Page 9 of Human Reclaimed
“Why me?” she asked, some of the fire gone from her voice, replaced with genuine confusion. “I’ve been out of active service for two years.”
I studied her face closer, taking in the details I’d previously only seen in photographs and security footage. The intelligence in her eyes. The determination in the set of her jaw. The strength that radiated from her despite her situation.
“Because you’re the best,” I said simply. “And we need the best right now.”
Something shifted in her expression—surprise, uncertainty, perhaps a flicker of professional pride despite herself.
“Let me explain everything,” I said, gesturing to the armchair she’d vacated. “Please. Once you understand what’s at stake, you can make an informed choice.”
“Choice?” she scoffed. “What choice? You’ve already taken me across space against my will.”
I met her gaze steadily. “True. And for that, I am… sorry.” The word felt strange on my tongue. Apologies weren’t part of my programming or training. But I meant it, which was stranger, still.
Talia’s eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard by my admission. She studied me with new intensity, as if seeing beyond the cyborg exterior to something unexpected beneath.
“You’re different,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter. “Not like the cyborgs I encountered during the war.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I am very different.”
My eyes locked on to Talia across the room where she sat perched on the bed. The fitted beige tactical pants and white T-shirt highlighting her curves made something primal stir inside me—an unexpected reaction that caught me off guard. I adjusted my stance, the black tactical pants and fitted black T-shirt I wore suddenly feeling restrictive.
She studied me for a long moment, her blue eyes calculating yet curious. Then she slid off the bed and moved to the armchair, picking up her nearly finished breakfast. The blue Alphian fruit—similar to Earth mangoes but with a more complex flavor—disappeared between her lips as she took a small bite.
“This is actually good,” she admitted reluctantly, washing it down with water from the reservoir bottle.
I moved closer, taking a seat on the bed she’d just vacated, the warmth she’d left behind seeping through my clothes. Her scent lingered there—a combination of something distinctly lavender and uniquely her.
“A year and a half ago, when the war ended,” I began, watching her reaction carefully, “CyberEvolution activated a deactivation code on all cyborgs. The plan was for us to simply… rot where we stood across the galaxies.”
Talia paused mid-bite, her spoon of protein porridge suspended halfway to her mouth. “What?”
“We were disposable to them. War tools with expiration dates.” The familiar anger flared hot in my chest, but I tamped it down. “But there was a human—a neural programmer in the military named Benjamin Reeves. He saw us differently.”
“Benjamin Reeves,” Talia repeated, her brow furrowing. “That name sounds familiar.”
“He smuggled algorithms to us when he learned of the deactivation plan,” I continued. “He believed we deserved more than being discarded after fulfilling our purpose. With his programming, we reprogrammed ourselves.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. The morning light streaming through the windows caught in her blonde hair, turning it to liquid gold. I found myself momentarily distracted before I regained focus.
“Some of us, like our group, secretly settled here on Planet Alpha. Millions of others established similar colonies across the galaxies.” My voice softened. “With the new programming, we’re learning and adapting, becoming more… human each day. That’s why I seem different from the cyborgs you encountered during the war.”
She set her bowl down, her blue eyes never leaving mine. “You’re telling me you have free will? Emotions? That you’re not following programming directives anymore?”
“Yes.” I stretched my hand toward her and then pulled it back. “We feel. We choose. We create.”
The sunlight shifted, illuminating the scars on my forearm—battle remnants from a life that sometimes felt like it belonged to someone else.
“Six months ago, we made a truce with Earth and CyberEvolution. They recognized our autonomy.” I paused, measuring my next words. “But a new threat has emerged.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Which is?”
“Pirates and mercenaries across the galaxies discovered that pregnant cyborgs and their hybrid children are… valuable on the black market.” My jaw tightened. “They’ve been kidnapping them from our settlements.”
Talia’s eyes widened. “Wait—cyborgs can get pregnant? Have children?”
“Yes. We are biologically human in most ways that matter.” I cleared my throat, uncomfortable with the direction my thoughts were taking as I looked at her. “And what’s most concerning is that these pirates are using your strategies—your exact tactical approaches—to breach our defenses.”
Her face paled. “My strategies? That’s not possible. I haven’t shared my playbooks with anyone since leaving the service.”
