José Rodriguez, the last living Terran, continuously scrubs copious amounts of cloning fluid off his body. After finishing, he stands in the shower and stares at the wall blankly for five long, excruciating minutes.

Without the holo-doctor there to distract him, José begins to ruminate on her words and the events he's experienced.

I died in battle. Then, I revived inside a cloning chamber.

Ramma's Chosen. We possess abilities copied from the ancient Psions, grafted onto our bodies via Ramma's Titan magic. Thanks to her spellweaving, we become capable of incredible psionic feats.

However, while the ancient Psions could reach the ultimate pinnacle of psionic power, and even achieve the stage of the Ninth Incarnation, Ramma's Chosen can only ever use the power of the First Incarnation to its maximum potential. Tapping into the Second Incarnation will badly injure us, and even touching upon the Third Incarnation will destroy us in an instant.

For my brain to have liquefied in my skull, the battle I fought must have been horrible, vicious, and unrestrained. Unless I was fighting alone, how could that have happened? Nick would have had my back. I'd never go on a mission without him, nor would he without me. That's why we're partners, bonded together from the moment we joined the academy.

José smiles, as old memories appear in his mind.

I still remember when me and Nicky-boy first butted heads. We didn't always see eye to eye. It took us thirty years of intense life-and-death training before we could fully trust one another. Looking back, the Academy was perfectly structured to turn us into a dynamic duo.

The Terran shakes his head and smiles wryly.

Then, his expression becomes more serious.

Since Nick might not be fucking with me, I should assume the worst... what happened to him? Only one of the five cloning pods was active. It seems he didn't get hurt too badly, nor did any of the other Chosen. There are about a hundred of us Chosen aboard the Bloodbearer. Why would I be the only one to die?

Could it be... an ambush? Did one of the League of 17 hit me when I was alone? Perhaps one of the Children of Ghül? The Third Hand, too... they could pull off an assassination of Ramma's Chosen. It couldn't have been one of the Void Roamers. I've killed far too many of them for those pirate bastards to ever get the nerve.

Who was it, then? Who gutted me? And now that I've revived... what will I do? Once one of Ramma's Chosen revives, we lose our psionic powers. Ramma might try to link me to the Psionic Well once again... but she probably won't. Everyone knows that once one of Ramma's Chosen revives, their career is essentially finished. I'll have to retire after this and join Command as a consultant.

Fuck. That's dismal. A lifetime of data-pushing. Leading from the rear. If Nick didn't have to revive, Command might assign me as his personal consultant. At least I'll still get to stay by his side.

José's shoulders slump. He leans his back against the cold exosteel shower wall and sighs deeply.

Just like that, huh? My days as a commando are over. The thrill of battle. The good times with Nicky-boy. No more missions... no more journeys, quests, or voyages to unknown worlds. Just a slow fade into obscurity.

Sure. I'll get medals and accolades. I'll become a general of some high renown. They'll make a bunch of statues honoring my legacy, mark me down in some books... all that crap. But everyone knows... once one of Ramma's Chosen leaves the frontlines... it's a slow decline into mediocrity. I'll just become some old geezer, reminiscing about the good old days.

The Terran stares ahead at the door leading out of the shower bay. His thoughts become muddied as he lowers his eyes.

Ramma might try to give me psionic abilities again... but even if she does, she'll probably fail. Her powers work best on young people with malleable minds. I'm too old, now. Well over seven thousand mental-years.

With a sigh of resignation, José walks over to a nearby locker and grabs a standard-issue set of fatigues for Terran marines. After donning the black and grey patterned camouflage, he slips into some boots and stares at the door.

Hell, Nick. This has to be a joke, right? Tell me that god-damned cadaver out there is some fucked-up fake you made. Tell me you're just waiting for me to step through that door, all so you and the boys can have a good laugh at my expense.

Tell me that's the case.

...But even you've never gone this far before. Even you know there's a limit to jokes. You'd never screw with me to this extent.

Just this once, I hope I'm wrong. If this isn't a practical joke... then... it means the end of my career. The end of my purpose. My life.

José glances at a nearby mirror. His reflection, much younger than the last time he gazed at himself, seems almost alien.

The Terran reaches out his hand. He attempts to tap into his psionic powers, but even after several seconds, he can't conjure the slightest inkling of telekinesis.

Defeated, José's arm drops to his side. Complex emotions and thoughts swim behind his eyes.

Evelyn. Are you still alive? Is our child?

If I can't fight anymore... if I can't carry out Ramma's Creed... if I absolutely must retire... can't I just have some happiness for once? Perhaps the higher-ups will grant me one request; to return to your world. To see you, to live with you, to feel your breath on my face.

