Chapter 5

"His nerve endings are fried from the rejection. We're going to need a multiple brain prosthesis and spinal replacement. The cyber-heart is failing to connect to his nervous system, we'll need to reinstall a dummy spine and start over with a ghost heart for the time being."

Fluorescent white lights passed endlessly overhead. I could tell I was moving but aside from that I didn't know what was happening. My head was fixed in place so all I could move was my eyes and even they were malfunctioning. The figures at my side were blurred shadows, twisting maliciously as they changed shape each time I looked away.

"Ni... Ni..." I tried to speak but I couldn't get out more than a pained rasp.

"Someone bring me an emergency respirator, he can't breath!" I overhead a female voice, "we're sending him into surgery immediately. I need a dual lung prosthesis and a bronchial dilator prepped if we want him alive for the process."

Before I could try any further a plastic mask was forced over my face and a tube shoved down my throat to help me breath. One of the shadows started pumping air into my lungs and I felt a swell in my chest. I coughed and a stream of blood poured into the face-mask. It was around this time I started realizing how much more than just my chest ached. My eyes trailed down to my body and I saw nothing but red patches over my white shirt and pants. My legs were twisted into a horrific shape, tied down to keep them from wriggling around like spaghetti hanging off a fork. A needle was shoved into my neck and my vision started to get hazy. They pulled the mask off to replace it with a clean one, giving me a chance to try speaking again.

"Prepare his body for a full spinal reboot. We're going to need to rework his nervous system from the ground up," the voices were getting more and more distant as the lights went gray, "give him another dose of the neural grease and sever his cerebellum from his spinal cord. We can't have him moving anymore than he already has."

"Nic..cole..." I gagged out before falling completely under the spell of whatever they pumped me full of.

Darkness greeted me when I regained consciousness. My head was still immobile but now I was unable to even open my eyes. None of my body responded when I asked it to and even my breathing seemed to be forced rather than of my own accord. My heart pumped in my head, a dull and empty chain of thuds sounding mechanical and inhuman. Every impulse I sent to my body was refused. Breathing, swallowing, anything I could think of was useless. I tried to thrash, to scream, to even blink, but nothing happened. I was certain I could hear voices in the room but there was no understanding them, like trying to hear people speak while you were underwater. Even though I was panicked, my heart continued it's steady and unnatural rhythmless pumping. I was trapped in my own skin.

Desperate to even have the slightest impact on my body I urged my eyelids to open. I screamed at myself within my psyche, begging every fiber of my self to force just one thing into action. Slowly, light entered into the darkness. A burning pain filled my skull, my eyes seared from the lights while if felt like someone were holding hot coals to my entire face. It wasn't long before someone responded to my regaining consciousness.

A dark shape blocked out my vision and shined a blinding light into my eyes. It began yelling incoherently as if panicked and disappeared, leaving me to my anxiety. My body seemed to reject every single impulse I gave it, no matter how small. Then, as suddenly as I regained my consciousness, the room around me began to come into focus. The lights above became a cool white color and I began to make out the individual acrylic tiles.

"Major Alan Gregory," a scratchy and intimidating male voice echoed through an intercom, "can you hear us?"

When I tried to move again, my eyes responded and flipped to the right. A frosted glass window with a faint blue tint dominated the wall to my left along with a slew of unidentifiable medical tools. A steady beep that matched my heartbeat made it clear I was hooked up to an EKG, bringing to mind what other devices I might be attached to. I tried to look down at my body but my head was in such a position I couldn't see past the bridge of my nose. My skin seemed pale, metallic, reflecting the light back into my eyes and making me wince as they stung.

"Major, respond!" the voice barked impatiently.

"Wuh-What i-is thi-is...?" I forced out, a twisting pain in my chest making it little more than a whisper.

"Welcome back, Mr. Gregory, we were worried our efforts saving you were in vain," the intercom spoke again, this time a much less agitated individual who had a very educated and clear tone, "how do you feel?"

"Where ah-am I?"

"You are alive, Mr. Gregory," the second disembodied voice mused, "we brought you back from the brink. You died for twenty five minutes on Tandiko before we could get you on life support. Not to mention all the times during the procedure you flatlined."

