Cold. Darkness. Static.

Nathaniel Hayes had felt many things in his life. The searing heat of Afghan sand beneath his boots. The sting of saltwater spray during his deployment in Guam. The cold steel of his rifle as it shook in his hands during the firefight that had claimed his life. But this—this was something else entirely.

A voice pierced the void, distant and mechanical.

"Neural pathways synchronized. Cognitive functions active. Subject is stabilizing."

Hayes gasped, his lungs burning as they filled with air for the first time in over two millennia. He bolted upright, his hands instinctively reaching for his chest. He expected to find bullet wounds, scars—anything familiar—but instead, his fingers met smooth, flawless skin.

"Welcome back, Sergeant Hayes."

The voice came from a tall woman in a crisp black uniform adorned with gleaming silver insignias. Her eyes were sharp, calculating, and her posture exuded authority. Behind her, a team of technicians in white lab coats hovered around glowing holographic screens.

"Who… who are you?" Hayes rasped. His voice felt alien to him, deeper, stronger.

"I’m General Cassandra Voss," the woman said, stepping closer. "You’ve been… upgraded."

Hayes swung his legs off the cold metal slab he was lying on and looked around the sterile, white-walled room. Strange machines hummed softly, their displays filled with shifting patterns of light. A large holographic flag of the United Republic of Terra—stars and stripes reimagined with planetary rings—hung in the air behind Voss.

"Where am I? What is this?"

Voss folded her arms. "You’re in Phoenix Station, Earth orbit. The year is 4024. You’ve been resurrected, Sergeant, as part of Project Phoenix. You’re a hero of the United States of America—or rather, the United Republic of Terra—and we need you again."

Hayes stared at her, disbelief and confusion warring in his mind. "Resurrected? That’s not… that’s not possible."

"Possible or not, here you are." Voss gestured to a full-length mirror that materialized from the wall. "See for yourself."

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Reluctantly, Hayes stood and approached the mirror, his steps unsteady but growing stronger with each movement. What stared back at him wasn’t the man he remembered.

Gone were the wrinkles, scars, and graying hair. Instead, a younger version of himself stood there, his physique unnaturally perfect, his features sharper, more defined. His brown eyes glowed faintly with a golden hue.

"This… isn’t me," he whispered.

Voss nodded. "It is and it isn’t. We reconstructed your mind using neural imprints from your service record. Your body, however, is a different story. Genetically enhanced. Faster. Stronger. Practically indestructible."

Hayes clenched his fists, feeling the surge of power in his muscles. It was intoxicating—and terrifying. "Why? Why go through all this trouble?"

Voss’s expression hardened. "Because the URT is at war. A rebellion is tearing our colonies apart, and we need symbols—heroes. Men like you inspire loyalty, Sergeant. Your story, your sacrifice, has become legend. Now, it’s time for you to live up to it again."

Hayes took a step back, shaking his head. "I didn’t ask for this. I died—"

"You died for your country," Voss interrupted, her tone sharp. "And now your country needs you again. You don’t have to like it, Sergeant. You just have to do your duty."

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Hours later, Hayes sat in a private quarters that felt more like a cage. The walls were sleek and featureless, the furniture sparse and utilitarian. A single window offered a view of Earth, its continents bathed in sunlight.

He stared at his reflection in a small, polished surface, trying to reconcile the man he was with the man he had become.

Memories flooded back—the firefight in the Pacific Mirage War, the panic as his squad was overrun, the split-second decision to cover their retreat. He remembered the explosion, the agony, and then… nothing.

Now here he was, a relic from a forgotten war, thrust into a world he didn’t recognize.

The door slid open, and a young man in a military uniform stepped inside, snapping to attention. "Sergeant Hayes, you’ve been summoned to the command deck."

Hayes stood, his movements now fluid and precise, and followed the soldier down a corridor illuminated by soft blue lights. His mind raced with questions, but he shoved them aside. For now, he needed answers.

When he arrived on the command deck, General Voss was waiting for him, along with a massive holographic display showing a distant moon.

"Welcome, Sergeant," she said, her voice laced with a mixture of pride and expectation. "Your first mission begins now."

Hayes stared at the display, at the glowing red icons marking enemy positions. "What is this place?"

"Saturn’s moon, Titan," Voss replied. "The Outer Unity Coalition has seized control of one of our mining colonies there. You’re going to lead the strike team to take it back."

Hayes frowned. "And if they’re civilians? Refugees? What then?"

Voss’s gaze hardened. "They’re rebels, Sergeant. The URT doesn’t negotiate with traitors. Remember who you are—what you stand for."

Hayes looked back at the display, his jaw tightening. For the flag, for the future, he thought. But as he stared at the cold, tactical icons, he felt the first stirrings of doubt.

For whose future?