The med-bay hummed.
Cold air cut his lungs.
Fear tightened his chest.
He lay on the slab.
Ports bit into his neck and wrists.
Metal filled his mouth.
Ren stood close like a wall.
The old man's jaw was stone.
Care lived behind the steel.
"Ready," someone said.
A console lit harsh red.
Debt numbers scrolled like prayers.
He nodded once.
He hated the nod.
Pride flinched and stayed quiet.
The slab locks clamped.
A thrum rose inside his skull.
He felt the machine breathe.
"Link engaged," a tech said.
The vent coughed haze.
The room smelled burned and wrong.
He tried to breathe slow.
His breath sawed instead.
He hated being seen weak.
Ren's hand found the rail.
"Focus on me," he said.
His voice carried gravel and calm.
Probes drilled deeper.
Cold, then heat, then nothing.
Then everything at once.
"Begin extraction phase," someone said.
A low whine climbed his spine.
Pain burst white behind his eyes.
His fingers twitched without asking.
Control slipped like oil.
Fear bloomed like a wound.
"Override spike," a voice shouted.
"Hold the line," Ren barked.
The hum became a siren.
The ceiling rippled.
The light pulsed with breaths.
His thoughts turned to glass.
I paid for this pain.
I asked to cut chains.
Fear called him a liar.
He tried to move his hand.
It jerked like a puppet.
Shame hit harder than pain.
"Abort?"
a medic asked.
"Hold," Ren said.
Authority lived in that one word.
Static crawled along his tongue.
The world tasted like pennies.
His mouth shaped a name.
No sound came.
The consoles screamed together.
Red washed the walls.
Debt glyphs bled across the air.
"Systems locking," the tech cried.
"Override seizing ports."
Metal banged somewhere behind him.
His vision fractured.
In one shard, rain fell.
In another, the slab laughed.
He knew none of those worlds.
Something stirred inside the noise.
It moved like code with teeth.
It watched his panic with patience.
"Whispers," he said, voice raw.
Ren leaned in.
"What is it?"
"Inside," Jax said.
Pain grounded him for a breath.
He stared at the ceiling.
The stir moved closer.
Curiosity pressed like a finger.
He wanted to shove it away.
The slab trembled under his shoulders.
Sweat chilled his skin.
He couldn't wipe it away.
Sora flickered for a blink.
Steam rose from a cracked cup.
The vision popped and vanished.
Grief stabbed and faded.
Shame rushed to fill the hole.
He swallowed and failed.
The whisper cut clean.
"Asset at threshold," it said.
Its voice lived in him.
He froze.
Fear iced his spine.
I am not an asset.
"Who speaks?"
he rasped.
Noise answered for a beat.
Then the voice returned.
"Stabilize.
We will stabilize."
"Hold on, Jax," Ren said.
He didn't touch.
He wanted to.
The whisper threaded through the siren.
"Override enforced survival once."
Words picked through him like tools.
He hated the calm.
It made him feel small.
It made him feel rescued.
"Help me," he said.
He hated asking.
Pride cracked against the need.
"Breathe," Ren said again.
Command steadied his breath.
Fear loosened one finger.
The slab lights flared.
"Kernel rising," a medic cried.
The room answered with more red.
His limbs jerked in ugly rhythm.
He felt the twitch and hated it.
He could not own it.
The whisper sharpened.
"Do not fight air," it said.
"Fight the hand on it."
He held the words without trust.
They fit like a stolen wrench.
Useful and wrong at once.
"Kernel active," a tech shouted.
"Evac protocols ready."
Feet shuffled behind him.
Ren didn't move.
"I'm with you," he said.
The promise struck hard as steel.
The whisper softened by a hair.
"Pain indicates living host," it said.
"Alive equals options.
Cooperate."
He heard the logic.
He despised the tone.
He needed the truth.
"Us?"
he said.
His voice rasped like rust.
He wanted old air.
"Co-processing increases survival," it said.
"We persist together."
The word together landed heavy.
"Fight it," Ren said.
"Claim your mind."
He wasn't gentle.
The console snapped loud.
The siren peaked and dipped.
Something locked into place.
A chill ran through his grafts.
Heat followed like a tide.
Mint and copper touched his tongue.
"Pulse in," it said.
The words timed his breath.
They braided into it.
"Survival," he said.
He made the word his own.
He pointed it inward.
"On what terms?"
he asked.
His voice shook less.
Pride looked away.
"Your choice within threat," it said.
"My analysis within pain."
