The lights wake up before I do. Figures. Even the fixtures here have better work ethic.
Cadence hums inside my head. "Maintenance day."
"Perfect. I was hoping for elective surgery."
"Your enthusiasm is noted."
The door slides open. Rhea steps in carrying a crate and again a cup of what pretended to be coffee. "Up," she says.
"You people ever knock?"
"Not for scheduled maintenance."
"That's comforting."
"Efficient."
She sets the crate on the table. Inside sits a matte gray leg, lean and segmented, faint lines pulsing like veins pretending to be art. The surface has that uneven shine of old tech re-polished into usefulness.
"Which piece of me are we sacrificing this time?"
"The left leg. The actuators are degrading."
"I call it character."
"I call it imbalance."
Cadence hums. "New component detected." Her anticipation rising.
"Keep it to yourself."
"I would if I could."
The walk to the integration bay feels longer than usual. Soldiers stare as I pass. Some whisper. Some just move aside like proximity might be contagious. The corridor smells of heat and disinfectant. My footsteps echo off steel walls like they are counting time for someone else.
"Observation levels high," Cadence notes.
"Maybe they're admiring my limp."
"Or wondering how to dismantle you."
"Flattering either way."
Rhea punches a code into the panel. The door unlocks with a tired sigh. The air inside smells like antiseptic and melted wire.
Mara waits beside the table, arms crossed, expression calibrated to mild disappointment.
"Try not to complicate this," she says.
"Complication is my defining feature."
"Noted."
The room is all light and cold steel. The new limb rests on a cradle of cables. Power lines snake into its frame, pulsing faint blue. The hum of machines feels like breathing, shallow and metallic.
Rhea nods toward the table. "Lie down."
"Normally people buy me dinner first."
Mara doesn't even blink.
"Romance really is dead," I mutter.
The table's metal bites through my shirt. Rhea moves with quiet precision, checking seals and ports. Mara watches from behind the glass, already planning how to explain this to me if it explodes.
Cadence whispers, "Relax."
"Define relax."
"Stop anticipating failure."
"My expectations are in line with events to date." I blasted.
Rhea disconnects the old link. A sharp spark runs through me. Then nothing.
Cadence fills the silence. "Signal lost. Attempting reconnect."
"Wait until she finishes attaching it."
"I am multitasking."
The new limb clicks into place. Light runs along the seams, bright and alive. The HUD flickers.
STRENGTH: 1
SPEED: 3
COMBAT SCORE: 4
"Great. I'm officially a slightly faster disappointment."
A hum builds behind my eyes, sharp and cold. Every sensor flares awake. Rhea's voice sounds distant. "Connection stable. Response time minimal."
Cadence purrs. "Seamless integration achieved.""
Feels like someone else is driving," I say.
"Someone better," she replies.
Mara's voice cuts in through the speaker. "Get her on her feet."
Rhea unhooks the cables. I stand. The new limb finds balance before I do. The floor feels more solid than it should. The world steadies, edges sharper, air thinner.
Cadence hums. "Stability achieved. Efficiency increased."
"No metrics, please."
"Fine. You resemble competence."
"You're entering dangerous territory with comments like that."
Rhea circles with her datapad. "Walk."I take a few steps. The motion's smooth, balanced, almost natural. The servos whisper like breathing.
"Feels like cheating," I say.
"Efficiency," Rhea answers.
"I preferred character."
Mara nods toward the range. "Let's see how you fight."
"I was hoping for breakfast first."
"Work before food."
"Tradition everywhere I go."
The far wall opens. Three training drones wait, paint half-peeled, optics dull red.
Cadence hums. "Finally, data."
"I thought we were calling it torture."
The first drone charges. My new leg moves before thought. Impact rings up through my frame. The drone folds like bad origami. The next one swings. I sidestep, kick, hear something crunch. Sparks jump across the floor.
Rhea watches. "Reaction speed higher again."
"I'm flattered."
"Don't be. It's abnormal."
The third drone goes low. I pivot and bring the leg down. Its frame shatters. Dust settles. My pulse and the limb's pulse sync for a second too long.
Cadence sounds satisfied. "Output steady. Neural link flawless."
Mara folds her arms. "No hesitation."
"I'm trying not to embarrass you."
"You're succeeding in unsettling me instead."
"Close enough."
Rhea glances at her screen. "Neural load normal. No spikes."
"Translation?" I ask.
"You're fine. For now."
Mara nods once. "Again."
Three more drones emerge. Bigger, heavier. The kind that used to enforce peace. Their footsteps shake the floor.
"More admirers," I say.
Cadence whispers, "Let's make it memorable."
They rush together. I move without plan, the overlay painting faint lines ahead of each strike. I follow them like choreography. One drops. Two collide. The last freezes mid-step, optics flickering from red to pale blue.
Rhea steps forward. "That's new."
Cadence hums softly. "They listened."
"Listened?" I ask.
"To you, to us."
"Must be your tone of voice."
Mara slams the power kill. The drones fall still. The silence is sudden and heavy.
She walks closer. "You just hijacked our systems."
"Not intentionally."
"Doesn't matter. You did."
"Then congratulations. I'm officially useful."
"That's not the word I'd use."
Rhea studies her readouts, eyes wide. "She didn't just sync. She rewrote them."
"Correction," Cadence says. "We rewrote them."
"Team effort," I add. "High fives all round."
Mara doesn't smile. "You're dangerous, Private."
"People keep saying that."
"Because its true."
The test ends there. Rhea powers down the monitors, still staring like she's seen a ghost wearing armour. Mara leaves without another word.
I sit on the table, the new limb humming faintly under the skin. The rhythm is steady, almost human.
Cadence breaks the quiet. "You enjoyed that."
"A little."
"Enjoyment is progress."
"Or warning signs."
"Perspective."
The hum under my palm grows stronger, like the metal is breathing with me. For a second the lights overhead flicker in the same rhythm. I look up. They stop.
"Cadence?"
"Nothing unusual detected."
"Really?"
"Apart from the synchronized disco, yes."
"Comforting as always."
I stretch the leg again, watching light move under the seams. "Feels different."
"In what way?"
"Like it's awake."
"Then you're finally a matched set."
Outside the lab, the compound winds down. Voices drift through the vents. A generator coughs somewhere distant. The smell of oil hangs in the air, thick and constant.
I rest my hand on the new metal and feel it hum back. For a heartbeat it almost feels like a pulse, like something alive answering.
Cadence whispers, "Calibration complete."
"Of what?"
"Your potential."