It's been thousands of years. You're long dead. I know you are. Our child, too. Was she a girl, beautiful like you? Or was he a little boy, strong like me? I don't even care. I'd take either. I'd give anything just to know what happened to them; to know what happened to you.

A tear rolls down José's face.

I'm tired of all this nonsense. This unending war. These people. Their needs, their wants, their desires. I'm tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.

I just want to be happy again.

Silently, the Terran grieves.

It takes half an hour for him to regain his composure, clean himself up, and clear his throat.

Eventually, he reorients himself and turns to face the door.

If I must retire, then... so be it.

I'll go with dignity and grace. I'll fight for what I want, for once.

José walks toward the door. He reaches out his hand to touch its handle.

Then, he hears voices outside, and hesitates.

The Terran pauses, leans close to the door, and frowns.

"-can't be in here, Megla," Penelope says, her soothing, artificially feminine voice piercing the din. "The Admiral has only just woken up. He hasn't yet learned what happened. I require time to adjust his mental state."

As José listens, his heart skips a beat. A horribly loud, deep, and grating series of monstrous, animal-like sounds rumble outward, as if some terrifying creature has begun to speak.

"Kyargh! Chuff, chuff. Grooough! Chuff, chuff. Kyargh!"

The deep, booming sounds chill José's heart to ice. His pupils constrict as he listens even more carefully. However, no matter what noises the monster makes, he can't even begin to identify them.

What in Ramma's name?!

The Terran presses his ear against the door. His entire body trembles and shivers as he tries to imagine what on God's green Earth could possibly make such deep, throaty, gurgling grunts. To his ears, they sound like the growling of a vicious, lion-like predator. A monster which feeds on the flesh of Terrans.

"I understand your concerns," Penelope says, not budging in the slightest. "However, the Admiral has undergone a tremendous shock due to his death. Adjusting him to this new situation will be infinitely harder than when he first awoke from stasis. The situation is even more complex than it was back then. I've prepared countless memory files for him to peruse... but I fear that no matter what I show him, his psyche will suffer a serious blow."

The more José listens, the more confused and apprehensive he becomes.

Admiral? Is she talking about me? I'm not an Admiral; I'm a Private. Could there be some mistake? More importantly, what vile creature is the holo-doctor speaking to? Where are the other crew-members?

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Frowning, José takes a step back. He aims his eyes at the door and tries to activate his iris modules. However, a moment later, he turns pale, realizing that his cloned body doesn't contain any of his biomods.

Damn! The doctor hasn't transplanted them in me, yet! Aaargh! What the fuck is happening out there?! Who is Evel- I mean, who is Penelope speaking to? Who, or what?!

José grits his teeth. Slowly, he grabs the long metal bar on the side of the door. He pulls it slowly, opening it just a crack. Then he peers out, moving as slowly as possible so nobody will see him.

He witnesses an unbelievable sight.

A huge, bipedal crocodile, nearly seven feet tall with blood-red scales, towers over the holo-doctor. The monster's long, fearsome teeth stick out of its jaw, while its thin, vertical pupils gaze at her like a predator sizing up its next meal. The creature's flesh-raking claws rest upon its thighs, and it flexes its muscles, as if to intimidate the desired information out of the doctor.

José quickly retreats and silently closes the door. Then, he slumps to his butt and begins trembling uncontrollably. His thoughts come in a jumble, like a mass of confused soldiers all screaming in different directions at the same time.

What the fuck. What the fuck.

Monster. Crocodile. I died. Dead? Clone. Holo-doctor, not a real doctor. Where is everyone? Captured? Killed?

Unknown enemy. Monsters. Demons? Did they reappear? Perhaps experiments from one of the other factions?

José sucks in a quick breath. His pupils shrink to pinpricks.

The Children of Ghül. How could I be so blind?! For years, they've performed horrible experiments in secret. This creature; could it be one of theirs? A monster capable of combating Ramma's Chosen?!

He recalls the creature's muscles, its powerful build, and its vicious appearance.

It's probably still not as strong as me, or any of the other Chosen. However, if the Children of Ghül produced enough of these creatures, they might be able to overwhelm us in numbers!

More pieces fall into place in José's mind. He starts to connect the dots, unraveling the 'conspiracy' as he sees it.

There's no way Nick wouldn't come to see me the moment I woke up. Hell, he'd stand at my side the whole time, never leaving for a second. Why? Because that's what I'd do for him! What sort of situation would it take for him to ditch me at a time like this?