"Pruh-procee-cee-cedure?"

My voice sounded harsh, like I had been screaming for hours, and the pain was even worse. It felt like a million ants were trying to claw their way out of my skull and throat, and my chest twisted into a knot so tight I couldn't breath. Not that it mattered as my breathing was still regulated without my say. There wasn't a single sign of my pain and fear showing through my body though I could have been shaking and not noticed. Aside from my face, I couldn't feel a thing, and even that was ice cold. Bit by bit my senses spread further and further along my skin, like ripples in a pond extending from a singular spot.

"You suffered extensive injuries in the battle, Major," the less patient man started speaking in quick and unwavering sentences, "over two thirds of your bones had been severely broken and you had about a fifth of a lung left. The lower right ventricle of your heart had collapsed and most all your entire small intestine had ruptured. You were paralyzed from the diaphragm down. Both femurs were nearly liquefied in the fall you sustained and your left arm was beyond repair. The list goes on."

I couldn't even comprehend the situation. How could I have possibly survived all of this? What had they done to me to keep me alive? And that wasn't even bringing in how I could have sustained all of these injuries. The last thing I remembered was waking up on the Cry Havoc and basically being told we had to fight aliens. Looks like we lost pretty bad.

"Upon your recovery you were deemed worthy enough a candidate for the Proto-Soldier Initiative. Ultimately over ninety percent of your body was replaced with cybernetic counterparts," he finally paused for a moment before asking in an annoyed manner, "are you still listening, Major?"

"Wuh-Why cuh-can't I muh-move?" I asked without regarding the question.

I was honestly curious how they expected me to react to this. It wasn't exactly common for people to learn they had been turned into the human equivalent of apple sauce. Let alone they were brought back and stuffed into a robotic shell. As Old Obi-Wan would say, I'm more machine than man now.

"For your own safety, your bodily functions have been restricted. Your nervous system is fragile during the rebooting stage. We need to make sure all of your prosthetics aren't liable to malfunction," the second voice replied, "now tell me, Mr. Gregory, how do you feel?"

"Huh-Hurts."

"What hurts, Major? Be specific," the first voice snapped at me.

"My eh-everytuh-thing," I replied, "at l-least ah-ah-what I-I can fuh-feel."

"Sarcasm is not advised, Major. You are the most advanced cybernetic individual to date. Nothing can be left to chance," the more dominant voice chided me, "we spent a lot of time and money rebuilding you, Major, we need you alive."

"Pain is to be expected, Mr. Gregory. You are essentially reverse paralyzing at the moment," the second voice spoke again, "We need to ensure the full functionality of your bodily functions before we allow you to move around. Please, calm down Mr. Gregory. It will do you no good to be excited when we finally give you control of your body. Any sudden movements could potentially bring yourself harm."

"W-What did you duh-do to me?" I stammered out as loudly as I could muster.

"Everything we had to," the intercom rasped, "now stay calm, Major. It's time we bring you online."

Doors opened somewhere in the room and I could make out several sets of footsteps approaching me. The table I was stuck on began tilting upwards and gravity pulled my body against the straps that restrained me. My head fell forwards and I finally saw the rest of the room I awoke in. Silver panels lined all the walls other than the one with the window, refracting light down from the dim halogen lights. Whatever machines I was hooked up to must have been resting behind me as the room was devoid of even a single medical device. My head still refused to move, preventing me from seeing myself.

Through a pair of sliding glass doors made out of the same off-blue frosted glass as the wall to my right, two white uniformed women entered the room and approached me. While one had a blocky looking hypodermic needle the other carried nothing but a computer tablet. They wore the typical looking nurses outfit, white slacks with an equally bleach white blouse. Their faces were covered in tinted glasses and a cloth breath mask, preventing me from making out any identities.

"Inject the neural-jelly."

Without a word, the women stepped forwards. One stood just out of arm's reach while the other moved around my back and out of my line of sight. I could have sworn the one before me nodded and said something of affirmation but I was unable to make out anything other than shadows and shapes. My head jerked forwards an few inches and my vision started growing over-saturated while my hearing become fuzzy and muddled once again. Colors bled into one another and soon everything was a swirling torrent of blacks and whites.

