Crates filled with engine parts were scattered across the room, though none were stacked. Two empty steel chairs sat in front of a wooden crate with a cardboard covering; it served as a table. An empty canteen of water lay face down on its top. The girls had slipped out of their suits only to discover that everything made of cloth had bonded with the aged insulation and stuck inside. Destiny lost everything but her underwear, while Karen lost everything.
The old insulation had been taxed to the limit, and returning to a normal heating environment stretched the suits into shapes that didn’t resemble anything a human could possibly wear; they were now melded together in an oddly shaped pile at the foot of the bunk bed. Destiny took the top, while Karen took the bottom. Both kept themselves underneath thin black and red sheets in the cold room.
Destiny played with her hair as she paged through an old computer manual she found in one of the crates. Her feet kicked lazily, narrowly avoiding a pile of engine parts she had gathered at the end of her mattress. Suddenly her legs stopped, she clasped her hands, knelt her head, and remained completely still for about a three minutes. Then she returned to her reading. Karen threw off her sheet, balled it up, and shook it within her fist.
“Aren’t you at all concerned that they have us trapped, completely nude, in this stupid room? What if one of those troopers gets the wrong idea? I bet that mercenary planned it that way. Those suits were made to malfunction like that!”
“I’m sure if we just keep underneath the covers and wait, they’ll bring us something to wear. I really don’t think it was planned this way.”
Karen sat up and hugged the crumpled sheet, “That’s easy for you to say. You still have underwear. I don’t have anything. Besides, that was a one-thousand-haricon designer suit, you only lost a cheap work uniform. All my stuff is lost on that mercenary’s ship, except my recorder. And they haven’t returned it yet.”
Destiny removed her bra and dropped it in Karen’s lap. “Now we both have something to wear. Treat it right. That’s half of everything I own until I get my computer back.”
Karen didn’t hesitate to put it on, “It’s not as tight as I’d thought it be.”
Destiny leaned over the bed and slapped her with her magazine. “Is that what I get for trying to be nice?”
“I meant it as a compliment.”
Karen folded her sheet and tied it around her hips to improvise a skirt. She felt comfortable enough to wander around until the locked hatch opened and a soldier entered with a cart of personal belongings. There were no clothes, but more sheets and some blankets. Karen’s recording device had been saved. Destiny’s palm computer sat next to it. She forgot herself and almost jumped from her bunk. The soldier smiled stupidly as Destiny sunk backward and hid under her sheet.
“There are some K-rations on that tray for your lunch,” he said.
Karen spoke up, “Excuse me, but we’d appreciate some clothes. My feet are freezing off. This is barbaric treatment.”
“Our Lieutenant is attempting to make proper arrangements for your uniforms.”
“What about the enemy stockpile?”
“By order of the senate, all spare enemy military uniforms have been burned, and this vessel has no working uniform generators.”
“What!? You’re doing this on purpose! Get out of here!” screamed Destiny. She threw a barbell shaped metal piece against the door frame. The guard backed away and the door slid shut.
“How do they not have a spare uniform!?”
Five minutes later the hatch opened and the same soldier appeared.
“You two cover up as much as possible. I’ve been ordered to escort you to the decontamination chamber in ten minutes. It’s been cleared of male occupants for the next two hours.”
He saw the rations were still on the tray, “Finish your lunch too.”
Another part flew at him but he dodged it.
“I wonder what the guys are doing?” Karen mused.
“They better be suffering!” Destiny yelled from under her cover.
-----
A tall, stately woman with bright green eyes and glossy black hair picked up Fade and gave him a tight squeeze that made him laugh. She was so huge to him, that when she disappeared, it left him reaching desperately into the void.
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She lay in a plain metal bed. Translucent liquid flowed into her body through clear plastic tubes as she lay between the stainless-steel rails. She turned uncomfortably; the sounds of the machines on either side woke her for a moment and she glanced his way with glowing green eyes before falling back into a lifeless sleep. Fade pinched his legs as sat in the little chair by her bedside. That man came, the one who called himself his father. The hospital room melted away. They were in a garden of dripping red flowers. The man walked away without looking back.
“You killed her,” Fade said.
“Nonsense, you can’t kill a tool.”
“I want an explanation.”
“It’s time to fade Harry, Fade away into obscurity. You don’t exist, you never existed. The Guild is your owner now.”
“Don’t you dare leave!?”
The man stopped but did not turn back, “You were assigned to us. We’re not your parents.”
He heard a panicked voice from behind him, “Look, they’ll be here soon, so just, get out of my face you stupid kid! Get lost. Go!”
The man started run. Fade couldn’t keep up.
“Please don’t go!”
“I could care less, now get out of my face!”
The little boy cried among the bloody roses.