These monsters... they must have captured him! They caught Nicky-boy and me offguard, as well as the rest of Ramma's Chosen! I don't know how they did it, but they killed me, and... and revived me? Why?! Why would they revive me?

The Terran's heart begins to race as an even more terrifying possibility crosses his mind.

Torture. Information. Ramma's Chosen know countless classified secrets. However, our minds are immune to most forms of psychological torture thanks to our psionic abilities. However, if we perish and revive, then those barriers disappear!

The Terran clenches his teeth. He knots his brow together as sweat drips down his chin.

Is that the plan? Attack the Bloodbearer, capture all of the crew, kill and revive me, then use a sweet-talking holo-doctor to allay my suspicions. After 'prepping' me, the masterminds will show up, intending to subdue and torture the information they need out of me.

A flash of rage enters José's eyes. The Terran snarls viciously, as bloodlust fills his vision.

Unforgivable. Unforgivable!

What did you cocksuckers do to Nick? WHERE IS MY BROTHER?!

José rises to his feet. A plan jumps into his mind, formulated quickly but efficiently. His millennia of experience dealing with countless captures, hostage situations, torture, and all other manner of barbarism allows him to cut off his emotions and assess the situation with a cold eye.

Heh heh heh. You stupid bastards. You should have killed me when you had the chance. I don't need augmentations, biomods, or psionic powers to fight like hell for my freedom. I'll find Nick, rescue the rest of the crew, and kill every last one of you.

He flicks his eyes around the bathroom. Despite not many items meeting his needs, he spots a pair of standard-issue backup pistols placed against the wall.

Like a swallow drifting through the wind, José glides over to the pistols in an instant. He sticks one of them into his left pocket after checking its charge, then clutches the other one with feverish intensity.

Hahaha. It's not much, but it will do. Never underestimate a Terran, and never look down on one of Ramma's Chosen. I'll make you pay for what you've done, you murdering motherfuckers!

José slides up next to the bathroom door. He presses his ear against it again and listens.

"-your concern," Penelope says. "But you must leave. I will inform you once I've finished rehabilitating the Admiral. I estimate I will require at least a month to relay the most critical news in bite-sized pieces. I cannot rush this process, or it will cause him immense psychological harm."

"Kyargh! Gaau! Chuff, chuff. Gooroo. Kyargh!"

The crocodile creature 'speaks' again, its seemingly nonsensical grunts and growls meaning nothing to José. Having only just been cloned, he doesn't have a single biomod in his body, not even a basic translation interface.

Gritting his teeth, the Terran takes a deep breath, then yanks open the door. Before the crocodile or holo-doctor can react, he rushes toward the monster and bellows at the top of his lungs. "Filthy bastard!"

"Aah!" Penelope cries, startled by this sudden change of events.

The crocodile starts to turn, but its movements are far too slow to compare to the Terrans'. José slithers like a snake and jumps onto the monster's back. He wraps his left arm around the crocodile's throat, then jams his gun against the side of its head.

"Don't move, you filthy heretic!" José shouts, as the monster tries to grab and pull at his arm. "I'll blow your fucking brains out!"

"Kuh-kyargh!" The monster cries, clearly enraged beyond all belief. It struggles for a moment, until it notices the pistol barrel placed against its head.

"W-wait!" Penelope cries. "No, José, stop! I- I don't know what's going through your head, but this isn't what it looks-"

"Shut up!" José bellows, his eyes filled with fury. "Where's Nick? Where is the rest of the crew? What did you do to them?! Are they dead? Captured?! Speak, you scaled piece of shit!"

The crocodile slowly stops struggling, obviously intimidated by the Terrans' fury. It coughs as his grip tightens on its throat. "Chuff. Chuff... cough..."

"Finding it hard to cry out for your friends, huh?!" José snarls. "Good! Doctor, you have five seconds to tell me what's going on! I can't tell what the hell this ugly fucker is saying, but I'm sure you can translate!"

Penelope, clearly out of her league, stammers. "I-I- José, please, calm down! Megla is not your enemy! She's your good friend!"

"Hah! That's a laugh! Why would I ever be friends with some weird, freakish crocodile?!" José laughs bitterly. "Stop spitting lies! What happened? Did the Children of Ghül reprogram you? Is that why you're on their side, now?!"

With the situation spiraling further and further out of control, Penelope stammers uncontrollably. "I-I haven't been reprogrammed! José, do not squeeze that trigger! Please just stop and listen! Nobody here is trying to hurt you! We're all your friends!"

Suddenly, from above, Umi's voice speaks.

"Admiral Rodriguez. I did not wish to interfere, but your actions were beyond my expectations. Please cease your hostility. As the commanding officer aboard the Bloodbearer, I do not have the authority to command you to stop. However, I may still file a formal request with you under specific extenuating circumstances."