Then my vision became more and more articulated. It became pixelated at first, then slowly coming into focus like a video that was slowly buffering before reaching its max resolution. Before me the nurse tapped away at her tablet while the other remained out of sight. I could see the first one's mouth moving but no sound was coming out. Slowly it came in as though I were walking closer and closer towards her standing at the end of a long tunnel.

"Major Gregory," the woman was saying, "Please. If you can hear me, respond."

"I can hear you," I replied.

Much to my surprise, my voice came out clear and without pain. It sounded alien to me but for the moment my mind was reeling on other subjects. Mainly being what had become of the rest of my body. I was able to see the outcropping chest that resided below my chin now, and it was all but unrecognizable. A pale peachy gray in color, like that of dead skin, the shape was unnatural and geometric. Bands of material that nearly mimicked the shapes of muscular tissue stretched across my chest, held together by silvery clasps. Small geometric cells reticulated across the entire surface of the material, akin to the pattern of carbon-fibre.

"Your body is reacting well to your organic parts," the tablet wielding nurse spoke dismissivley without looking up, "can you please try nodding your head up and down? We are going to start enabling your motor functions."

I did as they said and tried to spur my neck muscles into action. A tearing sensation followed by heat filled my neck as my head slowly listed forwards. My eyes traced the rest of my body. My abdominal muscles had been completely covered in similar clasps like that which held the bands across my chest in place. Each of my thighs were completely encapsulated in the carbon fibre-like straps and my knees were now silvery steel protrusions with a clear seam in the metal where it was meant to articulate like a human kneecap.

"Good job, Mr. Gregory," the nurse said monotonously, "Now can you lift your head back up? We're going to activate your motor-skills above the diaphragm. You should have access to your right arm now."

As she spoke I continued to scan over my body. I stared down at my arms, which were completely asymmetrical now. The right was relatively parallel to a human counterpart. The hand closed as I looked at it, the bands running the length of my forearm contracted and pulled at the wrist like the tendons of an organic arm would. A soft whirring noise emanated from my wrist as the hand rotated around at the joint as opposed to the arm itself moving to accommodate the limb. The arm itself was a mess of carbon fibre bands and metallic joints held together by shimmering bindings.

"Excellent. Your phalanges are responding well. Now please try moving your entire arm, Mr. Gregory."

I ignored the empty praise and turned to look at my left arm. From the elbow up it was identical to the left. The bicep was much larger than mine were and it was obvious that whatever parts they had replaced me with had certainly tacked on the mass. Below the elbow was something I couldn't recognize. A large, perfectly smoothed, ovular device that glistened like a gem with a flashlight showing through it was affixed to my arm above the wrist. An ornate metallic glove held the glowing orb in place against my body. The glove extended past the wrist and completely altered the shape of my hand. Two large fingers and a thumb were all that remained of my left hand, all three larger than the right hand's counterpart.

"Your right arm, Major," the commanding voice came in over the intercom again with a loud static pop, "move it."

Doing as I was told, I tried to reach out to the glowing device on my arm. The air immediately surrounding the strange jewel seemed to be giving off what I could only explain as a heat haze or mirage, giving it an ethereal look. As I stared deeper into the strange gem I noticed that there was never a moment where it was the same as the last. What I could only explain as stars constantly swirled within the orb and despite its size there was no visible end to the light that came from within it, nor any source.

As my right hand began moving towards it the nurses intervened and stopped me from reaching it. Just before my hand came in contact I felt a jerk against my elbow and my arm was pulled back against the table. In the second before that happened the strange phenomena encasing the device seemed to react to my hand coming in close proximity.

"Excellent," the nurse spoke again before tapping on her tablet several times.

"What is this?" I questioned angrily, "What is this thing on my arm?!"

The nurse said nothing, didn't even acknowledge me. She merely tapped away at her device a few more times before turning around and heading for the door with the nurse that had been standing behind me following in her shadow. I tried to move but my arm was affixed to the table at the elbow and anything else still refused to cooperate. Helpless, I could do nothing but cry out at them as the glass double doors they came through slid open automatically.

