Nate's POV
A man emerged from a mobile command center near the rig. It was the same man from the illusion earlier, but this time he was wearing a heavy tactical vest over his charcoal suit. He held a tablet, as his fingers danced across the screen.
"Nathaniel!" he called out, his voice amplified by the quarry walls. "I hope you appreciate the irony. We spent billions trying to replicate what you threw away. These 'Synthetics' don't question orders. They don't have 'mate bonds' or 'paternal instincts.' They are the perfect heirs. All they need is a spark from the original source to bridge the biological gap."
"You're harvesting my children like they're batteries!" Dahlia yelled, stepping forward with the heavy iron wrench she'd grabbed from the garage. She looked fierce, like a mother bear facing down a machine.
"I prefer the term 'optimization,'" the man replied. He tapped a final command on his tablet. "Subdue them. Do not damage the youngest. He's the priority."