José blinks twice. "Haha. What? Umi, did Ghül's Children reprogram you, too? I'm not an Admiral! I'm a Private!"

The Terran flicks his eyes from the now-submissive crocodile to Penelope, the latter of whom has already turned white as a ghost. Her empathy parameters, far more human-like than the rigidly-programmed Umi above, make it difficult for her to come up with a plan to stymie the Admiral's rage.

"Admiral Rodriguez. You are not in your right state of mind. Please desist from any further hostilities. You have lost six months worth of memories. The United Terran Coalition has changed a lot in that time. Officer Megla Brighteye, whom you are currently holding by the throat, is your second in command. If you kill her, you will never be able to forgive yourself."

Umi's strong, point-blank words stand in stark contrast to Penelope's stuttering cries of desperation.

José listens to the synthmind with suspicion. He frowns, closes his eyes, and violently shakes his head, as if trying to clear away some invisible fog clouding his judgment.

Six months. Memories. Second in command. Admiral? I'm an Admiral? Why? Since when?

These new data points do nothing to eliminate his confusion. Instead, they only muddle his thoughts further, making him feel afraid and panicked.

Wh-what does Umi mean? How could I possibly become an Admiral? I'm not even in the chain of command! A thousand other people would be at the top of that list before me!

The crocodile in José's grasp begins to lose strength in her body. Instead of fighting back against the Admiral's vicious chokehold, she doesn't resist, allowing him to throttle her unconscious. Moments later, she slumps forward, unwilling to fight back.

José notices the change. He frowns again, for the hundredth time.

This monster could have raked my arms. It could have attacked me, but it didn't. Is Umi telling the truth? What is going on here?!

At that moment, the door to the Psionics bay opens. Another horrifying crocodile, but one with a bright yellow coloration on its scales, appears.

"Kyargh!" The monster shouts, pointing at its companion, as if to condemn the pathetic human's actions. "Groar! Chuff, chuff! Groar!"

José immediately identifies the monster's speech as threatening. Realizing the creature is about to attack, José's lizard-brain takes over.

"You! Don't move! Not one inch, do you hear me?! I'll blow this guy's brains out! I'll fucking kill him dead! I'm not bluffing!"

Irrational and paranoid, the Admiral's heartbeat quickens. He begins to pant ferociously, as his body loses some of its strength. Terrified out of his wits, the Terran can't make heads or tails out of this strange, bizarre situation he's landed in.

"José Rodriguez!" Penelope shouts, having finally regained her center. "I am your commanding officer! You will cease this hostility at once! If you don't... then... then... your fellow crew will all be court martialed! Their careers will end because of you!"

The Terran pivots his head to gaze at the holo-doctor, shocked by her words.

"M-my... my fellow crew?"

Penelope grits her teeth. "That's right. Private Azaram, for example. I know you're panicked, but if you break the peace treaty by killing your second in command, the, uh... the Kraktol delegates will retaliate swiftly! Don't tell me you don't even remember the decree given out by His Majesty, the Divine Emperor!"

José stares blankly. "Treaty... Divine Emperor... I don't remember. What treaty? What's going on? What's happening?"

The Terran's eyes lose focus. By now, far too much conflicting information has crashed into his brain. He begins to reel, finding it hard to distinguish his hypotheses from reality. Dazed and confused, he loosens his grip on the crocodile monster's neck by just a little.

"I don't know... what's going on..."

Penelope slowly walks toward José. she reaches out and touches his face, while smiling beautifully, like an angel of light.

"I know you're scared. I know you're confused. It will all be okay. Just listen to me, José. Put the gun down, alright?"

No longer able to understand what's happening, José's brain shuts down. He numbly lowers the gun, even as his body begins to tremble and shake.

"I'm... I'm scared... I'm..."

The Terran loses strength in his legs, then his arms. His hearts both convulse, making his eyes turn bloodshot.

"Nick... Nick... Nick... I'm scared- I'm..."

With his thoughts in total disorder, José doesn't even resist as Penelope presses a small device against his neck. A cool, numbing sensation spreads across his body as paralytic medicine overwhelms him, sucking the Terran off to a dreamland.

Just before José falls asleep, he spots something out of the corner of his eye.

"Uhh... kitty? Kitty... cat?"

A bipedal feline stands in the doorway beside the red-scaled crocodile, staring at him with its paws over its mouth.

Tears fall from José's eyes as a stupid goofy smile spreads across his face.

"Cute kitty... good kitty..."

Then, he falls comatose, unable to awaken.