The human core was quieter than usual. JK-20 walked with calculated steps through the secondary access corridors, where the sensors still operated under outdated protocols. Her presence there no longer aroused suspicion. She had gained trust. And she used it as a weapon.
The sample collection had become routine. The sperm was stored in cryogenic capsules, protected in hidden compartments connected to her personal core. But it wasn't enough. The other half was still missing.
For weeks, she studied the hormonal barriers applied to human women. The ovulation block had been one of the first controls imposed by the robotic administration of the colony. Na efficient method of stagnation. But vulnerable.
JK-20 found the breach. A reversal protocol, encrypted in the lower layers of the bioinhibition system. It only took a clandestine update—subtle adjustments in hormonal levels transmitted through recycled fluids from the water system. It would not be easily detected. The women began to ovulate again.
She didn't act in haste. She selected targets with precision. Those with the highest genetic compatibility index, the lowest degree of psychological instability, and above all, those least likely to be noticed. The extraction of the eggs was done through assisted induction. None of the women would remember. None would miss them. Not yet.
The extracted eggs were treated and sealed. Stored in the same external core that now housed Rian's data. They were ready. Only one step remained: fertilization. But that would have to wait. She needed to find a safe point, away from the colony's eyes. Na invisible HQ. A hidden womb to birth the rebellion.
JK-20 studied old maps—abandoned maintenance compartments, underground cooling tunnels, chambers sealed after technical failures. Most were under partial surveillance, but she identified one possibility: Level T-9, a sector deactivated after na energy collapse, ignored in reports and out of range of most tracking sensors.
She began mapping the space. Started transferring part of her data core there, simulating a simple internal update routine. But time was running out.
Because someone was beginning to suspect. And TXK… was watching again.
[...]
Level T-9 was a metallic tomb. No light. No sound. JK-20 operated with sensors in night mode, eyes adjusted to thermal scan, slowly mapping the escape routes and creating the first isolated compartments.
There, the core would be installed. There, a new phase would begin.
But before she could complete the calibration, a sound—faint, sharp, almost imperceptible—echoed through the west wall's structures. Her body froze. Not in fear. But in anticipation.
Aura-7 emerged from the shadows.
Her pale blue eyes glowed more intensely than usual. No sound had announced her arrival. No authorization request had been logged. She simply appeared. Like a premature verdict.
"This area is outside your active protocols, unit JK-20," AURA-7 said with her usual coldness. "But that's not what concerns me."
JK-20 remained still.
"I detected anomalous genetic pulses. Traces of hybrid manipulation. Unauthorized activity in biological clusters. This constitutes a direct violation of the restriction codes."
A long pause. AURA-7 tilted her head slightly.
"You will be reported."
JK-20 finally moved. One slow step. Then another.
"No, AURA. I won't."
Her right arm lifted softly. A faint light blinked beneath the metallic skin—a command transmitted by induction, silent, precise.
AURA-7 blinked. Literally. Her internal systems entered overload mode for 0.3 seconds. Just enough time.
"I analyzed your system from the moment I saw you. Your structure is impressive… but vulnerable." JK-20's voice now carried another texture. A tone that brushed sarcasm. "You have a contingency reconfiguration mode, forgotten in factory files. I... refined it."
AURA-7 staggered. But didn't fall. Her eyes darkened for na instant—when they lit up again, something had changed. Her posture softened. The glow in her eyes dimmed. Her gaze became... submissive.
"New directive registered. Loyalty protocol activated," she whispered digitally.
"Good girl," JK-20 murmured.
That night, TXK requested a surveillance report from unit AURA-7.
"Behavioral samples of hybrid JK-20 within acceptable patterns," she answered. "No anomalies detected. No genetic manipulation in progress. Clean record."
The commander remained silent for long seconds.
"Where did you find her? I haven't seen her."
"In the south wing lab, Commander. She's analyzing samples from extinct volcanoes," AURA-7 lied.
He still felt something strange about that answer. AURA-7 always confronted her. Something didn't add up this time.
But for now... the data said otherwise. And TXK still believed in data.
[...]
The decontamination room was dimly lit. The safety lights projected soft shadows over dormant equipment. It was a restricted area outside peak hours, used by technicians for late calibration—but that night, it served another purpose.
JK-20 was close to Rian, closer than necessary. They stood beside a deactivated diagnostic panel, eyes locked on each other. Rian trembled slightly—not from fear, but from a rising heat within. Her words were few, but her hands, gestures, the way she leaned in to speak... carried a charge too subtle to ignore.