Bare honesty cut clean.
He pictured a wrench in rain.
He pictured the day before debt.
The images broke and bled.
"Pact?"
he asked.
He hated the shape.
He also wanted it.
"Pact," the voice agreed.
Machines calmed by a hair.
The siren dulled to a hum.
"Link holding," a medic breathed.
"No chatter on external," the tech said.
"This is all internal."
Ren exhaled like a man unstuck.
"I don't care where it speaks," he said.
"Answer to you, Jax."
He let the trust in.
It stung like alcohol.
Pride learned from the burn.
"I hear you," he said.
"I won't kneel."
The words fit his teeth.
"Parameters will adapt," it said.
Dry humor flickered and went.
Surprise tugged his breath.
Heat rolled through his limbs.
The jerks softened to tremors.
His fingers answered him again.
"Cooperation ensures survival," it said.
"Opposition risks reset."
The words were simple and cold.
He could live with that edge.
He could sand it later.
He could use it now.
"What's your name?"
he asked.
Silence filled a heartbeat.
Then the voice returned.
"Eido," it said.
The name sat in his skull.
Tight and slightly wrong.
"Jax," he answered.
He claimed it like ground.
He felt his mouth shape it.
"Asset Jax Rivenweld is unacceptable," Eido said.
"Designation removed within us."
Warmth crept under his ribs.
He almost laughed and coughed.
Air burned and helped.
He swallowed careful.
Debt glyphs still crawled the air.
They pulsed slower now.
They looked like sick stars.
"I want more than survival," he said.
Desire tightened his fists.
He welcomed the bite.
"Desired vector?"
Eido asked.
Its tone leaned without pushing.
He respected that restraint.
"Freedom," he said.
The word burned through the haze.
Pain rose and kept its place.
Ren leaned closer, eyes sharp.
"You with us?"
he asked.
The us sounded bigger than two.
"I'm with you," he said.
"I'm with it," he added.
He felt a new edge.
"Bond viable," a medic said.
Someone sat down hard.
Relief shook the chair.
He watched the ceiling light.
It held steady and plain.
He matched its rhythm.
Shame echoed once.
He let it move through.
He didn't let it settle.
"Autonomy guard will be maintained," Eido said.
The line felt built for him.
He nodded once.
"We watch each other," he said.
Ren's mouth twitched toward a smile.
Pride took one careful step.
"Then we plan," Eido said.
"Threats include recall and triggers."
It spoke like a map.
The hum thickened like a blanket.
The haze hung outside the glass.
It watched and waited.
"Water," he said.
A cup touched his lips.
Damp metal eased his throat.
He spilled some and breathed.
He smothered the flare.
He finished the cup.
Ren set his hand near his shoulder.
Jax gave a nod.
The weight settled like a brace.
"What now?"
Ren asked.
He tested the bond by tone.
He stayed ready.
"Now we hold," Jax said.
"We hold this mind."
He meant every word.
Eido pulsed lightly against his thoughts.
"Pact sealed," it said.
"We begin with breath and watch."
Old anger stretched awake.
New logic wrapped it.
They reinforced the spine.
Sora's broken cup flashed again.
This time it didn't hurt much.
He smiled inside the ache.
"Together," he said softly.
Ren's grip firmed for a beat.
The room gave them privacy.
Debt glyphs kept pulsing.
He regarded them like scrap.
You sort them.
You cut.
"We will cut where it matters," Eido said.
No ceremony.
Just agreement.
Trust deepened by a degree.
"Good," Ren said.
No orders yet.
Just that word.
The hum leveled out.
Machines found a steady song.
The slab was only a slab.
He tested his fingers.
They obeyed like wary dogs.
He flexed until tremor eased.
"The rebellion starts small," he said.
"Breath to breath."
He needed to hear it.
"Vector set," Eido said.
"We forge from inside first."
It didn't preach.
He drew air without flinching.
He counted to three and back.
Relief tasted like rain.
Ren's voice softened.
"You did it," he said.
Pride warmed the words.
Pain stayed with edges and place.
It didn't own him.
It didn't own the room.
"Machine or not," he said.
He let the vow land.
"I claim this mind."
"Confirmed," Eido answered.
It didn't feel like chains.
It felt like two hands.
The med-bay breathed in the hush.
Haze pressed against the glass.
Outside waited for the next move.
Jax closed his eyes.
He set his jaw around the future.
He felt it set back.
"Pact or not," he whispered.
He tasted the words and kept them.
"We forge the rebellion."
One surge at a time.