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3. Medic!

Below the ruined mechanical suit that covered Justin’s body, his legs had once again started to move. New flesh, stronger flesh, propelled him forward to his feet, rising from his body’s brief sleep to step forward. Moving on his feet once again, though more shambling forward than walking, it was enough for the soldiers only a few hundred feet away to finally notice.

The shouting of multiple men rang out as a few suddenly saw him.

“Hey! We got a survivor!”

“Someone get the medic!”

‘They’re calling a medic for me.’

Somewhere in Justin’s mind, that acknowledgement was uttered without emotion. Just by itself and without any added assumption or emotional reaction.

His eyes behind his helmet’s visor looked dryly at the men approaching him with their weapons drawn. Rifles, by the look of it. Though their shape was nearly alien to Justin, who hadn’t seen anything so primitive besides in older media.

For all the primitive planets he had touched down on during contracts, this was the first time he was actually meeting with one of their inhabitant species. It was a severe crime, even across galactic standards, but his emotional state after near-death seemed to be rendering his sense of consequences numb.

‘Physical projectiles. Like the depleted uranium rounds in Elrissa’s gun.’

That thought made Justin think back to the look she had given. Strangely enough he didn’t feel anything after remembering it again. No anger for what she had done, noticing him but leaving anyway, abandoning him to die.

No desire for revenge entered his sphere of emotions. Not much of anything entered his sphere of emotions, actually.

Yet he felt that was wrong, somehow.

A part of Justin’s brain squirmed.

‘Wrong?’

What was wrong about that? Wasn’t it better to be perfectly calm and logical at all times?

Was there any benefit to experiencing human emotions while trying to achieve his master’s great purpose?

‘Master? What?’

Now Justin’s original thoughts fought back in confusion. All of a sudden it felt as if there was a great mental divide in his head. Yes, that was it.

A division of priorities, between his own and…and…and whose? What was he even thinking about? How could there be another person’s set of priorities in his head?

“S-o-l-r?”

Perhaps something had gotten knocked loose as he recovered. He would have to see a medbay, Justin decided. He’d surely spend time with Harriet next time they met, now there was a good idea!

“Soldier?”

“What?”

Justin suddenly realized there was someone in his face as color returned to his vision. One of the natives…that was right! He had suddenly gotten up and started walking toward their group. Why had he done that again?

“He’s asking you if you are a soldier!”

One of the men at his side responded to Justin’s question. This one was carrying a rifle too.

“Oh…I…uh…I–”

Justin stumbled over his words. He was sure the translator of his suit was working, thankfully, but for some reason his head still seemed to be in a daze when he tried to piece together what was being said to him.

“He looks injured. Let’s get him in one of the tents.”

‘What tents?’

Another man made his entrance on the side of Justin, immediately assessing his condition based on the many apparent lacerations across his armor and helmet. Of course his wounds had all healed up by now, but he was still covered in blood so looked quite awful to the surrounding men.

“You’re right, from the size of those wounds I can hardly believe he’s still standing. What happened to the rest of your company, soldier? Or are you from a larger battalion?”

The man squinted and looked around as if to say he found the latter unlikely, based on the sparsely populated environment.

But apparently they had already silently decided that he was a soldier.

No need for Justin to respond after all.

“Oh, I…”

“Oh come on Major, can’t you see he’s exhausted? Save the questions for when he recovers how ‘bout it?”

The one the medic called Major appeared to be their leader, Justin understood.

It seemed that the planet’s native culture revolved around using hats to denote social status, as the man’s helmet bore a rounder shape in comparison to his underlings.

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Was it related to maternity? Perhaps the shape of their species’ female bosom evoked a natural respect?

The cultures of primitive civilizations were truly unknowable to the outsider, Justin thought.

“Alright then, Doctor Meyers, have it your way. Take him to the white tent on the south side of the body. Think the boys ought to have set it up by now.”

After that, Doctor Meyers, who looked to be a frail man with short blonde hair clearly unsuited for combat, took Justin by the shoulder with a gentle smile and directed him around the battalion of soldiers who were busy setting up various stations.

As they left, the Major and his aide spoke quietly about the sudden appearance of the survivor. In the surroundings, he had been the only one they’d found so far, and so soon after landing. It was odd when signs pointed to a large battle having taken place just before they got here.

“Very odd, that we’ve only found the one. Don’t you think so too, Major? Think he’s Special Service? Hidden Intelligence? Shadow Government?”

The Major was squinting in stern concentration, but by the time the younger soldier got to the end of that list his expression broke into annoyance.

“Two of those organizations aren’t on record, so don't mention them.”

