Page 41 of Aliens Love Curves

"Such a shame," Harlan mutters, punching in security codes with his free hand. "We could have done this the easy way. You could have volunteered for the enhancements willingly."

We descend into the medical facility's lower levels. The antiseptic smell grows stronger, mixing with something else – something organic and wrong. My stomach turns, but the serum keeps me walking steadily.

"The control serum is temporary," he continues, leading me past rows of empty pods. "Just to ensure cooperation during the initial phase. The real transformation..." He stops at a pod already humming with power. "That comes next."

Through the chemical fog, terror spikes. I see the twisted forms of the other pilots in my mind.

No. Fight harder.

"Your genetic structure is unique," Harlan strokes my face with false tenderness. "Human, but with fascinating adaptabilities. The others couldn't handle the enhancements. Their bodies rejected the changes. But you..." His eyes gleam with obsession. "You're perfect."

My fingers twitch – a tiny victory in the war for control. The serum's hold is weakening, but too slowly.

"Imagine it," he breathes, preparing the pod. "Enhanced reflexes, improved neural processing, perfect integration with any vessel. You'll be the first of a new breed of pilot. My masterpiece."

"She's not your anything."

Stryker's voice cuts through the room like a blade. He stands in the doorway, blood on his claws, his silver eyes burning with fury.

Harlan spins me against him, using me as a shield. "How convenient. I was wondering how to dispose of you." Something cold presses against my temple – a plasma pistol. "One step closer and I'll remove her from the equation entirely."

The serum keeps me still, but my mind screams Stryker's name. He meets my eyes, and I see him read the desperate message there.

"The serum's wearing off," he says calmly. "You're losing control."

"Plenty of time to start the enhancement process," Harlan backs us toward the pod. "Once it begins, there's no reversal. She'll be mine forever."

My finger twitches again. Then my hand. The serum's grip is failing.

"Last chance," Stryker warns, his tail lashing. "Let her go."

Harlan laughs. "Or what? You'll watch her die? Choose carefully, Enforcer."

Everything happens at once.

I feel the exact moment the serum's control snaps. My elbow drives back into Harlan's solar plexus as Stryker launches forward. The plasma pistol discharges, scorching the air where my head had been a second before.

Harlan recovers quickly, inhumanly fast—enhanced, I realize. He's used the process on himself.

We grapple near the pod's edge. Harlan's augmented strength makes him formidable, but his arrogance makes him sloppy. When Stryker joins the fight, it becomes a deadly dance of claws and desperation.

"You could have been perfect." Harlan snarls, landing a blow that sends me staggering. "We could have revolutionized piloting forever!"

"By torturing innocent people?" I duck another swing. "By turning them into monsters?"

"I made them better." He moves with unnatural speed, but Stryker's tail trips him. "Stronger! More than their weak natural forms."

"You made them slaves," Stryker growls, slashing with his claws.

The fight intensifies. Harlan's enhancements give him incredible strength and speed, but he's outnumbered. And he never counted on one thing – my absolute trust in Stryker.

When Harlan lunges for me, I don't dodge. I let him come, knowing what will happen. Stryker's claws tear into him from behind, finding vital points with surgical precision.

Harlan's enhanced body gives out all at once. He crumples, cerise blood pooling beneath him, eyes still burning with madness.

"You'll never understand," he gasps. "The potential... the power..."

"The only power that matters," I tell him, "is the power to choose."