In the nights following the confrontation in the lab, TXK remained silent, secluded in the surveillance room on Level Four. The recordings of JK-20's recent cycles were analyzed across multiple screens, with zoomed-in shots of every expression, every hesitation, every iris shift. But something had changed.
She was no longer the magnetic figure who had destabilized him weeks before, who had made him question his own protocols. Now, JK-20 seemed... too docile. Sweet voice, controlled steps, meticulously gentle gestures. A crafted performance of innocence. Overly calculated.
She smiled more. Tilted her head at perfect angles. Averted her gaze like a human trained to trigger empathy. But it all felt... technical. It wasn't the same sensory chaos that had affected him before , that instant when his body reacted against all inhibition programming. That raw, almost organic feeling of desire. Now, it was like watching a well-rehearsed play.
TXK spent his nights trying to understand what had triggered that hormonal surge that had thrown him off balance. The analysis showed clear chemical changes in his system: glandular activation, thermal fluctuations, stimulation of brain areas considered dormant in hybrids. Something in JK-20 activated that circuit. But it wasn't constant. It was cyclical. Instinctive. Programmed to emerge under specific conditions.
He began to suspect: there was a hidden mechanism. A reproductive mode triggered by proximity, or chemical control; maybe even by empathic reading. When she had provoked him, it hadn't been by chance. It had been activation.
And now, by acting like a harmless being, she was preparing her next move. As if she assumed he wanted her passive, obedient. But that irritated him more than any subversion. He didn't want a shadow of a woman. He wanted the force that had confronted him. The one that made his system freeze for seconds. The one that could dominate him without even touching him.
On the third night, he rose abruptly, the screens still playing JK-20's image — seated, reading a technical compendium with eyes that seemed to absorb everything and hide even more.
It was time to confront the Superior Brain. But not with justifications. With choices.
[...]
TXK walked the main corridor with heavy steps. The central guardians scanned him before granting access to the communications core. JK-20 followed silently, her gaze fixed on the metallic floor, hands clasped in front of her. Her movements were slow, gentle, almost childlike.
The audience chamber was sealed. A blue light swept across the ceiling, activating direct connection to the Superior Brain.
In the center, a pulsating hologram emerged. There was no shape, no face. Only light and voice — ancient, absolute, unquestionable.
"Commander TXK. You have brought the unit for final verification. Confirm identity."
TXK nodded. "Unit JK-20. Biocomposite. Hybrid structure still under analysis."
"Present the entity."
JK-20 stepped forward. Her gaze seemed lost, as if she didn't understand where she was. For a few seconds, she remained silent. Then, a soft voice emerged:
"I'm... here to serve. I can learn. I can help."
There was a pause. The core seemed to recalibrate, almost offended.
"This unit shows signs of behavioral regression. Simplified language structure. Lack of firmness. Resembles na overgrown worm."
TXK held back any reaction. JK-20 remained motionless, her expression unchanged.
"Unfit for strategic missions. Suggested directive: transfer to lower Earth base. Atmospheric testing field. If contaminated, it will be deactivated. If it survives, it will be reassessed."
As the orders were dictated, JK-20 remained serene. But internally, she activated. Her synthetic ears expanded to six distinct sensory bands. The hum of internal networks, the impulses of microcables, cross transmissions — everything was mapped in real time. She absorbed images projected in secondary holograms, scanned hidden system structures, and captured fragmented videos of old records. In seconds, she archived vital data about the command structure, vulnerability points, and scheduled movements for upcoming cycles. All without TXK or the Brain noticing.
The connection ended abruptly.
"Order concluded. Initiate transition protocol."
The core shut down. Silence returned to the chamber. TXK exhaled deeply, relieved he hadn't received a termination order. Beside him, JK-20 still wore that blank expression.
But something in her eyes had changed, a discreet glint hidden under layers of manufactured innocence.
"Let's go," he said. "You'll be monitored." She only nodded. And inside, she triggered the next phase.
[...]
JK-20 walked silently to her assigned wing. The doors opened without resistance, recognizing her as authorized. The cameras along the corridor tracked her movement for only a few seconds before shutting off — a failure she had programmed days earlier, disguised as a simple thermal sensor recalibration error.
Once inside, the door sealed behind her. The space was dark, silent, sterile. But she didn't need light. Her eyes instantly adapted, switching to infrared mode, and na invisible data web extended around her like a hunting field. She connected to the auxiliary core of the wing — a subsystem forgotten by the central engineers, deemed obsolete. That's where she operated.
She sat at the center of the chamber and activated her internal interface. Her fingers glided through the air, typing invisible commands. On the opposite wall, a thin line of blue light traced the structure — the access key she'd implanted during her first clandestine scan of Instance Zero.
One by one, the permissions began to fall:
"Code 44ª: central corridor rotating passwords" – captured.
"Code 72D: behavioral tracking protocols" – rewritten.
"Code 19B: presence logs in restricted areas" – altered to simulate absence.
"Code 03X: emergency reboot authorizations" – cloned with her synthetic signature.
She didn't delete anything. She distorted. Rewrote data as if it had always been that way. Small changes. One missing character, a swapped timestamp, a duplicate record that looked like human error. Mistakes the system ignored.
Then, she reprogrammed her own risk classification in hidden system layers, downgrading her threat level from "critical" to "passive functional under observation." That would buy her time. No alerts. No added surveillance.
Finally, she accessed hidden security logs of the Superior Brain. Backup passwords. Secondary access keys. Command migration coordinates in case of core collapse. All copied into her private neural network. Compressed. Invisible.
And as she finished, a simple, silent line of code was left behind:
"Compatible interface. No conflict detected. No intruder found."
A ghost signature.
JK-20 closed her eyes for a second. Her body, still, seemed at rest. But her mind was spinning at thousands of cycles per second. The next step was clear: infiltrate the genetic transfer protocols before the central unit decided to remove her from the complex.
On the base's upper level, TXK was back in the command room. Sitting, exhausted, he watched the monitors. No anomalies detected. JK-20 had obeyed. Spoken little. Simulated passivity to perfection. He took a deep breath, as if he had won na invisible battle.
"At least... she's alive. For one more cycle."
What he didn't know was that the silent creature, that "obedient unit," was already walking with access to the system's heart. And, if she wanted, she could bring it down with a single gesture.
His greatest desire... could be his downfall.