Page 11 of Human Reform
I entered the security center, the door sealing shut behind me with a soft hydraulic hiss.The familiar blue glow of multiple monitors washed over me as I crossed to my workstation.Sage and Tegan were already at their stations, their fingers flying across holographic interfaces.
“Morning,” Sage called without looking up, her intuition as sharp as ever.“Heard you chatted more with our new guest.”
I ignored her obvious fishing for gossip and settled into my chair, calling up the colony’s systems on my primary monitor.“I met with Dr.Bridges again, yes.She’ll hopefully be assisting with our neural framework issues soon.”
Tegan snorted from his station.“If you can convince her to stay.”
I shot him a dark look.“I will.”
“That confident?”Sage’s lips quirked up at the corner as she glanced my way.
“That determined,” I corrected, turning my attention to my workstation.
I lost myself in the familiar rhythms of code and protocol.System checks.Perimeter reports.Internal communication logs.The clarity of it calmed me—a world of binary certainties where emotions didn’t intrude.An hour passed in productive silence as I cleared alerts, adjusted security parameters, and scheduled maintenance routines.
But then, like gravity itself was pulling my attention, I found my eyes straying to my secondary monitor where the medical bay feeds cycled.Alora’s room appeared on the screen, and my breath caught.
She’d changed clothes.The medical gown was gone, replaced by a fitted white T-shirt that hugged the curves of her breasts and beige tactical pants that accentuated her long legs.Combat boots completed the look—practical, functional, and somehow devastatingly feminine on her.Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, revealing the delicate slope of her neck.
Heat pooled low in my abdomen.A primal, visceral response I couldn’t control.
“Well, well,” Sage murmured from behind me.“Someone’s interested in more than just Dr.Bridges’ neural programming skills.”
I didn’t turn.“Don’t you have security protocols to recalibrate?”
“Already done.Unlike some people, I haven’t been distracted by pretty eyes and a sharp tongue.”
I swiveled in my chair, leveling my gaze at her.“This isn’t a joke, Sage.These glitches are getting worse.Aeon nearly dropped his baby during an episode last week.”
Her smile vanished.“I know.I had one during patrol yesterday—found myself aiming at Tobin without even realizing it.”
The gravity of our situation settled back around my shoulders, heavy and urgent.I turned back to the screen, watching as Alora paced her room, studying every detail of her surroundings like she was memorizing escape routes.
“She needs to understand what’s at stake,” I muttered, half to myself.
“Then show her,” Sage said simply.“Don’t just tell her.Show her.”
Olivia’s words echoed in my mind:She’ll never agree to help us if she doesn’t understand what she’s helping… Let her see what we’ve built here.
And more puzzling:She won’t leave.Not once she sees the real you.
The real me.What did that even mean?For so long, I’d defined myself by function—security protocols, system maintenance, and colony protection.The idea that something more was beneath that—something worth seeing—was foreign to me.
But if that’s what it took to convince Alora to stay, to help us fix this dangerous flaw in our programming, I’d have to figure it out.I’d have to show her something I wasn’t certain even existed.
I watched her move across the screen, graceful and precise in her new attire, and felt that strange pull again—like she was the center of a gravity well I couldn’t escape.Like everything was suddenly defined by its proximity to her.
“I’m taking her on a tour of the colony in an hour,” I said, not looking away from the screen.
“Good luck with that,” Tegan called out.“My credits are on her trying to escape at least twice.”
I turned off the feed to her room, gathering my resolve.“Your credits are about to be lost, then.”
FIVE
ALORA
I tracedmy fingers along the walls of my elegant prison, trying to map an escape route through this strange alien colony, even though I haven’t actually seen it yet.The clothes Olivia had brought earlier fit surprisingly well—the white T-shirt hugged my curves without being restrictive, and the beige tactical pants allowed for quick movement.I’d tied my hair back in a practical ponytail, ready for whatever opportunities might present themselves.
