Bobby's head throbbed as consciousness returned, each heartbeat sending waves of pain through his skull. The cold metal floor pressed against his cheek, its surface etched with strange geometric patterns that pulsed with a faint blue light.
His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. Through blurred vision, he could see status displays flickering on the walls - their alien symbols fragmenting and reforming in patterns he couldn't understand.
<...by? Bo...by?> Rem's voice came through like a badly tuned radio, breaking up into static. <...suppression field... careful...>
The cell was a perfect cube, roughly ten feet on each side. No visible doors or seams marked the seamless metal walls. The same glowing patterns that covered the floor continued up the walls and across the ceiling, creating an effect like being trapped inside a circuit board.
A low hum permeated the air, accompanied by occasional pulses of energy that made Bobby tingle uncomfortably. Whatever technology they were using, it was uncomfortable to be around and was disrupting his connection to Rem.
"What’s going on?" Bobby tried to ask Rem, but the response got lost in a burst of static.
Movement caught his eye - a section of wall shimmered and became transparent. A figure stood on the other side, mostly hidden in shadow. Chrome implants caught the light as they stepped closer to the transparent barrier.
"Awake already?" The voice carried the same mechanical undertone Bobby remembered from before losing consciousness. "Most subjects stay under for hours after a neural shock like that."
Bobby pushed himself to a sitting position, fighting against the heaviness in his limbs. "Where's Mic?"
"The gnome? Clever diversion, having him set off explosions while you infiltrated. But unnecessary - we knew you were coming." The figure moved closer, revealing more augmentations along their jaw and neck. "I'm more interested in how you acquired Kra'zak technology. That armour isn't standard raider gear."
Bobby remained silent, trying to focus through the fog clouding his thoughts. The suppression field made it impossible to access his inventory or skills.
"Not feeling talkative? That's fine. The neural probes will tell us everything we need to know." The figure tapped something on their arm, causing one of the wall panels to slide open. "Welcome to your new home. The Overseer has special plans for you."
The guards that entered wore matching black armour, their movements synchronised with inhuman precision. Neural interface cables snaked from their helmets into spine-mounted control units that pulsed with the same blue light as Bobby's cell.
"Stand up," the first guard commanded, voice filtered through their helmet's speaker system. "Hands where we can see them."
Bobby complied, muscles still sluggish from the suppression field.
"Subject 274 ready for processing," the second guard reported to someone unseen. "Confirming Class-3 containment protocols."
Class-3 containment what now? These guys ain’t normal humans. Bobby thought as he tried to get his bearings.
They marched him into a curved corridor lined with similar cells. Through the transparent sections, Bobby caught glimpses of other prisoners - some in various states of augmentation, others strapped to medical apparatus he didn't recognise. A woman in one cell pressed her hand against the barrier as they passed, her eyes wide with recognition.
The processing centre opened before them like the mouth of some mechanical beast. Banks of scanning equipment lined the walls, their designs a disturbing hybrid of human and alien technology. In the centre, a figure in a white coat studied holographic readouts floating above an examination table.
"Ah, our lucky guest arrives," the researcher said without turning. The voice was feminine but carried artificial harmonics that suggested extensive vocal modifications. "I've been quite eager to examine those probability matrices you're running. Such elegant work - almost elegant enough to be Kra'zak in origin."
"Probability what now?" Bobby said, "and what is it with you guys and the Kra’zak?"
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"Playing dumb won't help," the researcher said, turning to face Bobby. Her left eye had been replaced with a crystalline lens that shifted colours as it focused. Beneath her white coat, her body was a canvas of surgical scars and chrome enhancement ports. "That combat armour you're wearing - it's Kra'zak military grade. What I can't figure out is how a street runner got his hands on it."
She gestured to the examination table. The guards pushed Bobby forward, their grip tight.
"The Kra'zak don’t leave their technology lying around, and Earth is a new system world, so they’re not established here yet," she continued, activating a complex array of scanning equipment. "Even their civilian tech is rare enough to be worth killing over. Yet here you are, carrying their weapons into my facility."
Bobby just smiled while keeping his mouth shut. Holographic readouts sprang to life around Bobby as the scanners hummed.