"Don't ignore me goddammit!" I yelled at them. My entire chest felt as though it were going to rip open at the sudden outburst.

"Calm down, Major, you will get your answers soon enough," spoke the intercom, "You cannot be freed until you get yourself under control, however. It's possible the device could react to your emotions and we'd all be in trouble then."

My throat still hurt to much from yelling to bother speaking. I instead looked down at the device with what I could only assume was a solemn expression. Becoming an unwilling cybernetic test dummy was one thing, and honestly given the circumstances of my death wouldn't have been a half bad fate all things considered. I wasn't too keen on being treated like a dangerous weapon ready to go off at any moment, and the giant glowing marble on my arm did little to ease my discomfort.

"Okay, Mr. Gregory," the more studious voice began, "we're going to assemble your neural pathways to accept the A.I. companion." The voice paused, "don't worry. It's only active in your subconscious. You won't have anyone in your head per-say."

I let myself relax as best I could. My heartbeat spiked and I felt my entire body tense up. Pain began pulsing through me in waves, originating from my chest and rippling outwards. More ripples began originating from my head, from behind the back of my skull where the brain meets the spinal column. Every inch of me began to burn, even the parts I lacked any feeling in were suddenly alive with an unfathomable searing sensation, like the burn of sore muscles after a workout only multiplied by a million.

"He's going into shock," the more studious voice cried over the intercom, "I need 2400 cc's of chlorpromazine immediately."

As my body remained stiff as a board, my eyes traced down to the device attached to my arm. It glowed brighter than before, giving off clearly visible distorted air waves. My left hand clenched, the three fingers closing together as the device seemed to be vibrating at such a frequency that my arm and the table beneath it began to shake. Slowly, the flat metallic surface beneath my arm began to crumple as if exposed to a fierce flame. I watched as the vibrations in the air became so intense that the metallic table began to shred. Strands of torn metal fell to the floor as my body collapsed off the left side of the table, clattering to the ground and nearly disintegrating.

"Electron magnet is online," the intercom fizzled and popped, "A.I. is integrating into his system effectively. We'll be operational in Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two..."

A blinding blue light was now emitting from the orb on my arm. I could feel everything being dragged towards that spot, my body, the table beneath me, even the light in the room seemed to be bending towards the device. As the intercom counted down, the light grew more and more intense before finally erupting outwards. Painful whines filled my ears, high pitched squeals like that of an audible dog whistle. By now I was completely engulfed in a white light and the vibrations would have torn an organic body apart at the seams seconds ago.

Then it stopped. I collapsed against the remains of the surgical table, the sheered off left side creaking and dumping my ass to the floor. More of the shredded metal fell onto me from above, evidence of how violent the device on my arm had become. My right hand found the ground and eased me up into a sitting position. I felt heavy, my body cumbersome and unfamiliar. Looking around at the pile of scrap I was now sitting in, I could clearly see the rest of my body. My legs, arms, everything was entirely encased in bands of off-gray metal and silver clasps. I looked like I had been skinned alive, only my muscles and bones were replaced with cybernetic replacements. It was both horrific and awe-inspiring at the same time.

My left arm came into vision and the massive hand on the end completely engulfed my knee. The fingers clasped around the metallic kneecap, the massive orb on the same arm shimmering and throwing off heat waves into the air though I felt no actual warmth from the device. In fact, my body didn't recognize any sort of temperature, only the sensation of being in contact with my knee, the table, and the floor. Although I could feel these objects, it was like feeling them through a thick rubber glove, smoothed over and oddly nondescript. There was no difference in texture between the ragged and crumpled surgical table and the smoothed tile floor, only the sensation of being in contact with said objects.

"Can you stand, Major?" a voice spoke up from the doorway.