Scenery melded like an oil painting dipped in turpentine. The bright orange beacon, Quell’s star, sunk slowly beyond the desert horizon as Fade watched from a small wooden podium above the sand. The man in the white cloak was so tall he seemed to tower over the world. The marksmanship test began. The overseer in the white cloak gave him a thirteen-millimeter revolver, an old projectile gun with a powerful recoil. The rays of the sinking star glinted off the newly polished gun. Fade spun the chamber before aiming. One hundred meters away was a field of wooden posts, and to each one was tied a prisoner whose face was covered with heavy black sack cloth. The prisoners knew their fate was sealed. Only one attempted any sort of struggle. Fade’s hands shook, he couldn’t pull the trigger. The old man cloaked in the white rubbed his reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Young man, if you can’t execute the prisoners with that weapon, from this distance, then you’ll join them. Do you understand what that means?”
“I- I do sir.”
“You had better pass this trial. The pain you’ve endured to get this far should not be for nothing. We’ve taken great risks to develop you, and we expect results. All you have to do is dispose of these traitors to God’s will. I know you have the skill. In training you were the best, now take it to the next level, or fail.”
Sweating, Fade took the time for a steady aim. The man in the white coat became agitated as Fade stood motionless. The trigger squeezed, then pulled back. The revolver fired so quickly the man in the white cloak heard only two shots despite noting all six prisoners go limp. Their thick blood soaked through the black cloth to unite with the sand. Fade fell on all fours, panting like a dog. Sweat poured from every orifice of his skin, his eyes filled with tears and he coughed.
The man in white smiled.
“Every one of those people you killed are completely innocent. Model A5000, number one. How do you feel? Did you get the rush of power that an assassin feels when he takes a life? You should feel stronger now.”
“I hate you!” Fade screamed.
“That’s right A5000. You are a full abomination in the eyes of God now. Irredeemable except through obedience,” He turned to the workers among the posts. “This creature wants to see what it killed. Pull up the wood path so it can get a closer look.”
A board rose from the sand, creating a straight path to the death posts. When the black cloths pulled away, the dead could be seen as they stared into the sand. All the victims had wounds between the eyes, where the bullet shards had gone through. One was a woman that had been a close friend to Fade. Three were children he had trained with, children who never passed. On the center post was a black-haired man, blood stuck in the short hairs of his poorly shaven face. Fade ran to the post. The revolver landed in the sand nearby.
“Why’d you make me do this?!” he screamed, splinters digging into his skin, “Why did you make me do this?!”
The man had a soft, subtle tongue, “Stop pretending to have such meaningless emotions, model A5000. It’s time you recognize what you are. Spit on their graves. The matter, after all, is settled. You’re a cold-blooded murderer, and you always will be until God releases you from your suffering. No getting away from it. It was what you were created for. You killed the man who pretended to be your father, one who foolishly thought he could love a soulless construct. You were never Harry Defacto, you were model A5000, number 21, from the day you were hatched! That name that will never fade from your conscious.”
“Leave me alone. I’m not A5000, I’m a person.”
“You are a construct, a war machine of the highest caliber. You have no humanity! Is this foolishness worth your life? Accept what you are and join us before you force us to dispose of you!”
“I deserve to be disposed of,” Fade whispered.
The overseer laughed, “It won’t be that easy for you. Your death requires torture. Long torture! Is that what you want?”
Fade swallowed, his tears became cold, “No. I won’t have regrets when it comes to serving my family.”
“That gun is yours. Pick it up. It’ll need cleaning.”
Fade took his revolver and walked calmly. The dead tried to eat his soul, but he jumped onto the raised wooden platform in time.
“I still have three bullets,” Fade said, “Did you forget the other features you constructed me with? I want to try another test.”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, 21, but you killed all six people. There’s no way you could have three bullets left, and what could you possibly test?”
“Moving targets. ”
“We’ll work on that later.”
“We’ll work on that now. I’m going to kill you.”
The trainer turned to face the child with a cold, stern, glance.
“It looks like you have learned better than I’ve ever imagined! Yes, yes, this brilliant escalation!”
Before the man in the white cloak could pull out his laser pistol, Fade shot him through the heart.
“You,” the white cloaked man groaned as he fell, “You learned that already. I’m so… I’m so proud!”
Two men came from behind to catch Fade off guard.
“But how? You were out of ammo,” one uttered.
Fade turned swiftly. He held the bloody index finger of his left hand in front of the barrel of his gun, exposing the shining metallic bone. He infused it with energy that split his next bullet. Both men took direct hits between the eyes. Their corpses became sand. Fade jumped into the dunes. They would be after him soon. How long was he walking through dunes as cold as snow? A whirlpool of quick sand caught his leg; he started sinking. The dead sprung from the sand to pull him in, but he couldn’t see anything. He screamed. Sand filled his mouth. He lifted his gun above the sand, fired it into the air. He sunk all the way under when something reached in and grabbed his wrist.
Everything went black.