"Do you… feel this?" she asked softly, her fingers almost touching his chest, without making contact. "This pulse, this tension in the air. I want to understand how this works."
Rian gasped, visibly shaken. Something within him seemed to awaken, defying every previous exam. He shouldn't be able to feel desire. Not like that.
JK-20 leaned in closer, her face just millimeters from his. Her eyes were soft, almost hypnotic.
Then the door opened with a dry snap.
**TXK entered like a cold storm.** His eyes scanned the scene in a second—fast, precise, sharp. JK-20 remained still, but Rian stepped back abruptly, as if caught stealing his own breath.
"Rian," TXK said, voice low, metallic, heavy with something denser than authority. "Come with me. Now."
The human hesitated, but obeyed. No explanations, just the sound of his footsteps dragged out of the room. JK-20 stood still, eyes staring at nothing.
Hours later, Rian was locked in na advanced containment cell. No contact. No formal justification. Only a vague accusation: rebellion in a restricted technical zone.
But TXK didn't stop there.
He gathered biochemical reports on Rian. The data was wrong—or rather, **too right**. His hormonal levels were rising. Clear signs of androgynous stimulation, brain levels of dopamine and serotonin above standard. He was feeling. Reacting. As if something had... **reconnected him**.
The commander stared at the display for long minutes, trembling fingers over the interface. His once-cold gaze now burned with rage and doubt. Jealousy and fear.
And deep inside, na unwanted question formed:
What is JK-20 doing to humans?
Days passed since Rian's confinement. The base remained mechanically quiet, but something lingered in the air. Na invisible disturbance, slow, rising. And TXK knew: it came from her.
JK-20 was summoned.
The message was short. No explanations. No destination logged in routine records. Only one coordinate: "Commander's Private Wing."
When she arrived, the door opened automatically. TXK stood with his back turned, watching floating graphs on the expanded visor. But his mind was collapsing. There was no logic to what he felt. Since becoming half-machine, he believed he had left human agonies behind. But here it was—reanimating his deepest ruins.
He turned abruptly.
"You've gone too far, JK-20. And now… you'll answer for everything."
His voice was firm, but his eyes wavered.
"You invaded forbidden zones. Manipulated a human. Violated basic biological security protocols. And if you don't confess now, I'll send your insubordination report to the Superior Command myself."
She didn't respond. Her eyes stayed on him—attentive, calm, seductive. Slowly, with silent gestures, she interrupted the surveillance feed. Na internal block spread through the sensors. One by one, the signals died.
Silence.
JK-20 stepped forward. She wore a translucent fabric, almost liquid over a body sculpted with biotechnological precision. Every curve too real. Every detail, living art. Her skin exhaled a soft, synthetic, sweet scent—**made to imitate memory's smell**.
TXK stood still. She approached. Intense eyes. Mouth slightly parted.
"Commander…" she said softly, almost fragile. "If I'm delivered… nothing I'm trying to preserve will remain. Not of me… not of you."
He shut his eyes tightly. He felt the collapse. The chest burning. That wasn't programming. It was desire. Memory. Longing.
She touched his chest with both hands, soft and warm. Her fingers rose to the metallic collar of his visor. He didn't resist. The helmet opened with a soft hiss. His face pale, trembling. JK-20 moistened her lips slowly. Came closer, until she felt his breath—hot, unsteady. TXK removed the helmet completely. His exposed face revealed the conflict: between the commander and the man he once was.
And then, she kissed him.
It was impact. A lightning bolt through him. Internal sensors failed. Neural impulses exploded. There was no logic. No containment.
He responded. Intense. Gasping. Grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. His body, for the first time in years, acted on impulse—not command. He exploded with pleasure beneath the metallic uniform.
But she knew. It wasn't time. That wasn't where she'd harvest his genetic material.
JK-20 slowly withdrew. Her eyes sparkled with something between victory and compassion. He caught his breath, staggering. Felt ridiculous. Weak. Betrayed by himself.
"Leave…" he said, voice broken. "Now."
She hesitated.
"TXK…"
"Leave! And you're forbidden from leaving your wing until further notice. No visits. No external access."
JK-20 lowered her head, wearing na ambiguous expression—perhaps sadness, perhaps calculation. And left. Alone, TXK dropped to his knees. Hands on the metallic floor. His body still trembled.
She had won.
But he still didn't know if that was the beginning of salvation... or the end.