"Level 7, that’s low," she murmured, studying the readings. "Just another street runner, according to these biosigns. Yet carrying military-grade gear." She adjusted several controls, her artificial eye whirring as she reassessed him. "The question is: where does a simple runner get hold of Kra'zak tech?"
Bobby kept his expression neutral, letting them believe their assumptions. The longer they thought he was just some opportunistic scavenger, the better. "Maybe I'm just good at haggling."
"Haggling?" Her eye shifted to a dismissive amber. "With whom? The Kra'zak?" The woman laughed, the sound carrying artificial harmonics. "Have you even seen a Kra'zak before?"
Though his military questioning resistance course had happened quite some time ago, and he'd only gotten the introductory instruction, Bobby struggled to recall those crucial lessons in the moment. He let the fake smile drop, adopting instead the neutral expression he'd used countless times during witness interviews. These raiders knew too much for just three weeks of System integration.
"Two Kra'zak factions wanted something I had. I played them against each other." Bobby voice was level, watching the researcher's reaction. Her eye whirred, its colour shifting from blue to amber.
"Which factions?" She leaned closer, the scanner's holographic display casting strange shadows across her augmented features.
"Qur'zak and Cy-Tek." Bobby noticed how her organic eye widened at the names. Another tell - she recognised specific Kra'zak clan names that shouldn't be common knowledge. The guards shifted their stance at the mention of the clans, their movements too precise, too coordinated. Bobby had seen military units with less synchronisation. This wasn't the work of desperate survivors cobbling together alien tech.
"The armour was part of their payment," Bobby continued, studying the researcher's face. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Just like you knew about probability matrices and System classifications before Earth became a system world."
The researcher's artificial eye locked onto Bobby's face, its colour now a deep red. "Careful, 274. Speculation about things beyond your understanding could be... unhealthy."
"Three weeks isn't long enough for what I'm seeing here," Bobby pressed. "These modifications, this facility - who are you really? Are you even human?"
The researcher's expression hardened. She tapped something on her control panel, and pain shot through Bobby's skull.
"That's enough questions from you." Her voice carried an edge of steel beneath its artificial harmonics. "Take him to Conditioning. A couple of hours there will soften him up."
"Wait!"
The guards paused, their chrome-enhanced hands still gripping his arms.
"Take me to the Overseer. I'll tell him whatever he wants to know." Bobby kept his eyes fixed on the researcher's artificial lens, watching it shift from red to a curious amber.
She cocked her head, surgical scars stretching across her neck. "And why would the Overseer waste time on you before you've been properly conditioned?"
"Because the Kra'zak are expecting me back," Bobby lied, straightening his posture despite the guards' grip. "They sent me in to retrieve something specific, and they're not the patient type."
The researcher's organic eye narrowed. "The Overseer doesn't take requests from prisoners."
"Then explain to your boss why you let an opportunity like this slip away," Bobby said, gambling everything on the bluff. "They're waiting for my signal. Miss the window, and they'll be gone. Along with whatever they're so interested in finding here."
Her eye whirred, cycling through colours before settling on a deep blue. She tapped her control panel, bringing up new holographic displays.
"Overseer," she spoke into thin air, presumably through some internal comm system. "Subject 274 has made an... interesting proposal. Yes. Yes, I understand." She paused, listening to a response Bobby couldn't hear. "Acknowledged."
She turned back to Bobby. "The Overseer will see you. But if you're lying..." Her artificial eye flashed red again. "Conditioning will seem pleasant compared to what follows."
"Trust me," Bobby managed a weak smile. "He'll want to hear this."
The guards led Bobby through a maze of sterile corridors, never loosening their grip. Each turn revealed more evidence of the facility's transformation - what might have once been a normal research complex now hummed with alien tech grafted onto human architecture.
They stopped at a massive door, the etched circuitry pulsed with an inner light. The researcher placed her palm against a scanner, and Bobby watched as the patterns on the door synchronised with the ones running through her augmentations.
"Remember," she said as the door parted, "the Overseer's time is precious."
The guards pushed him forward into the shadows. As the door sealed behind him, Bobby realised he'd just gambled his way into something far bigger than a simple rescue job. He only hoped he'd live long enough to figure out what it was.
The darkness ahead glowed with a sickly green light.
"Welcome, Subject 274," said a voice that wasn't entirely human. "Let's discuss these Kra'zak friends of yours."