9) Rebuilt Medic

I awoke the moment my back touched the cold, hard floor of a UNSC medical wing, an environment I could recognize by the smell alone. I coughed violently, gagging on a tube in my throat; two doctors rushed to where I lay as I calmed myself, knowing that panic would only hinder any medical procedures. My eyes darted around the part of the room that I could see, listening to my surroundings. There was a lot of commotion that had to do with the one who had knocked me out of the bed. There were two marines fighting hand-to-hand in the center of the room, both clearly had enthusiasm and certain anger towards each other.

I winced as the marine broke the shock trooper's arm; the retaliation was quick and brutal, fracturing the marine's teeth and breaking at least four ribs. A nurse blocked my field of vision as the marine landed a forceful punch, one that I would assume would break her hand. My vision blurred as the sedation mask sprayed out, the numbness not taking effect, due to my immunity to most anesthetics. I cringed as they tightened new bandages around my reopened wounds; one medic ran up with a syringe, I assumed that he had just read my file and realized that I was unaffected by the administered sedatives.

I began to black out as the female Spartan began talking to me; her voice sounded muffled as I kept myself conscious; she was trying to get my consent on an "experimental procedure." Perhaps it was the head trauma, blood loss, or the sedatives; but I agreed to it, knowing that most procedures of this nature ended badly. I subconsciously fought the sedative until it pushed me further into the darkness I had been in just minutes before.

I awoke gasping, choking on the tube that kept me alive during my unconsciousness, pain burning down into my very bones. I felt myself convulse slightly with pain, my body confined by metal bonds, holding me to the cold metal table as machines cut into my skin; prodding needles burrowing into my skin in several places. I tried to focus on what they were doing, but the pain coursing through my mind was too great, causing me to black out again.

"Private Bell." A voice called me out of the eternal darkness, where the nightmares of machines, tearing me apart tormented me. "Private Vincent Bell, you've just survived a very risky procedure."

I opened my eyes to see the ceiling from the soft bed, most likely in the recovery ward. I looked to the left, searching for the voice that woke me up. It was a woman dressed in the standard clothing of a field medic. I thought it was odd that a doctor inside the hospital of a military base would be dressed for the field and I would have mentioned it, but I couldn't seem to move much of anything, including my lips and tongue. The woman saw that I was trying to speak and walked to the end of the bed.

"You're blood is still filled with sedatives, so you won't be able to move or speak much for a couple of days," She explained, taking off her body armor. "They called me in during the procedure from the field, I was monitoring when you woke up." She took an electronic clipboard from the table she stood next to, writing things down. "It must be a hassle, being immune to most sedatives on hand, but not surprising, considering how many injuries you've obtained in past conflicts."

"This is the first time that I was injured by my own army; and this will probably be my last." My voice sounded muffled and faint. The woman looked shocked.

"I'm not here to judge the UNSC, you, or the man who called that air strike. I'm just here to patch you up so this won't be your last chance to be injured in battle." She spoke with skill that I recognized from many other medical officers as one practiced to calm patients and raise their moral. I usually ignored doctors when they spoke to me like this, but the way this woman spoke… Despite myself, I actually believed that she could help me.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but your right appendages have been substituted with advanced robotics. The procedure you've undergone was designed over the course of three years, you are lucky to have survived it, it says here that you are the first human to undergo this treatment and survive." She paused for a second. "Son of a bitch. Why would they even try that?" She was clearly talking to herself, and I assumed she had just found out about something that the ones in charge of my 'operation' had kept from her. "The psychological trauma could have been far too great, perhaps the serum made it possible to keep him from going into shock."

I tried to speak, but found that my mouth and tongue had gone numb. I just watched her as she marked certain things down on the screen of the electronic board, making notes about the results of the procedure. As I lay down on the increasingly uncomfortable bed, wondering what exactly they had done to me that could make her act as she was. She was noting the heart rate when she saw that I was trying to move. She moved over to the other side of the bed.

"I'm going to remove the monitoring equipment and unlock your synthetics now," She said, putting the device she was taking notes on and reaching for the needle that was on my left arm. "You should take it slow at first, in order to get used to the feeling of the metal limbs. The sedatives in your blood should wear off soon, but for now, use the mechanics to balance, they should respond as if they were always attached."

I rolled and pushed myself off of the bed, stumbling as my left leg gave out, but I caught myself with a metal clink on the floor. The feeling of the floor beneath the metal foot was realistic, the pressure pushing up into my leg; I assumed there was a lot of research that went into making the synthetic leg connect to the nervous system. It felt everything but the cold, which was hard to ignore on my left foot, which was beginning to get feeling back.

"Take it easy, Vincent," the doctor said, helping me sit back on the bed. "This is something you can't push, it takes time to get used to any synthetic limb, besides," she paused for a moment. "There is something else you are going to have to get used to."

"What is that?" I asked, starting to get anxious. "What was it that kept me from going into shock?" She sighed, as if she could break it to me easier. She finally turned around, picking up the electronic clipboard and scrolling through the files; then she sighed again.

"Just this morning, I was out here as a field medic, helping whoever was wounded in the Covenant strike," she was overwhelmed at the death that surrounded her. "Now I find out that this UNSC facility is holding enough medical equipment to manage something a risky as this."

"You'll experience differences in your reflexes and strength, along with other anomalies regarding your body chemistry." She said, looking through the notes of past researchers that had tested this 'procedure.' "You will be placed under lockdown until we've determined that you will not be a threat to yourself or others."

"I appreciate the breakdown, but either way, I'd like to know what exactly they did to me."

"It's a program that has been funded in multiple areas for a few years, it's filled with rumors and uncertainty, but the research path taken on this particular version…"

"Doctor, please." I stopped her from avoiding the question.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard some of the rumors," she said, then put it very simply, "They've made you into a Spartan."