar as her own heartbeat. It wasn’t just any piece of technology. It was a part that belonged inside a Zodiac’s skull.

Jex’s onboard.

In their haste to strip her systems, Tanner and his team must have missed it. Or perhaps they’d left it behind because they couldn’t use it. Somehow, they’d managed to crack her coding to freeze her vocal cords and more…

Jex wasn’t like her. She was a Mark 3 enhanced model, but he was aMark 7enhanced Taurus. If she could bring herself back from the brink of death, they had no idea what a Mark 7 was capable of.

With every ounce of strength she had left, she focused on her hand by Jex’s onboard system. It was like trying to lift a mountain with her mind. Every neuron screamed in protest, every remaining circuit she had threatened to short out. If her onboard had been active, she was sure it would have been screaming warnings at her.

Slowly, painfully, her hand moved. Millimeter by agonizing millimeter, she willed her fingers to close around the small device, every muscle trembling with the strain. But then she had it, Jex’s consciousness cradled in the palm of her hand.

Sweat beaded on her brow as she took a moment, breathing deeply to try and regain her strength. She already felt like she’d been in battle for a week straight, but she couldn’t stop now.

Gritting her teeth, she struggled to raise her arm. The weight of the onboard was impossibly heavy, as if gravity itself was working against her. Was this how humans felt… so weak and fragile? The realization struck her like a physical blow. Without her cybernetic enhancements, she was little more than human. From her great strength, she was reduced to this… a weak body barely able to perform a simple task.

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