The attendant swallowed, nodding his head.

“And one is purely fictitious, and tells me not to let you browse the politico forums on the department computers any more.”

“...Apologies, Major.”

“But, to answer your question, I don’t think so. I’ve met members of the hidden departments before, and that man wasn’t like any of them. There’s no doubt he’s in the service, but as a special operative, hmm…”

“But Major, that armor…”

“Was certainly not manufactured in the Republic, at least not to my knowledge. It seems far and ahead more advanced than anything we’ve got, which means he’s likely from one of the other powerhouses. Whatever he’s doing on our soil is a serious matter.”

The Major traced his goatee with a free hand while he thought.

“What should we do with him, Major?”

“Observe him in the medical tent for now, Captain. If he tries to leave it, or worse: leave this encampment, then you have my permission to detain or neutralize him.”

The Major’s attendant crisply saluted, acknowledging the order.

Justin had somehow let himself be taken in by the natives. On one of the cots after an hour of testing his vital functions, he lamented that he had broken one of the most important laws in the galaxy.

He, a Volta, had come into contact with and even integrated into a group of non-system users! What was he even thinking? Approaching their encampment so brazenly?

Justin truly could not remember.

It was as if he had just left a fugue state. He was unable to recollect the reasoning behind any of his previous decisions or what he had felt while making them.

All he could remember was a disconnected set of visuals. A spotty set of memories tied from one end to another that vaguely represented what had happened in the few minutes after waking up.

Yes, he had miraculously healed, but how? Justin didn’t want to look at the gift horse in the mouth but he knew his body didn’t have such capabilities by itself. He definitely would have succumbed to his injuries on any other day.

Justin groaned. More worryingly still, was his status screen.

He pulled it up again.

“Ah damn it! What does this even mean?”

‘[Grade E-]...[Health 10 / 10]...[CEL 1 / 1]?’

These were the most damning of the apparent errors in his interface, and that wasn’t even including the error of his race, or the apparent total lack of a main class.

‘Somehow I’ve got even less health than a typical grade E- volta, as if I’m a civilian! Lower CEL than should be possible for an awakened, and it says Grade E- instead of C!’

Not to mention the oddity of “Scourge Progenitor” in his race section, it was as if the system had conflated him with the Herald from earlier.

‘This and the devastating stats for supposedly level one, it’s as if I’m being treated more like a daemon by the System than a volta!’

Justin huffed in his cot. Mulling over the problem till he got red in the face would do him no good, so he decided to look over the facts.

For some reason he had been blacking out lately, experiencing odd mental fluctuations, headaches, nausea.

Did any of these symptoms have anything in commo–oh?

Justin checked his [Status Effects] quickly with confidence, but there was nothing there. Okay, back to the drawing board…

Did these symptoms have anything in common? Well, mind control for one.

Something that Justin had actually experienced in the past on the victim side of it during one particularly nasty contract, but that would have shown up in his effects, even if he would have been blind to its negativity. Its absence there disproved it.

Mental Poisoning? He experienced it during the fight, but it should have run its course after the source, the Herald, died.

That left…hmm, psychic damage? It was possible, though Harriet and Elrissa were much more knowledgeable about it than he was. Actually, speaking of Elrissa.

Justin felt a sharp heat erupt in his chest, when he thought of that look. Damn! He wanted to do something about it, met out some sort of justice for that act of betrayal, that act of cowardice that Elrissa had shown!

Looking at him straight in the face and leaving him alone, it was the lowest thing she could have done. Far from what Justin had thought her to be capable of. It had broken the mostly kind-hearted impression of her he had held.

‘Wait a second…why do I feel like I’ve thought about this before?’

Justin felt a strange sense of deja vu for his circumstances.

Hadn’t he made up his mind about this?

No, no he hadn’t.

But hadn’t he?

He wasn’t going to do anything to Elrissa, she wasn’t worth the effort.

No, but he definitely was! He needed justice. That was how he lived, there was no way he was wrong about that.

But justice was unnecessary, childish even. The plan was more important.

‘Wait…!’

What plan? Justin’s mind swam, a wriggling feeling in his head started to put pressure on his thoughts. It felt like he was losing his mind, if such a thing could be felt.

But he was at peace regardless, because the master’s plan was more important.

‘No…no…those aren’t my thoughts! THOSE AREN’T MY THOUGHTS!’

Those weren’t his thoughts.

He finally understood.

They were the parasite’s. The Herald’s. The Scourge’s.

He was thinking for himself, but other opinions were creeping in from somewhere else too.

His brain didn’t belong to him anymore.

It belonged to the hive. To the fold.