Kian, however, carried more than most of them realized. His systems operated on a separate program—the nanite technology used an upgraded function that allowed him different mental cognition.
His ability to process and conclude worked more how a humanoid would think. It also made him more emotional. The emotions made him able to process things uniquely.
More like humanoids. Less like machines.
While still a cyborg, Kian wasn't as dependent on his mechanical side to think and comprehend for himself and not based entirely on the current running program. A hybrid of what the builders had created, their original design for bigger, more vital workers, and completely compliant ones. That was what they had been intended? Created? to be many generations before.
As the generations developed, there were changes to the programming.
Kian was from the last batch of experimental upgrades. One of a few embryos that were manipulated before the Rhimodians left their homeworld.
A different kind of connection with Master System, but more independent than many of the other cyborgs.
While they all were from a humanoid base, they were cyborgs that ran on programming.
Most were.
The few in his series were advanced. At least, that was how Kian considered it. There were so few remaining, Kian believed they were some new development for the future of the cyborgs.
Because, unlike the others, KianfeltMaster System.
The voice that was always there.
Guiding him through his programming.
Your mission is clear, Master System sent.
Kian nodded.
The coming Ambassadors must be protected at all costs.
"Yes, Master System," Kian whispered.
You will lay down your life for the Terran princesses if necessary.
Kian nodded again.
There is to be no question. Peace cannot falter.
"Yes, Master System," Kian whispered. Data flew through his mind, preparing him for the escort mission.
It was time for him to join his unit to escort the Ambassadors to Sol-3 and begin.
Peace to end the war.
Kian snappedon his helmet and tapped the gauntlet on his forearm. As the edge met his flight suit, the lysteel bonded with the helmet, creating a quick suction sound as it sealed.
Now his organic tissue was prepared for space flight. He and his fellow pilots in the unit were in various stages of preparing for their mission to escort the Terran Ambassador's ship to Sol-3, their main populace world.
The mission was simple. Protect the arriving delegation, and the action would add to the Terran's trust of the Rhimodians, thus fostering more likelihood of peace between the two.
Peace was necessary.
The Rhimodians had developed their last batch of cyborgs. Once they were fully mature, there would not be more.
War was going to eliminate them entirely. They'd already lost thirty-eight percent of their people due to wartime.
They had to find peace, a solution, or the war would be nothing more than an execution.