I looked up and spotted a middle-aged caucasian male, dressed in formal military attire for most naval officers. His suit was a dark blue, his chest polluted with all number of decorations. Atop his head was a patch of neatly combed silver with patches of dark worked into it, evidence he had to be old enough for genetic washing to be out of the question. Odds are the guy was pushing sixty by now, bringing me to question what such a man would be doing here. Most men of his position were well into their political career by now. The man took a few steps into the room, looking around at the pile of torn metal that I was sitting in. I could see age spots on his face, wrinkles around his eyes, even some evidence of his right eye growing cloudy and pockmarks to accompany it gave hints to some serious battle scars. This man never had any serious genetic modification, otherwise he'd look a lot better.

"I asked you a question, Major," the man growled, "can you stand?"

My right hand found what remained of the surgical table. Metal encased fingers wrapped around the frayed edge and pulled, bending the aluminum as I pulled myself up off the floor. My feet were inhuman in shape, possessing two wide toes for balance rather than being shaped like a foot or boot. I padded my feet against the tile a few times to test out my footing before looking up at the officer. His face was cold, uninterested. Even though he was staring at the most cybernetic individual to date, you'd think I was some wet behind the ears greenhorn.

"It seems so," I rasped, still partially leaning onto the surgical table.

"Good," he choked out before clearing his throat, "we'll get you into rehabilitation immediately."

I recognized the man's voice as the first one to speak to me over the intercom when I came to. My eyes narrowed and I focused on his chest, the small gold plate on his chest came into focus and I could make out the name, M. Ferguson, and the pin on his collar made him out as an Admiral. I had never heard of the man before in my eighteen years of service.

"A moment, sir?" I stood straight and addressed him with a militaristic attitude, "I would like to know some things if that's possible?"

"I'll give you what answers I can," the Admiral narrowed his eyes and straightened his back. He cleared his throat and spoke again, "ask away, Major."

I blinked for what could have been the first time since regaining consciousness. The Admiral seemed to be open to the idea of answering my questions but I was guessing his hands were tied in the response department. Someone even higher up must be pulling the strings. That meant I was even deeper in the black books than the Cry Havoc or the aliens that attacked.

"The attack on Tandiko," I gave the Admiral a second to recall the facts, "what happened after I was evacuated from the planet?"

"Tandiko fell, the invaders were successful in wiping any trace of human activity off the face of the planet," the Admiral replied without hesitation.

My heart sank, or whatever was left of it. I stood silent for a moment before I could ask the next question, "so it was destroyed?"

"No," the Admiral shook his head, "unmanned drones have been recording the planet. The aliens took the planet as their own we believe. That's all we know."

"Is there anything else, Major?" the Admiral questioned impatiently.

I nodded and spoke quickly, "Yessir. The other voice speaking to me mentioned me dying during the procedure. How long did..." I searched desperately for the right wording, "fixing me take, exactly?"

"Two years, nine months, and thirteen days to the date," the Admiral responded without hesitation. He had been expecting that question. "Most of the past year has been spent calibrating your bodily functions. I can't give you specifics on that side of the process, but the science team should be able to give you more information, Major."

I had been dead for nearly three years before now. None of the procedure was flashing back but I could remember almost any aspect of my life with a soothing clarity. Thinking back on the last time I had been in a position like this I recalled being in the hospital for the accident with Nicole. She had been lying on a table not unlike the one I was looking down on right now, only hers lacked the magnetized restraints. Her cold skin, the vacant stare, the blank white sheet that concealed her disfigured lower body, these thoughts quickly rushed in to follow those of our last day together.

Rapping my fingers against the ripple marks in the aluminum table, I tried to put the thoughts of Nicole out of my mind. I focused on the feeling of tapping, the dull repetitive, and consistent thud of each finger ringing out in the silent room. Grateful as I was to have survived my encounter on Tandiko, being the modern equivalent of robocop left me wondering what exactly I was being saved for.

"One more question, sir," I met the Admiral's gaze, "what's the Proto-Soldier Initiative?"

The Admiral perked up, if you could believe it. He pressed a small white pad affixed into the glass beside the sliding doors and an affirmative ding echoed through the room. The lights became tinted green and the glass split apart to reveal a bleached metal hallway.

"Showing you would be easier than explaining," the Admiral grunted as he ushered me out into the hallway.